BY : Sessakag
Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female > Naruto/Hinata
Dragon prints: 41064
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Part One:

Finding Love


Chapter One

The Beginning


April 15, 2007


The night sky was soothing.


Gleaming stars twinkled amid an endless void of darkness. Miles away from the bright lights of the village, the glinting spheres appeared even more brilliant in the sea of blackness. Gentle gusts of wind whispered across the meadow, the lulling hush disrupted only by the chirp of crickets and the soft rustle of forest animals. The tranquil sights and sound of nature were wasted on the grief stricken ninja.

Naruto sat huddled beneath a towering tree.

Shaggy blonde head resting against his up drawn knee, his remote profile radiated agony.

He sucked in a shuddering breath, letting out a steady stream of air in the nook of solitude his arms formed. A lash of anguish pierced his soul and crushing sadness settling over his shoulders.

He clenched his teeth, struggling to hold back the burgeoning tide of sorrow.

His pain was unbearable.

Worse than any broken bone, deeper than any kunai wound and more agonizing than any physical pain he’d ever lived through. His heart was in tatters, shredded and bleeding within the confines of his chest.

It was hard to breathe.

Hard to think.

Hard to wrap his brain around the gut rending truth.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do.Where he was supposed to go. How he was supposed to shoulder this devastating reality. His eyes watered, throat burning as he swallowed a sob. Squeezing his eyes closed, Naruto took another stabling breath.

He didn’t want to cry.

He’d spent hours, days, shedding more tears than he had in his entire life.

Crying wouldn’t change anything.

Tears wouldn’t wash away the agonizing truth.

He shifted, fingers carving furrows in the grass beneath him in a desperate bid to hang onto his wayward emotions. It was a losing battle. Akin to swimming against a raging tide with weights tied to his ankles. Angry, frustrated, heartsick beyond belief, he pressed his face into his hands before threading his fingers through the spikes atop his head. He squeezed. Teetering on the edge of tearing the golden locks from his cranium.

A wave of grief engulfed his trembling frame.


That perverted grin unfurled before his minds eye, the old man’s obnoxious laugh ringing in his ears.

He could still feel the warmth of the strong had that often ruffled his hair with pride.

All of that.


No goodbye.

No last words of farewell.

No body to lay to rest.



His chest tightened, breath hitching.

The burn in his throat blooming seconds before the first droplet of moisture slipped from his tightly clenched eyes. Tears, unbidden, unwanted, dripped down his chin. Shoulder shaking as he wept.

Agonizing questions ran through his brain.Questions he didn’t really want the answers to.

What pain had Ero-Sennin borne in his final moments of life?

Had he died afraid?


Why him?

Why Ero-Sennin?

A man he’d loved and admired, the closest thing he’d ever had to a grandfather.

To real family.

He was sick with regret. Adrift in an ocean of sadness that he had never told the old hermit what he meant to him.

And now, he would never get the chance.

It was one of the harshest, most painful realities tearing him apart. The inescapable truth that he could never say all the things he hadn’t known he felt. That he could never express the happiness and contentment he’d taken for granted while at Pervy Sage’s side. Never convey how overwhelmed and grateful he’d been picking out new gear with his pseudo grandfather. How he’d been himself with happiness that the Legendary Sannin had cared enough to notice his pupil’s clothing was coming apart at the seams. It was too late to thank him for the long, intense hours they spent training.

Too late to share another Popsicle beneath a shady tree.

There would never be another ‘research’ journey or a goofy self introduction.

No more crude jokes his young mind had barely understood or soul deep words of wisdom he’d spent many a night contemplating.

A surge of pain swept through his shuddering form and a bottomless well of emotional torment dragged him down.

He was drowning.

Trapped and suffocating beneath a merciless tide.


He startled. The soft voice jarring in the permeating silence. Irritation rushed to the forefront, shifting swiftly into anger.

His teeth clenched.

Hands fisting.

He didn’t look up.

He knew who it was.

Why she was here, he didn’t know, but he could safely say, he wasn’t in the mood for company.

