(A/N):This will be a tale about Naruko, which as most know, is a female version of Naruto. Her personality is completely different and she is also blind. The story begins when she is six years old, and will have a time leap to nine, then twelve when the series picks up. It should be noted that certain individuals will deviate in varying degrees from their original personalities through the interactions and events in this story, people can change after all. But efforts will be made to keep most in character as much as possible. I will try to update it at least once a week, but may do so more often depending on feedback and interest.

Chapter 1 – Orphan

Blood trickled from her forehead and mouth— she no longer had the strength to move. Her ears were ringing and pain could be felt throughout her entire body. She was in a daze and could barely breathe now. Her small frame lay crumpled on the ground at the end of the filth ridden alley, surrounded by a semi-circle of other children. They were laughing, but she could no longer hear them, a dizzying and aching throbbing was muddling her senses.

She did not understand why this was happening, why it kept happening. The girl bore no tears however, for she had grown accustomed to their treatment. Knowing not when it had started or if it would ever end, she was lost each time it happened, and felt something in her slowly dying.

The children, having grown bored of tormenting the unresisting girl, walked off to resume their play elsewhere, making sure to be careful that no one noticed them. They didn't have to bother though, as there were only a handful of people who actually paid the young girl any heed. Most saw her as a hateful existence and felt she deserved any scorn or abuse they could muster, though the adults never outright discriminated against her, they made no effort to stop their children, who sensing their parents' enmity towards the girl, tortured her whenever they got the chance to.

The girl's kimono was stained with urine, various food items, dirt, and blood. She lay there motionless, waiting for the dizziness to pass, and her breadth to return. Her silky sunflower hair was matted with dirt and saliva. Her smooth facial features were bruised and cut with several smears of blood.

Placing her hand on the ground, she steadied herself and planting one of her straw sandaled feet before her, finally managed to stand up after a few wobbling attempts. She kept her eyes shut, for they were of no use to her anyway, since she couldn't see.

Her world was a dark haze of various forms and lines that she was able to decipher from the sounds and vibrations around her. With an expressionless face, she began walking forward out of the alley on a limp. A few people on the street were startled to see her condition, but no one made any attempt to help and many even had contemptuous expressions, as if to say 'this is what she deserves'. Even the ninjas in the village made no attempt to aid her and gave her a wide berth, though a few bore sad visages.

She made her way slowly back to the apartment building she called a home. The people that lived there were no different than the others outside, pouring their contempt onto her when they encountered her. Usually this involved knocking her down or saying a scornful remark as they passed.

It was easy for her to recognize the place, for unlike many of the other buildings in town it had a very peculiar smell, mostly reeking of sake, a pungent odor of sweat, and unwashed clothing. Walking up the wooden steps past the entrance, she had to use the rails to both support and guide herself as she made her way up to the third floor. This was typically unnecessary, as the sounds formed a fuzzy image in her mind, but she still hadn't completely recovered from the wounds she received earlier.

Arriving at the front door she fumbled with her key, dropping it a few times, before she was finally able to open it. Turning around she shut the door quietly and locked it. Her unit was plain for the most part and contained only the bare necessities: a dining table and a couple of chairs in the center, a bed next to the single double window along the back wall, a refrigerator next to small kitchen area to her right, and a small washroom in the left corner of the roughly rectangular space.

Making her way to the bathroom, she bumped into the table in the center, stumbling a couple of times. When she got there, she started to remove her filthy kimono. She took off each piece methodically and folded them carefully, laying them around the sink near the door. Most of her wounds had clotted by now, but a few minor cuts still ran freely. Turning the bath on behind her, she waited for it to fill up then got in slowly; the submerging of each of her wounds caused her to wince repeatedly. The water quickly became polluted with her blood. She was forced to drain it after scrubbing herself with soap, and used the faucet to rinse up.

Once done bathing, she washed her clothes carefully and hung them underneath the metal towel rack. Putting on her pajamas, she walked to the window, where she sat down on a chair next to the bed. The moonlight reflected dully on her pale face. A gust blew gently past her into the room, causing her to relax somewhat while easing the burning and tingling sensations throughout her body. She could sense that the streets were mostly empty now. The rustling of the wind, and the chirping of crickets filled much of the night air. It was fresh up here, unlike outside her room, and she felt comfortable despite the aches throughout her body and face.

Her gaze shifted slightly to a lone figure walking down the street. She knew who it was by the tempo and weight of the footsteps. When the approaching figure was close enough, it leapt up to the roof shingles outside her window. His scent became clear to her and she gazed at him, before speaking in a soft feminine and child-like but emotionless voice, "What is it Ojii-sama?"

