So, here is a baby of mine.

Out of everything I've ever written, I believe that I've spent the most time on my Naruto OCs. After all, I'm from the generation which grew up with this anime. So, as this has been a story which was voted as the second most sought-after of my new work, I've decided to put a chapter up and see how it goes.

Official note: I'm looking for a beta to go over the characters, their backgrounds and the work I have written so far with me. If there are any takers, feel free to let me know.

About the story:

Timeline: Beginning of the original Naruto show

Pairing: Kiba/OC as main

Rating: T

Updates: Slow

Enjoy the ride

Chapter 1: The marshes called home

In retrospect, I'd had a great life.

I suppose I should be grateful, to be able to say something like that. After all, not many shinobi can connect the words 'great' and 'life'. Most of them don't even live long enough to get to the point when they think about their life. No. The life of a shinobi normally goes somewhat like this: Tragic childhood, harsh training, harsher missions, brutal orders, quick marriage, kids, death. And this is a lucky shinobi's life that I'm telling you about. So, yes, I'd had one hell of a good ride.

I was born on a strangely warm day of October, and my mother always told me how she remembered hearing crickets all through her labor and then silence once that last of her screams died down, just before I took my first breath and cried. She'd given me my name, Mei, a sprout, then. It was a good name, my grandmother had always said. A very good name.

The early years of my life were filled with laughter, running, and joy. My parents traveled all over the country with a caravan, living out of a wagon. I remember the sunny days, the freezing winters and the rainy seasons as they changed and I aged without many worries in the world. I can still recall the scent of spring, a combination of fresh grass, wildflowers and pure sunlight, my home. If you asked me to imagine paradise, I would direct you to those days. After all, they were like a picture from a fairy tale book, one of those my father often read to me.

My father. Well, my father was a difficult topic. He was a man of principles who believed in good education and healthy lifestyle more than anything. Yet, there was a certain boyishness always around him. An adventurer's spirit. He would be serious often, when he consulted with the leaders of the caravan on important matters, and smiling lopsidedly at my mother the next, when he was planning yet another escapade into the unknown wilderness.

I suppose that that was the thing which drew my mother to him. My mother came from an island in Mizu no Kuni, a dark and damp place, as she described it. Her parents were healers, closely tied to the shinobi nation, and they were widely known for their policy of accepting any patient of any nation into their Temple. My mother had grown up there, in the mist, surrounded by water on all four sides, the furthest thing which she could see on the horizon (which wasn't too far due to the mist) being the next island over.

Needless to say, she'd been eager to throw away the bloody apron and bandages in favor of following my father on his journey across the world. She'd found another use for her skilled, surgical fingers: embroidery. Even now, I can remember all the times when the caravan would travel and my mother would be sitting on the edge of our wagon, humming a tune to herself and pushing the needle in and out of a new project.

Alas, all good things must come to an end.

It was after my fourth birthday, I'm not sure exactly when, that the sickness spread through the caravan. Lung flu, they'd called it. I remember the way my mother had panicked. I remember the fear in her eyes as she begged my father to split our wagon away from the caravan. I will never be able to forget the way her hands had squeezed at the fabric of my father's tunic, pulling it so hard that I thought it would rip the delicate embroidery she'd been sewing there in half. I still sometimes dream of the way she'd sobbed later, holding me close, in our bed.

I'd never seen my mother scared before that day.

My father hadn't allowed us to split from the caravan. He was the second son of the leader, the owner. He needed to stay and to fulfill his duty. There were rules about illness. Besides, a caravan always stays together.

It took a week for most of the elderly and children to get sick. And yet another for the animals to begin dying. I buried my first pet, a small stray dog I'd picked up, on the side of the road when we stopped. His name had been Jun. Then, it wasn't just dogs and goats anymore. There were fewer and fewer friendly old ladies telling stories or teaching you to read someone's future from their hands sitting by the fires at night. There were fewer babies crying at night, waking up the new parents. There were fewer children kicking and tossing a rag ball around the wagons.

I met Death when I turned five.

The sickness stayed with the caravan for months, and we couldn't shake it off. When I coughed for the very first time, my mother had had enough. She'd packed her belongings in a single bag and grabbed me, telling my father that he could choose to follow her or his duty. He'd chosen her.

By the time we arrived to Mizu no Kuni, I was delirious. I was sweaty, fading in and out of consciousness, and everything hurt. I'd beg for my mother, for my father, for Jun, the adorable mutt, and anything else. Anything for the pain to stop. I remember that I'd coughed so many times. It felt like I was drowning at some points. And at others, like I'd never drunk water in my life.

