AN:/ I said I would never write an OC insert, and I lied. I have no excuse for this.

—

So here's the thing, ok? Here's the thing: real people in a fictional world stand out. A fully fleshed out being standing next to a plot point just ends up looking odd. It doesn't matter if they are the most boring vanilla person in existence, there's something about someone existing outside of a narrative that draws the eye.

This makes staying under the radar really annoying.

Yoko, no last name, pumps her legs as far they can can possibly go with all of her six year old strength. The academy teacher chasing her is luckily an ordinary civilian, and not one of the militarised demons masquerading as the shinobi force. She'll still get caught, but at least she can probably waste away a few hours first and get out of a couple classes.

"Come back here!" the teacher yells, in a stereotypical and cliche way, as if yelling that at someone running away has ever worked. Yoko rolls her eyes and pushes herself to go faster.

It's a good thing that the village is predisposed towards pumping out brainwashed warriors, and that physical education is mandatory and disproportionately intense for kids. She's probably in better shape than she ever was in her twenties. This is both pathetic for past her, who lived off a diet of 'I'll go to the gym tomorrow' and sad for present her, who still has the same dislike for team sports that past her did.

A dislike for teamwork coaching disguised as games, a dislike for propaganda disguised as academic education, a dislike for over cheerful teachers and tyrannical school policies. Basically, a complete and total dislike for the Konohagakure academy in general. And she's still just in the civilian section of classes.

She just misses running into a food stall, and ignores the startled curses in the wake of the almost collision. It gains her a few more seconds lead on her determined pursuer, but has the unwanted consequence of bringing even more attention to her small form darting through the crowded market.

The narrative, as if tired with the already generic establishing shot, reaches out and snags the back of her dirty shirt. She jerks back, breath knocked out of her chest, and ends up dangling in someone's hands.

"You're a little young to be cutting class, aren'tcha?" a wry voice asks, turning her around so she can see her captor face to face. The fact that the surrounding people go from worried to relieved already tells her who it's going to be, but she still scowls when she sees the green flak vest and scarred face.

A generic chunin grins at her and raises a brow at her disgruntled expression. Behind them, the academy teacher finally catches up, panting a little. She's always found it funny that as soon as someone is no longer being actively encouraged towards becoming a shinobi, they lose all their physical strength. Her teacher can't be more than five years out of the civilian schooling track himself.

"Oh thank you, shinobi-san. She's a real hellion," teacher-san says, smiling awkwardly at the man still holding onto Yoko by the back of her shirt. It's stretching the material, not that that matters all that much considering how old and worn it is already. She's basically living the orphan cliche.

"One of yours then?" generic shinobi-san says, before finally putting her down. He keeps one hand on her shoulder though, restraining her from running away again. She feels a twitch develop in her eye.

"Yes, we were doing the shinobi aptitude tests, and she refused. I just wish she would say why, instead of running off like this." He shrugs, fidgeting a little in place. Most civilians treat shinobi with a sort of uneasy hero worship. Complete trust, but with the vague knowledge that they could snap at any moment and eat their brains. Or something.

Yoko huffs, but stays silent.

"Not a talker, huh?" the shinobi asks with a laugh, looking down at her. Her frown deepens, and she has the urge to spit out a curse just to see the look on his face melt.

"She's refused to say a word since enrolling. The doctor say it's not a physical defect, so she just must not like it. Makes for some awkward classroom discussions."

She doesn't talk because Japanese is hard, and her brain is not wired towards speaking it. Or at least that was her excuse at first, now it's more that not speaking amuses her more than speaking would in the first place. She has a bet going on with herself about how long she'll last until she cracks. So far she's winning.

Also, it's easier to not say something that will give away her true maturity this way. Instead she just comes off as a really weird and maybe slow child. All good in her books, since it keeps her off of the list of those fast tracked into shinobi hell.

"Maybe I'll escort both of you to the academy then. It's always the quiet ones you need to look out for," generic shinobi-san says with a smile. Yoko looks at him with dismay, but her teacher looks relieved. Whether he feels slighted at the idea that he can't look after a six year old, he doesn't show it.

