I was bored and I wasn't feeling in the mood for ITE so here's a story that I have been thinking about….I haven't decided if I like it or not. I know there are a number of Jiraiya and Tsunade's kid and I wanted to try my hand at this. Plus, A/Ay/whatever his name is, does not get enough love.

Tell me what you think, guys!

I DO NOT OWN NARUTO. I DO OWN MY OCS

My name is Hitori.

I have no Mother.

I have no Father.

They are both Cowards

I am Alone.

The people of the Hidden Village wandered through the markets without care, the songs of early songbirds rising in the air. The winds were behaving for once, meaning the merchants would have no need to secure their stalls down in the early hours of the morning. Children would soon be eagerly scampering through the legs of the adults, laughing and screaming in delight. Women and men would gather around stalls, gossiping or complaining about something or other. A few Shinobi were already wandering the streets or roofs, walking in such a way that gave off the impression of relaxation. Yet any one with eyes can see the wary and sharp glints in the gaze of a shinobi.

I watched the few nin carry on with their lives from my vantage point, ignoring the goosebumps that rose on my cool skin. Dressed only in a short thin robe, I leaned back against the ledge of the window and let out of soft sigh.

"Come back to bed Wife," a deep voice grumbled from farther in the room. "It is too early for one to be awake and you are not damn rooster."

Smirking, I turned my head to face the disgruntled face of my husband, his dark eyes blearily glaring at me from under the dark red blankets that covered our bed.

"Or is that you miss my presence in your bed and against your body?" I teased, rising slowly and angling my body so my silhouette is seen through the robe.

"Stop tempting me, woman," he grumbled, burrowing himself back into the warmth of the bed.

I snickered, untying my robe and letting it drop to the floor. Sauntering to the bed, I crawled onto the bed and under the sheets to shimmy my way up to the head of the bed. As I moved up, I made sure to rub close against my husband, only to feel a pair of powerful hands grab hold of me and drag me up from under the covers.

Laughing, I grinned up at his scowl.

"Woman, I have fulfilled my duty as your husband very thoroughly last night and even earlier this morning. So let me sleep."

Letting out a dramatic sigh, I kissed his nose and tucked my head under his chin, nuzzling his throat.

"I love you, Husband."

Silence, and then a grunt. "And I you, Wife."

The rest of early morning was blissful silence that was broken only by soft breaths, the shifting of sheets or a sigh. At some point we had rolled over, with him on his back and me tucked under his shoulder. I ran my fingers along his broad naked chest, tracing invisible symbols on his skin.

"What is it?" He mumbled, his large hand tightening his grip on my hip.

I was silent for a moment, and it made him open an eye to peer down at me. I looked up, my hazel eyes meeting his dark ones. One of his large hands reached up to touch the skin under my eye, tracing the thin red line that trailed down to my jawline.

"I dreamed of my parents, A."

The frail strings that were barely keeping us together managed to snap was I about 5 years old.

I had watched them leave with dry eyes, my hazel orbs never leaving their retreating backs. Mother was the one who left first, ignoring Father's pleading for her to stay. They knew I was watching them argue from around the door of Great Grandfather's study but they did not care.

The same way they acted to the people who whispered gossip about them.

An unwed couple living with a child in wedlock.

A healer that froze at the sight of blood.

A writer that leered at women and peeked in on them at the baths.

Mother rarely strolled through the village anymore, running along the roof at such a speed that a civilian couldn't see her and hiding at the hospital. Father kept to his secret ways, disappearing with proofs of smoke for a large amount of time before reappearing.

"I'm leaving."

Those words the last words I heard her say. Mother turned on her heel that sent her long blond hair flying, nearly hitting Father in the face with the long locks. Walking out the study, she breezed right past me with a deep scowl on her face. Father followed her out of the room, his eyes glancing down at me with a pained look before going after her. She packed a small bag with clothes and some scrolls before making her way to the front door. Not once had she looked at me, keeping her eyes straightforward and red stained lips pursed with determination. I reached out at one point, grabbing hold of the blue hatori she was wearing.

