Title: Clover

Summary: Being reborn into the Narutoverse is one thing, but being reborn into the body of Yamanaka Ino is a whole different thing entirely. A self-insertion tale told through the eyes of a girl reborn into Ino. SI OC — eventually AU

AN: edited: 03 - 13 - 2014

This story makes me feel better when I'm in a bad mood. No idea why.

Enjoy latest edits, second brief, unannounced hiatus explained below, along with why second chapter is taking so long.

edited: 02 - 21 - 2014

Guys, I was inspired. Silver Queen favorited my fanfiction. And then I read a few chapters of Dreaming of Sunshine and was like, 'I should write a SI fic.' And then I remembered that I already had one and I started to work on the chapters I was previously too lazy to finish. Guys, I think I'm actually going to finish this fanfiction.

edited/published: 11 - 23 - 2013

Okay, I'll just stick with my old description. Darkpetal16 is an amazing person and her stories are amazing, too. She is literally my idol when it comes to self-insertion fics. So… go read her stories! Immediately! And, to warn you, my humor sucks. It sucks ass. I'm not a comedian. So… yeah. There is that. And, with that, I wish you good luck as you read Clover! Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving!

WARNINGS: Cursing, death, self-insert.

DISCLAIMER: I only own my OC, who is technically not even mine… so, I guess I kind of own her but then again I don't?

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Prologue: Arc I - The Worst Situation

It was dark and I was alone.

Sighing softly, I rubbed my nearly numb hands together in an attempt to conserve heat. There had been a major snow storm last night, and since I hadn't been home at the time of the storm, I was forced to not only stay the night at my neighbor's house, but also walk home later. My neighbor's were nice people, and had offered to have someone escort me home, but I had politely declined. The matriarch was constantly ill and I figured her two children needed to take care of her rather than worry about me; after all, I had walked home so many times before and I had no problems doing it. Walking gave me much needed time to think.

Tonight, however, it scared me more than it ever had. There was a sense of fear building inside me and I didn't know why. I gazed around yet again to confirm that I was still alone and then began to walk faster. I spent most of my life watching crime shows, and paranoia came far too easily for me.

A breeze passed by with the intent to both freeze me in place and ruffle my already unruly hair, and a sound was carried along with it. I stopped walking, sure that I was simply hearing things, but when that same sound met my ears yet again, the world began to shake—or was that me?—and my heart dropped into the very pit of my stomach. Someone was whispering. Rubbing my hands together, I looked towards my right; nothing. I looked to my left; there, two men sitting atop a truck covered in snow. A third male stood in front of them, swaying drunkenly with a bottle of alcohol in hand while his companions laughed.

Even if as snow obscured my vision, I could quite clearly see the red blotch beneath the standing male's feet and the gun strapped to his hip.

In a moment of both fear and extreme stupidity, I shrieked. The laughter ceased and gone were the drunken slurs; three pairs of eyes burned into me. My mind went blank and I stopped breathing, even as they began to approach me. Their feet slid against the ice but it didn't deter them from their current goal, whatever it may be. Now, they were close; so close that I could smell the alcohol on their breath and the faint, yet lingering, scent of cigarette smoke.

The tallest of the men circled me, a sneer in his voice once he spoke, "What's a little girl like you doing out here by herself; doing errands for Mommy?"

As the others laughed, I held my hands close to my chest. The wind had died down, but now it was snowing. I attempted to keep my eyes focused on the small white flakes instead of the men that surrounded me. My thoughts—happy thoughts, happy thoughts, I told myself—could only distract me for so long.

Another male leaned towards me and grasped my shoulder, nails digging into my flesh. I gave a whimper of pain. He sneered, "Aw, look at how afraid this little thing is." He snorted as he looked back at the first man. "What should we do with her, dude?

"No idea." The first grunted. "I'd usually say no, but... by the look on her face, she saw what happened over there," he jerked his head in the direction of the puddle of blood. "We have to do something with her."

