Um. I'm having a major writers block, so all my chapter- oriented stories are on hiatus. Instead of updating, I'm going to wait until I have enough reviews to feel motivated- or until my muse's kick in. But no- not yet. My muses are kind of tired. So, instead, I'm going to write a bunch of one shots in the series of Naruto, Full Metal Alchemist, and maybe Inuyasha- seeing as I'm a bit slow minded right now. I'm going to be writing a series of fanfictions for this spin-off of Naruto-
THE STORY OF A GIRL(BOY)
Warning- Out of charector Naruto. This is set in an 'if it happened world', which is bassically the same Naruto verse idea, just with the results of what happened differently. And yes, Itatchi did NOT kill the family, which would explain Sasuke's sudden personality change. This is the beggining of a series of stories, with different pairings, genres, and such, from this universe version.
THIS IS THE STORY OF A GIRL(BOY)
A tired smile. It wore on one, to have to survive; to have to smile; to have to take things in toll and act as if all you cared about was; well, the world. It hurt. But, no, that was selfish. Thinking things like this would not help one in the end. Only survival; perseverence; patience, would help the world survive. As it had him, in the most basic of ideas. A slow grin curved the childs lips, and he sat up, mask back on for the world to see- overlarge, bright blue sweater almost blinding to the eye, orange vest making a nice contrast. This description, of course, was only to give the reason why the blond haired boy gained so much attention as he ran down the streets; otherwise, he'd have been treated like any other boy. That is, if any other boy was called a hero by the larger half of the village, it is.
This boy was Uzumaki Naruto, proud son of the deceased Namikaze Minato, and the currently living- if only fragily so- Uzumaki Kushina.
A happy, bright smile, as a dark blue jacket with long blue sleeves was straightened, and black, spiked locks sprung up yet again, no matter how many times they were pushed down by an increasingly irritated- though he wouldn't show it- Uchiha boy. Lips now twisted into a frown uncharecteristic for the Uchiha family, a huff escaped the pouting boy, as he ran down the steps, the air of a spoiled and slightly stuck up- but only slightly- child surrounding him as he strode towards his older, effeminate brother. Demanding for his hair to be brushed, he sulked when all he recieved was a flick on the forehead, and a slight chuckle for his efforts. Yet again, he presented his demand- though now, as more of an request. And he got a sigh, then an exasperated smile- his elder brothers smiles were only for him, of course- as Itatchi began to brush his younger brothers hair. Maybe not so much that it would be completely laid down- that's impossible for hair such as his Otouto's- but the best effort made for it, which resulted in a flattening of the most part. Pouting that his hair was 'Absolutely girly now', he walked in the most mature way he could manage through the Uchiha complex, absolutely preening in the attention he was recieving, and set off towards the Acadamy.
'The acadamy exam is as good as passed', thought Uchiha Sasuke, the son of Uchiha Fugaku and Uchiha Mikoto, a childish smirk on his lips as he tried not to giggle- that would spoil the effect.
A red ribbon was tied through the girls hair, her pink hair hanging in her eyes, her green eyes almost hidden by the 'sheepdog style' of hair, as her mother fondly called it- and her classmates tauntingly named it. She peered into the mirror, fidgeting with her red dress, until she deemed it satisfactory, flashing a bright smile at the mirror and trying not to wince at the effect. 'I'm pretty. I know I am.' Dispite this, the words of the other girls in her class echoed in her ears, and she winced. Slipping on her sandals, she walked downstairs, and gazed at the kitchen counter- another note on the table; her father was going on another mission, most probably B rank, or even A. Her father claimed he wasn't trying to avoid her- but she knew the truth. She had the Haruno hair, the Haruno eyes. Her father couldn't stand her- because she was just like her mother, in all ways but one. Her mother had confidence. Slipping a kunai into the kunai holder on her hip, she tried yet again for a brave look in the mirror, cringed, and decided at the last moment not to waste the effort. So, head held as high as she could stand, she set out into the streets.
She wouldn't name her parents. Because one thought her best friend was a monster. And the other was dead, her name too important to use for a mere discreption. So, in her eyes- it was best not to name them. Her; being Haruno Sakura.