Key-

'Thoughts'

"Speech"

::

It was hard to believe, it definitely was — no matter how much I wished, the scene would not disappear. Before me stood all that I could ever have dreamed off. Yet, now that it was real, I didn't want it so much anymore.

But I was getting ahead of myself, to explain myself more I need to backtrack. To a few hours before the untimely event that would change my life forever.

I have to go back to the beginning.

::

With a screech, the school bell rang, signalling the end of the day. The horde of tense teens made a scramble to the door, eager to get the hell out of here. 

Like all those around me, I was just as enthusiast to escape — as a long weekend seemed more than pleasing. Just as any other teenager, I didn't particularly enjoy the act of waking up to attend my living nightmare.

People, god I hate people.

If I were being honest, my only two friends and the canteen were the last remaining reasons I still went to this damn place — that and my mother.

Within seconds the classroom had emptied, going from a screaming riot — complete with flipped table — to a sanctuary of complete silence. Only myself and a few others remained. 

"Have a wonderful weekend, Ivory." A voice called out, looking back I got the clearly forced smile of my tenth grade Maths teacher.

"You too," I frowned, not even bothering to smile. "Sir." 

With my backpack swung over my shoulders, I darted out the room, into the hall. Sighing, I inched my elbows up defensively, earphones in and a frown across my face. Weaving through the mass of people, I tried my best to avoid the particularly sweaty ones.

Summer in Australia was the worst. Thought late February wasn't as bad as January per say, the strong rays of heat still angered me to no end.

I always did like winter.

Then, I felt a hand grip my shoulder. I was pulled out of the crowd and into an empty corridor, looking to my left, I tugged out one earphone as I came face to face with one of my few friends.

"Iz," I could barely muster a smile — we were good friends, seven years in the making. But after fifth period on a Friday I didn't want to deal with anyone but my bed.

By some peoples standards, I would be what you called an "ambivert". A combination of an introvert and an extrovert. However I am far from that. An extrovert as a young child, i've become a complete introvert — with the thought of interacting with others making me sick to my stomach.

I was just not half-bad at acting.

It wasn't that I was ill, mentally wise, or anything like that — but you would be surprised to how many people believe I do in fact suffer some sort of illness one way or another.

I was fine, perfect to be honest — mentally wise anyway, although some would argue there was a "mental" to begin with.

Most of my life, I acted a certain way — all that "societies way" bullshit. It worked — on me. I wanted to fit in, so I lied, cheated, and manipulated my way to the top of the food chain. 

It wasn't the best motivational poster but I was far from motivational. I was lazy, cruel and almost heartless.

If you weren't high on "Ivory's List of People she give two shits about" then I couldn't care less if you breathed or not.

I was a ray of fuckin' sunshine, that's for sure.

This is were the story ties back to the whole "mental health" side. My mother seemed to question my sanity daily — yet I loved her all the same. She may have been the only person I ever truly loved. 

Yes, I had family — four brothers and two sisters. And my father was in the picture.

But I didn't love them. It was the cruel reality. They didn't mean anything.

It seemed, for me, that even though we may be related by blood. It did not give you a guarantied spot on 'Ivory's List of People She Gives Two Shits About'. At the end of the day, it all came down to whether I tolerated your existence.

And my siblings were by far the worst of the lot, as was my pitiful excuse for a father.

"Oi," I heard a voice, bringing me back from my thoughts. "You takin' the bus?"

I looked up, and blinked. Iz, as I had dubbed her years before, gave me a blank stare. She was holding my arm, fingers digging into my skin as I noticed we were walking, squished between the horde.

Then, we stepped out. Into the courtyard, the unforgiving Summer sun blaring down upon us. I looked to her, noticing the small twist in her ink black hair as the wind blew through.

"Nah," I shook my head gently. "I might just walk."

She shrugged, "Suit yourself." And ran off, making a beeline for the bus stop.

Lost in my thoughts, I walked.

While in some peoples eyes, I would have the worst personality you could get without being labeled a psychopath — nobody knew.

I had said I was a good actor.

People saw me exactly how I wanted them to — perfect. Class clown, star student, local badass, whatever was needed to wiggle my way into their lives and high on their lists — I would do it. 

In my experience, a comedic approach was the easiest way to manipulate someone into trusting you. Everyone found something funny — with teenagers favouring the idiotic, overly sexual ones. They were terrible, but I used them often.

Walking along the road, my eyes followed the cars — shooting passed me. Piloted by teens drunk off the idea of a long weekend — I begun to think over my own plans for the three days off we were blessed with.

I was an avid fan of anime, manga and even — on rare occasion — fan fiction, granted it was above decent. I enjoyed things from bloody horrors to tear jerking comedies — as long as it was good, I would watch it.

