There are 173 champions in League of Legends, at least, that was the number at the time of my death, and so the question is: which one to choose?
One hundred and seventy-three different ways to live, fight, and attempt to not die.
The system screen hung in the void before me, a wall of faces. Assassins with blades longer than their arms. Mages who could probably nuke a city or two, if left alone. Monsters made of pure nightmare fuel. Gods, demons, cosmic horrors, and a fucking yordle who rode a giant mecha.
My inner gamer screamed for the flashy picks. Katarina for the pentakill potential. Zed for the outplay memes. Veigar for the satisfaction of watching an enemy's health bar just disappear.
But then I saw it. That line at the bottom of the screen: **[DEATH: FINAL]**. I was reminded that dying is permanent, and the only solution to that issue is to pick a champion that is very good at surviving the game.
This wasn't a game. There was no respawn point and no second chances. I wasn't trying to get the highest DPS or something ridiculous like that. I was trying to not die again, preferably not in a way that was even stupider than the first time.
You don't survive life with a glass cannon. You win by being the most annoying, unkillable piece of shit on the field. You win the long game.
My eyes scanned the list, past the edgy assassins, the bruisers, and the burst mages, past the marksmen who'd get deleted the second a sneeze came their way. I was looking for something else. Something sturdy. Something reliable. Something that even a noob can carry with, and then I found him.
The big guy. The poster boy for "just walk at them and ult." The legend. The man whose entire kit was designed to say "no" to death and "I am fast as fuck, boys!"
Garen, the Might of Demacia.
A walking, talking, spinning fortress. No mana bar that is always empty after using a few skills. No annoying skillshots that always miss. Just point, click, and be immortal, and when shit goes south, run for your life. I still remembered his passive: regenerate health when not being hit. And his W? A permanent damage reduction shield. And his E? Well, being a beyblade is kinda fun, too, right? Finally, his ultimate? A giant fuck-you axe that deleted low-health targets, and you can type out "Out-played noob!" or, even more annoying, simply type out in all capitals, "JUSTICE," and they will start chatting more than playing the fricking game.
It was perfect. Sure, it was the most boring, most practical, most survivable choice I could possibly make, but simplicity has its own beauty when you play against noobs.
"Alright, big guy," I muttered to the portrait. "Let's not die stupidly this time."
I focused my will on the stoic warrior.
**CHAMPION SELECTED: GAREN**
**INITIALIZING...**
The gray void dissolved, and the first thing I felt was pain.
A sharp, throbbing, liquid agony pulsed from the back of my skull. The second thing I felt was grass. Scratchy, damp grass against my cheek.
I groaned. Or tried to. The sound that came out was a weak, pathetic whimper.
*What the fuck?* My voice was gone. Replaced by... this.
I pushed myself up, my arms wobbling like wet noodles. Everything felt wrong. My hands were tiny. My body was light. I looked down at myself. Small, pudgy arms. A plain blue tunic. Tiny brown sandals.
I was a kid. A five or maybe six-year-old, if I had to guess.
My memory was a blank slate. Not just "who am I," is missing, but also the "where am I" is missing.
At least I remember the void, Baylet [AN: He is named Baylet!!!], the contract, League of Legends... those memories are still there. But knowledge about this world, my new name, or even my family... none, nada, niet.
I looked around. The scenery was... odd. It looked like something out of a painting of old Japan, but all jumbled up. A traditional pagoda-style roof sat on top of a building that looked suspiciously like a medieval European tavern. Cherry blossom trees grew next to what looked like oak trees. A stone path, worn smooth, wound its way through the bizarre landscape.
"REN!"
The voice was high-pitched, filled with panic. I turned my head, a movement that sent another bolt of pain through my skull.
A small girl was rushing towards me. She looked tiny, probably no older than three or four, definitely not much older than my new body, with the most shockingly pink hair I had ever seen. Her eyes, wide with worry, were green in color. Not gonna lie, she was cute as fuck, but that's just how children are always cute.
She skidded to a halt in front of me, her small chest heaving. "Ren! Are you alright?!"
I stared at her. My new name was Ren? Huh.
"Yes?" I managed to croak out.
"You're bleeding!" she cried, pointing a trembling finger at my head.
I reached up and touched the back of my skull. My fingers came away wet and sticky. Red. Blood. Right. I must have fallen. From... somewhere.
