AN: First Story, inspired by the many amazing SI-OC fics out there, please don't flame. (More at bottom)

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of its franchise.

Warnings: rated T for swearing and violence

Beta: None

Prologue

I absentmindedly tapped my sneakers on the tiled floor — a tad impatient, but mostly intimidated by all the well-dressed people nearby. I was only here to deliver a box of take-out, so why does it seem like everyone is criticizing me with their eyeballs? I certainly get that my attire, which largely consisted of comfortable informal clothes with my workplace's embalm, was a bit out of place, but seriously? Don't these people have paper they're supposed to file or places they're supposed to be (like their work stalls or something)?

Whatever, a girl's gotta do what she needs to do.

But even so, it was a relief when the door to the office finally opened and I could enter the damn room. Giving the man within his order and taking the money with a faux cheerful "thank you for your order" (no one could really tell the difference anyway, except for my sister), I left the cramped space with all the subtlety of a uncomfortable cat.

After all, a student/bookworm/random-facts-nerd/parkour-lover shouldn't have anything to do with the bigwigs in a company as "awesome" as this.

I sauntered down the right side of the hallway, looking all the confident human I'm not, all the while trying to ignore the lack of subtlety in the glances that all the employees were shooting me. To my great relief, the elevator was just around the corner, which meant fresh air and freedom. Looking around for any bystanders, I repeatedly stabbed at the down button, although the logical corner of my mind complained to me that no matter what I did to the poor elevator the metal box wouldn't come faster.

*Perhaps if I were more patient, I wouldn't have ended up where I was now*

The breath that escaped out of relief was not completely unintended when the door *dinged*. I skirted into the elevator to avoid possible homo sapiens without a second thought and watched the doors close after pressing the button for the lobby, all-the-while mentally mapping out the route I needed to take back to my workplace for the next order and utterly ignoring the incredulous look the other person in the elevator levelled at my appearance.

I honestly couldn't care less about him.

But soon I could go free and run, (or bike) — unhindered by any objects on my back such as a forgettable box of Chinese takeout.

The first time I squashed the food will also be the last, lest I risk the fury of my boss and unemployment, something I really can't risk at the moment.

Shoving away that uncomfortable thought, a smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. Nothing could beat the sheer exhilaration of being able to run, heedless of obstacles, through a city of steel and concrete, or flying on a bike through crowded streets and down forgotten alleys. But mainly the freedom, was undeniably worth dying for, even if I can only run and do rolls, maybe jump off an occasional ledge or two.

For nothing, nothing could beat the feeling of the wind and the knowing that my life is in my hands and my hands only, and mine to do what I want to, without restrictions (unless it's devouring a book, filled to the brim with magic and universes sans the concept us measly humans both love and hate, the concept of logic). Too many rules and laws have already been pushed onto me, which only heightened the freedom I feel when the only limits are the physical ones like the distance that I could jump or the height that I could climb.

Parkour has really gotta be the best method of travelling out there, and it's certainly underrated when compared to all the other sports. But then, it's quite dangerous and the mental requirements pose quite a problem… so, never mind…

After the man stopped staring at me, I gave him a quick glance. Impeccable suit, smug/stoic/sneering face, then coupled with professional looking glasses topped the feeling of a "pro" *coughmanwithastickuphisasscough*. So, he's basically one of the ego-inflated faceless humanoid masses that this building housed, excluding the janitor. And the Front Desk, all caps. About a full tenth of the people in the building pretty much bought their way into work (which really is sort of against the point of working) and definitely aren't fit for their positions — blame gossip and open secrets, or maybe just smokescreens.

That was a very random train of thought.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened, allowing the douchbag that previously shared the metal box with me to get out. No one else came in, not that I would've cared much anyway, being around formal people makes me nervous/want to punch their face/bury my pitiful existence in a big pile of books and facts and never dig myself out.

I shot a glance at the floor number, a large green 17. Welp, this elevator is sure slow…the one in the mall would be at the fifth floor or something by now.