In my eyes, the saddest endings are the best. Everything in this day and age has a happy ending, and one always remembers those with a sadder ending — as they have a much more powerful impact, leaving you a sobbing mess.

I was a thorough fan, meaning when I watched or read something, I needed to soak up every bit of information before I was satisfied — I needed to be the master, you could quiz me on anything. Knowledge was power, in my opinion, and even thought I had no reason to know what Ciel Phantomhive's favourite dessert was, or Redhead Shanks' star sign was, yet I did.

Only a few months earlier, I had watched both seasons of Naruto. I had held off on watching it as it was painfully long and I wasn't interested, only recently mustering the strength to watch it all — and I loved it.

There were a few plot holes and shaky storylines at time, and the lack of good female characters annoyed me. Yet even with sometimes lacking animation and played out cliches, I found the story enjoyable.

Like most things, I cheered for the villains, and did not like when they killed off my favourite characters — which were the villains.

Well, all except Minato. He was just bloody amazing.

I stepped up, rummaging through my pockets to find the key for my front door. Finding it, I placed it in the lock and turned, swinging open the door.

"Anyone home?" I called out into the empty doorway, cutting off the light when I shut the door behind me.

"Of course not." I sighed, making my way through the house. Throwing my keys atop the kitchen counter, I headed to my room. 

Slamming my door behind me, I kicked off my shoes and flopped onto the bed, exhausted.

"Fuck... remind me why I do this five times a week." I muttered into my pillow, reaching into my pocket and digging out my phone — I looked back up and unlocked it.

After a few minutes, the ache in my muscles from the walk and the lack of sleep the night before caught up on me. My phone slowly slipped from my grasp, thumping onto my bedsheets, dark eyes slowly closing, everything went black.

I was oblivious to the sound of the front door opening.

Then, a crash. I jumped up, paranoid and awake, eyes wide. I fretted, fingers digging into my arm as my head snapped to my door — I could hear movement, from my mother's bedroom.

It was too early for anyone but myself to be home unless something — and they would have rung ahead if something was up.

I crept up, hand grasped tightly around the steel bat I fished from my closet. Pushing open my bedroom door just a smudge, I could see a shadowy figure moving around, back to me and fumbling through a dresser.

It wasn't much of a surprise that they chose my mother's room in comparison to others. As they were probably enough informed to know she held the best stuff. While my siblings were lost causes — all but my eldest, a rising director and screen writer. My mother was an academic genius. A PHD and all — her intellect being the best of what I inherited from her.

Heart beating rapidly in my chest, I could hear each breath I took, sharp and heavy, as I shuffled forwards.

I was not afraid. No, far from it. I was excited. Adrenaline surging through my body at the thought of using my bat in an attack.

I wasn't angry, the opposite in fact, I was a calm person — rarely losing my temper. Which I suppose was good, as when angered I was the type to act first and think later — if I wasn't throwing chairs at you I was probably getting ready to knock your teeth out.

Focusing back on the task out hand, I realised I was mere inches from the their. I gripped my bat a little higher, and swung down. I heard a crunch, and then a thump as the thief fell, knocked completely out.

It was a clean blow, only a few speckles of red blood on the thief's hair and my bat. Sighing, I felt my body sag in relief, and the bat slipped from my fingertips. I smiled, just a bit, proud that I actually had the strength to knock him out, as I was pretty weak.

Then, I turned, coming face-to-face with the barrel of a gun.

Time stood still. I could hear the beat of my heart, picking up as the blood surged through my breath — and I breathed out, slow.

I could see the trembles in the second man's hand, causing the gun to shake — then he screamed out, in pure anger and fear, he scream, curled his finger around the trigger and pulled.

I felt a wave of feelings crash over me.

Pain

Anger

Fear

I was afraid, terrified. My world was spinning and everything was going dark. I blinked and before I knew it I was the ground, cheek to the tiled flooring as thick, metallic-tasting substance rose up from the throat — I coughed, choking.

I could hear sirens blasting, so loud, and as if trying to overpower it — the sound of my beat heart grew louder, practically screaming in my ears. The pain was indescribable, I wanted everything to end, I wanted it to end so badly. I couldn't take it.

For the first time since I was little, I cried.

Tears rolled down my cheeks and I couldn't seemed to stop. Not for the pain but the fear. I was petrified, my blood ran cold.

Then, everything stopped.

It was silent. So silent you could hear a pin drop. There was no pain, and I no longer shed tears. I wasn't afraid anymore and I no longer shook.

I just stared, slowly bled out on that tiled flooring.

"Ivory!"

