Warnings? Slight angst at the beginning. Ends...light hearted I suppose...

It was dark, an unnatural dark. The kind you find in hell deep caves, or in this case, a no-window interrogation room. You groan and try and lift your heavy head, which is resting on your shoulder. Drowsiness ultimately keeps you from being able to lift it but you try again anyway, since your neck was already getting stiff. You smirk when you accomplish your 'head lifting' mission, rubbing your mouth on your shoulder to get rid of the droll that accumulated while you were unconscious.

Your smirk turns grim when you look around and wonder if everything worked out the way you had planned, or if you were captured by some rogue ninja. You nibble on your bottom lip thinking, trying to remember what transpired before you came here. Nothing comes to mind as you try, and fail, to see through the dark. Handcuffs surround your wrists, which are resting in your lap and not held back confining you to the chair, where they normally would be.

The chair you're sitting in is cold and metal, you can tell from the faint smell of rust. You lean forward and reach out with your cuffed hands jumping when they touch the cold surface of a table. You retreat your hands and put them back in your lap, donning a troubled expression.

You gasp when a light comes on; squeezing your eyes shut seeing red. You blink dazed for a minute before you can make out a diluted shape of a table in front of you, the light that's above it and a big black looking square behind it. Your heartbeat quickens as you recognize a questioning/interrogation room that you thought was only in the movies, complete with the single light bulb over the table. You laugh nervously glancing at the dark shape on the wall in front of you, which can only be a two way mirror.

You jump when a voice bellows from an unseen source and calling out to you. After your shriek of surprise from the sudden noise, you answer tensely;

"Uhh-"you cough and try again as your voice fails you, "Yes?" you croak answering your questioner.

"Will you promise to speak the truth and only the truth-"

Wait…why does this sound so…not ninja…something in you demanded to take control of this situation and after a pause you ask loudly; "What is this? A bloody court room?"

Before the man can even speak up from your interruption you mumble an apology and bend your head down, taking a sudden interest in the hands resting in your lap, wondering why you always egg on the people with the power. You look up in surprise when the unknown voice acknowledges your demand anyways;

"Ever sense the civil war against unlawful judging in the year 2045, American court room cases have been cut in half, enabling interrogations to be videotaped for the people to judge on later dates…"

You stopped listening when the voice uttered out the year and the name of your country, your eyes becoming unusually big as your heart seems to fall all the way down to the deepest darkest pit in your stomach. Your mind seemed to echo the word 'No' over and over again like a mantra until you started breathing the word past your lips in a trance like state, hoping it would it be untrue.

But you know it is, of course it was.

You were used to the unnatural, you have already witnessed someone walk on water (among other things), and at the time it was unbelievable. But in comparison to this…it simply didn't compare.

You were royally screwed.

2045?! Your mind crashes and burns when you bite your lip, trying to add up the digits in your head. You have been gone from home much longer than you thought. And to add to your growing pile of worries, you realize something;

There is nothing for you here anymore.

No parents, siblings, or friends. You had worked so hard to get back it never occurred to you what you would do when you did. And like a 'ninja hit' in the gut you become conscious of the fact that the family you have been trying to get back too is dead. Everything you worked for, everything you gave up, is now haunting you.

And you regret it.

Just like the silver haired, masked 'bane of your existence' said you would. You hate him; loathe that man with every fiber of your being. You detest that he was right. You despise that he was able to foresee this while you couldn't.

The indignant shouts from your integrator fall silent when you start to weep in your hands, cursing anything and everything that has given you one sliver of contentment the last few months.

And oh, how you hate that man!

You pause in your cursing and the tears for your lost family seem to halt, as you look at the tattoo adorning the inside of your wrist. A cute scarecrow stares back at you, with its plushy looking arms wrapped around a sunflower and giving it a stem-breaking hug. A scarecrow that bears a strikingly resemblance to certain ninja you have been cursing in your mind for the past minute or so. You stare at it for a little before tears start to rain from your face again.

You hate that you love that man.

Your interrogator tries to get you to start talking again, and you ignore his attempts at being threatening. If he had caught you just a couple months earlier you would be shaking in your seat at his shouts. But instead he pales in comparison to what you had to put up with when facing Ibiki-san. You shut your eyes tight, feeling your heart hardening and your tears drying.

But instead of feeling confident, you just feel hollow. If this man, your interrogator, wants answers. You will give him the story of his life, even if it will land you in a loony bin.

"It was the old ladies fault…" you mutter, shifting in your seat and looking up at the black window, wearing a thoughtful expression. There was a slight pause before;

"Pardon?" the interrogator questions.

You give the black window an annoyed look before sighing and rolling your eyes. This was going to take awhile….




Not a lot of people can say they died from and old woman's handbag. Actually, I'd say I'm the only person who can say that.

In fact, I'm envious; I wish my grandma was that cool.

I can see it now, Grammy Vivian arrested for killing a young girl with her jeweled handbag, the police records say that she was carried away still fighting, but not before knocking a few teeth off of officer Collins for being a naughty whippersnapper. Yeah…..where was I? Oh yeah, death by evil handbag.

It was a regular day really. Working at the shop, bringing money to Miss Cauliflower for that window I broke last month. My brother, Terry, being a jerk like always, and eating all my cookies, while leaving a right mess everywhere he went. Avoiding my neighbor's dog, pickles, who liked to jump me, and lick me to oblivion. Like I said, regular day, besides maybe, you know dying by the street corner.

It was in the evening when I came back from the shop, I went straight home anxious to eat my cookies before they vanished in my brother's stomach. After raging in annoyance for finding cookies but an empty milk carton I grabbed my wallet and stalked to the market to get milk for my cookies! And…well…imagine it going down kind of like this;

Murderer: "Excuse me little Missy, but I believe when someone runs into their elders, they should at least apologize."

Me: "Puaah! You are not an elder."

Murderer: "Then what am I brat!?"

Me: "Proof that dinosaurs once roamed the earth."

Yeah, picture that escalating into arguing, then yelling, and finally to throwing blows. Apparently I'm not above hitting old people, I mean, maybe I let my feelings control me a little, but come on the lady freaking killed me! I vaguely remember someone pulling the old scumbag off me and some punk saying this was going to be a hit on youtube before I blacked out.

And that is the story of how I died…..sort of. But not really, because little did I know that old lady was carrying a giant set of Naruto books for her grandson, and she had just conked me in the head with them stuffed in her overly large hideous handbag. Maybe that's some sort of twisted fate, shoved in a regular girl's life, but to me that's just…stupid.

AN/ So I thought I would try my hand at a Kakashi/Oc. This is a sort of 'coming of age' type of story. Take note how at the beginning my Oc is serious and when 'looking back' the writing is different along with some immaturity. This will change soon. Ninja's are by no means trusting of people.

Pop in and review! Love feed back! And yes I am aware of the impending threat of a MarySue!