I awoke one day, to the gentle rocking of a boat, surrounded by mist. And then, I knew that we'd come to my mother's homeland. It was just as she'd described. Dark, gloomy and eerie in a way. Like Death. My mother had held me close, murmuring words of reassurance, as the helmsman with a red cap (like a lantern in the mist) pushed the small gondola boat seemingly into nowhere. Then, slowly, a tall, dark shape had risen from the white and grey mist, like a stern old man looking down on you, scolding you, and I knew: we'd arrived.

Teichi no Shima looked like Hell.

The alarm blared in the room, but the bed was already empty. The petite girl stumbled out of the adjacent bathroom, hurrying to press the button on the top of the small blue machine, to keep it quiet. As soon as the room was quiet once more, except the subtle sounds of the world waking up outside, she listened for a second, checking if anyone else had been awoken in the house.

Complete silence.

The girl smiled to herself and turned around, tracing her wet footprints back to the bathroom. She would need to wipe those as soon as she finished her bath.

It was five in the morning on Teichi no Shima, a small island located in Mizu no Kuni. It would've been a beautiful, vacation-worthy place, with its indigenous species and beautiful sceneries, if it had not been located so close to the Numa no Kuni. This meant that the little island was surrounded by thick marshes, covered in swamp gas and grey mist, all year round. It was only if you climbed all the way to the top of the sole mountain, far above the Shitchi Temple, that you could see above the mist.

And that brings us to where this young, early rising, girl lived. Shitchi Temple. Known for its impressive healer and owner, the traditionally built structure was located on the eastern side of the mountain, nestled safely between a steep cliff and its waterfall and a forest full of poisonous insects and amphibians. There weren't many who made the trip to the Temple, but those who did were in dire need of medical attention. It was widely known that everyone was welcome in this house of healing, regardless of their nationality or allegiance, and since the Island was located near the border of Numa no Kuni, most government officials didn't bother with extraction. Long story short, it was a sanctuary.

The adjacent bathroom door opened once more, revealing the petite girl, this time dressed in her white undergarments. She had her long hair swept up in a towel turban as she avoided the puddles that she had created earlier. She quickly grabbed a simple dress from her wardrobe, one that her grandmother would definitely disapprove of for its shortness, and slid it over her head. She then grabbed the rag from the bathroom and quickly mopped up the water from her bedroom floor. After her work was done, she smiled and sighed, happy with the results.

She walked about her simple room, collecting different things and packing them into her bag as she got ready to leave. At some point, she released her wet hair, rubbing it carefully with the towel and then leaving it to air-dry. Unfortunately, due to the humidity of the region, she knew that she would have to blow-dry it in the end. It took her around thirty minutes to get everything that she needed together, and she was about to leave her room when she stopped in the doorway. Quickly, the petite girl turned around, rushing to her desk. She opened the middle drawer and took out a green, hardcover notebook stuffing it into her beige bag as well. Then, she left.

The hallway outside of her room was lit with small lanterns placed symmetrically on each side of the path, where old-fashioned candles used to be just last year. Her grandmother and grandfather had always loved history and had kept the old Temple as close to its original form as it had been safe to do. Yet, when a fire had broken out due to one of the candle flames catching the wooden wall, the owners of the old home had decided to take their granddaughter's advice and introduce electricity to the large construction. Though, her grandmother still loved using a candle to light her way when she was up late. And the girl couldn't deny her that.

She navigated the winding halls of the Temple easily in the dim lighting, as she knew them by heart. It had been seven years since she'd come to live there, after all. And in that time, she'd learnt to love everything about the marshy land, from the stale air, heavy with fog, to the poisonous insects and amphibians, flying and jumping about. It was a strange place, Shitchi Temple, as you felt like you were in another world entirely while you were there. You would slowly forget the sunshine on your skin directly, and the only way you could imagine the sun was through the thick fog surrounding the island and the mountain on it. The warm, summer breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers wouldn't even cross your mind, instead, you would think of the cool, moist shifting of the mist, telling you that something was moving nearby, watching its prey silently. Yet, the young girl had learnt to love the damp and dark corner of the world, mostly for the people who lived there. If there was one thing which this early-riser did not lack, it was love.

She reached the kitchen and the dining room, a broad space separated by a simple sliding door, normally left open. Her beige shoulder beg made a muffled thumping sound when she lowered it to the floor in order to make some breakfast. It was a few minutes later, when the second helping of bacon was sizzling on the hot pan, that silent footsteps alerted her to a newcomer.

"Good morning, Mei-chan." A female voice softly greeted and soon, its owner stepped behind the counter and into the kitchenette. "Would you like some help?" It was a fairly tall girl, if you compared her to the petite Mei. She wore a traditional yukata, perfectly tied together without a single wrinkle in the material. If you asked Mei, she was often jealous of the other girl's skill. That was why Mei had forgone wearing the traditional garb as soon as she'd began commuting – it would get terribly wrinkled.