A voice, it was so muffled I could barely understand it. But I knew, I just knew, they were calling for me.

I couldn't feel a thing, not even my own body — everything was numb. But I knew someone was there, shaking me.

"Ivory wake up! Stay with me! Ivory!!"

Everything was going black, and I knew then what was happening.

I was dying... no, I was already dead.

"IVORY!!"

With final scream, I knew it was my sister — one of them at least. I was gone, like a flicked light switch I was over — in an instant.

Then I wasn't.

My eyes shot open. Gasping for air, eyes widening as I realised I couldn't breathe. Everything was fogged up around me, distorted. I could move again, but it felt like I weighed ten times more, as each movement was extremely hard.

My hands curled around my throat as I choked, gasping for air.

I looked up, and saw bubbles fly up from my lips as my I kicked and screamed. My eyes fixed on a golden glow, a sphere, floating above me, and I realised it was the sun. Rippling slightly from what I soon discovered were water currents. 

I was underwater and I was dying all over again.

I gasped, one last time, and everything came to a slow. I stopped resisting, unable to find the strength to even move my head. Vision dying black, I slowly sunk down to the bottom of the ocean.

Just as my back hit the ocean floor, everything changed.

I was thrown about, something of insane force tossed my around, a cold air bitting at my, slashing my already weak body about — my eyes shot open.

I was falling.

Plummeting down to what seemed to be my third and hopefully final death.

I wanted to scream, the urge boiled up at the back of my throat — but I sighed. The ground growing closer.

'I hate my life'

Just before I hit, everything went black.

::

"Do you think she is dead?"

Something prodded me, blunt and into my ribcage, just as another voice spoke.

"Don't do that, Nawaki!" It was soft, feminine. Almost like a child's. Both sounded like children — very young children.

Both voices were eerily familiar.

"She looks hurt... should we take her to Grandfather?"

'Grandfather? Who the talks like that?' I could have laughed, if the situation wasn't so bad that I couldn't even move.

I was, bizarrely, in no pain. I could feel the rough earth beneath me, scrapping against my back, and even the cold air at my neck, flicking my long thin hair into my eyes, stopping me from seeing.

Yet, no pain.

I gathered up all my willpower, opened my cracked lips and croaked.

"H—Help..." I wasn't even sure they heard my pitiful display.

Then, like earlier, that thick metallic stuff rose up — which I know understood was blood — and like bile I hacked it out, spluttering from my lips in a violent cough.

"AH! SIS! She's coughing up blood! What do we do!?" The boy screamed, panicking.

There was a thumb, followed by a childish whine.

"What was that for?"

The female hissed, "Don't yell! Go run back home and inform grandfather, I will take her to the Hospital."

'Again with the formal bullshit..'

I was sure that if I could, I would have smirked. Instead a pair of surprisingly strong arms wrapped around me up, lifting me up. Everything was silent for a moment, still, before whatever was carrying me burst forth, with insane speed.

The wind rushed passed me, cutting into my skin like knives, almost like when I fell. At this point, tired and down with this bullshit, I closed my eyes and relaxed, drifting off.

::

I opened my eyes, finding that I had enough energy, but quickly closed them once I realised where I was.

A hospital.

'I fuckin' hate hospitals..'

With yet another bitter thought, I reopened my eyes. After a few seconds of adjusting, I looked around. The room was fairly plain, walls and floors painted white, a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling — paint chipping from the hook down. Beside the bed, which felt like a cloud on my tired muscles, were the only other pieces of furnisher. A rusty brown stool, and a sort of table — a single book resting upon it.

'Ok... recap!'

I left school. Returned home and fell asleep on my bed. I heard a noise, went to investigate and discovered a burglar. Knocked one out with my bat, while the other snuck up and shot me.

Then, i'm pretty sure I bled to death. Then I drowned... and then I fell to my death, again.

'Today just isn't my day'

And then I was found by some kid named Nawaki and his sister, then I woke up in a hospital.

'Yep, that's about it'

I pondered over the Nawaki kid. The name was so weird. No one in the western world had such a name.

'It's definitely something asian... doesn't seem Korean... they're usually a little different, then again i'm not asian so I don't know what the fuck i'm talking about.'

I sighed.

'Maybe Japanese? That sounds about right... it could be'

I looked up, hearing the door click, opening to allow a group of people to enter.

'Yep, definitely asian'

They all had the pale skin and thin eyes stereotyped for an asian. Even though they may not be. Well, all except one man. He had sun-kissed skin and insane long — who has hair that long? — brown hair. 

Dressed in these weird clothing that made them look like they lived in Egypt or somewhere very hot. The brown-haired man stood out the most, wearing a big arse red had, white fabric dangling from the brim.