For the record, I have watched more crime shows than I have cartoons and I like to think that I have basic knowledge on how most drunken men act and think—most were either idiotic drunks or violent drunks. However, I wasn't concerned about how intoxicated they were; I was far more concerned about the weapon one held in his possession. I knew ways to get out of situations such as this; however my basic knowledge on the topic was useless because my body decided that working would be idiotic. But, staring at the smirks forming on each man's faces as they began to move in, my mind was kicked into overdrive and my body twitched. I… I...

I reacted.

I raised my leg and nailed the male in front of me in between the legs, sending him crashing to the ground. I took two steps backwards before I jumped over his fallen form, landing in a crouched position behind him. Skidding slightly on the ice, I pushed myself off of the ground and sprinted down the sidewalk. Ice and snow were littered across the ground and running was obnoxiously difficult. Curses and threats that promised death were shouted and seemed too close.

My lungs began to burn as I turned a corner and I was reminded, quite harshly, of my asthma. I hacked out a cough and pounded my fist against my chest. In my momentary lapse in concentration, I didn't realize I was running towards a thick slab of ice until it was too late. My toes slammed against something hard and I stumbled, but that was enough for me to lose my balance entirely. I tumbled to the cold, unforgiving ground, tears rushing out of my eyes. Something warm dripped down the side of my face and, as I experimentally pressed my head against the ice, I soon realized that there was a wound somewhere on my head.

Keep running, keep running, I screamed internally just as rough hands began to tug at my hair and jacket. Keep moving, keep moving, the pleas continued to get more desperate as I was pulled away. Where, I didn't know, but I knew what would happen if I didn't act. I screamed, long and loud, and attempted to fight my way out of my current situation; with growing desperation, I clenched my teeth around someone's arm and listened to a scream that wasn't my own.

"Stupid bitch!"

I bit down harder, even as my face began to burn from the multiple slaps and my scalp began to ache from the yanking of my hair. I didn't know where I was or who I was with; I didn't know if I would make it out of this alive and mentally scarred or simply roll over and die. So I resorted to fighting; I'd always said that I would rather die fighting than just letting it happen.

Pain exploded in my side and a cry escaped my lips, along with the arm that was previously pressed in between my teeth. Pulling my leg back and jabbing my foot forward, I let out yet another scream to block out the sound of a bone cracking. There were curses around me and I opened my eyes long enough to stare straight into the barrel of a gun.

My screams were louder and more panicked at this point. I didn't want die; holy fuck, I didn't want to die. Someone fumbled with the gun, their fingers pressing against the sleek exterior before they finally found the trigger. My vision began to blur; this was it, my life was over.

Hearing gunshots on television and hearing them in real life were two different things; in the shows, they're quiet and muffled and only partially the sound of a real bullet leaving a gun, but in real life, the sound is deafening and can leave your ears ringing for years, depending on how long you live afterwards. There were curses and I curled up in a ball on the ground. I couldn't see anything; my vision was abnormally blurred and I felt beyond tired. I blinked slowly. I was so… so tired.

So, with unbearably heavy eyelids and numbed pain, I closed my eyes and went to sleep—for the last time?

x.

When I next awoke, two things immediately registered to me.

One; I was in serious pain—no, more like agony.

And two; last time I checked, deceased people didn't wake back up.

I sputtered and sat up quickly, regretting the decision when something in my gut twisted and the rest of my body began to throb. Resisting the urge to scream, I tossed the comforter and sheets off of my body, sitting on the edge of the bed. I leant over, pressed my forehead against my knees and attempted to even out my frantic breathing.

Okay, think rationally. First off, you're obviously not dead, because if you were dead… you wouldn't be awake right now… Hyponises is a possibility, but hallucination is an even bigger possibly… you don't sleep... very much... do you have any wounds?

After a quick pat down, it was obvious that there were no wounds on my body whatsoever.

