A/N: Okay, for the Akatsuki lovers, these are the names of the characters who will survive: Deidara(Yeah!), Itachi(Hehe, weasel), Kisame(If he eats sushi, is that cannibalism?), Zetsu(AKA Venus Guy Trap).
My story? You really wanna know? Are you sure? Yes? All right then. IF you really want to know everything, I guess I should start off at the very beginning.
I was pretty positive I was stuck in a dream. But wouldn't anyone in my position? Think about it, I was sitting across from the hottest guy in the village, and he's looking at me like I'm criminally insane. Of course, this was kinda understandable, considering as I had just suggested I throw myself straight into the middle of a large amount of probably fatal violence. On the other hand, it was a little strange; because that sort of thing was both my job and something I was top at doing. I was fifteen and the Main Corps commander! I commanded boys who were anywhere from ten to thirty years older than me. Then again, I was still nursing three broken ribs, a fractured collarbone, a cracked skull, and a sprained wrist. It was mostly not my fault, of course, but I will admit I got a little too flamboyant with the paper bombs. So, I sat in the Kazekage's office and stewed for about five minutes while my hot sixteen-year-old boss took five minutes to think. Then, he said (And I quote),
"Perhaps you think this is a good idea, Mikomi, but I am sorry. You were so severely injured on your last mission, which, as always, was successful, that I am forced to take you off active duty. At least until you can convince your mother to heal your injuries."
That was when I crushed the arm of my metal chair into a lump of formless steel. I didn't give a damn how hot my boss was, there was no way in hell he could take me off active duty.
"Off active duty!" My voice shot from soprano to dog whistle. "Sir, the entire force is lost without me! Really, I'm sorry, but no matter how injured I may be, I am always fit for active duty!"
At this point, I slammed my hand(The right one with the sprained wrist) onto his polished wood desk, splitting it neatly in half. Papers flew everywhere, the vase of flowers fell and crashed to the floor, the Kazekage leapt up out of his seat, and my wrist began to throb. In turn, I had probably pissed Gaara off. Not a good thing. Ever.
"Oops."
His gravelly voice answered me. "Oops indeed. If you insist, Mikomi, I will inform your squad that you are,"and he smirked, smirked, "on border patrol for a month."
"WHAT?"
"Have I made myself clear?"
"Uh-but-but-but-"
"Have I made myself clear?"
"C-c-c-crystal! Sorry sir! Goodnight sir!"
I stormed home, fuming. Border patrol. Seriously! Border patrol! I am so stupid!
I banged through the front door of the apartment I lived in with my mother, Nanaho. Strangely, she was home. Mom's a medic, a really good one. Her kind gray eyes looked at me, full of concern.
"Mikomi? Is something wrong?"
"Yeah Mom, something is very wrong. Kazekage-sama is putting me on a month of border patrol!"
"What did you do this time, Mikomi?"
Here we go. "I got mad when he tried to take me off active duty till I healed and I broke his desk and crushed a metal chair."
My mother exploded into a whirlwind of deep red hair, steely gray eyes and killer intent. "MIKOMI AKIKO KIN'IROAME!"
Oh boy. "Eeep."
"WHAT IN KAMI'S NAME WERE YOU THINKING, YOUNG LADY?"
"Well, I, I, uhhm, I-"
"YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN YOURSELF KILLED! BORDER PATROL IS NOT THE PUNISHMENT I WOULD CHOOSE FOR DOING SUCH A THING! WERE I THE KAZEKAGE, YOU WOULD BE UNDER HOUSE ARREST FOR SIX MONTHS!"
"Mom, I know you're mad! Please, I understand that I was wrong to lose my temper! I will accept the border patrol punishment!"
My mother deliberated for a moment, arms crossed. "Well...Fine. Perhaps you will learn to better control your fiery temper."
"Who did I get that from anyway?"
"Partly me. Mostly your father. Say one wrong thing around him and he would up and go kill somebody."
"Remind me why I can't tell people who he is?"
"Because, Mikomi, he isn't exactly on the top of the 'most loved dad' list. More like the top of the 'World's Most Wanted Rogue Ninja' list."
"Right. Sorry. I forgot."
"Don't you have a wall to guard, hon?"
"Can I eat lunch first?'
My mother chuckled. "Do you ever stop eating off missions, sweetheart?'
"Yeah."
"Just take a bento box with you. Top shelf of the fridge."
"Okay Mom. What types are there?"
"What types? It's a bento box! There's only one type in the first place!"
"Okay, okay! Sorry! Yeesh!"
I wandered slowly towards the outer wall of the village. I was just dying to eat my bento box. Ugh. I could have sworn my stomach wasn't eating itself a minute ago.As I tramped at the speed of banana slug, I somehow walked into Baki, the former sensei of Kazekage Gaara. He's a respected council member, but he's also respected by Gaara. Gaara probably told him the entire episode in his office. Crap. He thought I was nuts. He may have been right, but then I can't tell if I'm nuts or not, being me.
"Ah! Commander Kin'iroame! Heading to the wall?"