"Yeah, well, fuck, but shit happens," I said, my tiny voice completely undercutting the casual vulgarity as I shrugged my shoulders.
The pink-haired girl just stared at me, her mouth slightly agape. "You... you don't talk like that."
"I don't?" I asked, genuinely confused. "By the way, midget, who are you?"
Her expression shifted from worry to pure, unadulterated shock. "You... you don't know who I am?"
"No. I do not. Are you someone important?" I said, trying to sound more patient than I felt. "Can you tell me where we are?"
She blanched. The color drained from her petite face so fast I thought she might pass out. Her eyes filled with tears.
"MOOOOOOM!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs as she turned and bolted away, leaving me standing there, bleeding and utterly gobsmacked. What a fucking drama queen.
I only asked her a question and did not threaten her or anything.
I stood there for a few seconds, dripping blood, and just as I contemplated going to find help, I heard footsteps pounding towards me. A woman, this one with the same shocking pink hair tied back in a neat bun, came rushing up the path. She looked like an older, more stressed-out version of the chibi girl.
"Ren! Are you alright? I heard Sakura shouting... Oh, gods, look at your head!" she exclaimed, rushing to my side and gently trying to inspect the wound.
"Everyone keeps calling me Ren," I said, looking up at her. "Is that my name?"
The woman froze. Her hands, which had been so gentle a moment ago, suddenly clamped down on my shoulder like a vice. Her eyes widened in horror.
"Ren, that is not funny. What happened? Where's Sakura?" she asked, her voice tight with panic.
"The pink drama queen? She ran off screaming for her mom! I seriously did not do anything; I don't even know who that brat is," I said, gesturing vaguely in the direction she'd fled.
The woman's face went white. "Oh no. Oh no, no, no."
"Hey, lady, you can't just—"
My protest was cut short as she hoisted me up with surprising strength and started dragging me down the path.
"Hey! You can't kidnap me!" I shouted indignantly, my tiny legs flailing uselessly. "This is literally kidnapping! I have to find my family!"
She didn't answer. She just kept marching, her grip like iron, muttering to herself about "head injuries" and "memory loss."
Minutes later, I was unceremoniously deposited on a hard wooden bench in what was clearly some kind of clinic or doctor's office. It smelled like herbs and something vaguely antiseptic. A man with a long, gray beard and spectacles perched on his nose bustled over, his expression serious.
He asked me a series of simple questions. My name (Ren, apparently). What I remembered (nothing). How many fingers he was holding up (three). The whole time, the pink-haired woman, Sakura's mom, I presumed, paced back and forth, wringing her hands.
Finally, the doctor turned to her. "It appears the boy has suffered a severe blow to the head. The amnesia is not uncommon in such cases. His memories may return in time, or they may not. There is no way to be certain."
"Please, just do something for his head," the woman pleaded.
The doctor nodded. "Of course. Hold still, young man."
He stepped closer, his hands hovering over the wound on the back of my skull. I braced myself for more stinging, but instead, a soft, green light began to emanate from his palms. It was warm, gentle, and felt... weirdly tingly. The light pulsed, and I could feel the skin on my head knitting itself back together. The throbbing pain subsided, replaced by a soothing warmth.
*Magic,* I thought, my gamer brain screaming in triumph. *Actual fucking magic.*
In less than a minute, the light faded. The doctor pulled his hands away. "There. Good as new. He'll have a small scar, but the wound is sealed."
The woman let out a shuddering sigh of relief, as if that was the best news she'd heard all year. "Oh, thank the gods. He's alright."
"He needs rest," the doctor said, his tone firm. "And someone should keep a close eye on him for the next few days. The amnesia is the real concern."
"Of course," the woman said immediately. "I'll take him home right now."
And just like that, I was being grabbed again, this time more gently, and led out of the clinic. I was going "home." With a complete stranger. In a world that looked like Japan had a drunken one-night stand with Medieval Europe. A world with magic. Is this the Harry Potter universe, but I've ended up in Japan instead of Britain?!
This was my second life. But so far, it was just as confusing as the first one.
The woman, whose name I learned was Mebuki (and my mom), led me through the bizarre streets. The architecture was still a jumble, but I was starting to see a pattern. The Japanese-style buildings were more common, with the occasional European-style structure thrown in, like someone had been mixing and matching assets from two different video games, or rather two different societies.
