Chapter I: The Intro
I am the first 23 year old to have graduated from one of the top schools in the world with a doctorate's degree; that's all you need to be to draw attention, attention I don't need or want. I have green eyes and pink hair; definitely an odd combination, which draws the eye of anyone near, which I don't want it to. I am extremely successful in my chosen field of work, medicine, and therefore because of my "uniqueness" (that's what my mother always called it) I attract stuck up, snobby, sticks up their asses, mightier/holier than thou attitude wielding, rich folk for treatment from me.
These rich people believe they are the highest beings on earth and they are the most annoying people I have ever met. Take Ino Yamanaka, stereotypical anorexic model to the stars, she's stuck up, bleach blond, and is the source of the idea that "blonds are stupid" and other blond related lines. I swear she comes in every other week for the smallest problems, from her complexion to why she's having stomach pains because of her "extreme diets." I don't know how many times I have tried in the past to put her on a normal balanced diet, only to fail miserably whenever she threatened to sue the hospital. (The hospital is absolutely torn in-between firing their best worker and sucking up to the star or angering a star and keeping their best worker.)
I feel Ino is one of the few people I have to blame (yes, I feel the need to use the word "blame") for my success. She had been visiting hospitals in order to visit the children and patients in a sick and pathetic attempt to gain even more fame by showing how "thoughtful" and "sympathetic" she was. She had met me through the circumstance that she had fallen down a flight of stairs because of her ridiculously high heels and the fact that the elevators had been full of patients needing to be rushed to different parts of the hospital. She even had had the nerve to say that the idea of an old man having a grand mal epileptic seizure was less important than she getting to her destination on time.
Well, I didn't know how she had escaped breaking a nail or her face or really anything at all after falling down a staircase but she had acted like the world was ending, more likely her career, when she found a bruise and a small bleeding cut on her upper thigh. She had panicked shouting something about how "My thighs are the closest to the cameras when I'm on the runway! They'll see the scar!"
She was then sent to me, because of two reasons, one, the hospital was trying to suck up to her, and two, she had demanded the best treatment and would sue unless she got what she wanted.
Luckily for me she had bodyguards and such to get all of her specific needs, but that still left me with suggesting a scar treatment drug reserved for severe trauma patients with scars, that ended up being more than enough for her tiny two inch cut. She left the hospital praising my work (amazingly she didn't act all snobbish about it) and she's come back ever since. She, being a world famous model and now a designer, began talking about our hospital in every interview she got and attracted even more popular and famous people.
Now these people being famous and that sort of person can't just live by normal standards, which works well enough for the rest of the non-famous world, all come to me. So I have to put up with multiple popular people everyday, forced to suck up to them and everything in every freakin' way!
Another person I'd like to blame for my circumstances is now a good friend of mine, but still nonetheless I blame him for my fame. He was an odd case, sent to me because of my experiences with children, except for the fact that he was a full grown adult that spoke in the third person and was cheerful to the point of driving others in the area insane. I had walked into his room, walked back out again, checked my chart, the room number and patient description repeatedly because of how shocked I had been.
Then after being reassured by an angry co-worker that this was in fact my patient and no, they weren't playing a joke on me, and that no, I hadn't been exposed to any hallucinogens recently, I walked back in. I spent some five minutes in the room with him, asking him questions about his age and so on…
Flashback
"So is there any thing wrong, Uchiha-san?" I asked the 27-year-old sitting contentedly on the hospital bed in a hospital gown.
"No, Miss Haruno-san. Tobi doesn't think so. Please call Tobi, Tobi, Miss Haruno-san. Tobi does it all the time." He answered happily.
"So why do you think you were sent to this hospital, Tobi? You can call me Sakura if you'd like." I asked, hoping to find out whether the poor thing was aware of the reason why he had been sent here and if he could tell me that then maybe he could remember if he had been exposed to trauma of some sort. Otherwise I would have to read through his paperwork again more thoroughly to check his history.
"Tobi was told that Tobi had problems by his friends. So Tobi's friends sent Tobi here."
"Tobi, what kind of problems do you think your friends sent you here for?"
"Tobi doesn't know Miss Sakura. Tobi was only told that Tobi was a good boss but Tobi's friends were worried about Tobi switching mannerisms."
I took a double take. "Switching mannerisms" had been the first phrase he had used that was above the vocabulary of a second grader, and it could mean he had a split personality disorder or similar. He had also mentioned workers and that he was their boss.
"Do you ever feel as if you have another person in your body or maybe you feel as if you're missing large pieces of memory?"
"No, Tobi's is sure Tobi's aware of everything Tobi does."
