NARUTO FANFICTION! A girl falls from her world (the world we know...) and finds herself in the Naruto world. She joins Team 7, and her adventures follow the story from there. Her name is Tasura Ai, and Ai means love.
Who will fall for Ai, and who w...
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Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Naruto.
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You know, back in the old world, I guess I always had felt a little different.
When I was a little kid, I used to sit on the white steps in front of my house on the west coast of Florida, and feel the sprinkle of rain on a warm afternoon, and feel the ocean breeze travel through my hair, and see the bright green trees and grass become alive in the wind, waving at me. I would feel so inexplicably connected to the waves of the sea crashing onto the shore, to the orange and yellow flames of a blazing bonfire illuminating the night, to the streaks of white clouds strewn across the sky in shades of pink, purple, blue...that I would wonder...maybe I was meant for something else.
My life in one word? Dissociating. I had grown up in a wealthy family, sheltered from any broader perspective of life. A privileged life, but one I didn't ask for all the same. Did I realize I was lucky? Yes. But was I unhappy? Yes.
Friends came with the network, but I didn't really prefer their forced company. A small, private school kept me within the lines, surrounded me with other kids just like me. Boring, colorless, repetitive. Like the rest of my life.
And then one day it just happened...when I was only thirteen. Without rhyme, without reason, I fell from my world.
I remember the day like it was yesterday. I had woken up for school, rushing because I was late, throwing on the same boring school uniform consisting of white tights, a white, button-down cotton blouse, and a navy suede skirt. I didn't have time, so I ran a comb through my medium-length brown-highlighted-blonde hair and put a little mascara on my brown eyes' lashes.
I then ate the same boring breakfast: grapefruit and vanilla Greek yogurt. My driver honked the horn, and I ran out the door to get in the car. We stopped to pick up my two best friends along the way. Just like every other day.
"Your outfit is on fleek," Marissa told me when she climbed into the backseat next to me. She had striking features – long legs, dark brown hair in a short stylish cut, distinct freckles, and red lips. I had known her for years so I was used to her model-like beauty by now.
"Thanks, it's Chanel," I replied robotically, like I had said this script a thousand times. Maybe because I had.