To be fair, he really can't. This is the third time this week Yoko has escaped the clutches of what she has lovingly named the 'murder camp', and every time he was the one teaching. Out of the four different teachers he's really the least experienced, which just makes him a soft target for her antics.

"I would appreciate that, shinobi-san." Her teacher smiles, dimples flashing. The other man's eyes glint as he smiles back, pushing her forward so she's sandwiched between both of them.

"My pleasure, but please, call me Katsuro."

She's got a feeling generic shinobi-san isn't offering out of the goodness of his heart, considering the leer he's aiming her teacher's way. She feels a mixture of amusement and disgust curl along her spin. Disgust because now that she's a kid again the idea of other people feeling sexual and romantic attraction is weird and foreign. Strange how without hormones in the way her own sexual identity has completely disappeared.

Probably a good thing, considering her age.

"Katsuro-san then, I'm—"

"Masao-sensei, right?" generic shinobi-san interrupts, looking charming and roguish and all those other romance novel descriptions. Yoko wants to puke, and appropriately makes gagging motions with her finger, still silent. It nets her a startled glance, but not much more than that.

"Oh, how did you know?" Her teacher is blushing, actually blushing. Yoko resolutely looks away from the embarrassing display and takes to watching the crowds as they wander slowly back towards the academy. She's still trapped between the two of them, which makes escape look unlikely. Having to stand two strangers' UST while stuck as a mute six year old is practically a form of torture.

"I have a genin that was in your remedial class last year, Yun-kun? He talks about you often." Her teacher's expression melts, and Yoko tears her gaze away again. Crowd watching, crowd watching. Not watching the really awkward flirting going on in front and behind her.

At the end of one street a white haired shinobi saunters by, causing Yoko to slide her eyes away and fixate them on the other side of the street. Habit has her looking away from any important character types, including those from the original series. The last thing she wants is to get caught up in a plot.

So far this has been achievable by being six, and also completely average in every way. Of course, being average hasn't helped her get out of the shinobi aptitude tests, but she's blaming that on being a very mysterious brand of boring. Like she said earlier, real people in fictional situations stand out.

The main comment on her reports always boils down to 'infamous for no reason'. People know her name, classmates try and sit next to her, some of them try to bully her, and even the shinobi recruiters pay attention to her.

So far, the low level awareness hasn't lead to any real excitement though, and she would rather keep it at that. Adventure sounds like too much work.

She's zoned out, and missed a chunk of small talk/flirting from the two adults, but gets pulled back in when generic shinobi-san addresses her directly.

"So why did you run away from the shinobi aptitude test?"

She raises a brow at him and looks pointedly at her teacher, who chuckles awkwardly and rubs the back of his head. She silently seethes at the very character defining motion. It's like a huge red sign saying 'pay attention, I'm being sheepish'. No one ever used to do it when she lived in the real world.

"Ah, well. From what we've been able to gather from her written accounts, she just doesn't want to be a shinobi. She's expressed a dislike for all the classes dedicated towards showcasing shinobi careers and skills, and tries to have as little do with them as possible," her teacher says slowly, as if the idea of not wanting to be a shinobi at age six is strange and abnormal. Indoctrination at its finest.

"Why run away though? Why not just take the test but do badly?" She has to give chops to the guy, he's still talking to her despite the fact that it cuts into his flirting and that she's still giving no indication she'll speak.

Instead, she looks at him with what's quickly becoming a permanent brow arch and, for good measure, rolls her eyes. If she was going to talk she would chew him out for thinking that she's a good enough liar to not get caught faking a shinobi test. They would ask awkward questions like why she's trying to fail in the first place. It would guarantee forcing her to dodge recruiters again.