The only thing on the traditionally garbed girl which seemed wild was her hair. It was a vibrant red and it lay in untamable curls around her pale face, cascading down her shoulders. She had tried everything with it, Mei knew, from straightening it with product to tying it in a tight bun on top of her head. Yet, there was always at least one rebellious curl which escaped onto her face or neck.

"Of course." The petite girl, Mei, replied with an easy smile. "Could you get the eggs ready for me?"

"Sure." The other girl replied and then proceeded to rummage about the drawers, her curls bouncing, looking for everything she needed.

"Did you have a long night, Kaede?" Mei asked conversationally, flipping the bacon and then placing it on the plate where the rest of it was. The other girl, Kaede, sighed, coming closer with a bowl. She was mixing the eggs inside it already with a quick motion of her wrist.

"There were some newcomers last week." She explained in a tired tone. "There was a battle between two smaller shinobi clans in their area. The ones that managed to make the journey have been really touch-and-go." She turned the bowl over, spilling the eggs into Mei's awaiting pan. "And with your Grandfather on one of his trips, we've been shorthanded and really swamped."

Mei couldn't suppress the small chuckle at the unintentional pun, which caused the other girl to let out a small laugh, as well. The eggs were flipped a couple of times before finding their way onto a plate, as well. And then, the two girls began setting up the dining table for three people with practiced ease.

"I'm sorry that I'm not much help." Mei said as she handed the plates from the cupboard to her friend. "It's just, with both school and missions, I don't have much time for individual study, much less helping out."

"It's alright, Mei-chan." Kaede replied. "I completely understand the situation. Though, I do think that your Grandmother should get another pair of hands to help out on a daily basis. Ever since you started the Academy we've been terribly busy."

"Then perhaps we shall hire someone." An old, yet firm voice answered from behind the girls and Kaede squinted at being caught.

"Forgive me, sensei." She immediately apologized. "I meant no offense." Mei's grandmother laughed an easy chuckle. She was a short woman, like her granddaughter, with a wiry frame hardened by her lifestyle in the mountains. Her hair had gone white in age, still completely straight as the day she was born, and it fell down her back in a long, intricate braid. Mei had always wished to have hair like her grandmother, perfectly straight and terribly long. Alas, hers always seemed as if it was made from freshly collected hay.

"Dear girl, there was none taken." Her slender hand came up to Kaede's cheek, giving it a loving caress. "What would I do if I didn't have the two of you to keep me young?" Then, the old healer grabbed the last of the plates with food with a swish of her long robes, helping the two girls. "So, shall we eat? No good morning starts without a breakfast!"

"Of course, grandma."

"Yes, sensei." The two chorused and then, the small family seated themselves at the dining table. Mei dug into her meal, savoring the taste. She had become closely acquainted with both of her teammates' cooking in the last two years, which had caused her to sorely miss the home cooking at the Shitchi Temple. Kaede chuckled into her glass of milk before speaking up.

"You do know that the food won't run away, don't you, Mei-chan?" The petite teen had to struggle to swallow her huge bite before answering, though.

"It just might." She smirked. Then, Mei proceeded to shovel the eggs and bacon into her mouth as quickly as she could. Finally, she drank her milk and jumped up from her seat. "Thank you for the meal!" Mei reached to gather her dishes, but her grandmother waved her away.

"Don't worry, Mei, dear, Kaede and I will clean up. You hurry up and catch your ferry." The old woman smiled, her warm eyes twinkling.

"Thank you, grandma." And the teen ran to her room once more. By the time she was back, the dining table had been cleaned and Kaede was making food for their patients while her grandmother was placing something in Mei's bag.

"There you are." The old healer immediately noticed her, without even looking up. "Would you come here, Mei, dear?" Then, the woman made her turn around before undoing her hair from the tight bun it had been in. "Let's get this sorted before you leave, shall we?" And the grandmother started braiding her granddaughter's long hair into a braid, similar to her own, yet much thicker. "You have your father's, strong hair." She lovingly said as she was working her skilled fingers through the knots.

"You mean my father's bushy hair?" Mei laughed, turning around when her grandmother tapped her shoulder. She took her beige bag when her guardian offered it to her with a smile still on her face.

"Take care, my young troublemaker." Her grandmother pulled her in with a gentle tug, kissing the crown of her head lovingly. "Be careful in the marshes and remember to stay hydrated." With that, the healer pushed Mei towards the door. "Off with you, young pupil. Go learn your kunoichi skills."

"Bye!" And Mei flew out the door with a final wave to her grandmother and Kaede. The outside air greeted her with a stifling punch to her lungs. But, after one deep breath, the petite girl pushed on. She stepped off the wooden patio and into her sandals, still in protective socks, carefully clipping the straps on properly. She'd once forgotten to do so and fallen into a pond during a mission. Since then, she was cautious. Soon after Mei left the patio, after she passed through a small amount of what could be called a garden around the Temple, she came upon a series of narrow, steep stone steps. Without much thought, she ran down them.

