Post by lostandtorn616 on May 3, 2007 20:06:40 GMT -5
Disclaimer: I no own; you no sue. I also don’t own Maria, AKA Rockinmuffin, the administrator of this spectacular site, but that’s okay; I barely own anything of importance at the moment, and Kisame would look pretty cool swimming around in a fishbowl Maria purchased! Although, I think she’d much prefer to drag him down the street, a bondage collar attached to his neck and a gag ball stuffed down his throat. XD
Note: This will be my least serious one-shot yet. Because of this, you must take into account that I’ve tried to get in the most content of moods I can place myself into emotionally; meaning no masochism, no mentions of masochistic tendencies, and anything pertaining to the nature.
Also, Part 1 will be mainly a childhood flashback told in present tense during school time just before summer starts, in which a few other Naruto characters will appear along with me and Crazy-chan, but like it says in the link for this: Kisame and Maria are the main pairing.
Anyway, after this little bit is finished, it’ll shift to the present being told in past tense in Part 2; I hope, for my sake and for yours, Maria, that that little remnant of information makes sense. *Hugs you*
Authoress’s Note: I like to hum! *Hums Gaara’s Theme Song and pets his head while he’s in chibi form*
“Talking”
Thinking to oneself
Emphasis
-Whispering-
Shouting
“So, which one was the shark?”
A pair of beady black eyes glares down at the owner belonging to the puerile voice: a girl, no older than eight years old, smiles up at him; her dark chocolate brown eyes shine with curiosity. The boy frowns, returning to the manual that cataloged the rules all the students had to follow by – everything from ‘no running in the hallways’, to ‘no talking back to the teachers, principal, vice-principal, or superintendents who may visit the educational foundation for regulated inspections’ was listed.
His ignorance, feigned or not, earns him a prod in the shoulder. He ignores her until she pokes him a fifth time; sighing irritably, he shifts his gaze from the school manual to the irksome girl seated next to him, bearing a few triangular-shaped teeth as the frown switches to a snarl in the form of a grin; however, deep down inside, he is anything but amused at her actions.
“Hey, I asked you a question! Which one was the shark? I think your Daddy was the shark, and I can’t think of your Mommy as being the shark! So,” she paused, poking him in the shoulder a sixth time, her pointer finger lingering for a second longer to pry her nail into his strange complexion lightly, “which one of your parents was the shark? C’mon, answer me; I’ll keep bugging you until you do spill the beans, so you may as well save yourself the trouble!”
“...”
“Come on, don’t be such a meanie! Tell me!” She exclaims, poking him a seventh time.
“... Poke me like that again and I’ll bite you. Hard.”
She stares back at him, giving him a moment of blissful, serene silence as her brain processes the manner in which he spoke, her mouth parting slightly as she gapes in shock, her eyes beholds a newfound amazement; his voice is deep, biting, each word chilling every bone in her body and freezing the blood in her veins, as if tiny slivers of a glacial temperature suddenly took possession of her; it didn’t seem humanely possible for a nine year-old boy to have such an oral tongue, but living, breathing proof is presented in front of her.
“You don’t mean that; you wouldn’t really do that, would you?”
“Try me.” His face is as serious as Death.
Not being one to back down from a challenge, she pokes him again; a startled whimper of pain slips past her mouth once his own mouth – abrupt, triangular incisors included – clamps down on her index finger, drawing blood instantly, pricking into her skin like thirty-two daggers.
“... Ouch.”
He grins and relinquishes the bone-severing hold, the predatory greeting – his way of saying good morning, good afternoon, good evening and good night – has finally given him another moment of silence; however, it doesn’t last as the girl pouts and shoves her wounded finger in front of his face. “Great, now I’m bleeding because of you!” She gives him an accusatory glance.
“ ‘Because of you’? You were the one who poked me, stupid girl.” He replies blandly, the tone in which he speaks is polite, a voice one would use after meeting a stranger on the street and ask for directions; underneath the sincere, mild-mannered vocalization is a foreboding dislike, a tiresome, perplexing annoyance – the girl is the primary source of his impending migraine, he knows this for certain.
What he doesn’t understand is why she bothers to choose to sit next to him; the only reason anyone would sit next to him is to pester him endlessly about his appearance; why would the new girl be any different?
“I wouldn’t have poked you if you hadn’t been a butt-munch to me and answered my question. My Mommy says that’s rude, you know.”