She thought about becoming a ninja for about a whole day when this body was younger, and she was just getting over the idea of living in a fictional world. Civilians are practically helpless otherwise, and the amount of collateral damage that happens just between two powerful shinobi is rather mind boggling. Considering how small the nations actually are, you would think they would have a population problem. Or maybe it's some form of population control, directly related to how powerful your ninja force is. If that's the case, it's shooting themselves in the foot, because the more powerful your shinobi forces the more farmers and blacksmiths and merchants you need.

But what does she know, her one class on economics was a hobby class.

So as a civilian her chances of surviving until she's forty are a lot slimmer than she would like.

She weighed that against the fact that she really had no desire to be a cog in a dictatorship murder machine, was predisposed towards not doing physical labour, and rational enough to know even if she did learn how to kill people and look fabulous doing it, she still wouldn't be safe from the rest of the world. She knows without a doubt that shinobi Yoko would just be like regular Yoko: average. She has no secret bloodline, no powerhouse legacy, no genius intellect. Instead of just being a civilian casualty she would end up a genin casualty, and probably die in a much more horrific way.

So in other words, fuck that.

Instead, she has a modest dream of owning a tea house that makes enough on the side through blackmailing important but non-threatening individuals to hire a bunch of mercenary type protection.

In short, she's bringing western style organised crime to the party.

"Going to take over the family business?" generic shinobi-san says, after a few more minutes of background noise. Yoko tsks, but doesn't blame him for the assumption. Almost all civilian children who don't get conned into going into the genin corps end up working in family shops or businesses. It's one of the reasons most non-clan shinobi are orphans.

"Ah, no. Yoko-chan is an orphan, which is why I've been pushing for the shinobi aptitude tests. As a shinobi academy student her allowance would go up, and she would be able to move out of the orphanage. I'm not sure she understands such thoughts of course, but—" He's interrupted when Yoko 'accidentally' kicks him in the shins. This nets her muffled curse and then a slightly guilty look from both of them, who seem to suddenly reason that talking over even a mute child is both rude and a move guaranteed to paint them as assholes.

"Ah, sorry Yoko-chan. Here, we've arrived," her teacher says, guiding her lightly so she's up in front. Sure enough, the looming building of the academy sits in front of them, glinting menacingly. Yoko gags.

"Well I suppose this is where I leave you, but if it's not too much trouble how about we do lunch sometime?" generic shinobi-san asks, leaning forward. Her teacher blushes, and turns towards him in turn. Yoko gags again and escapes their clutches, taking refuge in the slightly safer sanctuary of the school. At least class is almost over, which means she only has to suffer through a few more hours of repetitive and useless information before being released into the dubious hands of her caretakers.

Much better than sticking around and having to deal with lovestruck fools.

—

Later, hanging back while the clan kids and those with families get picked up, she thinks about how lucky she is that she wasn't reborn to a family. She misses her old one of course, misses the closeness of having one in the first place, but it makes everything easier. Lets her learn how to navigate this brand new world of hers without too much scrutiny. It also helps keep her from seeing the people around her as, well, people. She's not too sure how she would survive the narrative if it was something besides a narrative to her.

She knows that's an unhealthy mentality, but it also keeps her from breaking down in gibbering shock over her situation, so she's rolling with it.

Plus, if she was born into a shinobi family she probably would be feeling even more pressure to join the genin track, which would suck. They're already laying on the duty and glory really thick, as if six year olds can understand concepts like that. If anything, the main reason most of the kids in her class want to join is because it sounds more exciting than being a baker, and all the popular older kids are doing it.

Peer pressure at its finest.

"Yo, Yo-chan, Yo-chan," the kid next to her cries, pulling on her sleeve. If she was someone who had any sort of empathy for children, this might seem cute or adorable or whatever, but it just makes her wrinkle her nose and pull away a little. Her shirt is already stretched to high heavens, anymore and she might as well wander about without one.

"Yo-chan, come play shinobi with us," the boy cries again, when she doesn't answer him. She feels herself gag before she's even aware of it. Ugh, her two least favourite things; children and shinobi.

