Okay guys, I have recently gotten inspired by several SI/OCs to try and write a Naruto one. The most notable, and possibly the most famous, is Dreaming of Sunshine by Silver Queen and Inoue Shiori by Hermionechan90. Both are pretty good, long, and entertaining. They aren't even very 'traditional' SI. Also, Clearing Mist by shadownumera, where the SI is born in the Bloody Mist and befriends Kisame. Also very good, and the only one actually finished at this point.

The OC I use for this story is one I have the most experience with, I believe. Anyone at all familiar with my work will probably recognize her on sight because I use her in everthing. Sigh, yes I am using Kathy. She is, afterall, me. Also, this is practice for me because I don't EVER write in first person. Alot of the decisions I make for this story are also made with a best-out-of-three coin flip. Pardon me if it's shit.

Disclaimer: I am not Kishimoto, therefore I own nothing. If you bothered to ask my father, I don't even own the computer I type my shit fanfiction on. So there.

In my old life, my friends liked to tease me and say I had a 'situational photographic memory,' which I guess is true. When things interest me, I remember them. Remember everything. I remember almost every movie I have ever seen, every detail contained in the pages of my favorite books. It could have been years and then someone would say even the name and I would remember.

Naruto was, is, one of those things. I had been fascinated by the manga and subsequent anime as a pre-teen. It was like nothing I had ever seen before and I soaked it in like a sponge, every detail, reference, character, everything. But by the time I had entered highschool, I began to grow out of it. Wasn't the first time really, and certainly wasn't the last. Yu Yu Hakusho, Sailor Moon, Dragon Ball Z, etc. I had loved and moved on from all the big shot anime as I had aged. They had finished, there was no more for me to love.

Naruto continued to grow though, just like I did. Oh, I would peek my head in once or twice a year, check on how the story was going and making sure my favorite characters were still alive. Fell in love with some of the minor ones and certainly the Akastuki, who were some of the most badass people in existence. I mourned when characters died, even if they had been antagonists. But Naruto had cared for them, made them whole again, and in the end, they had become better people in their final moments.

Even now, I think that's what really drew me in. The idea that someone could change lives in such ways, make a difference like Uzumaki Naruto could, it gave me hope. It gave me inspiration. So when it was time for me to decide what to do with my life, I became a teacher. Iruka Umino was by far one of my all time favorites and he had been the catalyst, really. If it wasn't for him, Naruto would have never survived to become the hero he was destined to be. I couldn't make anyone a hero, as far as I knew anyway, but I would do my best.

And I did. I became a teacher and worked in some of the worst inner city schools out there, traveling the country. I was a motivational speaker, nowhere near on par with Naruto but who was?, I made home visits and got kids out of some bad situations. I started Rehabilitation Programs for detention centers, book exchanges with various prisons, and even became a minor 'face' for several Child Abuse Awareness/Anti-Bullying projects. I was happy. I was sure if he existed, Naruto would be happy with what I was doing. Was this a healthy way to go about, doing things I was sure would make a fictional character pleased? Probably not, but I wouldn't know. Psychology was never my forte. But it kept me motivated, so I didn't really care.

I did all this and more, up until the day I died. I was shot in the chest while speaking at a rally. I was thirty five, had been doing things like this for near on ten years and had pissed off a lot of people. I was, had been, changing things. Too much, too quickly. People don't like change. It hurt. A lot. I couldn't breathe and there was a weight on my chest and people were screaming, and I thought I could here someone calling my name. That's the last thing I remember before I died.

In most stories like mine, the main character is almost immediately shunted off to be reborn, or maybe they hang around for a few seconds. Not me, oh no. I just had to be difficult. I hung around for a few days. Oh, it's not like They didn't want me to go. They were constantly tugging, trying to get me to go with Them. But I had just died and I was grumpy and annoyed, so I just yelled "Fuck you!" and floated away. Floated, because I was a ghost. Like Yusuke was at the beginning of Yu Yu Hakusho. If I hadn't been so pissed, I would have been absolutely delighted.

I stayed around for my funeral. I don't think I've ever looked that good, especially when I was alive. Someone had maticulously brushed and styled my red hair and left it down, because that's how I looked best. I was even wearing my favorite suit, with it's green pencil skirt, white button up, and green blazer. I looked damn good. There... There was a lot of people there. Kids I had helped, parolees, whole buses full of convicts with guards. Tall, scary looking men and woman covered in tattoos, crying because I had died. I wanted to cry too. "Did what she loved, no matter the cost." It was on my headstone. I stayed long enough to watch my best friend cry and laugh at the same time as one of the convicts retold the story of how I had made a mess of myself and the floor while volunteering. I smiled as everyone cracked up. They would be okay.

I stopped struggling against the pull and let Them take me. I just hoped wherever I was going had gummy bears.

