Author's Note
Thank you so much to everyone who reads and shares this story.Please offer serious and constructive criticism—no unnecessary hate. This is my first fanfiction and also my first written work, so I truly hope you'll enjoy it.
All rights to Naruto and any other anime series mentioned belong to their original creators.This is a completely fictional fan story, written out of respect and admiration for the original series.
For those who haven't read or watched Naruto (or the other anime referenced here), I highly recommend doing so—it will help you understand and appreciate this story much more deeply.
(Earth, Year 2025 – England)
My name is Richard.
I've never had a last name, and I never needed one.For as long as I can remember, I've been an orphan—a boy without parents, without a place to belong.
Maybe they didn't want me.Maybe they were in trouble.Maybe they died.Or maybe… they just couldn't afford to raise a child.
I'll never know.
I was passed from one orphanage to another, never staying long. The caretakers called me "difficult," but the truth was simpler: I didn't fit. I was too sharp, too observant, too different—and people hate what they can't understand.
A few foster families tried to take me in, but it never lasted. Like most gifted children, I was cursed with arrogance. I couldn't connect with them—or maybe I never wanted to.
Books and shows became my only escape.Stories were my doors to other worlds—worlds where people mattered, where even pain had meaning. Within those pages and screens, I could be someone… or something.
Over the years, I taught myself several languages. One man once called me a "genius."But genius is just another word for lonely.
Now I'm twenty.I live alone in a cramped apartment and make a modest living as an invisible office worker.My life has no color, no sound—only routine, endless and gray.
This morning, I was supposed to be at work by seven for some "important announcement."I still remember stepping outside.The cold air.The sound of distant traffic.
And then—
Nothing.
A car. Quiet tires. A flash of light.Then darkness.
Two weeks later.
I'm still lying in a hospital bed. They say I'm in a coma, but my mind feels awake—trapped inside a body that refuses to move.
Even as a child, I learned to accept my fate in silence. But deep down, I always wished for something more—to live in one of those fictional worlds I admired so much.
Of course, that's just a dream.People like me don't get second chances.
But if I could choose… I wouldn't be the hero.Heroes live for others.I'd rather be who lives his own way —because i want to carve my own destiny.
My life was nothing but hollow shadows anyway.
Then, something stirred.My hand twitched—just a fraction, almost imperceptible—but it was enough. My will broke through the weakness of my flesh.
For one burning second, I forced my eyes open.
The hospital room was still and silent. Machines hummed softly in the dark.
My lips moved, dry and unfamiliar.
"Before I can beat others…" I whispered, "I have to beat my old, weak self first."
I ripped the IV needle from my arm. The pain was sharp and real—a reminder that I was still alive. Slowly, step by step, I left the room.
The corridor was empty, swallowed by shadow. My feet carried me upward—whether by instinct or fate, I couldn't tell—until I reached the hospital roof.
The night air was cold, sharp against my skin.Far below, the city lights shimmered like distant stars.
I walked to the edge and looked down upon the world I no longer belonged to.
"This will be my final moment," I murmured as the wind tore at my gown. "And I'll face it with pride."
Turning my back to the city, I spread my arms wide, as if to embrace the sky.
The wind howled—a lonely requiem for the man I once was.
And then… I let go.
"Here and now, I end this useless, mediocre life…"
"…and become nothing."