She shakes her head and tries to move away again, closer to the gate in case she needs to make a quick getaway. The boy huffs, as if surprised at her refusal. At this point she's not even sure why the kids in her class keep asking, it's not like her answer is going to change. Maybe because she never actually refuses—can't while being mute—they never get a clue. Six year olds aren't the smartest.

"You should join them, Yoko-chan. You won't ever make any friends if you don't play with anyone," a voice says from the other side of the fence. She looks up, shading against the sun, and finds herself faced with the teacher from earlier. What was his name again? Masa-something.

He looks like he's just on his way out, probably to flirt with generic shinobi-san again, and she scrunches up her nose and sticks out her tongue in response. He chuckles, and then crouches down to look at her more seriously.

"Yoko-chan, I hear you refused to do the shinobi aptitude test again. You don't have to become a shinobi if you don't want, but you should at least do the test so that if you ever change your mind later we can put you in the right class." She's shaking her head almost as soon as he starts, and his face falls some more.

"I've never asked, but is there a reason you don't like shinobi so much?"

Yoko stops her shaking and blinks at him. She frowns, tilts her head one way, and then the next. She has her reasons, has very good reasons, but she's not sure she has any that she can easily explain to what really amounts to a background character. It's not like he would understand the very precise calculations she did around future battles and survivability.

"Did…" he pauses, looking uncomfortable, "did a shinobi do something bad to you?"

Oh boy, now there's a direction she doesn't want this conversation going. She shakes her head vehemently, knowing if she doesn't he will need to make an enquiry somewhere. There might even be an investigation, since the village is surprisingly diligent with policing its own forces, despite the amount of them that get away with fucked up shit. The last thing she needs is that sort of attention.

"Oh, that's good. Then...why?" He looks legitimately confused, with the sort of kicked puppy look most people grow out of at age ten. She's not sure why he's so invested with her dislike of shinobi, but figures she can blame the narrative. In doubt, always blame the narrative.

A shiver crawls up her spine and her eye twitches to the right, landing on the shadows of the nearby administrative building. She forces herself to look back at the teacher in front of her.

Fed up with his ongoing attempts to get her to a) socialise and b) become a shinobi fan, she does something she knows will just make him even more confused.

—

Masao watches the young girl pause with a strange glint in her eye, and feels something pool in the bottom of his stomach. He's gotten to know her these past few months and he already knows that that look means bad things.

Yoko smiles at him with teeth, and then brings her right fist up, thumb pointing out, and drags it across her throat in an unmistakable gesture. Masao flinches back, and the young girl takes the opportunity to scamper by him laughing. She breaks out in a run as soon as she's passed him.

He's left standing in her dust feeling slightly disquieted. She's an odd one for sure, not even counting her supposed mutism.

"I see what you mean," Katsuro says, moving out of the shadows to join him at the fence. Most of the other children have left already, so it's just them. Masao smiles awkwardly.

"The other teachers say I'm seeing things, but I didn't fail out of investigations because I wasn't observant enough. She's...odd," he agrees, standing up.

Katsuro, a man he hasn't seen since that disastrous week when both of their teammates went missing in action, nods.

"Definitively more intelligent than she lets on, not to mention observant. Did you notice that she looked right at me before she ran off? I wasn't particularly hiding, but for a six year old, that's...unsettling," he muses. His scarred cheek twitches as he talks.

Masao chews on his lip, thinking.

"At first I thought it was just because she's so antisocial, you know, somewhat mature for her age. But there's something more to it."

Katsuro sighs and reaches into his vest pocket, retrieving a packet of cigarettes. Lighting the end of one with a snap of his fingers, he leans back against the fence and lazily puffs away at it.

"Does it really matter? If she doesn't want to be a shinobi then there's nothing to it," he says slowly, watching the skies. At his side Masao snorts.

"C'mon, you don't think I'll actually believe that, mister I-Read-Mystery-Novels-While-

Interrogating-People. Both of us are too nosy for our own good."

"So? She's six, Masao. You really think a six year old has some sort of big dark secret?" Katsuro shakes his head, but there's a grin on his lips anyway.

