Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters! Masashi Kishimoto does.
"Are you really leaving, Kouko?"
The red-haired girl had looked over her shoulder, a small smile on her face. "Yeah, I'm really leaving." She had answered him before fully turning around. "Thank you for everything you have done for me. I really don't know how I can pay you back."
The elderly man had smiled at her words and then closed his eyes. "Come back to visit me and Tsukino. We'd like to hear of your travels and bring your sister when you find her."
Kouko had fought bravely not to let her tears fall as she had stood in middle of the forest path. "I will." She had bowed briefly and then turned to leave, letting out a long shaky sigh as she had walked forward. "Alright Kouko, you have a long way to go." She had sighed as she had closed her eyes for a few seconds.
My name is Kouko and I'm from Kumogakure; the Village Hidden in the Clouds. I somehow found my way out in the Land of Fire after escaping Kumogakure for the past couple of years. I had left Kumogakure due to many reasons; because of my mother and because of my sister. Life was simple when I was a child. It was easy, and it was fun. In my home it was just my mother, sister, and I; all living together in peace for a while but things had changed.
My father had died when I was just a newborn, my sister being eight at the time. My mother had raised us the best that she could and I would never be more thankful for that. My mother was a beautiful woman, I remembered that much. She was tall, thin, and had beautiful red hair and the same eyes as mine. The woman was lovely, she loved me and my sister and I knew she had, but I could see the sadness in her eyes. She missed my father and for many nights she would cry in her room, her tears always landed on the picture she had taken with him. I never knew my father, I can't recall what his voice sounded like, and I only knew him by his face since all I can remember are pictures of him.
My sister would tell me about our father and how generous, strong, and humorous he was. I had envied how she had built a relationship with him and the expression her face when she had reflected on her memories with but I loved him too, he was my father. I didn't love him enough to shed tears for him because I never had the chance to know him. Even though my mother was wallowing in her sadness, growing depressed as time went on, I could see the life in her fading little by little. Of course, I didn't understand what I was seeing when I was a child but when I look back on it now; I knew my mother was going to die but not as I thought she would.
My mother started to become dangerous, not towards me or my sister, but to herself. She would not eat, she barely slept, and she would always sit by the fireplace. She stopped teaching her students, they would often come and visit her and shower her with concern and pity. I would just watch her, waiting for her to go back to her normal self, but a part of me always knew that she wouldn't be normal. My mother was gone. My mother was no longer my mother, she was another woman. A sad woman; a woman who I couldn't save because I didn't know what I could save her from, but if I had the strength and courage that I had now… I would've tried my best to save her… yet she was already far gone. One night, she had set the house on fire. I smelled the smoke, I saw the flames licking the walls of my room and I saw my mother standing at the doorway. Her eyes looked blank like an unpainted canvas, tears staining her face. She walked towards me, her arms slithering around me to pull me into an embrace. She told me she was sorry, she wanted to be with my father. We could all be a family again.
I didn't understand the concept of death as a child for it was never fully explained to me. All I knew was that when people died, they were never seen again, and there was no way to bring them back. Did I want to die? I questioned that and as the flames grew stronger, my mother's embrace tighter, I didn't know what to think of it. All I did was stared at the ceiling, watching the bright orange and yellow flames engulf my home. My arms hanging at the sides, my heart clenching, and tears falling down my eyes and I didn't even know why. Why was I crying? Why was I afraid? I wanted to meet my father, I wanted to be with my mother and sister forever, and so why did I feel like running away? That somehow this wasn't right. I stayed there, confused, and unsure how to cope with this whole situation but once my sleeve had caught fire, my arm being burned along with it. I screamed, I pushed my mother away, and I escaped. I ran out of my home, pressing my arm to the ground and rolling over and over until the flames had died.
What happened to my sister? I didn't know but I assumed that she had escaped the fire. I just watched my home burn to the ground, my mother burning along with it, and even though I cried and cried for days my home was no longer standing, my mother no longer with me... I was still happy that I was alive. I didn't want to die; I guess I didn't want to meet my father after all. At least, not like that I didn't. People came and looked at the devastation, they all assumed that I had died along with my mother and called the fire an accident. I didn't make myself known, I hid behind bushes and watched as people laid flowers as a memorial for my mother and I. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how I was going to survive on my own. I was alone and there was no one to take care of me, but I knew I could take care of myself. I didn't need anyone else. And so, after a few days I had gone to my house and picked up a picture of my sister. And of one of my mother father, I tucked them into my pajama pockets. I promised them and myself that I was going to be fine.
I had stolen food from the marketplace, people would chase me and threatened me as I ran from them. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but it was the only way that I could get food to eat and water to drink. I was too young to work and I didn't have anyone to turn to and so this was my only way of keeping myself together and strong enough to get through the day. Eventually I was caught and when they asked me where my parents were, I told them that they were dead. And that's when they took me the orphanage, telling me that I wasn't the only child who didn't have parents. That there were other children like me and that I would be able to have friends and that I would be able to fit in. I felt happy that I would be able to meet other children like me, that I wasn't the only one who had no one to rely on. When I entered the orphanage however, things weren't like I expected for them to be.
I had a roof over my head, food to eat, clothes to wear, but the children weren't very kind to me. Since I never talked to anyone other than my mother,sister, and those people who asked who my parents were, I wasn't able to communicate well. I was very quiet, independent, and never talked to the other children. Some of them thought that I was snobbish, that I just plain thought I was too good enough for them. And so I was bullied and teased for a while. The pushing, the teasing, the pranks were annoying but I had handled them with stride. If I acted unaffected for a while, they would stop picking on me and go on to the next poor kid. All I could do was ignore them and do my chores, hoping that one day that I would be able to get out of here. In fact, there were many chances of me being taken in by a family but the other children kept ruining it for me. They would make up crazy rumors of how I was troublesome for the mother of orphanage, I bullied other children and that I was some sort of untrained animal. It drove people away and to thinking that I was nothing but a problem child.
But finally one couple adopted me; Tsukino and Jirou. They adopted me despite the cruel rumors. Tsukino had said that she knew I wasn't like anything the other children had said. I don't know what she saw in me but they had taken me in. Jirou had trained me in ninjutsu, picking up where my mother had left off and the academy days. I had spent vigorous hours and days training so that I could protect myself. Now, at sixteen, I had heard rumors of Momoka, my sister, of working for Orochimaru, a well known s-ranked criminal. And so I decided to look for her and my journey starts here in the Land of Fire.