Warnings: Some coarse language.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Kishimoto and affiliated companies do.
Chapter 1
The clock read 4:37 am. Curled up in bed with my laptop, I stared blearily at the illuminated screen, fingers at rest against the keys.
I wanted to write a character that people could relate to – this, I knew. Someone happy and normal. But the problem that had kept me awake 'til the crack of dawn on a Monday morning was one I'd been struggling with for years now.
The fact was, a person like that (like me?) didn't have problems, didn't see life like that. For them (me?), life wasn't full of obstacles and barriers, or existential drama, or melodramatic relationship angst. It was people's attitudes that made things difficult; life was just… life.
"There's no problem that can't be solved," I said aloud to the silence of my bedroom, trying to put my thoughts into words. "I'm a firm believer in that. With patience, and logic, and cooperation…" I struck a half-hearted Good Guy pose, "Anyone can be anything."
Well, that was great and all… but how the hell was I supposed to write a plot from it?
"Plot, plot, plot…" I mumbled restlessly. "Come on, brain…"
Damnit, I think better out loud.
"Okay," I declared, "let's start at the beginning. Naruto fanfic: setting the scene here… Um. There's a girl- wait. Should I make it a reincarnation fic or not? I mean, it's a bit overdone… there's only so many ways to write growing up. And either way I run the risk of Mary Sue-ing…"
I made a face. "Damnit, this is hard."
The room stayed agreeably silent. "But I wanna write," I whined. "Other people make it look so easy, but I can't even get past the first damned chapter…"
I thought of my Stories folder, of the fifty-odd fanfics from various fandoms and in varying stages of abandonment, and winced. "Yeeeaah…"
I didn't even know what the problem was – well, yeah, I did, but… it was a long story.
"A long story," I joked. "Hah." I wish.
But it was. See, I had… a very short attention span. Like, the phrase attention span of a teaspoon was actually applicable here. Oh, don't get me wrong, I was capable of focus – intense focus, in fact! But that was only provided that I had direction, an aim. Without that kind of mental tether… well. My inability to finish even a simple one-shot was testament to my struggle.
Except it wasn't a big problem; I was a happy person who didn't get angry at things for no reason and… also didn't have the attention span to stay angry for longer than a few seconds.
…Huh.
I blinked.
That… actually explains a lot.
"Um-" I shook myself out my stupor, "sooo…. ideas!" Silence. "…I don't have them." Another silence, more stilted. "…Goddamnit!"
I snapped the laptop shut and stalked out of my room, hopping over the piles of crap of the floor with the ease of long practice. "I am actually annoyed now," I ranted to the walls, irrationally annoyed at being annoyed. "I'm not supposed to get annoyed-" I cut myself off with a snort. "Fuck. What a load of crap. Of course I get annoyed. I just don't get annoyed at people, I think. I mean, I'm annoyed at me – but that doesn't count! And, I think out loud all the fucking time, how annoying is that?"
I stormed into the kitchenette, hands flailing as I tried to release my frustration.
"Why do I have to think aloud? No-one else does. Okay, that's a lie; people probably do. But at least their out loud-thinking makes sense! Why am I even talking about this? Goddamnit, brain! It's four in the fricking morning – SHUT UP!"
Overcome by bubbling resentment, I threw myself down in a corner between two cupboards and wedged myself in tight, drawing my knees up to my chest as I buried my face in my hands.
"Shut up," I hissed. "Just shut up…"
My eyes burned, but no tears fell.
"…Tiredness," I identified dully after a moment. "I should sleep." But I made no move to get up. "I'm not going to," I noted, and immediately my mind cast itself forward and backward in time, recalling similar situations in which I had soon succumbed to exhaustion and predicting the course of the next few minutes. "Will. Soon." Not an appeasement; an acknowledgement of truth.
How is this my life? I wondered, staring blank-eyed up at the green-lit clock on the microwave interface. Four forty-two. Late-early. Should sleep.
There was nothing for it, so, "Get up," I commanded, echoing the voice of reason in my brain. Without giving myself a chance to reply-"I'm up," I agreed, standing robotically, one small motion at a time. I began walking back to my room, mind still blessedly blank.
I sat down on the bed, removed the laptop – "Charge," I reminded myself - and put it on charger. Then I lay flat on my back, pulled the covers up stiffly, and closed my eyes. Seven deep breaths. Muscles relax.
Sleep took me.
…
When I awoke, I was not in my bed- and more importantly, it did not feel like a second had passed since I'd closed my eyes.
I sat up, stared out of the alleyway at the bustling dirt street, packed with people dressed in traditional Japanese clothing.
"This is not…" I observed, voice trailing off as the word evaded me and I felt no need to chase it. Home-bed-good-safe-right, was the impression it left.
I crouched, dreamlike. "Where am…?" Dream?
Note: too bright-too solid-too focused-I can think- realisation hit.
"Not a dream."
As the words, fallen dully from my mouth, were finally interpreted in my brain, a switch flicked. Adrenaline and terror flooded my system- and suddenly I was wide awake.
"Oh, shit! What- what the fuck?! What's going- where-?"
I could feel my pulse in my fingertips where they dug into the dirt- fight or flight instinct, half of my brain pointed out curiously, recalling a TED talk. The other half was screaming.
What-what-what-where-why-how-WHAT NOW? What next?
Breathe.
Suddenly, I remembered how to breathe- and choked, hacking in deep lungfuls of air, glorious, glorious air. Too cold-too clear-no pollution-countryside?-equator, far from equator is colder- or winter?-how to know?-no-don't know-ASK.
My brain fixated on that final point. Ask. I should ask. Someone. Anyone.
Standing gracefully (because motor function was not inhibited by mental function- or was it?-curious…-NO. FOCUS. ASK), I strode out onto the street, right up to the nearest person (middle-aged woman, obese, too much makeup) and tapped her on the shoulder.
"Excuse me," I said, and stopped. How to ask-can't think-straightforward- "I'm lost. Where- what is this place?"
Further proof that motor function not inhibited- NO.
The woman turned, looking cheerful. "This is the markets, dearie. Where did you come from? Maybe I can point you back?"
"No, I-" Markets? "Um, which markets? Sorry." Still polite- must be ingrained habit, interesting-
She laughed. "Which markets?" She repeated. "There's only one marketplace in Konoha, child."
Konoha. Konoha? No-not possible-coincidence?-moving in sleep not possible either-familiar-like fanfiction?-NOT POSSIBLE. Must be explanation (another).
"Konoha?" I asked in a small voice. The lady's expression turned concerned. "Yes, that's- are you not from Konoha?"
Mutely, I shook my head. Not here-not home-home-warmth-safety-HOME- God, I wanted-
She frowned. "Oh dear… well, I'm not sure- how did you get here then?"
I shrugged helplessly. "I-"
I never got the chance to explain.
At that moment, the woman was snatched away by a blur- I flinched, reacting to block an attack that never came- and deposited, wide eyed, across the street. Men in black uniforms, masked- ANBU, oh god- dropped from the roofs, encircling me.
Wide-eyed, I shrank in on myself, every muscling coiling in preparation to- run? Fight? (Like I would stand a chance) I didn't even know. My brain was still frozen in shock: one part jerkily taking stock, re-evaluating the situation (Konoha, that Konoha-real-REAL-ANBU-DANGER-WHAT NEXT? FOCUS), the other, like the terrified child (that I was), whimpering what-what are they doing?-I'm scared-help-
Pulled in two directions, my right hand spasmed, jerking and-
A blow met my temple- ANBU-young-trigger happy-
I dropped like a stone.
A/N: What do you think? Does it have potential? Please read and review!