She paused. But her head never turned to face me.

I stared at the beautiful ash blonde hair that we shared, inwardly begging for her to look at me.

She never did.

The moment my grasp loosened on her hatori, she was gone.

Father left a week later, fleeing the moment the sun began to peak over the horizon. The night before, he had run his hand over my hair, his dark eyes gazing to mine before giving me a strained smile. Kissing my forehead, he told me to go to bed and that he would be in soon to read me a story. I had fallen asleep after a few pages of The Slug and the Toad, and I briefly remember Father whispering something to me before pressing his lips to my head.

He was gone by the time I woke up the next morning.

A man came after breakfast, dressed in a red and white outfit with an odd hat on his head. He had told me that Mother left because she was still learning about being a good healer and that she needed to study more. Father had left because he was a ninja, and that he had to protect the village.

Fake.

Lies.

I stared at him blankly before asking the one question.

"Then when will they return?"

The man never gave me an answer.

A few weeks had passed, in which my time had been spent learning from shinobi about the ninja arts. When the man returned with another shinobi, one with a large scar along his cheek, the man told me with a smile that I would learn to become a shinobi for the village.

I stared up at him with my young eyes.

"But why?"

He blinked in surprise, a slight puff a smoke rising from his pipe. "Wouldn't you like to be a ninja like your mother and father?"

I frowned.

"No."

A year had passed.

Mother and Father have yet to return.

I was now 6, and under the man's insistence, no, the Hokage's insistence, I was given basic training for an aspiring ninja. They were teaching me about chakra at the moment, and how it was important it was to any self-respecting ninja.

Ha.

The leaf sat in front of me as I eyed it with distain on my futon. My only source of light was the small lamp on my desk, casting shadows on my bedroom walls. My teacher had told me that in two days I had to master attaching a leaf to my forehead by chakra.

So far, it sticks for a blink of an eye and then it flutters to the ground. That had been an hour ago. Everyone in the house was asleep except for yours truly. I'm sure there were a few shinobi hanging around to make sure all was well.

I huffed. Grabbing hold of the leaf, I prompted ripped it into small pieces, watching in satisfaction at the tiny shredded pieces falling to my bedcovers. Sweeping up into one of hands, I got off the futon to the bin sitting next to my desk.

It was satisfying, watching the small pieces fall into the trash bin. Like I was tossing away the physical symbol that they were forcing on me. Pleased, I reached over and turn off the lamp before padding back to my bed.

Burying myself under the blankets, I managed to fall asleep with some peace of mind. But a large hand slammed itself over my mouth and when I turned my head, the first thing I saw was the silver plate on his forehead with what looked like a trio of clouds.

"You were kidnapped by Cloud shinobi and brought here because of my father," A hummed, running his fingers through my pale blond hair as he recounted when I was brought to his village. "I remember that you were rather calm. Father and his advisors were rather perplexed by that."

"I had nothing there," I replied. "Mother and Father had left, and I was raised by the maids. The Hokage assumed that I wanted to follow in my parents' footsteps. But why would I? They did not inspire me, and the council was not pleased that I refused to study to be a shinobi. In a matter of fact, neither were your father and his minions. Besides," I poked his pecs. "We didn't even know if I had Great Grandfather's Kekkei Genkai at the time, so your father had a useless hostage."

A scoffed. "And of one of the advisors suggested a marriage between us to see if you would pass the gene down to our child."

I smiled up at him. "And I do not regret it."

He quirked an eyebrow. "You know most would call that Stockholm syndrome, Hitori."

"Your mother you had bring blue mountain poppies for every date we went on since I was 10." I retorted. "And if I recall, you had no objections on our wedding day when I told you that you could still back out."

"Hmph."

And that was the sign he was done with talking. Smiling slightly, I snuggled closer to his hard form. "Well, I'm happy."

There was a pause and a large hand reached down to cup the tiny hard bulge protruding from my lower belly.

"As am I."

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