A/N: Hi! I should really be updating my other fics instead of posting this but... ah well!
Warning- there's a fair bit of swearing, and it's part of her character so it's not going to go away lol..
This is more of a prologue than a chapter so any questions you have are most likely to be answered in the next chap! Also, I have no idea what to do in terms of pairings, but I'm really leaning towards pairing her up with Iwa-chan! Oikawa is a complete no-go, and Makki and Mattsun are her bros, man.
(She'll be interacting a lot with other characters so yeah... should I open a poll, guys?)
OH AND I HAVE NO BLOODY BETA! (Freehand writing, woohoo!)
Enjoy!
She was on her way back from a wedding, slightly tipsy and ready to roll over and die, by the time she found an empty seat on the Underground.
The rattling of the train did wonders to increase the throbbing in her head, and she groaned in disgust when she felt sick pool at the base of her throat.
"Fuck off," she mumbled to no one in particular, and ignored the few looks she got as she screwed her eyes shut.
She tilted her head back until it hit the window behind her, grunted at the collision and lifted her backpack up to cover her face from the lights above.
Her feet ached, despite changing into comfortable trainers and out of the killer heels that rested in her bag; and her ass itched from wearing a thong to get that smooth look on the bridesmaid dress that lay wrinkled at the bottom of her bag.
"I am never fucking drinking again." And although half of what she said was muffled, it still earned her a few amused chuckles that almost made her show them her middle finger.
(Really. How dare they laugh at her pain?)
It was just as she was getting comfortable in her seat when the train suddenly lurched forward, causing her bag to fall from her face, and all she could do was widen her eyes as she-
-lands on hardwood floor.
... What the fuck.
She lays there for a few seconds, disorientated as hell; before one eye cautiously peeks open, and suddenly all she sees is orange.
"NATSU!" She hears someone shout in what she knows to be her name- what-, and almost panics when she recognises the voice she has never heard before.
"YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"
It sounds distinctly Japanese, which is completely wrong because she can recall being on a train in London, where they speak English.
What's even more wrong, is that she understands what's being said. (Seriously, what the fuck? Has she got rosetta stone headphones on or something?)
Both of her eyes are now open, and she slowly pushes herself up with limbs that are weirdly the same length she remembers them being but not this pale and... thin.
That bright orange is back- if only in her peripheral vision- and she realises, with a scratch at her scalp, that it's supposed to be her hair. (Which it definitely is not- she was a natural brunette.)
Lithe, manicured- wow- fingers wrap around the wild strands and tug them in front of her face, and she feels her mouth slack in disbelief.
People do not just have hair the colour of Naruto's fucking jumpsuit! Especially in Japan! (Which is exactly where she assumes she is.)
Her eyes snap towards the door when she hears the tell-tale thudding of socked feet, and she rapidly blinks as the door slides open, only to reveal a... mini-her?
"Natsu-nee!" The person with matching hair and skin tone chirp, "'kaa-san says you better not be wasting time straightening your- oh."
They look at her in surprise, and she thinks that they're male. (Her small knowledge of anime tells her that this cute specimen could be either gender- do not be tricked-)
"You're not even dressed yet?!" They bellow in shock, mouth dropping open.
"SHUT UP!" She automatically yells back, feeling offended. "Y-You weirdo copy!" (Did she just speak Japanese? Fuck off- really?)
There's a moment of silence as they both take in her words.
"W-What?" They whisper, and she feels like walking the short distance over to them and punching them in the face for the snickers that tumble out of their mouth.
Her mouth opens to tell them to 'shut the fuck up', when they suddenly turn on their heels and run down the corridor yelling; "KAA-SAN, I THINK NATSU'S GONE CRAZY!" All the while freely laughing.
She doesn't think twice about chasing after them.
"Hinata Natsume."
The name rings in the suddenly tense air, and the owner of the name doesn't realise it's even hers until she meets the gaze of a small, brown-haired, golden-eyed woman.
She freezes in place, arm locked around the neck of the midget copy of hers and her hand atop their head stops twisting.
"Why are you not dressed?"