That was understandable, most persons with a split personality disorder were completely oblivious to what their other personalities did and so it made sense that Tobi believed he was in control at all times.
"So have you ever found yourself at a place you don't remember going to?"
"No, Tobi's never had that happen before."
Okay, maybe it's not a split personality disorder, because now unless he suddenly switches right now or sometimes during this visit we won't get anywhere. Why don't I just try and clarify his history.
"Tobi, earlier you mentioned workers calling you "boss," do you work somewhere?"
"Yes, Tobi has a job, everyone has a job, Miss Sakura. Just like you have a job working for this hospital, Tobi has created his own widespread police force."
I took a moment to take that in. Then I gathered myself and continued questioning Tobi.
End Flashback
I eventually found out that Tobi was actually named Uchiha Madara; he just called himself "Tobi" and spoke in third person as a slight call for attention and mainly because his preferences were like that.
His personality was another reason to why his subordinates had begun to worry, on the field he was serious and cold but in the office he was positive and light-hearted. It was rather disturbing to them to watch how he had once gone from shooting down a pedophilic "drug mafia" leader in his home in defense to happy go lucky in less than five seconds.
We kept in touch afterwards and had talks from time to time about how he's now running his own first rate company on the side of his police work. But I blame him because he's made it to the front page quite a few times with either me by his side or he's found someway to mention me in relation to his work in someway or another every time they interview him for the papers. People around the hospital were even convinced we were in a relationship because of the multitude of times we had been caught in pictures together for the front page.
Which now explains why I have now begged for a break from work, they believe me to be the only reason that they're (the hospital top dogs) rich and want to continue to make money by standing on my shoulders to encourage the rest of the work force and public.
After the persuasion required getting out of work for the next few days, I headed over to my favorite dessert shop, the only one in America I am currently aware of, besides Hawaii, that serves dango. I bought the last of their miterashi dango, my favorite, and went home to my modest house, and when I use the term modest, I mean modest compared to everyone else who is chased and has their privacy invaded by interviewers. (Lucky for me, Tobi has worked some legal mumbo jumbo for me and they can't come within 150 yards without being arrested and I love him for it! I had literally tackled him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.)
It's rather big, a few more bedrooms than I will ever need unless I get married and have kids, lots of kids (about 12 or so.) I can already tell that I won't, I have seen what those pregnant women go through, morning sickness (some lucky ones don't), mood swings, miscarriages, back and breast aches, labor… I am definitely not going through with that 12 freaking times! Anyway I don't have my eyes set on anybody yet, but I can tell from the stuck-ups flirting with me, for some accursed reason they have their eyes set on me.
But I was left to my modest home with my desserts, all nice and alone when I realized I would have to reset my alarm and my habits so I wouldn't wake up tomorrow in a hurry to go to work and such.
Then I remembered that I didn't have anything planned to do, it would be nice to be able to relax but sadly I'm not that kind of person. A warm bath could only feel nice for a little while before it became lukewarm and I don't really enjoy the idea of romance novels and chocolate. In fact I don't even believe I have any romance novels…
-Rustle- the bushes from the side of the house were moving, similar to a person pushing them aside to get through.
I had a medium sized forest on the piece of property I owned so it could have been a small animal or something along that line. But this sounded a bit too big to be a forest creature.
It sounds like Tobi trying to sneak around my house again… I swear that man can smell whenever I have dango from over a mile away. Now if only he would use his actual skills to steal the dango, he might get away with it, but no, he has to stalk me around my property until I leave the dango behind or go inside then he'll come up with the spontaneous excuse that he just wanted to see me.
For once I ask for something exciting or interesting to happen to me, but no, it's only Tobi being an idiot again.
Then a man that definitely wasn't Tobi unless he had suddenly dyed his hair silver and decided to wear a pocketed coat and rabbit ears, burst out of my bushes running towards the forest on the edge of the property.
"Come back here! You're trespassing and I've got an active restraining order against all interviewers and reporters within 150 yards of me!" I yelled at his retreating back as I took off after him, leaving my package of dango behind.
Sorry for the short chapter. But has anyone ever wondered if you ran after the people you have a restraining order against, which one of you gets in trouble?
This is the intro chapter to "Sakura in Wonderland", it is obviously AU and most characters should retain their major characteristics.
This story claims no relation to Masashi Kishimoto and his works, nor do I own any rights to his works. … I wish I could get Tobi to work some legal mumbo-jumbo for me… Nor does this story have any intended relations to any other "Alice in Wonderland" related parodies or stories on this site. Exception for the inspiration for the story by Vesper-Chan's one shot "Stupid Rabbit Hole."
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