Authors Note: I'd like to thank some of my friends for getting me back into Naruto. So to celebrate, why not another SI/OC story which hopefully wont be complete shit. I have an idea on where I'm going with this one all written up in my head so hopefully good times will be to come.

This fic is definitely inspired by the many great SI/Oc fics this fandom have produced. Dreaming of Sunshine, Catch Your Breath, Transposed, and many more. Thank you for making me feel like writing SI/OC fics is okay to do.

Now to end this off let me say I'm hoping to keep to a strict schedule of a chapter every Sunday. I feel like I should be able to manage that despite my full time job and other responsibilities. However sometimes my motivation can wane due to mental bullshit, so any and all comments from a single word or emote response to a constructive critique are greatly appreciated and boost my life for days. This chapter is a little short due to it being a prolog, most other ones will try to aim above 2000 or more words apiece, but really I'll be more focused on stopping where it seems to sound good or fit then looking too hard at my word count.

So without further to do: Thank you for reading this, I hope we have good times to come together.

"In this universe, and this existence, where we live with this duality of whether we exist or not and who we are, the stories we tell ourselves are the stories that define the potentialities of our existence. We are the stories we tell ourselves."

-Shekhar Kapur

Being born is something I'd rather not have to remember.

Being crushed by pressure then shot out into the cold, bright world I assume is never a pleasant experience for anyone (Pressure as it connected causing a burst causing the loss of-). Having the mental capacities to realize exactly what was happening during and after it however, along with theoretically experiencing it twice, probably made the situation much, much worse than anyone else probably could or would mention. Having a brain that recognized how innately messed up the whole process of being born was, especially with the mind of an adult, was horrible (Street in front of me, and people, watching. Horror filled silence and disbelief as dread filled me and I couldn't move-). So I'll say this: I was born during a thunderstorm in August, first child to my parents and I was a complete accident on their part - Good going Mom and Dad, setting up a strong, responsible example for me right off the bat. I was, however, an accident that they were entirely prepared for by the time I finally graced the planet with my flesh body judging by the amount of people around as I was born willing to manhandle me out of the womb and give me all the care that my infant body needed. I came out quieter than any newborn ought to, but the jumble of voices didn't really register much to me due to shock of the situation (Faces blur past but I know them. I knew them at some place as the pressure was gone but I was suddenly too warm and weak and still-).

The only thing I felt was red (Hot and running. Out and onto me as I tried to stop it. Why was there so much red? Oh.. I know.. I know). That's the only way I could properly describe it- a sticky red that covered my senses and tried to steal the life out of my throat. I choked on it before letting out my first wail, trying to get it away from me as it bubbled and festered in the air. The voices around me grew louder before - not nearly fast enough- the horrible red seemed to fade away, ebbing itself to the back existence to where I could only feel it squirming about like worms if I tried to hard enough. (Panic seized as black dotted my vision and burning swam out across my nerves. Was this- Was I-) I didn't try.

A tired voice sounded to my left and another even more tired one next to it, the source of the red. It was excited and held out hands to me, wanting and waiting for me to be put in them. I squirmed as I was handed off, trying to get away, crying, screaming, and scared of yet again being lost into that feeling of red. However there were only soft words and a tired laugh as people spoke around me and I slowly started to calm as a result. The red was still there, watching, but it seemed to be done trying to crawl into my throat and for that, I would forgive it if only momentarily. After being prompted a few times with a slew of words I couldn't quite understand and yet seemed to anyways (Yells in panic, screaming, crying. "Someone help!", "Mommy did she just-", "There's been a-", "I can't believe they just-", "Hold on. Please, please just hold on-" It shook as nothingness took hold) I looked up at the person-who-was-holding-me's face.

Violet eyes met mine, a slightly round, tired, grinning face framed by vibrant red hair. I must of been eyeing her funny because she looked over at the man next to her with a chuckle and said something which caused him to let out a short, sudden laugh. He ran a hand through his blonde hair and leaned down to my eye level as well, vibrant blue staring into me with a soft gaze I can't say I had ever experienced to this point. He spoke softly and slowly to me, like if he spoke to loud I'd disappear (Nothingness. Empty, void-light filled every ounce of me and tried to consume what was left. I didn't want to- I could- I would-. Live. It couldn't have me- not all of me. Live.). Or more likely he was worried I'd start screaming again, not that I could really blame him for that.

Still, I came into this world during a thunderstorm in August. Terror of birth, already blurry, hazy mass of past life- future- something on the forefront of my brain, and vestiges of angry red energy not even being considered an important blip on my new parents map. Because as they stared down at me, tired after the long labor of bringing me into this word, they decided the thunderstorm was what would signify me and my future. And so my fathers horrible naming practices got used on me, and I was born Kaminari Namikaze. They couldn't even use something more normal for my name with the same meaning, you know like the name Rai. Even though its a boys name it could of still worked just fine, but I guess that one of the perks of creating a life is the privilege to slap whatever name you want on it. So Kaminari Namikaze I was. But I digress, I was born the first child of Minato Namikaze and Kushina Uzumaki. And in that moment, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary, the world continued to spin normally as if everything would progress as it should. Should being the key word there, because funny thing about the universe is that things never go as they should, and it was a cosmic joke that the universe thought it was going to continue as planned after pulling something like this.

Plans are made to be ruined after all, I just happened to be unintentionally the catalyst of this one.