Confessions of a Trouble Magnet

Chapter One

A/N: I know that I'm supposed to be working on Haunted, but I just had this nagging plot on mind and I didn't know which category to publish it in and Kateyko Hitman Reborn! came in mind. So now I'm going to start watching it and write this story on my own pace.

Warning:

I won't update daily and maybe not even weekly but I promise you that I will try to update as soon as I can. This is An AU Kateyko Hitman Reborn! Fan fiction in which the main character is an OC, so bear with me please, as the main characters are OC. But the Original Canon Characters will have a huge role in this story.

Please don't come to me with complaints about how the main character is too smart or perfect. I will try to balance it out so that she won't give off that feel but it's in the warnings as well so don't like, don't read. She's supposed to be smart, so I don't give a darn what you think my character should be like. This is my character and I will do what I like with it. Reviews and feedback are appreciated. I'd also like it if you could recommend any good Reborn! Fan fiction.

Thank you,

Hopeless Desires

||S.I.X||

Sora is six years and three months old when she first comes to Japan. She immediately enrolls in Namimori Elementary School with her male twin.

But more importantly, Sora is six years old and three months old when she manages to annoy a cocky third grader with a flamethrower.

It all started on the dreadful and hated first day of elementary school.

On the first day, she stood near the gates with her Aunt and Step-Mother, Angela Phantomhive (who is holding the hands of the two children, or trying to, in Sora's case.)

"I realize that this is your first year," the red haired woman comments as she waves over one of the teachers supervising the courtyard, "but I expect you, as Sawadas and Phantomhives, to excel." She turns her unnaturally crimson eyes expectantly at the two siblings. Sora ignored her and had instead watched a mother holding the hand of her crying child, snot dribbling down his chin.

Beside her, she could hear her aunt conversing with a male teacher. She could hear the smile evident on her voice and Sora wondered how her aunt could smile happily so easily.

A gentle push on her back had gotten her out of her train of thoughts. Angela's cheery voice rang out from behind her, "Sora-chan, it's time to go with the nice teacher to your classroom and make me proud, o~kay~?" Sora had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the babyish tone of her aunt's voice. Nevertheless, she walked to the side of the teacher, only lagging behind a step and ignoring the raised hand of the man. The man's hand fell limply but his smile was still plastered on his face.

When the man walked forward and away from the leaving Angela, Nagi (short for Naghiko) started bowling, snot running out of his nose and his face covered with liquid. Nervously, the teacher tried anything to stop the crying boy, but failed. He was obviously worried of the nosy glances of the prying council of parents that were gathered at the gates.

Finally, Sora sighed in annoyance, the white medical eye patch itched against her right eye. "Stop crying, it makes your face look ugly. And crying is for weak losers." She offered him a (barely there) half-smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and a sleeve. The boy ignored the sleeve and instead went for the shirt. Sora was donning the standard female Namimori Elementary School uniform, which unfortunately contained a plaid red mini-skirt, matched with a black blazer over a white collared, long-sleeved shirt, and black knee-length boots. She had fortunately gotten her stubborn aunt to let her wear black tights along with the outfit when she told her it was winter, as Sora loathed dresses and skirts were similar to them but more bearable as they had less chance of being pink and girly and overly frilly.

The blazer was feeling very wet and slightly disgusting (thanks to the snot) and Sora wondered if she would be allowed to take it off, but she remained silent and let the boy take his time ruining her blazer. She was feeling overly stuffy in it and warm anyways.

It wasn't because she was a big sister and was overly protective of her younger twin (by two minutes). Not at all.

Although her brother was a selfish crybaby, it was expected of his age. It was even more expected for little boys to bully their sisters (or so her psychology book says).

Sora was an avid reader. She enjoyed immersing herself in books of every genre. It served as an escape of sorts that sleep could not provide.

"Let's go," the teacher, in heavily accented English, told them softly, "it's almost time for class to start."

She nodded at the teacher, not meeting his eyes as she watched her twin let go and sniffle. She hoped he was satisfied with ruining her blazer and would not do anymore crying. Phantoms do not cry, because Phantoms are not weak. (She was not fond of calling herself a Sawada as it was the family name of a father that she never really met, and rarely heard from.) She patted his brown head softly before turning around facing the teacher and shrugging of the drenched blazer. The teacher didn't say a thing but glanced around nervously before ushering them in the school building.

