Title: You Never Walk Alone
Summary: He was supposed to die. Instead, he found himself in a fictional world. However, while the world is full of sunshine and terror, you never walk alone. Male OC Self-insert, Major AU.
A/N: Welcome to my fanfiction about, well yeah, Naruto. Rated T, for language and canon violence. Characters will be added later on. But don't let me stop you from reading any longer. I hope you enjoy it! C:
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. What I do own, however, are my OCs and a part of the plot.
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As the sun was setting, a shadow hushed across the village, jumping from roof to roof. His silver loop earrings clinked as he climbed up the enormous mountain, using only his foot. Once he arrived at the top of the fourth visible head carved into the said mount, he sat down at the edge, letting his feet hanging loosely in the air.
He grabbed the hem of his navy-blue turtleneck and pulled it off to abuse it as a pillow. Laying down on the hot stone, he sighed, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. This was precisely what he needed right now – a calm, peaceful nap.
But that's now what he came here for. No, he came here to write.
To write the story of his life.
Sighing once more, he unsealed his favourite novel, the Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi written by Jiraiya. A man he looked up to, as both a writer and shinobi. Flickering through the first pages, he got lost in the story of Naruto once again.
"Shouldn't you be writing?" someone from behind him asked, her voice filled with amusement.
"I should be doing other things," he replied, not looking up to see who disturbed his silence. "Like attending the meeting scheduled for five p.m."
"That was three hours ago," she scolded.
"And not important," he retorted.
"Hokage-sama won't be pleased."
"But not surprised."
"Whatever," she said, knowing that she lost the second her brother decided to skip the meeting. "At least be home for dinner. Haha-ue would appreciate it."
"Sure."
As soon as his sister left, he unsealed the empty sheets of paper stocked away in his shoulder and the pen he kept in his pouch.
Staring at the setting sun, he thought about his life, a soft smile appearing on his face as he recalled the countless of memories he lived through with his friends and the comrades he lost in the war. "Where to start?"
"The beginning would be good," the familiar husky voice of his best friend resounded next to him.
And so, he began to tell the story.
The story of the boy who never walked alone.