"Hello, Baki. Yes, I am. I presume Kazekage-sama has informed you of recent events?"
"Oh, yes. You do," Baki actually looked concerned at this, "look pretty beat up, even for you."
"Flamboyancy is the defining factor. I'm sorry to cut this...delightful...conversation short, but I do have a wall to guard."
"Of course."
Curse the Corps and being well-known! Well, well-known inside the village, that is. If I was well-known elsewhere, I'd be dead. I finally reached the wall of the village. I knew the drill (I've been punished with border patrol for years) and reported to the Jonin in charge. Today, it was Kankuro, which was surprising. He's Gaara's elder brother, but he's also a bit of a pervert. Considering the bruises on his face (covered in his so-called sunscreen we all know is makeup) I would guess he made the mistake of peeking at the baths while his older sister, Temari, was in there. Temari is (somewhat) volatile and tends to beat up first, get answers next and apologize never. Maybe it has something to do with her being a blond. Then again, she's one of my few friends, so more power to her. Kankuro looked surprised to see me reporting to him. I mean, really, I have higher rank than him. Being a troublemaker doesn't help me any, but I still garner some kind of respect. I think.
"Mikomi? Did you piss off my brother again or something?"
I sighed. "Yes, Kankuro, I did. To forestall your probable barrage of questions, I lost my temper in the grandest, most desk-splitting way possible. Just tell me where to go."
He looked at me like I was the most ignorant genin.
"Er... go to the left side of the lower wall. You'll be relieving Ginei, he's been up there for ten hours."
"Okay, Kankuro. By the way, your makeup is doing a cruddy job of hiding those bruises."
A vein popped on his forehead. "It's not makeup! it's sunscreen!"
"I thought you rubbed in sunscreen, not painted designs on your face like a civilian kid's dolly."
"That's insubordination, Mikomi!"
"Technically I have far higher rank than you. You are a Special Jonin, while I am a full Jonin, so any insubordination is being committed by you."
I took my place at the wall. Ginei, poor fellow, looked half dead. I told him to go home, take a shower, eat something and take a nap. He gladly left, thanking me profusely for coming on time. I steeled myself for the oncoming boredom. I was totally prepared, and was just beginning several fantasies in my head about Gaara. Mainly without him punishing me for anything. Gazing blankly at the desert, I almost didn't notice the moving patch on the horizon. Almost. I looked closer, grabbing a set of binoculars. Kankuro called, "Do you see something?"
"Yes, but I can't tell whether or not it's a threat."
"Keep looking, Mikomi. Find out what it is."
I glared through the binoculars. Whatever it was, it was at least six feet tall-wait, no, five foot eleven, with a long stick-like thing, a staff, maybe. The sun, setting now, shone off of something just as it fell into my range of sight.
"Dear Kami! Kankuro! Kankuro! It's a girl! She's hurt!"
Kankuro rushed to me. "Go get her. How bad do you think it is?"
"Broken leg and arm, for certain. Ribs, maybe. Go call my mother, this girl may be a little hard to move."
I took off across the desert, sending up a plume of sand worthy of Gaara. Ten seconds, and I stopped in front of the girl just as she collapsed onto the sand, her bleeding left hand grasping at a flat rock nearbly. The only thoughts in my mind as I picked her up were, Her sword is nearly seven feet long. Must be a Guillotine . I thought only Zabuza Momochi of Mist could use one.The girl, I guessed, was probably about eighteen, Kankuro's age. She was almost exactly five feet eleven inches tall. Her eyes appeared blinded, and recently, too. I was right in thinking that her leg and arm were broken, in fact, her humerus was snapped in half and her femur had a spiral fracture. She had the tattered remains of a bandage mask hanging off her neck, usually used to conceal something identifying. These had definitely been used for that purpose. On each cheek, two black stripes, about an inch wide, stood out like a sore thumb. Still running toward the village, I guessed that they were some kind of marking, for someone who worshipped tigers, maybe. Then, I saw, poking from her slightly open mouth, a pair of inch-and-a-half long fangs, with slightly shorter bottom ones. Cat fangs, big cat fangs, tiger or lion, possibly.
She was extremely heavy, and the sword alone must have weighed a good hundred and ten pounds, so I was moving much slower than I usually did. I finally reached the gate, where my mother and a team of medics waited with a stretcher. I set the girl down. I finally got a good look at her. She was very pretty, even beaten to a pulp. Her skin was slightly tanner than mine (unfair) but just barely. Her hair was long(ish) and ended about the middle of her back, and had a specific pattern of ice-blue stripes, two on the left and right and one that only covered her bangs. The rest of her hair was black. As my mother and the medic ninjas hurried to the hospital, leaving me with the sword, I noticed a small design on the butt end of the sword handle. A clock face, painted at one minute to midnight, with a jagged crack running through it. I knew what this meant. Time's Misfortune, AKA Momochi. The last thought that ran through my mind as I raced into the hospital was, Who on Earth is this girl? She can't be Momochi! She can't!
Yo! Thanks for reading my first chapter! Be a nice person and push the green button! Momochi can also mean Peach Blood, but the meaning I used is a little better.