It was second period and Sora had yet to participate in anything in the class. Much less speak. But the second period black haired math teacher ignored that, it was only her first day and the child was probably shy.

Nobody had yet to speak to Sora; even Nagi had soon hesitantly left her side to play with the other children. She thanked god for that as she had thought that the boy was attached to her by the hip. She had been surprised to realize that Nagi knew Japanese (probably because of the amount of anime and manga he devours and the old tattered Japanese-English dictionary he dragged almost everywhere—including the bathroom.)

She, on the other hand, did not understand a word of the language, and could only stare out the window or observe her little brother (which she did.) She had already discarded of the blazer, because even though tears dry, snot sticks, and a snot-full blazer was not a nice first impression.

In the corner of her eye, she could spot a nervous group of kids glancing at her and speaking to themselves. Soon after, a little girl with the typical straight Japanese black hair and bright hazel eyes approached her. She smiled nervously at her, a dust of pink covered her cheeks.

"H-h-hello, my name is Yamagata Suzuki, i-it's nice to meet you!"

Of course, all Sora heard was gibberish that she identified as Japanese, and so she ignored her and tried to think up the Japanese word for 'I don't understand Japanese piss off'.

"A-ano…" The girl started, "Yo-our Naghiko-kun's Onee-san, aren't you?"

Le stares.

"I-I…" She gulped, her forehead sweating bullets, "w-we were wondering i-if you'd like to come over and p-play House with u-us—?" When Sora had continued staring, her bright blue eyes half-closed, the girl shivered nervously before backing away, one step at a time. "I-I.." Step, "I-I'm," Step, "S-SORRY!" The girl tripped over her feet running to her little group of friends and left an oblivious and horribly confused Sora.

Oh well, she was never that sociable.

Although, as she scribbled (because she sucked horribly at art) on the Japanese worksheet that suspiciously did not look like a blank paper, she thought that she wouldn't have hated the company.

"Your Onee-san is creepy." One of the boys in the group on the far corner of the room declared, eyeing Nagi, who were building blocks with the girl from before.

"She is?" Nagi tossed him an uncertain look and glanced at his sister. To him, she was one of the nicest people in the world and also the loneliest. "I don't know Takashi-kun, she's nice to me and watches scary anime with me."

"Nice?" The girl—Suzuki scoffed, "She's scary! And she looks stupid." She eyed the silent girl peacefully drawing on her worksheet.

"And she looks like a boy!" A girl scornfully commented, eyeing Sora in disgust.

"A weird weak boy," a boy with bushy brows piped in.

"A weird weak boy in a skirt," Another red haired boy who seemed intent on breaking the block house some girl was making continued.

The girl who was peacefully interrupted by the red-head glared—or tried to, her big baby-like brown eyes didn't look scary—at him before adding in her own opinion as her eyes drifted to the girl who was unaware of the fact that a discussion had formed—about her, mind you—whose face was hidden by an eye patch and who's entire body was covered, excluding her hands and half of her face. "She doesn't look pretty. She looks like the evil stupid pirates in my story books." Her eyes twinkled as she added, "I wonder if she's met Peter Pan."

"Yeah," one of the other boys nodded, his bald head shining in the light, "She isn't even wearing her blazer! She must be a d-d-digger (disgrace) to your family, Nagi-kun."

"I-I—" Nagi stuttered but fell silent. His sister wasn't a disgrace, was she? …Come to think of it she was always quite and cold to people, although she did sometimes offer small half-smiles.

The dark haired boy—Takashi put a hand on his chin as if thinking, slowly, and evil smile spread on his face, "I know what we can do…." And the group of children leaned forward to listen to the boy's idea.

It was lunch time, and Sora quickly stood up and went out of the classroom, she had grabbed along her book, a Japanese travel guide, and high tailed to the roof, a place which she had first spotted outside.

Behind the door was a quite space that could fit lots of people if wanted, she quickly slipped inside and closed the door behind her. A bench was one the roof, next to a potted plant, and Sora realized that there were in fact many potted plants covering the entire space, next to the high railing were the potted plants that were rather small. Since the elementary school contained three floors, the roof being the fourth, it was a very dangerous jump from the roof to the ground floor.

Not that she was going to jump, as curious as she was, she wasn't an idiot.