"Ah good!" He grinned, "You're awake!"

His eyes seemed to sparkle with happiness as he ran over.

'Way too happy for my taste.'

"I am the Hokage." He thrust his hand out for me to shake. "Hashirama Senju."

I think my heart just stopped.

::

It was hard to believe, it definitely was — no matter how much I wished, the scene would not disappear. Before me stood all that I could ever have dreamed off. Yet, now that it was real, I didn't want it so much anymore.

'Hashirama...? As in THE Hashirama Senju? Konoha's Hashirama?'

I stared at the man before me as if he had two head.

'What the actual fuck?'

"What is your name?" He asked, retracting his hand after realising I would not shake it.

"Ivo-" Out of reflex I spoke, my voice coming out in squeaks.

Coughing, I composed myself. "... Ivory-"

My quick thinking switch seemed to flick and I forced my lips into a smile.

"-Kaguya, Ivory Kaguya."

I instantly realised how dumb those two names sounded together. But I couldn't use my real last name, my first was insane enough.

My mind was built for speed, so in the split second Hashirama had introduced himself — I had already had several arguments with myself over whether or not this was real and decided to just role with in.

If what I think had indeed happened, I couldn't just as well go blow my "cover". 

So far all I had discovered was that I was in Konoha. How? Well that comes later.

Now what I already knew was a different story. First impressions are important. I had to belong to a clan they knew and wouldn't question too much. They had to be from anywhere but Konoha, with no real physical traits — like the Hyuuga's eyes or the Uchiha's dark hair.

The Kaguya clan was the first to pop to my mind.

"Ivory? What a unique name, where are you from?"

Like a well oiled machine — I answered perfectly, "The Land of Iron, my family moved away from our homelands when I was young."

"Where is your homeland?" A voice spoke up.

Looking over, I saw the suspicious looking face of Tobirama-fuckin'-Senju! I held back my urge to run over and glop him, the last thing they need is an insane teen tackling their future leader.

That still didn't stop me from admiring how fine he looked in his armour.

Although he was a pain for all his question — it was cute when he interogated others but not me, this brilliant bastard could blow my cover.

So, staying in character, I looked down, frowning deeply — going silent.

Hashirama placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Leave her, Tobirama, she's had a hard time."

"... Yes, brother."

'Success!'

"Oh, I almost forgot." I looked up to Hashirama, watching him step aside to let two children who I instantly recognise step forth.

"These," He gestured to the two children. "Are my grandchildren. Tsunade is six and Nawaki is three, they are the ones who saved you."

At his words, I frowned.

'She's six?... that means Hashirama is going to die any day now, as will Madara — well, fake die anyway. Mito will become the first Jinchuuriki... the first ninja world war will begin and then the second...'

My mind had gone hectic, thoughts spinning widely. I tuned out Hashirama's words as he bid me a farewell, leaving along with the rest.

I could only give them a fake smile full of fake gratitude as they left before collapsing onto my bed.

I had begun to understand just what was going on. It seemed, that in the robbery, I died after I was shot.

Or at least, that's what should have happened.

I somehow ended up in the Naruto world, most likely by jumping dimensions — which could have been why I was suddenly drowning in a random ocean.

I must have just entered this world via the fuckin' sky!

I can't go back and even if I did — everyone thinks i'm dead. I bled out in my hallways as that thief escaped.

Worst of all, I rocked up at a terrible time. The world was on the brink of war, and since Tobirama had not yet stepped into power a lot of things during his reign have yet to be made.

Like the Uchiha Police Force — arguable good and bad — the Academy, Chunin Exams, Anbu Black Ops, and many others.

But I couldn't focus on that. I had something else I needed to think about.

A theory stirred in my mind.

Earlier, when I jumped into this dimension. I crashed smack down into the ground, and barely escaped with my life. Yet when I awoke before Nawaki and Tsunade, I didn't feel any sort of pain.

It wasn't that I was numb, no — If that were so then I wouldn't be able to feel the prod from Nawaki.

When I awoke, no pain.

'Time to test this shit out'

I reached over to the glass cup beside me, without a second thought I smashed it against the bed side table. Bending over slightly, I picked up a shard.

I ran a finger across my skin, feeling a small tingle at the coldness.

'I can still feel..'

With a deep breath, I dug the glass into my skin, gliding the blade across. Blood prickled from the cut, trickling down my arm, dripping down and splattering onto my bed sheets.

I frowned, running my fingers across the gash, blood squishing between. I pressed down, hard — still nothing, I could feel the blood gushing out, but I didn't feel any sort of pain.

'Well.. this is new.'

::

Hashirama dies three years later than in canon.