“...”
“Ha! You didn’t say anything after what I said! I win! Horray for me!” he watches, disinterested, as the girl bounces happily in her seat; then, suddenly, she stops and looks at him again. “Hey Seat Buddy, did you get your cooties shot yet?” She pauses, shoving her finger into his face again, a somber frown tugging at his lips as she did so. “Does this look like it’s crawling with cooties to you? Mommy says that if you’re bitten by someone, the bite could get infected; I haven’t gotten my cooties shot yet, so I hope it doesn’t get infected with them.”
“...”
“Do you have any bandages, Seat Buddy?”
“... No.”
“... Hey, Seat Buddy?”
“... What?”
“I’m bored!” She proclaims loudly, readjusting her glasses with her non-wounded digit.
“Too bad for you.” He grunts darkly, unhinging his crossed feet and throws them on top of the desk, criss-crossing his calves, getting into a relaxing position.
“What can I do?”
“... Go out and beg a homeless man to drown you in the nearby lake?”
“That’s not a bad idea- Hey, are you saying that I’m being a-”
“Nuisance that needs to remove itself from my personal space bubble? Yes, yes, you are.” He remarks, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes seeing she clenches her fist and punches his forearm, if only lightly.
“That wasn’t very nice!” She gives him another punch. “Meanie!”
“Alright class, settle down, settle down.” A lady with shoulder-length, sand-colored hair and light blue eyes strides into the classroom, black heels click against the linoleum floor; her ankle-length blue skirt makes it appear as if she is floating a few inches off the ground, and in spite of the fervid weather she wears a black t-shirt.
“Hmm... I think it’s too nice a day to spend it stuck inside this stuffy room. So,” she pauses, directing her motherly grin to the flock of students after looking out the window, “today we’ll be spending the remainder of the afternoon outside. Come on, come on everyone. Don’t slack off now!”
“Pass it! Pass it!”
“Yeah, good kick, Sasuke!” A third-grade-year girl with pink hair shouts enthusiastically, her bright green eyes glimmer with an excitable light under the sun’s glare, pumping a tiny fistful of an assortment of flowers into the air; the platinum-blonde-haired girl sitting next to her, idly picking flowers, stops in the process of uprooting a lily to glower in a furious stupor.
“Sasuke doesn’t like you, forehead brow! He likes me!”
“No he doesn’t, little Ino pig! He likes me!”
“No, me!”
“Nuh uh!”
“Yah huh!”
In the shadows of a large oak tree, the swing creaks ominously as steel, interlocking chains scrape away at the rustic metal for every time the lonely child occupying the swing rocks to and fro on the balls of his feet; a six year-old boy with garnet-red hair and pale green eyes looks over at a group of four kids smiling, giggling, and whispering excitedly.
His arm is wrapped around a small brown teddy bear, hugging it protectively to his chest and then, for a split moment, his intense gaze drifts to the right of him – a lone girl sits in the center of the sandbox, occasionally glancing at the boy, her small hands pound away in a furious concentration at the lumps of sand as she tries to sculpt him to the best of her ability.
When she sees him looking, her eyes widen for a moment and then sharply directs her attention back to her mold of sand; a bright rosy hue quickly attains to her cheeks as she bites her lower lip, then sticks out her tongue and places it across the corner of her upper lip, sneaking sideway looks at him when he isn’t looking.
“Itachi, you’re not doing it right!”
He glances up from his marbles rolling across the paved sidewalk, shooting a light glare her way, frowning. “Quiet, you’re making me lose count, Lisa.”
“How can I be making you lose count; you’ve already got twice as many marbles than I do!” She responds, pointing at him with an accusatory glint in her brown-gray eyes.
“Okay, so that’s one point for me,” he pauses, flicking the pearly white ball from between his index finger and thumb, a faint smirk creeping onto his face as it struck her red-and-blue marble, rolling off to the side, “and none for you.”
“You’re doing it AGAIN!”
“Doing what?”
“That’s TWO points for you!”
“No, it’s not; it was one point. I said ‘one point for me’.”
“Well, it was MY turn!”
“Right, and now it’s mine.” The tip of his tongue sticks out of the recesses of his mouth, his brows furrow a bit as Lisa pouts and looks on as one of his green marbles strikes her yellow one. “One point for me...”
“You’re IMPOSSIBLE! Jerk!”