She relaxed herself in the bench, and opened her book, she didn't though feel like reading right then (the book being in Japanese helped that choice) so, closing her one deep blue eye, she faintly thought that if she was late to her third class one her first day, it wouldn't go well with her aunt (she never once called her mom, as much as she demanded), but she felt so sleepy and tired from the sleepless nights, she didn't care whether her aunt's friend thought it wasn't cute to be a 'delinquent' or whatever. And just as felt sleep embrace her, something had to go annoy her.

"Sleeping on the roof is not allowed at school," a frigid voice interrupted Sora's much valued rest, "I will burn you to death."

"Shut up." She muttered, ignoring whoever it was speaking. "I don't speak Japanese."

"And not wearing the school's blazer is defying to the school's rules," the voice continued—in accented English—to her dismay, "for that, I will bite you to death."

She finally opened her one blue eye and glared icily at the black haired upperclassman, blue eyes and dark navy-blue hair that looked slightly grey, you know, the type of hair whose color happens to be a light shade and so could be dirty blonde or light brown or dark blue or black. His glare was a bit scary (she would not admit it out loud) but she had went through too much to be creeped out by some third grader obsessed with school—or so he seemed—and glared back with her equally sharp blue eye.

To her, her eye was the only nice thing about her, wide and large and thick, long lashed, but she didn't care about that—she liked how it scared the shit out of people, and it happened to be her favorite color, blue. (Although she loved black too.)

"And," he finished, glancing at the school skirt she wore, "cross dressing is against school regulations, and is frowned upon in Namimori town, and in many other countries, I believe."

"I believe that you should mind your own business," she shot back, "and I'm not cross dressing, I'm one hundred percent female, although I wouldn't mind wearing the boy's uniform."

"Your hair is short," He pointed out, his glare not lightening.

"Thank you, I do not have mirrors in my home, and so I have never known I owned short hair."

"You talk big for a first grader,"

"I—," she started, but stopped and instead fixated him with a distrusting look, "how did you know my grade."

"I am head of Namimori Elementary Discipline committee and the Student Council president," He smirked smugly, "I know things."

She shut her trap but remained seated; she was not going down to the loud classroom, or to the crowded cafeteria. And that was final.

"Now move, this is my seat," the boy demanded. In her mind, Sora imagined him in underwear, in heart patterned underwear. The effort was successful and immediately her lips formed a small smirk. "You get to sit in here and we don't? No thank you, I wanna sit here and I will." And that was how she proceeded to bring her legs up and lay them on the seat. Sora, at the proud height of 99 cm (which she claimed was 'tall'), did not manage to cover all of the bench, but before she could glare at him to see if he would dare sit down, he held out something large and thin, and before she could take a closer look, he pressed it.

And all hell broke loose.

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.

.

Literally. Fire suddenly erupted from the weapon and swung around, barely burning her and stopping just next to her. She opened her mouth in a silent scream, suddenly losing her voice. All the air in her lungs suddenly depleted, and she started wheezing, trying to get in some air.

And then it stopped, the fire disappeared, and all that was left was a emotionless third grader and a socially awkward first grader.

Who was, by the way, having an attack.

Meanwhile, as the process of the interesting event on the roof entails, the school bell rings, alerting all of the school populations (and the neighbors who were hoping desperately for some sleeping in) of the third period.

The students all rush to their classes, pushing each other, screaming and yelling, some crying others singing, but then the hallway's temperature lowered down to a cold degree.

"Why are you herbivores crowding?"

A hush fell over the hallways, as every student paused in their tracks.

"Go to your class, third period has started—I will count to ten and if you haven't cleared the hallways, I will burn you to death." The sound of rapid footsteps soon echoed through the hallways.

The boy—with the body of a small girl (or cross dressing boy) slung over his shoulder, one hand steadying the body, the other shoved deep in his pockets—hadn't moved until he made sure the hallways were barren.

When there was no sound, he moved elegantly to the nurse's office.

"Herbivore," he said as soon as he entered the white room, "I have a student who has gotten an attack." The nurse, who was fawning over a copy of 'Twilight' jumped, scattering the worksheets that were on the desk all over the floor. The boy, who was watching the event 'tch'ed and threw the body on the floor. "I shall inform her class teacher," he declared, before turning his blue stare at the nervous nurse, "when she awakes, inform her that the female student body is allowed to wear the alternate version of the female uniform." And then he took his leave.