The figure, who was a pale old man dressed in white and red robes, did not reply immediately. Noticing her injuries, a deeply remorseful expression fell across his face. He was well past the age now where he could feel truly angry and much to his disgrace, he had been able to do little to help the poor girl before him. Squatting down near her, he reached out and stroked the child's feathery hair affectionately, but her face remained unchanged. He hated the fact he couldn't gauge her mental state, for she had never smiled or appeared sad regardless of the circumstances. Taking his red and white square hood off, allowed the breeze to clear his thoughts.

"Is my hair still dirty Ojii-sama?" she asked innocently.

"No…", he replied in a low wizened masculine tone.

Her simple words had cut through his heart like a dagger, and he closed his eyes while bringing his other hand up to his face in anguish. What more could he do? This child bore a tremendous burden and had been living alone here for a few years now, all without complaint or sadness. It was as if she could not even feel such emotions. Her eyesight had been taken from her at birth, along with her parents and her entire clan before that.

Regardless of the measures he had put in place to protect her from the villagers— she still kept turning up like this. A guard only brought enmity on that individual along with her, and it was a duty no one volunteered for, something he had forced many to do as availability allowed. Meetings with council members that only ended in hostility and circular reasoning. Edicts at school and sent to homes, ignored or torn down. He could understand the villagers' feelings so it was difficult to do anything more, but this was too much for his old age to bear. Looking up at her again, he continued to gently stroke her hair silently.

She seemed confused at his further lack of communication but said nothing.

His old body having grown fatigued from his awkward position, he pulled away and set his hat down nearby, before sitting down with his back against the window. He wondered if it was possible for her to become one but everything in his being refuted the idea. It was an unprecedented and seemingly foolhardy thing to do, but as always it seemed like the only solution— the only answer.

The girl turned to stare at the sky and he joined her in check. Finally, he decided to ask her some questions to weigh the prospect. "Naruko, you could tell it was me walking down the street couldn't you?" he asked curiously, with a sideways look.

Gazing at him and she nodded.

"Can you tell the difference between others as well?"

"Everyone has a different sound, a different scent, a different feeling", she replied evenly.

The man mulled this over in his mind and thought about what she meant. Unlike most people who identified others mainly on appearance, Naruko probably viewed them as a collection of varying sounds, smells, and patterns in their movement. When comparing against an individual who used sight, there were distinct advantages and disadvantages, particularly when taking illusions into account. Whereas someone who relied mainly on visual cues and to a much lesser extent, sound, would be fooled more easily by this art; Naruko would utilize two other traits, not normally taken into consideration by a technique, in how the individual actually moves or the scent they give off. He wondered though how much sharper her senses were in comparison to a normal individual.

The old man already knew she could guide herself around the city, though how she did this exactly, he wasn't entirely sure. After all, their medics could cure most forms of blindness, but Naruko's loss of vision seemed to be unique in some way. He thought about these things for quite some time before making up his mind. "Naruko, can you come to my office tomorrow after you eat?"

"Yes I can."

Satisfied, the old man moved on to their usual exchange, speaking casually, "So what do you want to learn about today?"

The girl was silent for a moment then asked, "Why are the shapes of the buildings in the village so varied and alike?"

As usual, her question was always complex for someone her age, he thought. "That has to do with something called 'architecture'. It's basically a style of design and construction of buildings, though not all the structures in the village are drawn up by the same person, most of them follow a similar pattern when they are erected," the old man explained.

"So different people are creating the buildings based on ideal forms?" she surmised.

He smiled slightly, "That's right." Reaching over, he patted her head approvingly. He really liked how bright she was— it reminded him a lot of himself in his younger days.

After the old man moved his hand away, Naruko continued, "Last time, you said that we get most of the food from outside the village, why is that?"

"Do you remember when I explained to you how our village is mostly urbanized?" he asked in return.

She nodded.

He was positive, she remembered, but this was leading up to his answer, "Due to that, we have little room to grow crops or raise animals ourselves. Therefore we have to rely on outside sources such as farms, processing centers, and fishing companies."

"So we don't cultivate any of our own food?"

"Not directly, though some of the farmers around us are part of the community of the village and we have close ties to them. We provide them with protection and they show favor by supplying some of their goods at reduced cost."

Pausing a moment, she followed up with, "Do we make anything ourselves?"

"We have a small industrial complex with factories where we craft a few things like furniture, various textiles, and practice metallurgy for our implements of warfare."

"What does metal-urge mean?" she asked oddly, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

He smiled again, saying apologetically, "Sorry, I haven't explained that to you yet have I?"

She shook her head.

They continued on like this for a while, the old man really enjoyed spending his time teaching her about everything. It was really fulfilling passing his knowledge onto others and with her in particular, it eased his mind somewhat knowing he was helping her grow in this way. There were only a small number of people who could actually talk to about many of the things he discussed with her, and even fewer who could understand or were interested in the vast number of subjects he was familiar with. He only wished he had more time to spend with her, but his duties took up most of it.

Finally reaching a sort of conclusion and he said, "I'll see you tomorrow Naruko."

"Good night Ojii-sama," she replied in a tired voice.