“Are you going to keep following me around all day?” The boy grunts in annoyance as the girl from his class, whom has self-proclaimed herself to be his Seat Buddy, skips merrily behind him, trying to imitate his voice in a high-pitched nasal tone.
“Are you going to keep following me around all day?”
“Are you going to say what I say all day too?”
“Are you going to say what I say all day too?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Go away, you’re annoying.”
“Go away, you’re annoying.”
“Stop that!”
“Stop that!”
“Listen to me, you annoying little twit.” He snarls suddenly, rounding on her and glaring down at her, his pupils shrinking as his mouth twitches and then, slowly but surely, a diabolic grin etches into his blue-gray-hued visage, revealing the sharp, pointed triangular teeth she’s seen from earlier. “You can stalk me in the middle of the night. You can declare a holy war and then curse my wretched soul to Hell. You can wreck sheer havoc and make my life a living nightmare, the likes of which this world has never seen, but you do not, I repeat, do not have the authority to follow me everywhere I go. There’s such a thing called free will, in case you didn’t know.”
“...” She stands there, blinking confusedly; her only bodily movement in response to his rant is her head tilting to the side.
“Now then, can you leave me alone for the rest of the day?”
“... I will... but only if you tell me your name!”
He blinks. “What?”
“Your name, duh! Or did your parents choose not to give their little shark-boy a name?”
He frowns. “You’re annoying.”
“So you’ve said. Now twice, may I add. Now tell me your name or I’ll follow you home and bug you until you give in!” She exclaims, putting her hands on her hips; her sudden proclamation causes a girl with midnight-blue hair not far away to shift her red-faced glance nervously towards them, an embarrassed, rosy hue flaring her pale cheeks and, then, shuffles her feet anxiously, looking apprehensively at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy staring back at her with a confused expression.
“N-Naruto-kun.”
“Hinata, what’s wrong? Your face is really red. Maybe you’re sick or something; are you feeling okay?” The boy, Naruto, frowns as he places his hand on Hinata’s blushing forehead; unfortunately, it causes the beet-redness to deepen.
“Um... w-well, what I-I wanted to say is... um, I-I mean, what I wanted to give you is... um...” She gulps loudly, then swallows hard, twiddling her toes as her heart races wildly in her chest. She drums her fingers repeatably onto the circular tin can, then smiles timidly, shyly offering the box to the boy. He takes it, still very confused, and pries open the lid. “Oh, wow, Hinata! Three different kinds of cookies! Thanks!” (1)
Now positively beaming, Naruto grins happily and gives Hinata a quick hug, completely oblivious to the red-hued color has strengthened. “Y-you’re welcome, N-Naruto-kun.”
“...”
“Well?” She asks after taking her eyes off the scenario taking place before her eyes.
“... Hoshigaki Kisame. Now go away.” He turns sharply on his heel, wanting to put as much distance between her and himself as possible.
“... Kisame! Wait!”
He sighs irritably. “What is it now?” His face is imprinted with a faint scowl as he turns around to face her, mildly surprised seeing a wide grin plastered unto her sun-kissed features. “Won’t you walk your Seat Buddy and friend home after school’s over?”
“...”
“Please? If you do, I won’t bother you until tomorrow! Please, please, please, please, please, plllleeeeaaaasssseeee?”
He groans. “Fine, you idiot girl. But you’d better make good of your promise.”
“Of course I will!” She laughs, surprising as it is to Kisame, then looks up at him, the wide smile growing twice in size. “Something deep down tells me that we’re gonna be best buds, Kisame!”
Kisame has a feeling too; he has the feeling that his life has just gotten more complicated.
And a lot more stupid.
(1) I can’t imagine Naruto as the kind of kid who’d pass down free food; especially the sweet kind. Expect more NarutoxHinata fluff in the future parts to this one-shot of mine. Wow... this is my first time writing fluff, to be honest. And I don’t think it sucked that bad. I mean, they’re just kids right now, but Hinata still likes Naruto despite his knuckle-headed ways. XD
And to explain Itachi... well, he may be an anti-social prodigy of the Uchiha clan, but who can say with certainty that he was worse off when he was a kid?
So Maria-chan, how was that for a first chapter? I felt as though I could’ve made this part a bit longer, but the ideas I could’ve imputed for this part would’ve ended up going to waste, and I don’t want to use them until Part 2.