An empty, nervous laugh leaves her lips, and she avoids eye contact with the woman in front of her.
"Uh," she dumbly supplies, before she's interrupted by a hand tapping at her arm, and she snorts when she takes in the red faced copy.
"Do you admit defeat?"
They frantically nod, and she loosens her hold, but doesn't move.
A groan leaves their lips. "Oh, come on-"
"Let your brother go, Natsume," the woman sighs, interrupting the copy's whine and laying two plates down onto the table. "And I expect you to get dressed after you've eaten."
All she does is blink, and the shorty she now knows is male, wiggles his way out of her grasp. She ends up nodding and follows his example by taking a seat at the table.
It's when she's got a semi-decent grip on her chopsticks- shitsticks, she corrects, when they slip from her fingers yet again- and manages to get four mouthfuls of rice and fish in her mouth, that she asks; "What do I need to get dressed for, exactly?"
(She nearly leaps over the table to smack her brother in the face when he cackles and asks if she fell off her bed again.)
School. She has to go to school again. And not only that- oh no- but the uniform she has to wear is absolutely hideous.
As soon as she sees the neatly hung up clothes in her wardrobe, she weeps and curses Shouyou's- she finally found out his name after their mum shouted at him to put his dishes in the sink- gorgeously black, tartan-free, uniform. (She wants to know why she isn't going to the same school as him, god damn it-)
But she wouldn't be her- her, Jasmine Tracy; not Natsu- if she didn't get over it and go with the flow. (And how easy it is to do so. Things- such as suddenly being ginger, not drunk and younger- become much simpler to deal with when she doesn't question them.)
It takes her all of 30 seconds to get dressed, and she finds herself standing in front of a body length mirror as she ties a red ribbon- tie?- around her shirt's collar.
Her hair... her hair, makes her sigh and wipe a tear from her eye. It's as wild and painfully orange as ever, and it really was wishful thinking that she hoped it would've changed in the past 35 minutes that she'd been here.
Grunting, she snatches up the many bobby pins that lay scattered on the desk to her right, and gets to work trying to pin back her bangs and get the majority of her sight back.
Five minutes, fifteen pins, and a thin layer of gel later; she was confident that no more pins would ping off and join the others on the floor.
(Oh. Her eyes are pretty nice.)
...
Her body moves on autopilot as she chucks her bag over her shoulder while sliding her shoes on, and goes to kiss her mother on the cheek (the fuck- she was an orphan).
"Bye!" She can't quite bring herself to call her 'kaa-san, because how weird is that. (Weirder than having a psuedo-google translate at the tip of her tongue and in her ear drums, that's what.)
A smile curls on her lips when she hears the woman wish her well at school, but nearly flatlines when she closes the door and sees the little ginger turd waiting for her outside- holding up two bikes as if he expects her to ride one of them.
"Race me!" The turd shouts, grin on his face that honestly looks painful and too bright against the sun that's just rising. "Loser has to buy pork buns?"
A sharp 'fuck no' is on the tip of her tongue, her mouth is already downturned and eyebrows furrowed as she very nearly refuses his request- but does a double take when his eyes get impossibly bigger and holy shi-
She's stomping forward and snatching the slightly bigger bike from his grasp before she even realises what she's done, and by then it's too late. (She wonders if she'll ever get her vision back from the blinding smile he sends her way.)
With a wolfish smirk gracing her lips, she lets out an amused chuckle. "Have you even got any of your allowance left, squirt?" (Kids still get those, righ-)
He cheers in triumph and pumps a fist in the air. "Doesn't matter!" He yells, and- jesus. Is everything he does so god damn loud?
"Because I'm totally gonna win!"
She barks out a laugh and shakes her head. "What makes you so sure, huh?"
The way he snickers behind his hand has her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"What," she demands, pursing her lips into what she hopes makes an intimidating expression.
"You haven't ridden a bike in two years, 'nee-chan!"
She nearly kicks over the bike she was in the middle of mounting, and promptly loses it. "Then why the fuck did you challenge me?!"
(Seriously. Even though she knew how to ride a bike- had been doing so for as long as she could remember- that didn't mean this body she hijacked could.