"I just wish I knew why, you know? She obviously would have some talent at it, if only as a grunt in investigations. And yet she already has formed a negative impressions of shinobi as a whole? Unless something happened…" He trails off, shrugging.

"Maybe she ran into one of the creepy ones, like an Uchiha or Gai," Katsuro muses, before flicking his cigarette out and straightening.

"Well, there's nothing to do about it but keep an eye out, make sure no ones harassing her or whatever. If possible, see about sticking her in something like a go club, see how her tactics are. Could be she's just a lot more aware than kids her age," he continues.

Masao nods with a sigh, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Thanks Katsuro-san, I thought I was going crazy for a while there. I'll talk with the recruiters, see if I can add a flag to her profile. We're in peacetime, so if she really doesn't want to become a shinobi there's not much we can do about it, I just think it's a waste." He clenches his fist and smiles wryly at the shaking muscles.

—

The one place that Yoko actually likes in Konoha is the civilian library. It's rarely used by shinobi, has a wide collection of topics and authors, and is blessedly quiet after a day having to be around crying children. The librarians know her in a vague sense, but are all too caught up in their own little dramas to bother her, so she gets to read whatever she wants as long as she doesn't stray into the erotica section.

Or well, try to read. Japanese isn't her first language, and even if she is able to understand it orally now, the written format is a much larger beast. The academy has some lessons, but for most of the kids they get most of their language skills from their family. At the orphanage there's just never enough time or workers to try to attempt something like that.

Which means her choices in reading material are seriously limited, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. If someone caught her with something way over a six year old's reading capacity there might be some awkward questions to answer.

She pulls down a slim volume with a smiling cat on the cover and finds herself a comfy seat in a corner. This week she's trying to learn vocabulary around animals, triggered mostly because she had seen a nin-dog last week and couldn't figure out what was written on its vest. She's not hopeful she'll find it here, but that's not the point. The point is to build up her language skills as fast as possible so that she can start reading more important things, like law and trade books.

Need to know what the system is before you cheat it, after all.

For the next few hours she wiles away reading children's book in the dim light of the library, only moving to find more or to sneak candy from one of the librarian's desks. People come and go, but no one stops to talk to her or even lingers too long near her corner, and she's thankful.

Maybe it would be lonely for anyone else, but the quiet is restful instead of deafening. She feels her tension drain the longer she twists herself into odd formations reading. She's settled with one leg flung over the back of the chair and her head halfway on a table when a shadow crosses her vision. She lowers her book and looks up.

A young, nervous face peers down at her.

"What are you reading?" Hyūga Hinata asks her, fidgeting in place and looking miserable with it. Yoko blinks.

So much for never interacting with any main characters. The young, very young, Hinata is wearing a purple dress and black leggings and almost looks like any other civilian child, if a rather shy one. The only thing setting her apart are her pale eyes and the quiet attendant right behind her, giving Yoko the stink eye.

Yoko, as usual, makes a snap decision based purely on spite. The attendant's disdain for the obvious orphan pushes her to do something rather out of character.

She swings her legs down so she's sitting in a somewhat more natural position and brings her book up for inspection.

"Oh!" the Hyūga heir whispers, weird eyes focusing on the colourful cover, "I haven't read that one yet."

There's an awkward pause as she says nothing more, looking unsure and nervous as she keeps standing there. Yoko sighs and moves over on the oversized chair, patting the seat besides her.

"Oh!" Hinata whispers again, hesitating for a second before scrambling around the table and up onto the seat. Across the table the attendant looks pissed for a second, before their expression smooths out into the default Hyūga poker face. Yoko sticks her tongue out at them, and then turns her attention to the girl next to her.

She's older than Yoko by at least a few years, but with the way she hunches in on herself she looks smaller. Yoko has the errant thought that the whole 'Kumo kidnapping' must have already happened, which is disappointing in a vague way. At least the girl is older than her regular classmates, and hopefully less of a hassle.

After all, if she knows the narrative, and she does, this small interaction will be the basis for future meetings. The last thing she wants is an annoying minion.