Speaking of which, Part 2 will be more interesting and less of a snooze-fest to read (this is based solely on my opinion of Part 1 as I possess next-to-no self-confidence in myself); Kisame’s anti-social personality will have deteriorated a bit then, but he’ll still be a butt-munch to you. *Hugs you*
Note: This will be my least serious one-shot yet. Because of this, you must take into account that I’ve tried to get in the most content of moods I can place myself into emotionally; meaning no masochism, no mentions of masochistic tendencies, and anything pertaining to the nature.
Also, Part 1 will be mainly a childhood flashback told in present tense during school time just before summer starts, in which a few other Naruto characters will appear along with me and Crazy-chan, but like it says in the link for this: Kisame and Maria are the main pairing.
Anyway, after this little bit is finished, it’ll shift to the present being told in past tense in Part 2; I hope, for my sake and for yours, Maria, that that little remnant of information makes sense. *Hugs you*
Authoress’s Note: I like to hum! *Hums Gaara’s Theme Song and pets his head while he’s in chibi form*
“Talking”
Thinking to oneself
Emphasis
-Whispering-
Shouting
~~~~START!~~~~
“So, which one was the shark?”
A pair of beady black eyes glares down at the owner belonging to the puerile voice: a girl, no older than eight years old, smiles up at him; her dark chocolate brown eyes shine with curiosity. The boy frowns, returning to the manual that cataloged the rules all the students had to follow by – everything from ‘no running in the hallways’, to ‘no talking back to the teachers, principal, vice-principal, or superintendents who may visit the educational foundation for regulated inspections’ was listed.
His ignorance, feigned or not, earns him a prod in the shoulder. He ignores her until she pokes him a fifth time; sighing irritably, he shifts his gaze from the school manual to the irksome girl seated next to him, bearing a few triangular-shaped teeth as the frown switches to a snarl in the form of a grin; however, deep down inside, he is anything but amused at her actions.
“Hey, I asked you a question! Which one was the shark? I think your Daddy was the shark, and I can’t think of your Mommy as being the shark! So,” she paused, poking him in the shoulder a sixth time, her pointer finger lingering for a second longer to pry her nail into his strange complexion lightly, “which one of your parents was the shark? C’mon, answer me; I’ll keep bugging you until you do spill the beans, so you may as well save yourself the trouble!”
“...”
“Come on, don’t be such a meanie! Tell me!” She exclaims, poking him a seventh time.
“... Poke me like that again and I’ll bite you. Hard.”
She stares back at him, giving him a moment of blissful, serene silence as her brain processes the manner in which he spoke, her mouth parting slightly as she gapes in shock, her eyes beholds a newfound amazement; his voice is deep, biting, each word chilling every bone in her body and freezing the blood in her veins, as if tiny slivers of a glacial temperature suddenly took possession of her; it didn’t seem humanely possible for a nine year-old boy to have such an oral tongue, but living, breathing proof is presented in front of her.
“You don’t mean that; you wouldn’t really do that, would you?”
“Try me.” His face is as serious as Death.
Not being one to back down from a challenge, she pokes him again; a startled whimper of pain slips past her mouth once his own mouth – abrupt, triangular incisors included – clamps down on her index finger, drawing blood instantly, pricking into her skin like thirty-two daggers.
“... Ouch.”
He grins and relinquishes the bone-severing hold, the predatory greeting – his way of saying good morning, good afternoon, good evening and good night – has finally given him another moment of silence; however, it doesn’t last as the girl pouts and shoves her wounded finger in front of his face. “Great, now I’m bleeding because of you!” She gives him an accusatory glance.
“ ‘Because of you’? You were the one who poked me, stupid girl.” He replies blandly, the tone in which he speaks is polite, a voice one would use after meeting a stranger on the street and ask for directions; underneath the sincere, mild-mannered vocalization is a foreboding dislike, a tiresome, perplexing annoyance – the girl is the primary source of his impending migraine, he knows this for certain.
What he doesn’t understand is why she bothers to choose to sit next to him; the only reason anyone would sit next to him is to pester him endlessly about his appearance; why would the new girl be any different?
“I wouldn’t have poked you if you hadn’t been a butt-munch to me and answered my question. My Mommy says that’s rude, you know.”
“...”