The woman stared at the door before glancing at the girl on the floor in worry. Hesitantly, she moved to the girl and crouched near her.

"Is she…dead?"

Because, honestly, how many people have seen a third grader armed with a flamethrower and god-knows what else lugging the body of a kid around?

But, really, what surprised her the most, was that Hibari Rin – most feared student in the entire school, runner of a one-man disciplinary patrol, and punisher of those who committed even the smallest of infractions, had just helped a girl?

She quickly put the girl in a the first bed on the left, she put up the cover up to her chin, wiped her face, and observed her.

She was thrashing around; beads of perspiration rolling down her face. She would have to check her medical history soon. The woman frowned. She guessed that she was having nightmares, as all six year olds did. But she didn't seem to be having an attack, as holding an inhaler to her mouth did nothing.

But she had more fun things to do now. Quickly, she opened her computer and went to her online chat group. After she signed in, she gushed for more than half an hour on the newest twilight book, glancing every few minutes at the stilled girl.

She closed her brown eyes a bit and wondered what made a certain perfect bring this girl here?

Could it be…he had a crush?

She had no idea how wrong that idea was.

The brisk air of late autumn caressed Sora's cheeks, her messy dark shaded chestnut hair whipping against her cheek. She was walking along with Nagi on the path home, which was a bit far away but her aunt told her that she was to be an independent young woman and walk home along, because apparently aunty had an important book meeting with the other women of the neighborhood.

Meanwhile, Sora stole glances at the fidgeting boy next to her, who seemed nervous for some reason.

Finally, reaching their home, she stopped just in front of the gate. Nagi hit his head with an 'oomph!" against her back.

She turned a deep blue eye on him, "is there something wrong…?"

Instantly the boy turned flustered, he played with the end of his blazer, his light blue eyes looking anywhere but her, "N-no! What makes you think that, Onee-san?" he stuttered in English.

San, she noticed he said. Usually he would say Onee-chan. She stared a bit longer at him.

"Okay," she shrugged. Her brother, on the other hand, looked taken a back.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," she opened the gate to the two floor beige colored house. The house included a backyard and a small front garden that was as wide as the house and the length was five feet away from the porch to the gate. The ground was plant less other than a few grassy spots.

"Besides," she offered him a cheeky smile as his stomach grumbled, "I'm too hungry, missing lunch is rather bothersome."

She went inside followed by the blushing Nagi.

"Is there a problem with the food? I promise I didn't cook it," Sora said. She stared a little at her younger twin, he had been acting strange today, throwing glances at her, guilty looks, nervous fidgeting, the like. She pursed her lip as she set down the fork she was using to eat the salad she had gotten from the fridge.

Maybe he thought she made it? It was fairly known that if anybody let Sora alone in the kitchen, it will explode.

"N-no," he lifted his light blue eyes from the bowl, "nothing's wrong."

She debated glaring at him to get him to spill. But ofcourse she couldn't do that to her adorable little brother, so she continued to eat.

For the rest of the meal, Nagi seemed on the edge of his seat. Literally, he was close to falling of the chair. The air around them suffocated Sora, she found herself wanting the meal to end. Like now.

"Sora," the boy meekly asked, "why don't you understand Japanese?"

"H-huh?" Nagi's unease was rubbing of her. "O-oh, nevermind. I just don't know it."

"Well why don't you learn it?"

Well, he caught her there. She stopped and stared at her bowl, interested in it. "W-well, I don't know how."

"Okay," he replied.

As soon as Sora brought the fork to her lips Nagi opened his mouth. "Well, why do you wear that pirate thing."

"P-pirate thing?" Her hands started to tremble a little. Please, please, please don't ask about it!

Her brother pointed his fork at her left eye. "Yes, pirate thing. You look funny in it." He declared.

He had never asked that before, where did this sudden courage come from?

"I-I," she gulped stabbing the lettuce with her fork. "I lost it."

"Lost it," the boy echoed, "so, you, like, don't have an eye there?"

"Y-yeah,"

The boy's face seemed to pale a little as he edged a bit away from her, although he was on the other end of the table.

They didn't talk the rest of the day.

Naghiko didn't know what to think as he sat on the table coloring his color book while his aunt—who insisted he called her mother—rummaged in the cabinets of the kitchen.

Her mother sure was pretty, he thought, prettier than his real mother.

