(A/N):This will be a tale about Naruko, which as most know, is a female version of Naruto. Her personality is completely different and she is also blind. The story begins when she is six years old, and will have a time leap to nine, then twelve when the series picks up. It should be noted, that certain individuals will deviate in varying degrees from their original personalities through the interactions and events in this story, people can change after all. But efforts will be made to keep most in character as much as possible. I will try to update it at least once a week, but may do so more often depending on feedback and interest.

Chapter 1 – Orphan

Blood trickled from her forehead and mouth— she no longer had the strength to move. Her ears were ringing and pain could be felt throughout her entire body. She was in a daze and could barely breathe now. Her small frame lay crumpled on the ground at the end of the filth ridden alley, surrounded by a semi-circle of other children. They were laughing, but she could no longer hear them, a dizzying and aching throbbing was muddling her senses. She did not understand why this was happening, why it kept happening. The girl bore no tears however, for she had grown accustomed to their treatment. Knowing not when it had started or if it would ever end, she was lost each time it happened, and felt something in her slowly dying.

The children, having grown bored of tormenting the unresisting girl, walked off to resume their play elsewhere, making sure to be careful that no one noticed them. They didn't have to bother though, as there were only a handful of people who actually paid the young girl any heed. Most saw her as a hateful existence and felt she deserved any scorn or abuse they could muster, though the adults never outright discriminated against her, they made no effort to stop their children, who sensing their parents' enmity towards the girl, tortured her whenever they got the chance to.

The girl's kimono was stained with urine, various food items, dirt, and blood. She lay there motionless, waiting for the dizziness to pass, and her breadth to return. Her silky sunflower hair was matted with dirt and saliva. Her smooth facial features were bruised and cut with several smears of blood. Placing her hand on the ground, she steadied herself and planting one of her straw sandaled feet before her, finally managed to stand up after a few wobbling attempts. Her eyes were shut, for they were of no use to her anyway, since she couldn't see.

Instead, the world around her was a dark haze of various forms and lines, she was able to decipher from the sounds and vibrations around her. Her face was expressionless, as she began walking forward out of the alley on the limp. A few people on the street were startled to see her condition, but no one made any attempt to help and many even had contemptuous expressions, as if to say 'this is what she deserves'. Even the ninjas in the village made no move to aid her and gave her a wide berth, though a few bore sad visages.

She made her way slowly back to the building she called a home. Few people lived there and those that did also mistreated her whenever they encountered her. Usually this involved knocking her down or saying some scornful remark as they passed. It was easy for her to recognize the place, for unlike many of the other buildings in town it had a very peculiar smell, mostly reeking of sake, a pungent odor of sweat, and unwashed clothing. Walking up the wooden steps towards the third floor, she had to use the rails to both support and guide herself. This was typically unnecessary, as the sounds usually formed a fuzzy image in her mind, but she still hadn't completely recovered from the wounds she received earlier.

Arriving at the front door she fumbled with her key, dropping it a few times, before she was finally able to open it. Turning around she shut the door quietly and locked it. Her room was very plain for the most part and contained only the bare necessities, a dining table and a couple of chairs, a bed and a refrigerator, among a few other things. Making her way to the bathroom she bumped into the table in the center, as she stumbled once. Removing her filthy kimono, she took off each piece methodically and folded them carefully, laying them around the sink near the door. Most of her wounds had clotted by now, but a few minor cuts still ran freely. Turning the bath water on, she waited for it to fill up then got in slowly, the pain of her wounds causing her to wince each time. The water became polluted with her blood, and she had to drain it after cleaning herself up, and then used just the faucet to finish up.

After bathing, she washed her clothes carefully and put on her pajamas then walked to the window and sat down in a chair. She stared out into the moonlight, which reflected dully on her pale face, as the wind blew gently past her into the room. This caused her to relax somewhat and ease the burning and tingling sensations throughout her body. The streets were mostly empty now, she realized, only the sound of the wind or the occasional bird could be heard. The air was fresh up here, unlike outside her room, and she felt comfortable despite the aches throughout her body and face.

Her gaze shifted slightly to a lone figure walking down the street. She knew who it was by the tempo and echo of the footsteps, and simply waited as the figure approached, then suddenly leaped up to the roof shingles outside her window. His scent was clear now to her and she spoke in an emotionless voice, "What is it Ojii-sama?"

The old man dressed in white and red robes frowned slightly, a remorseful expression falling across his face, as he saw her injuries. He was well past the age now where he could feel truly angry and much to his disgrace, he had been able to do little to help the poor girl before him. Reaching out he stroked the child's soft silky hair affectionately, but her face remained unchanged. He hated the fact he couldn't tell how she was feeling, for she had never smiled or appeared sad regardless of the circumstances. Taking his red and white square hood off, allowed the wind to clear his thoughts.