“Ha! You didn’t say anything after what I said! I win! Horray for me!” he watches, disinterested, as the girl bounces happily in her seat; then, suddenly, she stops and looks at him again. “Hey Seat Buddy, did you get your cooties shot yet?” She pauses, shoving her finger into his face again, a somber frown tugging at his lips as she did so. “Does this look like it’s crawling with cooties to you? Mommy says that if you’re bitten by someone, the bite could get infected; I haven’t gotten my cooties shot yet, so I hope it doesn’t get infected with them.”
“...”
“Do you have any bandages, Seat Buddy?”
“... No.”
“... Hey, Seat Buddy?”
“... What?”
“I’m bored!” She proclaims loudly, readjusting her glasses with her non-wounded digit.
“Too bad for you.” He grunts darkly, unhinging his crossed feet and throws them on top of the desk, criss-crossing his calves, getting into a relaxing position.
“What can I do?”
“... Go out and beg a homeless man to drown you in the nearby lake?”
“That’s not a bad idea- Hey, are you saying that I’m being a-”
“Nuisance that needs to remove itself from my personal space bubble? Yes, yes, you are.” He remarks, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes seeing she clenches her fist and punches his forearm, if only lightly.
“That wasn’t very nice!” She gives him another punch. “Meanie!”
“Alright class, settle down, settle down.” A lady with shoulder-length, sand-colored hair and light blue eyes strides into the classroom, black heels click against the linoleum floor; her ankle-length blue skirt makes it appear as if she is floating a few inches off the ground, and in spite of the fervid weather she wears a black t-shirt.
“Hmm... I think it’s too nice a day to spend it stuck inside this stuffy room. So,” she pauses, directing her motherly grin to the flock of students after looking out the window, “today we’ll be spending the remainder of the afternoon outside. Come on, come on everyone. Don’t slack off now!”
~~~~Outside~~~~
“Pass it! Pass it!”
“Yeah, good kick, Sasuke!” A third-grade-year girl with pink hair shouts enthusiastically, her bright green eyes glimmer with an excitable light under the sun’s glare, pumping a tiny fistful of an assortment of flowers into the air; the platinum-blonde-haired girl sitting next to her, idly picking flowers, stops in the process of uprooting a lily to glower in a furious stupor.
“Sasuke doesn’t like you, forehead brow! He likes me!”
“No he doesn’t, little Ino pig! He likes me!”
“No, me!”
“Nuh uh!”
“Yah huh!”
In the shadows of a large oak tree, the swing creaks ominously as steel, interlocking chains scrape away at the rustic metal for every time the lonely child occupying the swing rocks to and fro on the balls of his feet; a six year-old boy with garnet-red hair and pale green eyes looks over at a group of four kids smiling, giggling, and whispering excitedly.
His arm is wrapped around a small brown teddy bear, hugging it protectively to his chest and then, for a split moment, his intense gaze drifts to the right of him – a lone girl sits in the center of the sandbox, occasionally glancing at the boy, her small hands pound away in a furious concentration at the lumps of sand as she tries to sculpt him to the best of her ability.
When she sees him looking, her eyes widen for a moment and then sharply directs her attention back to her mold of sand; a bright rosy hue quickly attains to her cheeks as she bites her lower lip, then sticks out her tongue and places it across the corner of her upper lip, sneaking sideway looks at him when he isn’t looking.
“Itachi, you’re not doing it right!”
He glances up from his marbles rolling across the paved sidewalk, shooting a light glare her way, frowning. “Quiet, you’re making me lose count, Lisa.”
“How can I be making you lose count; you’ve already got twice as many marbles than I do!” She responds, pointing at him with an accusatory glint in her brown-gray eyes.
“Okay, so that’s one point for me,” he pauses, flicking the pearly white ball from between his index finger and thumb, a faint smirk creeping onto his face as it struck her red-and-blue marble, rolling off to the side, “and none for you.”
“You’re doing it AGAIN!”
“Doing what?”
“That’s TWO points for you!”
“No, it’s not; it was one point. I said ‘one point for me’.”
“Well, it was MY turn!”
“Right, and now it’s mine.” The tip of his tongue sticks out of the recesses of his mouth, his brows furrow a bit as Lisa pouts and looks on as one of his green marbles strikes her yellow one. “One point for me...”
“You’re IMPOSSIBLE! Jerk!”
“Are you going to keep following me around all day?” The boy grunts in annoyance as the girl from his class, whom has self-proclaimed herself to be his Seat Buddy, skips merrily behind him, trying to imitate his voice in a high-pitched nasal tone.
“Are you going to keep following me around all day?”