I spent a long time floating in nothingness. At least, it felt like Nothing. I heard muffled voices sometimes, and a man humming quite a bit. It sounded, though I couldn't tell at the time, like Greensleeves. There was a higher voice too. Closer. They were shrill and loud. They screamed a lot. Deep Voice, the nickname I gave the one who liked to hum, screamed back sometimes. For awhile, I didn't hear Deep Voice. I couldn't tell for how long, but I missed them. I hated Shrill One. They sounded cruel, hard and shattered at the same time. Once, the Nothing shook and quaked and I was scared. I could feel my heart beating, terrified out of my mind. I thought I was going to die. But then Deep Voice came back and things got better.

Not long after that, I felt a disturbance in the Nothing. It had steadily began to shrink, over time. But now it wanted me out. Immediately. I didn't want to leave. Leaving hurt. There was pressure all around me, and Shrill One was screaming so loud. And then there was light and noises and smells. It was so cold and the Nothing was warm. I wanted to go back to the Nothing, where everything was okay and there wasn't some random woman screaming her lungs out. I flailed as large hands held me and carried me. I had always hated being carried, even as a small child according to my parents.

Wait. Someone was carrying me? I was much too tall to be carried. I was 5'8 for pete's sake! But these people were huge and speaking some kind of language I couldn't understand. Not that it mattered, my hearing was muffled like I had just gotten out of the pool and hadn't cleared my ears yet. I couldn't see very well. Frustrated, I resorted to hitting and yelling at whoever this strange creature thought he was, but I paused as I finally saw my hands. They were so little and chubby. And I couldn't talk. Only make weird baby noises. Oh no. No. Nonono. Noonononono. I was not a baby.

Or maybe I was. I mentally sighed as I went through the motions of getting cleaned up, measured, and wrapped up like some monstrous pink burrito. Should I really be all that surprised, I thought to myself. I bet They are having an outright laughing fit because of this, the cruel bastards. From what little I could see, this was a maternity ward, no matter how outdated it seemed to be. It was relatively clean, if you ignored the mess Shrill One and I had made in our shared debacle. Oh goody, Shrill One is my mother. Wonderful. Narrowing my eyes in her direction, I could see she wasn't even looking at me, just frowning irritatedly at the wall. Yes, I am sure she will be an amazing mother.

I shifted my head to the left as I heard Deep Voice speak. It had to be Deep Voice, who else could be that huge? He was the biggest sonova bitch in the whole damn room. I was handed to him like a sack of potatoes, for which I screeched at the doctor in revenge. He jumped back in surprise. He obviously didn't get many self-aware newborns in his practice. Deep Voice let out a hearty laugh at the doctor's face and I looked up at my father, because who else could it be? I couldn't see him very well, couldn't even see in color yet. Couldn't understand him. But he had such a smile and laughing eyes, even if I couldn't tell you the color. I liked him on sight. Or maybe I loved him how a daughter is supposed to love her father. I matched his smile with one of my own and he laughed his booming laugh again.

I'm glad someone other than me had a sense of humor.

I was about three months old when I A. finally found out where I was, and B. figured out what my name was. Misaki. Kishimoto Misaki. I had the creator of Naruto's last name. When I finally figured that out, I couldn't decided whether I wanted to laugh or cry. But it was decided for me when I met my first Shinobi. Which turned out to be my mother, Kana. She didn't have a last name because my parents weren't married. They hated eachother, with a passion. I had been an accident. My mother would be leaving as soon as I was old enough to no longer really need her milk anymore.

But the situation turned out to be even more complicated. My mother was a shinobi, yes, but she was also a deserter from Iwa. Not even my father knew that until some Jounin showed up at her front door when I was six months old. The Third Shinobi War had only began about a year before I was born. Obviously, this was about when my mother deserted the Rock Village and ran to hide in our tiny village on the border of River and Fire. Tou-san, as I had taken to calling him the last few months, and I didn't even object when they took her with them. I was old enough to be eating mashed, but solid foods now. It's not like she had been contributing much else for the last six months. She was a traitor anyway, Kana wasn't coming back.

I had never had a dominant mother figure in my life Before. She had been distant always, and my father had raised me after they had divorced. I wasn't terribly upset that I was without a mother once more. At least my Before Mother hadn't slapped me when I cried. Tou-san had been angry when he caught Kana hitting me for 'accidently' spitting up my breakfast into her lap. He reminded me of my Before Father quite abit and I found myself comforted by his presence. He had red hair and dark eyes like the Before had. He was towering and rough-handed from daily manual labor, like my father Before. They had the same laugh, the same high intelligence. And I loved him for it.

Kana's hair had been brown, which was odd because the only place more famous for it's blondes than Iwa was Konoha, and that was only because of the Yamanaka. She did have blue eyes though. When my hair really began to grow in, Tou-san and I realized I had his hair color and her pale complexion, but had lucked out with Kana's eyes. I was grateful, really. Throw millions of freckles on me, and I looked almost like I did Before.