Fine… fine… that's okay, you're okay… So why… illusions of death? Why death…? You… you… you hate death… the thought of death….

Out of habit, I reached up and pushed my bangs my bangs out of my eyes, before I paused.

Since when was I… blond?

I pulled my bangs back into my face and stared at them for a long time. Last time I was checked, I wasn't a blond; I was a brunette. My hair was short, tangled, and greasy. Quickly, I let go of my bangs and ran both hands through my hair. It was long, soft, and there were no tangles whatsoever. When had I dyed my hair… and why blond…?

Slowly, I pressed my feet to the floor and pushed myself up, now standing at my full height. With a startled gasp, I gazed around the room of which was not my own.

The bedroom walls were covered in paintings of flowers and families, with a few posters scattered around. Furniture was scarce, save for the bed I had awoken in, a pale white dresser and nightstand, and a large bookshelf. In one corner of the room there was a door that I supposed led to a bathroom, and on the opposite wall was another door that possibly led into a hallway. Pressed against the wall right next to the second door was a large box, taped together in numerous places yet still falling apart. A photo was taped against the front of the box, a photo of a frighteningly familiar family with huge, identical grins on each of their faces.

An uncomfortable feeling in my gut, I skittered towards the door I believed led to the bathroom. Opening the door, I peeked in, relieved the find my assumptions were correct, and scurried inside. I pressed my back to the door and took several deep breaths, attempting calm the frantic beating of my heart, before I pushed myself off of the wooden object and approaching the sink. Curling my fingers around the rim, I looked upwards. As a normal person would, I expected to be looking back at myself.

Instead, light blue eyes stared back at me, and I found myself looking Yamanaka Ino dead in the eyes.

Despite the overly long bangs that fell past my chin and nearly covered both of my eyes, I could see her clearly. Long hair disappeared past my shoulders of which were covered by the sleeves of a loose-fitting T-shirt. Wide eyes scanned over the face in the mirror frantically, panic and fear clear as tears gathered in the corners.

I stared at her—me?—and attempted to even out my breathing. Such a thing wasn't possible.

And I did the only thing I could do in my situation.

I screamed.

AN: edited: 03 - 13 - 2014

I have one useful arm, guys. I got surgery a week ago and the pain bothers the shit out of me, but I still managed to edit this. Hopefully it isn't as shitty as it used to be. Typing with one hand is nerve-wracking, lemme tell you. So, enjoy this edit while I work on next chapter.

edited: 02 - 21 - 2014

So, my brief and unannounced hiatus is over. I had just lost all motivation for this story and was going to put it up for adoption but then… GUYS YOU BLEW UP MY INBOX WITH FAVORITES AND FOLLOWS WHATS GOING ON?! As I finish the next chapter, I want you all to know that I LOVE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU AND YOU'RE ALL AMAZING AND THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS AND FAVORITES AND FOLLOWS THEY MAKE ME SO HAPPY!

Ahem.

Uh, so now I leave you guys with the newest edits on this chapter. This is my fourth edit, not my last; my writing has gotten better in the past three months, ya know. So I'll see you guys either today or tomorrow with the newest update! Like I've said before, don't give up on me now.

edited: 11 - 21/22 - 2013

Edited it again. I made her reaction to the whole… situation… much more realistic than it had previously been. In the beginning she was just like, "Fuck yeah, this is amazing! I didn't leave my life or my family behind or anything!" Yeah, so not realistic. So, this is my third edit and definitely not my last. As my writing get's better, this story will, too.

Don't give up on me now!

edited: 8 - 10 - 2013

Gotta rewrite this chapter 'cause of all the mistakes and because I think it's too short. Fixed a few things here and there, but whatever. And finally: A "reborn-into-Ino" fan fiction! I couldn't find one!

Edited on 7 - 27 - 2013

I've finally written my self-insert story: I feel so accomplished. Yeaaaah, no. Not really.