“Are you going to say what I say all day too?”
“Are you going to say what I say all day too?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Go away, you’re annoying.”
“Go away, you’re annoying.”
“Stop that!”
“Stop that!”
“Listen to me, you annoying little twit.” He snarls suddenly, rounding on her and glaring down at her, his pupils shrinking as his mouth twitches and then, slowly but surely, a diabolic grin etches into his blue-gray-hued visage, revealing the sharp, pointed triangular teeth she’s seen from earlier. “You can stalk me in the middle of the night. You can declare a holy war and then curse my wretched soul to Hell. You can wreck sheer havoc and make my life a living nightmare, the likes of which this world has never seen, but you do not, I repeat, do not have the authority to follow me everywhere I go. There’s such a thing called free will, in case you didn’t know.”
“...” She stands there, blinking confusedly; her only bodily movement in response to his rant is her head tilting to the side.
“Now then, can you leave me alone for the rest of the day?”
“... I will... but only if you tell me your name!”
He blinks. “What?”
“Your name, duh! Or did your parents choose not to give their little shark-boy a name?”
He frowns. “You’re annoying.”
“So you’ve said. Now twice, may I add. Now tell me your name or I’ll follow you home and bug you until you give in!” She exclaims, putting her hands on her hips; her sudden proclamation causes a girl with midnight-blue hair not far away to shift her red-faced glance nervously towards them, an embarrassed, rosy hue flaring her pale cheeks and, then, shuffles her feet anxiously, looking apprehensively at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy staring back at her with a confused expression.
“N-Naruto-kun.”
“Hinata, what’s wrong? Your face is really red. Maybe you’re sick or something; are you feeling okay?” The boy, Naruto, frowns as he places his hand on Hinata’s blushing forehead; unfortunately, it causes the beet-redness to deepen.
“Um... w-well, what I-I wanted to say is... um, I-I mean, what I wanted to give you is... um...” She gulps loudly, then swallows hard, twiddling her toes as her heart races wildly in her chest. She drums her fingers repeatably onto the circular tin can, then smiles timidly, shyly offering the box to the boy. He takes it, still very confused, and pries open the lid. “Oh, wow, Hinata! Three different kinds of cookies! Thanks!” (1)
Now positively beaming, Naruto grins happily and gives Hinata a quick hug, completely oblivious to the red-hued color has strengthened. “Y-you’re welcome, N-Naruto-kun.”
“...”
“Well?” She asks after taking her eyes off the scenario taking place before her eyes.
“... Hoshigaki Kisame. Now go away.” He turns sharply on his heel, wanting to put as much distance between her and himself as possible.
“... Kisame! Wait!”
He sighs irritably. “What is it now?” His face is imprinted with a faint scowl as he turns around to face her, mildly surprised seeing a wide grin plastered unto her sun-kissed features. “Won’t you walk your Seat Buddy and friend home after school’s over?”
“...”
“Please? If you do, I won’t bother you until tomorrow! Please, please, please, please, please, plllleeeeaaaasssseeee?”
He groans. “Fine, you idiot girl. But you’d better make good of your promise.”
“Of course I will!” She laughs, surprising as it is to Kisame, then looks up at him, the wide smile growing twice in size. “Something deep down tells me that we’re gonna be best buds, Kisame!”
Kisame has a feeling too; he has the feeling that his life has just gotten more complicated.
And a lot more stupid.
(1) I can’t imagine Naruto as the kind of kid who’d pass down free food; especially the sweet kind. Expect more NarutoxHinata fluff in the future parts to this one-shot of mine. Wow... this is my first time writing fluff, to be honest. And I don’t think it sucked that bad. I mean, they’re just kids right now, but Hinata still likes Naruto despite his knuckle-headed ways. XD
And to explain Itachi... well, he may be an anti-social prodigy of the Uchiha clan, but who can say with certainty that he was worse off when he was a kid?
So Maria-chan, how was that for a first chapter? I felt as though I could’ve made this part a bit longer, but the ideas I could’ve imputed for this part would’ve ended up going to waste, and I don’t want to use them until Part 2.
Speaking of which, Part 2 will be more interesting and less of a snooze-fest to read (this is based solely on my opinion of Part 1 as I possess next-to-no self-confidence in myself); Kisame’s anti-social personality will have deteriorated a bit then, but he’ll still be a butt-munch to you. *Hugs you*