To him, he never knew his real mother, so aunty was Mama. Everyday a memory of his mother would escape his light clutches. He didn't care, simply because he had a better Mama now who actually talked to them instead of staying out working.

Was working better than her children?

Nevertheless, he observed his mama's white face, her narrowed brown eyes—which were red because of something she had put in her eyes, he didn't know what it was, only that it made him queasy—her luscious short red hair, bright and attention-seeking.

"Mama?" he asked.

"Yes darling?" she didn't look at him, but he knew she was listening.

"Is…are other people's o-opinions important?"

At that, his mother turned around and cupped his face, leaning closer so that he could stare into her kind dark brown eyes, snd feel her warm breathe that smelled of chocolate on his face.

"Of course, dear, they always see what we don't see."

He fidgeted in her hold," So, if they… ask us to do something do we do it?"

"This'll make us popular so the big kids will be our friends!"

"Does it make you more likeable?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Than by all means, yes!"

"A-and it'll teach your Onee-san a lesson."

"A-alright…"

"Come on, it'll be fun! My brother does that all the time!"

He went back to coloring, feeling much better. His mama said it was alright so it was alright.

"We'll be popular! And cool!"

But what would happen to his sister?

Whatever, he thought as he colored the eyes of Pooh a scary red color; at least his mama will be proud of him.

The next day, Sora runs to her school, she had woken up late, and waiting for Anne to finish showering, for her brother to finish. And when they do, she hurries in her shower, gets out with her uniform not put on well, her hair messy and a little spiky at the ends.

She stumbles to the front door, yelling at her brother to "move it!" and buttoning most of her blouse's buttons.

Except the first one.

Reminding Anne to order the alternative female school uniform (much to her displeasure), she grabs her brother's hand—who flinches—and runs out the door.

For some reason, there's a weird feeling in her gut, and she contemplates it as she runs.

Well, she tries to, because really in all her clumsiness—"Ouch, darn pole."—she has to take all her time to make sure she doesn't fall on her face and give free panty shots. Or slam into poles, trip on dogs, and take her brother along for the ride.

Thankfully, her brother had escaped her grip a while ago—from the moment she crashed into a biker—but Sora swore it wasn't her fault, it's because of her damned genetics—"Oops, sorry sir,"—that she keeps on bumping into men with groceries that weighed a ton.

So long as she remained totally focused on her movements she was generally fine ('cause Sora was the type of person who thinks that she's taller than her actual height). Unfortunately it was really hard to keep thinking about the correct distance for each step, how quickly her arms were moving, or the distance from her hand to her face while her face was stuffed into a map. And she had to make sure her brother was not too far away. She found herself cursing the parent who she inherited this-this…lack of balance (clumsiness, a smug voice in her mind suggests, plain lack of coordination helps too)

Of course, tripping and falling on top of a rich beautiful woman out for an early morning stroll, being called a perverted cross dresser, and getting hit repeatedly with a purse (damn purses) and stepped on with high heels (damn rich high heel wearing women) and yapped and bit by a Chihuahua who seemed excited to do anything other than being in the arms of the woman, until an escape was managed were the results of her inattention – along with dirty clothes, a mouthful of a purse, unwanted bruises, cuts, and bites, and a severely bruised ego – so perhaps she should have been able to put a little more effort into watching what she was doing. It was just so hard for her to pay attention when she was trying to find their damn school.

So that was how they came to be, Nagi ten meters away from Sora, and Sora with her disheveled uniform and the putrid smell of mud and dog poop, standing outside the school, one bored and the other glaring at a useless map.

"Damn map," she cursed (Pirates of the Caribbean served as a great educational experience for her) holding the map tightly in her hands, "now we're late. Goddamn map."

"Onee-san," Nagi, who was staring blankly at the map ten meters away, "the map is upside down."

"…Oh."

Damn inheritance, damn lack of coordination, damn balance, damn height, damn clumsiness, and along with that, add the damn fail of map-reading skills.

Goddamn genes.

They were probably an hour late, especially since that guy glaring at them—"Oi, herbivores, your late."

Oh shit.

It was second period, and the teacher, who was passing around worksheets, was happy. It was so peaceful, that nothing could possibly happen. No kid cried, neither did one pee on himself.

The teacher found herself thanking god, until—BAM, the door to the classroom slammed open, and in came a limping, frustrated boy in a girl uniform, followed by a shy blushing little boy. The boy—excuse me, girl, slammed a small paper on the desk before taking her leave.

