You flipped through the various channels aimlessly, hoping to stumble upon your favourite TV show. No luck. You groaned. Why was there nothing good on when you had free time and were bored out of your mind? Summer sure was taking its toll on your sanity. You almost wished you were back in school again and sighed at your own preposterous desperation.
You made to turn off the television and contemplated your situation. Was there really nothing to do? Your index finger hovered over the power button when a flash of yellow and orange on the screen caught your eye. You blinked in disbelief.
“Hey, it’s Naruto!” you laughed delightedly, setting the remote down and leaning back into your chair in anticipation. It was one of the shows you used to really enjoy, something you had been hopelessly obsessed with when you were younger. You even had your own Naruto plush toy. Leaning back into the comfort of the couch and closing your eyes, you waited for the show to start.
You were so caught up in reminiscing those memories that you did not immediately register the fact that the theme song had faded away much earlier than it should have. Perhaps you had just forgotten how it went, after all, it had been a long time since you had last watched Naruto. But you also didn’t notice that the background noise sounded closer and much more real than it should.
Your eyes flew open.
“Huh? Where did my TV go?” you wondered aloud, dumfounded. Directly in front of you where the screen should have been was an empty wall. It wasn’t just your imagination — you really did have a television set a moment ago. You squinted at the blank space on your wall, wondering if you were just imagining things. Perhaps you never really did have a TV in the first place…
Without a warning, the ground began to lurch unpleasantly. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut as your head started spinning. Gasping as you felt a sudden stabbing pain in your arms and chest, you groped blindly for the remote control, your thoughts muddled. Through the closed lids of your eyes, you could see a bright whirlwind of swirling colours. And as abruptly as this strange incident began, you blacked out.
“[Name]. [Name]! Are you all right?” There was someone pounding frantically on your door.
You blinked groggily, struggling to get up. Who would be here at such a strange hour? Your body felt oddly numb, as if you had overslept. But as you looked outside your window, you realized that the sky was still dark. You scanned your surroundings, feeling uneasy. You didn’t recognize the unfamiliar ceiling, and neither did the strange furniture look like the stuff in your home. Upon closer inspection, you could see that the room did resemble your house a bit. You decided that you must be dreaming. You glanced around cautiously, preparing to defend yourself if someone jumped out and attacked. The pounding grew louder. And who was that at the door?
“[Name]!” the voice yelled again. It was unmistakably male, and it wasn’t a voice you recognized. Though, come to think of it, you might have heard it somewhere before, perhaps in a movie or on the radio. How odd.
“Um…who’s there?” You asked warily, surprised at how different your voice sounded. It was still your voice, you could tell. But more like…your voice when you were younger. You stood up suddenly, feeling dazed and disoriented. You glanced around the room again, half-expecting it to melt away like it sometimes did in dreams. You walked to a corner of your room, inspecting the walls and poked it experimentally at random. Then your eyes moved to where your mirror was. You peered at your reflection and nearly toppled over in shock.
You were younger.
“Gah!” you cried out in surprise, staring at your twelve-year-old self. You slowly brought your finger to the smooth glass and your reflection mimicked your movements. You let out a frightened squeak and withdrew your hand as if the mirror had burned you.
“[Name]! Are you okay? Open the door!” You had completely forgotten about that person.
“Coming!” you called hurriedly, mentally cringing at the strangeness if your voice. You fumbled with the locks and yanked the doorknob open. Then you nearly tumbled backwards in shock for a second time, but you managed to catch yourself before you fell.
Standing before you was a man with dark brown hair tied in a stiff ponytail, a scar running across the bridge of his nose, and wearing a very recognizable green vest.
It was Umino Iruka. In person.
You promptly fainted.
Go to Chapter 2.