I eventually got those freckles back, over the years working with Tou-san. He was a carpenter and a very good one at that. With the war, he was busy too. We were constantly moving from village to village, country to country, following the armies and avoiding the bloodshed. Once, I asked why we moved so much, never staying in one place for long. He looked at me, over his shoulder because I was being carried on his back, clinging like a limpet or something. "I'm a craftsman Misa-chan. We follow where the work goes!" He said it so cheerfully too, because he was trying to protect me from the war.

I was six before we were picked up by a shinobi team, thankfully from Konoha. Specifically, Team Minato, will all it's pieces. Who woulda thought huh? Seriously, what were the fucking chances of running into what was most likely the most important team in the entire War? Ridiculous.

"Sensei," said Kakashi as he glared at us with both his eyes, "they could be spies. We should just kill them and be done with it." He was cold, eyes distant, unwavering, steel. I shook myself. Of course he still had both eyes, this was two years before that disastrous mission, if my math was right. Four before the Kyuubi was forced to attack the village. I had time still.

Minato sighed, running his hand through his hair, still keeping an eye on us. "Kakashi, that might no-" He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence.

Obito jumped up from the kneeling position he had taken to tie my hands behind my back. "Seriously Hatake?! They're civilians for kami's sake! Even you can tell that!" The Uchiha looked almost livid. I blinked at him in surprise and glanced at Tou-san, who was looking like he wanted to very much be away from the general vicinity of these crazy ninja.

Of course, the two boys, because that's what they were, boys, children who shouldn't be here, began to get to argue and scuffle while Minato and Rin sighed resignedly. I wiggled myself awkwardly to face the only relatively sane ones here. I certainly didn't count. Tou-san? He was far too cheerful to be completely there. "... Are they always like that?"

Sensei and student simply sighed and nodded. I glanced at the boys again before looking back to the two. "You do know Tou-san and I really are civilians right?" Tou-san eagerly nodded his head in agreement.

"What my daughter said, shinobi-san. I'm just a traveling carpenter from the Land of Rivers, moving around to profit from the war while I can. And Misaki-chan is only six. We have never strayed near a hidden village and steer clear of warzones when possible. Neither of us have training."

Minato narrowed his eyes at my father. I don't think he liked the idea of profit from war. I agreed with him, on a ethical scale, truly, but it kept food on the table and decent clothes on our back. When we had a little extra, we gave people discounts or donated to a local temple. We were trying to get by, just like everyone else. How dare Minato judge us in such a way? Everyone suffered during war time, not just the military.

I clenched my jaw angrily and looked the future Hokage in the eyes, a bold move for shinobi, let alone a civilian. I looked him in his eyes and dared him to judge us. Minato's eyes widened in surprise but he didn't look away. He seemed almost amused by the end of our impromptu staring contest. "Aa, Misaki-chan, you shouldn't look so fierce. Your eyes cut into me like stone." I rolled said eyes and snorted as he grinned cheekily at me.

It was another ten minutes before Kakashi and Obito had stopped their childish squabble, for that was what it was no matter what they said, and returned to camp. In the meantime, Rin had started a fire and we were sat around it, still bound by our hands. Bored out of my skull not even seconds later as the four quietly decided what to do with these random civilians, I had slipped off my shoes, simple but sturdy geta, and had begun picking up rocks with my toes. Occasionally, I would toss one in the group's general direction and giggle childishly when they looked up.

Eventually, they decided to just take us back to Konoha with them. Tou-san was terrified of what would happen when we arrived. He worried for me. Over the years, I had expected him to have kept me out of obligation instead of love. But there were times he made it obvious how wrong I was. Maybe in the beginning, and I couldn't blame him, but not anymore. It showed in the way his smile softened around the edges when he looked at me, how he laughed louder at my terrible, six year old jokes. When he picked me up after a long day of travel, set me in his lap, and hummed the Greensleeves song. Somethings don't change, no matter the world. And I loved that.

We were ambushed half-way to the village. Iwa nin, no familiar faces. And why would there be anyway? Deidara was less than five at this point in the timeline, I was certain. Tou-san and I were told to stay back, away from the fight. But enemy-nin were clever bastards sometimes and knew weak points. Especially in groups. My father and I? Weak points. They targeted me especially.

No one had time to react when one of the Iwa nin, a man with black hair plaited in a waterfall style, literally popped up in front of me, in my tiny six year old body, and stabbed me in the shoulder, straight through to the other side. My scream is what brought Team Minato to me, but not before my father, my Tou-san, my everything, punched that enemy right in the gut and bashed his poor, pretty face in with the hammer from his tool belt.

A scream of rage and sorrow was all the warning I had before it happened.

Before I watched a Master Carpenter beheaded by an explosive tag simply because he had been trying to protect his only child.

Sorrynotsorry. At all. Super long chapter, I know. I hope I keep it up, honestly. This was a lot of fun to write. Please remember to review and tell me what you think!