All was quite, until on boy—Takashi, the teacher remembered, scowled, "Why does that pirate get to go out of class?"

That got rid of the peaceful silence of the second period quite easily.

Sora cursed as the nurse applied alcohol to her cuts and bruises. That third grader really annoyed her, if her bruises weren't enough, he had to try to maim her and Nagi with a santoku. One in each hand and a flamethrower slung over his back like a backpack. Not the typical third grader, but hell to that, she was going to have to beware him and his Japanese knife set.

"Oops, sorry, I think I applied the wrong alcohol to your cut, I'll go get the real strong one now, hahaha!"

Damn third grader.

It was while she was hobbling back to school that she was surrounded by a group of first graders.

"You think your so cool, skipping school and not speaking." A dark haired boy glared at her. She eyed him boredly before moving past him. A searing pain ripped through her head as a hand grabbed her hair and pulled it. "Listen to me when I talk to you, stupid."

She winced, moving would make her hurt more, but before she could do something another feminine voice in Japanese broke in, "You don't talk because you're stupid, right."

What was she supposed to reply with, she didn't know Japanese. What was she supposed to do?

"I pity Nagi-kun, he must be embaressed to have a useless stupid sister like you."

She partly understood what they said, and what she did understand made her freeze. No way would Nagi be embarrassed of her, would he? No way. He wouldn't, she repeated in her mind, he wouldn't.

Soon, there was the sound of thuds of rock being thrown. Sora gritted her teeth as they threw the rough rocks on her. It was surprisingly strong for first graders. She twisted and kicked the boy holding her before running away from the sound of crying and the taunts and jeers and the flying rocks.

When she was sure she was far away from them, she stopped and panted, trying to inhale as much air as she could as she surveyed her area.

Surprise, surprise, she was on the same street her school was on (really, it was a miracle she didn't bump into a trash can yet.)

She stopped on the house next to hers when she saw something that looked like these tiny phones that clips around your ear in the middle of the street.

Until she took a closer look and it was kind of a bright peachy color…

She figured it was a hearing aid, probably Mrs Uzumaki's, a Japanese woman who used to work as a translator. The last few days, whenever she would greet the woman, she'd sigh in annoyance and ask Sora to repeat a couple of twenty times.

She apparently owned a small yorkie who liked to glower at her and who preferred singing at midnight over singing in the shower. His name was Sasuke, and he looked like a fuzz ball with two legs, but was actually a vicious Doberman. Sora saw him attach his vampire-like fangs on the mailman's butt daily.

So, to say she was a bit nervous of going to Mrs Uzumaki was an understandmeant.

And soon enough a woman in jeans and a shirt with "GIRL POWER" on it opened the door cheerfully. She looked to be in her late sixties but her body was quite fit-looking. She had the brightest green eyes Sora ever saw and held herself in a confident way. Her tanned face was framed by graying locks of dark brown. In short, she did not look Japanese, more like an Australian woman who was going to kick your ass.

But in her arms sat a ball of lint with glaring black eyes and bared fangs.

"Hello, Mrs Uzumaki, I wanted to ask, have you lost your hearing aid?"

"What did you say, kid?" the woman continued smiling deafly at Sora.

"You're HEARING AID! Did you lose it?"

"Eh? Speak up, girl, I don't have all day." Mrs Uzumaki leaned forward to Sora, who was twitching considerably as she brought a hand to her mouth.

"Mrs Uzumaki, did you lose your HEARING AID?"

"Are you trying to say that I need to lose my hairy arms…?"

"Oh, goddamnit…HEARING AID, HEARING-FREAKING-AID!"

"...The hell?! YOU GODDAMN IDIOTA! My HAIRY LEGS are NONE OF YOUR BEESWAX! GET YOUR ASS OFF MY PROPERTY BEFORE I GET MY HUNTING RIFLE."

What the hell did she do? She just tried to help and—"**** of! GET HER, SASUKE!

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My journey began early. I was a child but I wasn't a child. It was confusing. But worst of all, there was no one there to hold me, and I found myself all alone.

A/N: I was planning on making this a 10k chapter but then decided against it. Sorry!

Drop a review for a faster update.

Also, Mrs Uzumaki did say IDIOTA, its not bad spelling.

now why would she say IDIOTA...?

Regards,

Hopeless Desires.