Suddenly the elevator shuddered in its relatively smooth descent and I began to regret taking a metal box suspended by wires. I really should've just taken the stairwell, even if it was hopping on the rails instead of the legitimate stairs. There's been too many reports of elevators malfunctioning and getting stuck between floors, what if this happens now…? My boss would kill me and I wouldn't have time to go home to study for the tests tomorrow…I sort of need to return the bike too, unless the boss was being nice…

Never-mind, there was a larger chance of people discovering the secret to life's formation then my boss being generous.

Mind made up, I poked the floor button for 14 to get off early, taking the stairways is nothing compared to the wrath of my employer or professor, and saving energy to parkour back to work wouldn't take too much time. If worse came to worse, I could just walk like any other sane person instead of risking slow-death by traffic.

Did I just subconsciously consider myself insane?

Just when the elevator s-c-r-e-e-c-h-e-d to a halt (it's not supposed to screech is it?), I prepared to exit the damning box, only to realize that it was on the 15th floor. My thingy-that-pumped-blood chilled. The elevator shuddered once more before it started free-fall. Along with the rest of my internal organs, my stomach stayed on floor 14 as the rest of me — body, brain and spirit, obviously sans most organs —- plunged downwards towards certain death.

At least I would go out with a bang?

(after the bang I'll end up as a little splatter on the bottom of the shaft, so, not as encouraging as I had previously thought)

My life did not flash before my eyes, as I predicted, but the world slowed down and everything seemed detached, as if I was watching someone else plummet to their death via faulty elevator.

The last thoughts that I would ever have as a teenager living in the 21st century was, indeed, rather insignificant.

Whelp, I forgot to return my library book.

Darkness.

Darkness pressed down on all sides, suffocating like the Mariana trench.

I could see nothing (but darkness, or does darkness not count?), hear nothing, feel nothing, and smell nothing.

For some reason the last one bothered me the most, and only with a jolt did I understand why.

I'm not breathing.

My mind flipped to full on panic mode, I desperately attempted to draw breath into my lungs.

Nothing.

Turns out I no longer have lungs, or at the very least, can no longer feel them.

More panicking resulted in me recalling my last moments, where the cold metal bit into flesh and I got killed(?) by a malfunctioning elevator.

Now that's embarrassing.

With another topic that I could turn to, I abandoned the previous depressing thread of thought, cuz that's what I do, isn't it? After all, I might not be actually dead.

After all, if I'm still conscious and aware (not really, I'm not, at least I don't think so? Somehow I still have the capability to wonder about the weirdness of life, so… that's a plus), then I'm probably in a coma or something. Huh, that's an interesting thought. If I'm in a coma, then which part of my brain is damaged if I can't interact with my surroundings? A coma would mean that my brain stem would be more or less intact, and more or less able to keep me alive (probably), but doesn't say much about the cerebella. My balance may be completely who when I regain "life", pity, that'll damage some of my possible life choices. And that's not even taking into account the cerebrum, even now humankind doesn't know enough about our brain but I'm quite certain that our thought processes and etc. originate from this portion of the brain and if I can still think sophisticated thoughts like these (questioning my position between life and death for example), then there must be enough intact.

But then, according to some random facts blog I followed on Tumblr, we can lose half of our brain and it would affect us in no ways at all. Unfortunately, I'm not actually sure of which parts were removable without backlash.

However, without vision, hearing, sense of smell, taste, and touch, I might as well be dead.

What is categorized as alive anyways?

I'm capable of thought, probably have an intact body, and definitely a brain. Can't really say I'm spiritually dead either.

Hopefully I'll be able to "wake up" again soon, or at the very least before the plug is pulled. That would be rather unfortunate as I'm quite attached to my life.

But the darkness seems to be calling and I'm very quite tired.

If I'm only living in my brain, what would taking a little nap do anyway?

AN: So, uh, yeah... That's the first chapter, still trying to get the hang of this, but basically an semi SI-OC fix, where some traits are mine and others are pulled from who-knows where. Updates may take awhile due to high school IB being very annoying (and our year getting used as lab rats) but I'll try my best!

Thanks for reading!

~Cadriona Morningwing

Last edit: June 5 2016