Chapter One:

Muscles stretch and shift, tightening and tensing with unfamiliarity. She rolls over, groaning softly, but is startled awake at the sound of stiff blades of grass crunching loudly near her ears. She jumps onto her feet, eyes wide.

Only to find the ground much closer than it usually is.

She tries to frown, but her lips and cheek muscles aren't working with her. Why is the ground so close?

Birds chirp loudly, like squawking sirens of nature. She shivers slightly; the sounds blast her eardrums, vibrating through her being. Everything is amplified.

One step back.

Her gaze drifts down, head following her eyes, and she stares at the strange sight beneath her. Two tiny paws press flat against the crunchy grass, fur colored a bright, vibrant sky blue. A sense of uneasiness washes through her; the fur is the same color she'd dyed her hair last week. Her arm twitches and she lifts her right hand.

The right paw beneath her lifts.

She jerks back, a strangled yowl ripping past her lips. The sound is strange, animalistic to her ears. She scuttles back and almost falls back. Her body twists strangely, like a piece of stretched taffy, and a glimpse of something blue and fluffy catches her attention.

All movement skids to a halt.

Carefully, she cranes her head back, looking over her small fluffy shoulder. It's long-almost as long as her small body- and big, poofy. It twitches slightly, a small flicker of movement, in and out of her vision.

She lets out a loud, pained cry-the kitty equivalent to a scream.

'I'm a cat!' She mentally freaks out. Claws slip through the small pads on her paws, digging into the dry dirt beneath the crunchy grass. She shakes her head wildly and squeezes her eyes shut, 'This is so not happening!'

A loud crow caws, its distance approximately ten feet from the patch of grass she stands on. She never was good at math, never wanted to be, but she could feel the distance deep in her bones.

Her mouth waters.

'Ewe! No!' The small kitten recoils, smashing her face into the ground. Her paws cover her head. 'I am not eating a stupid bird.'

Her stomach rumbles.

Letting out a frustrated snarl, she shakes her head and prances around the small section of crunchy grass. The bird craws again, the sound beckoning, like the call of a gooey mountain of warm chocolate brownies. And her stomach answers its call, roaring loudly in an attempt to reach out to the bird.

She can't remember when she last ate or even what it was that she ate.

And now she was starting to feel nauseous from the lack of food.

'Gah,' Her claws dig deeper into the earth.

But then she takes off. Wind rushes through her fur, caressing her skin beneath the bright, vibrant blue fluff. Her ears flatten back against her head and her claws briefly dig into the earth with each swipe, propelling herself faster and faster. Without thinking, she winds up in the same little clearing as the bird, charging right at said bird like a crazed bull.

"What is that?"

The crow squawks loudly, jerking up into the air with two hasty flaps. She skids to a stop and glares up at the dark-winged creature, partially because she'd tracked it down and partially because she wasn't able to catch it.

Something pulls the skin between her shoulder blades taunt. The ground disappears beneath her paws and, frozen in shock, she lets rip a pitiful meow.

Blinking the crazy from her eyes, she looks around carefully, scared to move too much.

The one who holds her by the scruff is blue. Her first thought is: 'Brethren.' It's rare to see someone who can wear the color blue so well. His face is half hidden, a tall, stiff black collar shielding the lower half. But she can still just barely see the long gash-like gills that cut across his cheeks.

Dark, beady little eyes stare down at her.

"I believe it is a kitten." A smooth, velvety voice remarks, several feet away. Her eyes dart towards the voice.

He is shorter than her new blue-colored friend and leaner. Dark obsidian orbs stare at her from over the brim of the large, stiff black collar, which molds into a long, flowing cloak decorated with blood red clouds. A straw hat sits atop his head.

A strange sense of familiarity tingles inside her body.

"Obviously." The blue one hefts her up higher, closer to his head, "What should we do with it?"

"Her." The smaller one corrects absently, holding a hand out.

The blue one lowers her into his hand. She fits, almost perfectly, inside his lean, slender palm. Blinking, she curls her paws around his thumb, careful not to claw him. He stares down at her; the visible portion of his face is impassive, stoic.

But his eyes reflect every emotion.

It's time to act cute.

She blinks owlishly up at him and sniffs one of his fingers, licking at it tentatively with her small, rough tongue. Her little wet nose brushes up against said finger and then, she rubs her furry cheek against it. His other hand lifts, scarred fingers lightly scrubbing at her back. The sensation is mind-blowing; her whole body begins to vibrate with a chain-saw like purr. She meows happily, a broken little high-pitched purr, and her eyes fall shut.

"I think she likes you."

The slender one doesn't respond. Carefully, he squats down and places his palm on the ground; a silent message for her to get off. But as she looks back, up into his eyes, the bluette can see the softness swimming around inside the two pools of onyx, the hesitant warmth.

She licks his finger again, but climbs off like he wants.

He stands and looks up at the blue-skinned one, "Let's go."