Dumbass turd.)
"Y-YOU'RE WEARING SHORTS!" He points out as if that's a valid enough reason, and shrieks when her glare intensifies. "Do you wanna f-fight!?"
(She's wearing shorts because her skirt is up her god damn ass-)
Her foot lashes out before she can stop it, and the turd jumps, which then causes his feet to come up off of the ground and- off he goes.
"AH-!"
She snorts as she watches him flail on the bike to try and get it to stop before the road starts to turn into a slope, and flips her bag onto her back as she follows after him.
(She loses, and has to promise to buy him some buns on the way back.)
She's tying her bike to the rack with a chain Shouyou- the absolute turd- chucked at her before riding off to his own school, when another squirt comes running up to her.
"Captain-"
Her brain shortstops at the form of address.
"Is the meeting at 4 still on?" The squirt asks, tucking her curled hair behind her ears. "You never replied in the groupchat..."
She shoves the key for the chain somewhere in her bag that she knows she'll regret doing later, and blinks at the dark haired girl in confusion.
"Meeting?" She quirks a 'brow. (Oh yes. Her phone was making a lot of noise before she muted it.)
The girl- Kurokawa Ayame, her brain supplies- does a double take and steps back, unsure of herself.
"The one you made?" She stumbles, "Did... did I get the date wrong, Captain?"
"Uh.. no," Natsu slowly replies, trying to figure out a way to get out of this shit. "It's on, alright." She laughs, playing off her confusion and sending the smaller girl what she hopes looks like a nice smile. "I was just... testing you."
It works, somehow, when the girl sighs in relief and lays a hand to her chest.
"Oh, thank goodness!" She squeals. "I've wanted to talk about Oikawa-senpai's hair for ages!" She gushes, and Natsu chokes on her spit.
"What-"
"Is it natural, or does he use rollers? The mystery all his fans are talking about!"
Her mouth his hanging open and nearly touching the floor when a bell rings across the courtyard.
"See you there, Captain!" Ayame waves and runs ahead of her.
What the fuck?
She doesn't know where the hell she's going. It was bad enough she had to follow people in the same uniform as hers to even get to school- and that was even after getting general directions from Shouyou who looked at her weirdly- but now that she's here; she doesn't even know what class she's in.
So far, she's somehow made it onto what she thinks is the third floor, and... that's about it. (She wouldn't have even known she was a third year if it wasn't for the few calls of senpai she got from some squirts on the second floor.)
"Hinata! There you are!"
She yelps at the man who suddenly appeared in front of her, and blinks at the classroom she didn't know she was stood outside of.
"This is unlike you, being late," he says, moving away from the door and ushering her in. "Are you feeling ok?"
Her feet betray her and move forward into the room, and that action alone has a fuckton of eyes on her tall form.
"Yeah, fine," she absentmindedly replies when she realises she'd been silent for too long.
"Ok." He eyes her for a second before walking off behind his desk at the front of the room. "Take your seat- I was just doing roll-call."
She finds herself nodding- that orange is back, and she bats it over her shoulder with a vengeance- and scans the room for, hopefully only one empty seat that indicates it's hers.
She finds it, relatively close to the door in the third row, but she stumbles when her eyes lock onto the pink hair beside it.
The owner of the pink hair sends her a raised 'brow and deliberate look at her shorts that were a size too small.
A snort leaves her mouth, and she makes sure to kick his leg that's partly in the aisle when she sits down as gracefully as she can. (Which isn't very so considering her long limbs and the fact she forgot to take her bag off.)
The chair creaks weirdly, and she ignores the amused look from bubblegum boy as she shuffles to take her bag off.
It's when she's pulling out utensils that she hears-
"Hanamaki?"
"Here, sensei." The drawl, unsurprisingly, belonged to her pretty-in-pink neighbour who she knows- how does she know - is called Makki.
At this point in time; 'Natsu' is pretty sure she's in Haikyuu, despite not even finishing the second season; is Hinata's older sister who is supposed to be, like, eight, and even more sure that she's the Captain- founder an' all- of Oikawa's fanclub.
The horror.