Summary: A twenty-three year old linguistics major with red hair, an attentive disorder, and hermit-like tendencies dies of blood loss. At the same moment, a child is born into a family renowned for their red hair, impulsivity, and seclusion from the world at large. Things get… complicated.

Story Warnings: Canon-typical violence, foul language, semi-self-insert as an original character, canon divergence, fix-it (of a sorts), eventual slash/het/femslash.

Pairings: Eventual Shisui/OC.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its related content.

A/N: PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS NOT A DUPLICATE STORY, AND THAT I AM MOVING FROM MY OLD ACCOUNT TO THIS ONE. The other copy of this fic will remain on my old account until Monday, the 18th of September, 2017. Apologies for clogging the fandom/character tags with the same fic twice, in the meantime.

So... I know that SI-OC stories are absurd in their abundance, and that people are probably sick of seeing them. It is also unusual for me to post anything before I have completed it in its entirety, but I was losing motivation for this fast and wanted to see if there was enough interest to warrant forcing myself to work on it anyway. I wanted to write a male SI-OC very badly, since I'm male and really bummed about how few there are. I also wanted to write an Uzumaki, because the Uzumaki are my favorite clan, and I have way too many Uzushio headcanons. So. This happened. Chapter 1 should be up by the end of October Feedback is welcome, and I hope you enjoy.

Originally posted 20th of March, 2017

Prologue: Zephyr

The wind outside Konohagakure rustled the leaves ever so slightly, creating a gentle hum left unnoticed by all but the vigilant ANBU patrolling the outer walls. The large, towering gates leading into the town creaked, and one of the two chūnin on standby at its entrance — a man of average height, with spiked hair and bandages winding around his nose — yawned. His partner, whose right eye was covered entirely by limp brown bangs, nudged him gently in admonishment for sleeping on the job. The former just frowned. There had been nearly no activity outside of the village proper all day; the soft breeze and warm sunlight tickling their senses did little to ward off the temptation of sleep in the face of boredom, and the bandaged chūnin saw no reason why he shouldn't indulge himself for a while. Still, he knew nothing good would come from upsetting his partner, so he instead sighed and straightened his posture, turning his rapidly dulling gaze out towards the forest. His partner, noticing the other's persisting lack of motivation, rolled his eyes.

The non-verbal bickering continued in this vein for a fair fifteen minutes, increasing steadily in volume until they had switched entirely from silent motions and sarcastic eye movements to back-and-forth quips which made the passing ANBU twitch with suppressed amusement. So involved with their squabble, the guards failed to notice the three figures approaching at a pace even slower than most civilians.

(The ANBU, of course, noticed immediately.)

Ambling sedately up the road, silent save for the assorted noises made by the only civilian in their midst, the three stared up at the village walls in interest. For the shortest — clearly a child, an Academy student or perhaps a fresh genin at best — it was their first good look at a Hidden Village; their first glimpse at the shinobi world outside of interaction with their Master. They could not help but stare up at the large trees and imposing gates in awe, twisting their hands into their kimono out of poorly suppressed anxiety. Next to them, a much larger man — the largest of them, in fact — was resisting the urge to tense. He had not been near a Hidden Village since he had fled his own, and he remained wary and vigilant of Hunters looking to lob his head off and line their pockets. Surely even Konoha would not be against putting him down. The slow approach to what he perceived as near certain death was far from enjoyable. Grimacing, he adjusted his grip on the large sword hefted over his shoulder.

Meanwhile, unperturbed by their companions' grim moods, the central figure continued onwards down the path. Their geta tapped dully against the dirt as they walked, clearly audible in the quiet air; if one listened closely enough, perhaps they could hear the soft tinkling of a bell, tied securely around the tail of the figure's loosely braided hair. They hummed as they walked, and the beads hanging from their peculiar earrings click-click-clicked against one another as their head bobbed in time with the unknown song. They were rather loud, all things considered, but they paid this no mind. Instead they fixed their eyes securely on the wall towering above them, thoughtful. They weren't quite sure what to feel about the sight. A looming stone barrier and weathered wooden doors were all that stood between them and the breeding ground for trouble; the town was their destination, true, but they could not quite help the vague sense of foreboding.

They didn't have much time to contemplate the feeling, in any case, since the moment their geta made contact with one of the sparse stones leading towards the gate, their companions stopped. The pavement marked the beginning of Konoha's village borders, and the two shinobi were not permitted within. The civilian blinked, falling silent.

"This is as far as we go, bastard," their taller escort rumbled, tension obvious in his voice, "We got you to the damn village, so pay up."

Upon hearing the unknown voice so close to their station, the two chūnin paused in their argument, looking up to find the source. Both paled at the sight of the man with the large sword and bandaged face; the ANBU perched upon the walls, who had watched the trio approach, did not take their eyes off him.

"Of course," the civilian agreed easily, pulling out (to the bafflement of the Konoha nin) a storage scroll and a small sewing needle, "Thank you for your hard work, Zabuza-san, Haku-san."

And then they promptly stabbed their index finger with the needle.

Momochi Zabuza, accustomed to the behavior by that point in time, watched the process passively from his position on the dirt path. His partner Haku stood silent and alert at his side, similarly blank faced. The two missing-nin had been travelling with this particular client for a month now. Blood seals were one of his less interesting oddities. There was a moment where nothing happened, a small flash of light, and then—

A soft pop could be heard echoing through the forest as a bag of coins appeared in the center of the storage seal, surrounded by dispersing smoke.

"Here you go," Was all the man said, tossing the bag towards his temporary guard carelessly. Zabuza caught it without effort, and his eyes widened briefly at the weight.

They then narrowed into furious slits, his fist closing around the bag suddenly and without mercy. A faint grind of metal against metal could be heard coming from within. The Konoha ANBU stood poised, prepared to jump in at any moment.

"Bastard," Zabuza spat, knuckles white as he gripped the cloth, "what the hell is this?!" Because this— this was not the payment they had agreed upon. No, not even close.

It was far too much.

Nearby, the chūnin guards stood up hastily, ready to intervene before things got messy on their territory, but—

The civilian just smiled mischievously, his previous countenance melting away instantly.

"Insurance!" He practically sang, and Haku had to stifle a smile in response as his own muscles relaxed; it was just like Master Zabuza to be upset about being payed extra, "You can't kill me now that I'm on Konoha soil, Zabuza-san! Use it well! I better be hearing some good news about Kiri sometime in the next year!"

Zabuza looked absolutely murderous. Haku could not quite smother the giggle before it escaped his mouth, this time, and Zabuza shot his little partner a sharp look at the sound. Weapons did not giggle, after all. But the look was halfhearted at best, and Haku allowed his smile to show.

This client had been good for them.

"Fucking Uzumaki," Zabuza snarled at the civilian, tossing the bag filled with too many coins at Haku and lifting his hands into a Tiger seal, "Hope I never see another one of you psychos again. Come on, Haku."

And as Haku carefully tucked the coin purse away into his kimono, his free hand gripping tightly at his Master's arm and his smile disappearing in a patch of fog and a whirl of water, Uzumaki Kaisei threw his head back and laughed. The bells tied artfully to his hair rang out clearly across the forest, and the leaves rustled ever so slightly in the brisk Konoha wind.

Nearby, a stunned chūnin with spiked hair and bandages winding around his nose could not help but think that this was much more interesting than a midday nap.