We arrived at a small, neat house with a well-tended garden out front. It was one of the more traditional-looking structures.
As soon as Mebuki slid the door open, a pink blur launched itself from inside.
"MOM!" the pink blur, which was definitely Sakura, wailed, attaching herself to Mebuki's leg. "I couldn't find you! I went to Ino's place but she wasn't home, so I ran to the Uchiha Police Force and told them Ren was hurt and has gone lost, and now everyone is looking for him and I'm so sorry I'm a horrible sister!"
Mebuki sighed, a sound of pure, bone-deep exhaustion. She gently pried her daughter off her leg and knelt down, looking her in the eye. "Sakura, calm down. Ren is right here. He's safe."
Sakura's tear and snot-streaked face turned towards me, her eyes widening in relief. "Ren! You're okay!"
I just stood there, feeling awkward and out of place. But then my brain caught up with what she'd said.
*Uchiha Police Force.*
The name hit me like a freight train. The weird Japan-meets-Europe aesthetic. The magic healing. The fucking Uchiha Police Force.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Fuck you Baylet! [AN: Still Baylet, you dumb brat!]
I wasn't just in some generic fantasy world. I was in *Naruto*. I was in Konoha. The land of giant talking frogs, magical eye-bloodlines, and enough emotional trauma and fear to power a small city in Monster Inc..
My choice of Garen suddenly felt both incredibly smart and monumentally stupid. Smart, because this world was filled with overpowered, glass-cannon assholes who could probably level a city block by sneezing. Being a tank was basically a requirement for long-term survival.
Stupid, because I was now, supposedly, a five-year-old boy with amnesia in a village run by people who thought that high-stakes espionage and child soldiers were a perfectly normal way of life.
"Ren? Are you listening?" Mebuki's voice pulled me out of my existential crisis.
I blinked. "What?"
"I said, we're just glad you're safe," she said, her expression softening. "Let's get you inside. You must be exhausted."
Inside, the house was simple and clean. It smelled of lavender and something else... something like ink and old paper. Mebuki sat me down at a low table and brought me a cup of water. Sakura sat across from me, staring at me with an intensity that was frankly unnerving.
"So you really don't remember anything?" she asked, for what must have been the tenth time.
"Nope," I said, popping the 'p'. "My head is a blank slate. Wiped clean..."
She frowned, clearly not understanding how someone can lose all their memories, but whatever she is a child, and children are stupid as fuck. Before she could ask another question, the front door slid open with a sharp *clack*.
"Mebuki! Sakura! I heard what happened!" A man with darkish pink hair and a serious face strode in. He looked like a standard, generic office worker dad, but there was an undercurrent of panic in his voice.
"Kizashi," Mebuki said, standing up to greet him. "He's alright. The doctor healed him, but..."
She started telling him the doc's diagnosis, and finally the man, Kizashi, looked at me. His gaze was heavy, analytical. "Amnesia?"
She nodded.
Kizashi's shoulders slumped in relief, but his eyes remained serious. "Well, that is not the worst outcome as long as he is alive and healthy, he can always make new memories. I was worried sick. The whole Uchiha clan is out searching the village."
*The whole Uchiha clan.* Fantastic. I'd already managed to cause a village-wide incident before I'd even figured out where the bathroom was. This was a new personal record.
"We'll just have to help him get his old memory back," Sakura declared, slamming her tiny fist on the table. "We're family, and family helps each other!"
She looked at me with such fierce determination that I almost felt bad for her. She had no idea she'd just be-familied a thirty-something gamer in a five-year-old's body who was currently having a silent panic attack about his life choices.
"Right," I managed to say. "Family."
Mebuki and Kizashi exchanged a look I couldn't quite read. It was a mix of pity, relief, and something else...
"Ren," Kizashi said, his voice gentle but firm. "Even though you have lost your memories, you're going to go to the academy tomorrow as usual."
And just like that, I had a home. A family. A name. I was Ren, the amnesiac kid who fell out of a tree.
I was also a Garen main in the Hidden Leaf Village, and I had a sinking feeling that my "survive at all costs" strategy was about to be put to the test in ways I couldn't even begin to imagine.