"Is my hair still dirty Ojii-sama?" she asked in a small innocent voice.

Her simple words cut through his heart like a dagger, and he closed his eyes while bringing his other hand up to his face in anguish. What more could he do? This child bears a tremendous burden and has been living alone here for a few years now, all without complaint or sadness. It was as if she could not even feel such emotions. Her eyesight had been taken from her at birth, along with her parents and her entire clan before that.

And regardless of the measures he had put in place to protect her from the villagers— she still kept turning up like this. Placing a guard to protect her only brought enmity on that individual as well along with her, and it was a duty no one volunteered for, something he had forced many to do as availability allowed. He did not want to show favoritism and he could understand the villagers' feelings, but this was too much for his old age to bear. Looking up at her again, he continued to softly stroke her hair silently.

She seemed confused at his lack of communication but said nothing further.

His old body grew fatigued from squatting and he finally sat down with his back against the window seal, having retracted his hand from her hair. He wondered if it was possible, for her to become one but everything in his being refuted the idea. It was unprecedented and seemingly foolhardy thing to do, but as always it seemed like the only solution, the only answer.

The girl's head had turned back up to the moon and he joined her in check. Finally he decided to ask her some questions to gauge the prospect. "Naruko, you could tell it was me walking down the street couldn't you?" He glanced at her sideways.

Her focus shifted to his face and she nodded slightly.

"Can you tell the difference between others as well?"

"Everyone has a different sound, a different smell, a different feeling", she replied.

He mulled this over in his mind and thought about what she meant. Unlike most people who identified others mainly on appearance, Naruko saw them as a collection of different sounds, smells, and probably patterns in their movement. When comparing against an individual who used sight, there are distinct advantages and disadvantages, particularly when taking genjutsu into account. Where as someone who relied mainly on visual cues and to a much lesser extent, sound, would be fooled more easily by this art; Naruko would utilize two other senses, not normally taken into consideration by the jutsu, in how the individual actually moves or the scent they give off. He wondered though how much sharper her senses were in comparison to a normal individual.

The old man also already knew she could guide herself around the city, though how she did this exactly, he wasn't entirely sure. After all, their medics could cure most forms of blindness, but Naruko's loss of vision seemed to be unique in some way. He thought about these things for quite some time, before making up his mind. "Naruko, can you come to Ojii-sama's office tomorrow after you eat?"

She nodded slightly.

Satisfied, the old man moved on to their usual exchange, "So what do you want to learn about today?"

The girl was silent for a moment then asked, "Why are the shapes of the buildings in the village so varied and alike?"

As usual, her question was always complex for someone her age, he thought. "That has to do with something called 'architecture'. It's basically a style of design and construction of buildings, though not all the structures in the village are drawn up by the same person, most of them follow a similar pattern when they are erected," the old man explained.

"So different people are creating the buildings based on ideal forms?" she surmised.

He smiled slightly, "That's right." Reaching over, he patted her head approvingly. He really liked how bright she was— it reminded him a lot of himself in his younger days.

After the old man moved his hand away, Naruko continued, "Last time, you said that we get most of the food from outside the village, why is that?"

"Do you remember when I explained to you how our village is mostly urbanized?" he asked in return.

She nodded.

He was positive she remembered, but this was a leading up to his answer, "Due to that, we have little room to grow crops or raise animals ourselves. Therefore we have to rely on outside sources such as farms, processing centers, and fishing companies."

"So we don't cultivate any of our own food?"

"Not directly, though some of the farmers around us are part of the community of the village and we have close ties to them. We provide them with protection and they show favor by supplying some of their goods at reduced cost."

Pausing a moment, she followed up with, "Do we make anything ourselves?"

"We have a small industrial complex with factories where we craft a few things like furniture, various textiles, and practice metallurgy for our implements of warfare."

"What does metal-urge mean?" she asked curiously, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

He smiled again, saying apologetically, "Sorry, I haven't explained that to you yet have I?"

She shook her head.

They continued on like this for a while, the old man really enjoyed spending his time teaching her about everything. It was really fulfilling passing his knowledge onto others and with her in particular, it eased his mind somewhat knowing he was helping her grow in this way. There were only a small number people who could actually talk to about many of the things he discussed with her, and even fewer who could understand or were interested in the vast number of subjects he was familiar with. He only wished he had more time to spend with her, but his duties took up most of his time.

They finally reached a sort of conclusion and he said, "I'll see you tomorrow Naruko."

"Good night Ojii-sama," she replied in a tired voice.