She followed the path as it wound left and right, not wanting to lose even more time on a shortcut. You see, the Shitchi Temple was surrounded by the marsh forest. Any shortcut would mean extra caution to everything you stepped on or accidentally brushed against. The forest was a wide area covered in thick vegetation with numerous poisonous species. Mei's grandmother had discovered that a number of the deadly plants could be used as medicine, as well. If the seed was a poison the leaf was an antidote, the healer would often say. She'd started her practice as a medicine woman in that very area, using the indigenous plans to make a unique school of poisons and antidotes. Combined with her knowledge of the human body, from her days as a kunoichi, Mei's grandmother had soon built a reputation for her miracle ways.

After all, no one in the village below the Shitchi Temple had ever seen a clawfish bite be cured. And yet, Mei's grandmother had managed the feat somehow. Which brings us to the denizens of the marsh. Besides the Shitchi Temple on the very top of the tall mountain, there was also a small village nestled at the bottom of the cliff. It was built partially on the muddy terrain of the island and mostly on the man-made platforms of planks which stood on numerous tall stilts and pillars that sank into the murky swamp water. It was almost like a lazy spider, swaying back and forth with every tide on its long legs.

Mei's sandals clattered against the planks as she finally reached the village. The stone steps made it almost all the way from the Temple to the platform, but she always had that last jump, over a bit of mud, to make, so that her sandals wouldn't be ruined. Not only that, but wearing sandals here meant asking for one of the locals, the venomous creatures, to bite you, even if you had protective socks on.

The young kunoichi rushed across the planks, leaving them to clatter together behind her, and she almost flew across the numerous bridges without any handrails except a thin, old rope, heading for the docks. If she missed her ferry, it would be a couple more hours of waiting, and then, she wouldn't be able to make it to the meeting with her team on time. There weren't that many people around at these hours of the morning and she managed to reach the docks without any delays.

Though, fortune wasn't on her side that day, as she finally came to the edge of the boardwalk, only to see the gangplank gone. Though, the gondola wasn't that far away, as it had obviously recently pushed off.

"Jirō-ossan!" The kunoichi yelled, making the helmsman in the red cap turn around. She tightened the grip on the strap of her beige bag and moved a few steps back. Mei knew that she had the attention of the few fishermen who were preparing for their morning trip, but she ignored them, even when they began shouting at her to stop. With a deep breath and a resolve not to fall into the water of the marshes, as that was suicide, the girl gave a short sprint.

As her feet pushed off the boardwalk she pushed a bit of chakra into the tips of her toes, giving herself an extra boost. And then, she was flying for a moment. Jirō's red cap shone like a lighthouse in the misty swamp and Mei aimed towards it. She heard his surprised yelp just as her sandals made contact with the back edge of the gondola, swaying it horribly. However, she'd already glued herself to the wood with her chakra and was safe from the venomous clawfish that lived in the marshes.

"Mei-chan!" The old helmsman exclaimed in a slightly irritated tone. "That was dangerous!" Jirō was a wrinkly, aged man, standing all the way at the back of the boat, holding a long, wooden oar. He was dressed in dirty pants that came to his knees, showing the protruding veins and hanging skin on his calves, along with a shirt that was once white, but now smeared with the grime and mud from the boat. On his head was a red cap, hanging on the side much like a Santa Claus', which signaled that he was a helmsman. "Ye know that ye shouldn't jump onto the gondola. Ye could hurt yerself and the other passengers." And the old man did not mean by a broken bone.

"I'm sorry, Jirō-ossan, it won't happen again." Apologized the girl over the grumbling of the other passengers who had been shaken by the sudden turbulence. However, both the helmsman and the kunoichi knew there would certainly be a repeat of that spectacle. Mei was, simply, often late. It was a bad habit of hers, one that she'd been trying to shake off for quite some time. Yet, despite her frequent tardiness, she'd never found herself not completing her task.

"If you fall over, a clawfish might catch ye, Mei-chan." Chided the old helmsman as the kunoichi settled down near him. "Have I told ye of the time I was manning the westchime pass? When a clawfish nearly took me leg off!" Jirō leaned over, showing an old wound on his leg. "T'was as big as me boat!" Mei nodded, encouraging him to tell her the story again, despite the collective groaning of the other passengers. True, the kunoichi could tell that the tale was mostly fiction. She knew that the old, well-healed wound on the man's leg had been from a boating accident, where he'd clipped himself with his own gutting fishknife. She could tell that her grandmother had treated it, after all. But, regardless, she enjoyed the tales the old helmsman spun about the dangers lurking in the dark marshes around the island. After all, nobody could certainly tell you if they were true or not.

That's all for now! I'll be looking forward to hearing your thoughts!