Author's Note:Yes, yes - new series! I actually really like how it's turning out so far, so I'm hoping it'll be a permanent story. It's a bit different from the rest of the stories, I would like to think..So if you don't particularly like reading about original characters, then this isn't for you. Oh, and in the future chapters there may be slight hints of ItachixOC - but it will be very mild, because staying in character is crucial.

WARNING: Later chapters will contain swearing.

Disclaimer:I do not own Naruto, or it's characters. The only character I do own however, is Arisa Oshiro.

She shivered, feeling a pit of dread at the bottom of her stomach. At first, she desperately tried to push it away, to rid herself of the need to empty her stomach contents. But it did nothing, in fact, she felt worse. It was as if her intestines had been twisted into countless knots and stepped upon mercilessly, before being lifted and thrown into a nearby river.

Her fingers trembled. She had always known that Konoha shinobi were anything but good. The mere symbol of a leaf was enough to make a winding surge of hatred rush throughout her body. Her immediate reaction was to leap forward and slice them into small bits and pieces upon sight. They, in her mind, were only strong because of their superior economy. It had molded them into what they were; arrogant, deluded fools. Unfortunately, there were too many of them. She inwardly knew that if they had the same amount of shinobi as the Mist did, they would easily fall to their demise. Though the methods of the Mist were frowned upon, it did shape what little shinobi they had to be one of the strongest. It was rumored that Hoshigaki Kisame, and his legendary sword, the Samehada, was now apart of the strongest organizations alive.

The Akatsuki.

As if on cue, a chilling breeze surrounded her, whipping strands of dark hair around her face angrily. It did not help her queasy condition, but she traveled on, her footsteps hardly making a sound as she ascended over water and gravel. She wanted to confirm it.. Though something told her it was unneeded; for her instincts were always right. But the other, more human-like side of her wanted to believe something different. It wanted to believe that she was merely having a stomach ache, or some type of unknown sickness that just occurred abruptly to make her feel this way.

But even she -- in the state that she was in -- knew that that was slim to zero. She was a kunoichi, a Mist kunoichi at that, who's lived here all her life, in the blistering cold. Her body had become accustomed to the weather, and the excessive training had made her immune system strong enough not to catch such sicknesses. But yet, she still tried to believe that for once her instincts had been wrong. That she was not left to fend for herself. That she was not alone, yet again.

Her cloudy, midnight blue eyes flickered as they scanned their surroundings, easily seeing through the fog. There it was, the bridge, what her instincts had brought her to.

Her footsteps came to an immediate halt, as she hesitantly stared at the mess before her. There was weapons scattered everywhere, along with cement, and deep scars engraved in the unfinished bridge. It was obvious that some sort of battle took place here, and with whom as well. She inhaled deeply, an attempt to calm herself, before taking another step forward, avoiding unsteady areas of the bridge. There was an unmistakable smell of blood lingering in the atmosphere.

Her gaze sharpened, upon the sight of several senbon needles.

She hated the way she was feeling; scared--completely and utterly scared. Upon recognition of whom the needles belonged to, she wanted to bolt in the other direction, scrambling as fast as her nimble legs would take her. It was a feeling of momentary weakness; something that should not be included in her vocabulary. She was kunoichi -- nothing more, nothing less. She was everything that they had sculpted her to be; emotionless, cold, heartless. But at the moment, she felt nothing like her normal self.

This was ridiculous.

Promptly, she forced her unwilling legs forward, one at a time. The mist was clearing, and the battlefield was becoming more and more evident. There were several corpses--bloodied, but swiftly killed by a blade to the throat. She slowly felt herself relax, realizing that this was their work. But as she continued, she noticed that the killings were becoming more and more sloppy; large cuts directed at unneeded places, vital parts discarded. It was becoming messy, unnecessary blood littering the ground. She tensed once again. This was unlike them...they wouldn't play around when there was this many attackers.

She inspected the bodies even more precisely, before growing numb. These..these were Gato's men. What were they doing here?

Her eyes continued to inspect the battle, before widening. Meters away from the countless bodies, were two others. She hesitated, but forcefully followed the blood leading up to the corpses. All the dread, the fear, the guilt, vanished upon confirmation. They were gone, dead..nonexistent.

She stood over them, with downcast eyes. There he was, mask discarded, and with closed eyes. He looked so angelic-like, despite the blood running down his chin and the deep hole in his chest. Haku.. She had always known that the kid was a kind, gentle child. He didn't want to be a ninja, yet was gifted with a rare bloodline. Or cursed, as others would've said.

There was no doubt about it now, who the body next to his was. The bloodied bandages on his neck, the kunais sticking out of his arms and body, and his dark, grey eyes. Zabuza, Demon of the Mist. Her mentor. Her sensei.

She bowed lowly, before kneeling down and trailing her fingers on his face. With a soft murmur, she closed his eyelids, and gave herself a moment to compose herself. She knew for a fact that she would not cry. But it was difficult to get rid of the emotions coursing through her. It's been a long time since she felt like this. Five years, perhaps? She couldn't be sure.

"Kakashi-sensei! I think we should've asked the villagers to help clean up the bodies.." The voice sounded so loud, she almost jumped. Instead, she quickly stood up, her eyes flaring. This was what emotions did -- how could she not realize the amount of people still at the bridge? Was she that overwhelmed and weak? Zabuza would've disapproved at her abnormal behavior. She just had to calm down. Regain her composure.

She inhaled and exhaled deeply. However, instead of having that calming effect she wanted, she started to feel dizzy. It was the beginning symptoms of a headache emerging.

"Wait, Naruto. There's somebody here." It was obvious that somebody had seen her. In the midst of her thoughts and emotions, she had not bother to conceal her prescence, or her chakra. It was as if her mind and body didn't want to cooperate with each other. In fact, she became unsure of why she didn't seem to care about..anything, really. Maybe that was why her kunoichi behavior wasn't kicking in.

I'm.. alone again.

The thoughts whirled in her head, and despite herself, she let them.

"What? Where?--oh." The blonde blinked.

Back where I started.

Her head turned towards the sounds. It first landed on the blonde haired boy, with his scratched-up orange jumpsuit, then up to his..

Her eyes darkened, upon the sight of the hitai-ate. The leaf, engraved so proudly and elegantly on metal. It was tied around his forehead, scratched, but nevertheless in good condition. In an instant, her headache disappeared. Instead, it was replaced with the intensity of rage and hatred. Sensing this, the boy's carefree expression was slapped right off his face. Unblinkingly she continued glare at him, her fingers digging into her palms.

They were the reason she was back where she started.

"You.." It wasn't like her usual calm tone of voice. No, it was much quieter, hardly louder than a whisper. Yet she was sure they could still hear her. "Konoha-nin.."

Kill them.

"Who are you?" It was a different voice. Her head turned swiftly to identify the person.

Crimson, black, intricate designs. Penetrating gaze. The Sharingan.

Her eyes widened in surprise, as her hands grasped the kunai that slid down her sleeve. In a flick of a wrist, it was released, diving straight for his heart. She knew that whoever he was, could easily avoid it. But it wasted enough time for her to form handseals behind her back, and disappear in the wind with her sensei and Haku.