'I think you're suffering from a lack of Vitamin Me.'

I have been told that having a well-endowed chest area isn't a bad thing. I have been told many lies.

At the age of fifteen and with nary a skill to call my own, I have decided quite firmly that I am happy with my existence. And by happy, I mean that I am extremely capable of nodding along with what everybody else says and not daring telling anyone what I'm really thinking.

And by really thinking, I mean I'm confused.

Not confused confused, but still confused.

If rebirth was a plausible theory in the Arabian Desert, I would have been prepared for this. Of course, not prepared prepared, but prepared nonetheless.

Good morning. My name is Yori, and I am a member of Sunagakure no Sato, specifically the on-call nanny for Kazekage-sama's wife.

Good morning. I am scared out of my mind and I have no idea what's going on.

It all started with a little apartment, two people with far too many issues to mention safely, and a dream.

Picture this: the Third Shinobi War had been raging for over three years and the rationing just kept getting worse. Starvation was rampant, the water scarce, and the sun blistering. A young woman named…what was it again? Oh yeah, Haruka, sorry—decided that her husband just couldn't handle being a proper undrunk member of society, so she wanted to have someone who wasn't pissed and came home at ungodly hours.

Her limbs were thinning every day, her muscles were threatening to strike for a worker's union, and her belly was swelling uncontrollably for nine months.

Shin, the good-for-nothing husband, loved his wife unconditionally.

She had a baby, and the girl was…nothing like what they had expected, if they had expected anything at all.

Because the baby wouldn't stop crying!

Every morning and every night, the two overworked and underpaid parents took care of the world's fussiest baby.

Three sandstorms, lots of traumatising scorpion incidents, bathing and pooping and whinging later, Yori-chan could be considered, by the majority of society, to be Okay.

Mama Haruka and Dada Shin had different thoughts on the matter. A fear of heights, spiders, ants, small animals, large animals and baby carrots ensured that Yori-chan wasn't the best candidate for a functioning member of society.

Come to that, Yori-chan knew it too, but you didn't hear that from her, oh no!

She was too much of a scaredy-cat to be assertive, even with self-deprecation. I mean, her parents wanted to tell her of course, but, due to her battered ego and low self-esteem, they decided not to share their thoughts with her.

They thought she would be a shinobi like her father. They thought she would be ambitious like her mother. They thought she would do something worthwhile.

All they ended up doing was sighing as she screamed in the bathroom every time she saw a spider, cowered every time someone asked her what she wanted for dinner, and ran screaming the minute someone even looked in her general direction.

Mama Haruka and Dada Shin were…to put it frankly, embarrassed by their daughter.

So, she wouldn't be a shinobi in a village where even the civilians had rudimentary shinobi training. So, she wouldn't be ambitious in the most cutthroat of the five Great Hidden Villages. So, they sighed and tried to hide it from the world.

Another way to start this story would be...

In a little apartment in the middle of the desert's greatest building, where the sand blew and the sun turned everything to a blistering crisp, came the cry of a child.

The cry was filled with abject horror, utter disbelief and at a teeth-grinding pitch. Inside the little apartment lived a man and a woman with their ten month old child. The man was a desk chuunin and the mother was a caretaker at the Kazekage household. The ten month old was afraid of spiders—hence the shrieking.

In the upper left corner of a room inside the little apartment sat a spider, blindly reacting to the red-faced child by frantically twitching its legs, making the little girl cry harder. Running into the room, the woman took the girl into her arms and shushed her gently.

"Hush Yori-chan, it's okay, mama's here."

In a short moment, the spider would be squashed, the tears would be dried, and the man would return from work.

It would take Yori-chan three years to realise that her world was a fictional tale on a screen that she never bothered to watch; the one her stepsister used to gush over.

It would take Yori-chan six years before she could get over the shock of realising.

It would take Yori-chan nine years to decide that cake was something she missed so much that she was willing to open her own bakery to feed her craving.

It would take Yori-chan eleven years to realise that she had grown up in the middle of a war, and that the thinness of her limbs wasn't caused by her parent's poverty, but rather by food shortages and rationing.

It would take Yori-chan thirteen years to hit puberty and realise she was scared to death of a proper relationship and, thusly, vowed to stay celibate for life.

It would be another fourteen years before she lost another mother and was forced to take her place at the Kazekage Tower.

But for now she took solace in her mother's arms, sniffing as a crying child is wont to do, feeling great relief that the twitchy spider was dead. She was a wimp, and in a world where courage was a necessity for survival, had she not been born to the parents she had been, she would have been dead three times over.

My second SI/OC story, and it isn't going to be as politicky as the other one. I hope you stick around for the ride!