If kittens could frown, her face would be contorted into a nasty one. She trots after the slender one, meowing and rubbing up against his leg. He was not going to weasel away that quickly. Especially when he and his fishy-friend were her two favorite characters.

Even if he was a stoic, cold hearted criminal, no man could walk away from her charm. And now that she was adorable, with her newfound kitten looks, the bluette was virtually invincible.

Her blue-fishy brother pauses, glancing down at her. She meows at him, trotting over to him, showering every inch of his leg-that she can reach-with love and affection. He sighs softly, a little huff, and a wave of smug satisfaction washes through her.

She had them now.

She sits down on the ground between them, looking up at both of them, eyes wide and round; waves of cuteness radiate off her tiny body in massive, tidal waves.

"Itachi?"

"We can't keep her." The slender man states lowly.

She turns around until she faces him completely. She already has the blue one fooled and now she needs to focus on Itachi. Locking gazes, she blinks once, slowly, focusing her large amber colored eyes on his dark obsidian orbs.

"Then what do we do with her? I don't think we can leave her here, now."

Itachi's eyes narrow, still locked with hers. Her own eyes narrow slightly, for a few moments, and then she blinks innocently up at him.

He sighs through his nose. "Fine. We'll take her to the next village and look for a family that can take care of her."

"Or we could take her in and train her to be a ninja cat." Kisame mumbles under his breath as he reaches down to pick up the kitten. He sets her on top of one of his massive shoulders and she carefully makes her way closer to his neck, hiding behind the large collar.

He adjusts his hat and then picks up Samehada.

She pokes her nose over the edge of the collar. The long, papery strands of white ribbon that protrude from the fish's hat separate to allow her face to poke through and shadowing the top portion of her face. Glowing amber eyes narrow at Itachi deviously, as he walks beside Kisame, and her jaw falls slack slightly, allowing her tongue to slip through.

The weasel glances over, feeling her gaze.

And blinks.

She meows at him, laughing internally. From this angle, she can see the corners of his lips twitch up in amusement, right before he looks away from her. She dives back into the depths of Kisame's collar, pawing her way closer to his neck. Her body curls up before it even slumps against the crook of his neck.

As she settles down, curling up tighter and resting her nose in her paws, she feels her stomach rumble.

It hits her like a freight train.

In all the excitement, she almost forgot about her stomach-eating hunger. It was muffled by her desire to convince these all-too familiar ninja to take her in. But now that she was virtually home free, her hunger is roaring back to the focus of her attention, accompanied now by a dry, parched need for water.

Kitty-frowning, she begins to meow, kneading her paws into the blue-tinted man's shoulder. Briefly, she wonders if he tasted like fish, because he looks so much like one, but decides against it.

If she tried to eat him, Itachi would probably hurt her.

"Gah," Kisame squirms, "That tickles!"

A large hand reaches through the paper-ribbons, curling around her little body. She's pulled out of the little confinements of the hat, held squarely inside the big man's palm. Compared to Itachi's hand, Kisame's was huge, monstrous.

She meows up at him, licking her lips, hoping they'll get the hint.

Itachi does, at the least. Kisame squints at her, beady eyes staring straight into her soul, as if trying to read her mind. She hopes he can't read her mind. Even if it means getting food, she isn't sure that she wants Kisame to know that she's actually a human. Or that she's not from these strange parts.

Or that she has a huge, massive crush on his partner.

"Give her to me. Why don't you go catch some fish for dinner? I'll start a fire." Itachi holds his hands out.

Kisame shrugs lightly and lowers the small kitten into Itachi's palms. She clings to his fingers as best as she can, terrified of falling, and Kisame vanishes into the forest surrounding them. Itachi sets her on the ground carefully.

"Stay," He points at her as he stands.

She sits, blinking up at him innocently. She's willing to sit and act like a dog, so long as it gets her good food sometime soon.

And her stomach growls to second that thought.

Itachi vanishes as well, but returns moments later, with a small stack of firewood. He sets some of them down a few feet away and takes several steps back. His hands move in a blur, forming different hand signs, and she watches in amazement as he ignites the wood.

He sits down elegantly and, without a sound, she weasels her way over to him. She dips down low, rear end angled high up in the air. His dark orbs spot her and a slender dark brow lifts curiously.

She pounces, landing on his lap with a fairly painful thump.

Blinking, Itachi stares down at her, hand lifting to keep her from tumbling off his lap. She meows happily and rubs her head against his hand. Internally, she dies.

Itachi is her favorite Naruto character. While he may not have the most promising background, she knew he had his reasons behind the Uchiha massacre and respected the fact that he let Sasuke live. Her heart seriously went out to the Uchiha heir and, while she refused to admit her love for the once-thought-to-be-fictional-character, she adores him to pieces.

His fingers begin to scratch behind her ears.

She sighs through her nose, listening to her loud, obnoxious purr kick-start, and tries to think as her eyes flutter shut.

How did she end up in this world to begin with?