His jaw hardened, a dull ache spreading along his stubborn jaw. For as long as he could remember, he had always craved the attention and regard of others. Had made a fool of himself in order to obtain the spotlight. But right now, at this very moment, he repudiated it with as much contempt as he could muster.

He didn’t want to talk.

Not to her.

Not to anyone.

His emotions were raw, his pain bone deep. He was afraid if he opened his mouth he’d lash out and say something he’d regret later. He knew himself well enough to know that he wasn’t coping very well.

That he couldn’t control himself right now.

Rage simmered beneath his grief. The heartrending news of Jiraiya’s murder stirring dark emotions he had never thought himself capable of. If she had come here to offer cookie cutter platitudes he was going to lose it. If she uttered the words ‘he died an honorable shinobi’ or the hated ‘he’s in a better place’ he would explode in an unrestrained tirade of ire.

He didn’t give a fuck about the ugly reality of shinobi life or the mysterious ‘better place’.

Didn’t want to hear about either one.

Not right now. Right now, all he wanted was to hurt. To replay memories and grieve.

To flay himself with regret and weep for the days past.

Light footsteps padded over brittle grass. He ground his teeth together, the ache in his jaw spreading. Unwilling to unleash the ugliness he felt on a friend, he maintained his silence, hoping she’d take the hint and leave him to suffer in peace.

As much as he hated it, solitude was something he understood. It offered a measure of comfort and familiarity he desperately need right now. He’d grown up alone, nursing his hurts in the privacy of his lonely apartment. Had gotten used to healing his wounds with his own two hands. And that’s what he needed right now. Isolation to mend his broken heart.

Footsteps paused at his side, the significance of his silence seemingly lost on his guest. He bristled, anger bubbling to the surface as her scent, something gentle and floral, brushed his nose. She sat next to him, the heat of her body radiating along his arm.

Leave,’ he thought mutely at her, ‘I don’t want to hurt your feelings.’

Time stretched.

Seconds ticked by.

She uttered not a single word.

Impatience gnawed his insides.

His nerves were shot, his temper frayed, and he was closer than he’d ever been of shouting at a friend with malice.

Why the hell was she here?

Why disrupt his private moment of grief if she wasn’t going to say anything?

He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, could only focus on one thing at a time. At this moment, he didn’t have it in him to try and figure out why she sat in stony silence next to him. He didn’t have the energy, the motivation, the ability to put aside his grief in pursuit of unraveling her strange behavior.

He took a breath.

Prepared to tell her to leave.

To risk hurting her feelings if it’d get him the peace he so badly needed. Words of rejection froze on his tongue when a small hand found his back.

She was timid, her touch hesitant at first, before smoothing along muscles stiff with tension. She stroked slow circles along his spine, the motion deliberate and soothing. The warmth of her caress seeping through his clothes.

She didn’t speak.

Didn’t offer him pretty words of condolence or the harsh rationale of life and death.

Didn’t shatter his bubble of grief.

Merely stroked his back in a voiceless gesture of consolation

Her silent support, the quiet comfort quelled his fury. Sadness filled the void it left, a bottomless abyss of hurt unraveling.

He shuddered, a sob of anguish tearing from his chest. He reached out for that comfort, crushing her slender form to his shaking body. He held on for dear life. Dimly aware he his grip was too tight. That his harrowing need for solace was likely giving her bruises, but in his heightened state of distress, letting go wasn’t something he could fathom. His despairing mind refused to loosen his arms, unwilling to surrender the respite she represented. Unable to relinquish the single ray of light in his world of darkness.

He needed someone, anyone, to hold him together.

She relented, softening within his fierce embrace. Uttered not a word of protest against the pressure of his hold.

The rickety dam suppressing the bulk of his pain snapped.

A flood of tears ensued.

He wept.

Pouring his heartbreak into the comfort of her bosom, purging everything wrong in his world.

The hurt and loneliness.

The shock and grief.

The rage and anguish.

All of it.

Tender hands stroked his back, gentle arms held him tight. Her permeating warmth conveying patience and acceptance.

He felt freer than he had in days.

Free to show weakness.

Free to be hurt beyond words.

Free to unburden his wounded soul.

Years of pain joined the out pour of new agony.

It felt as though hours had passed before the tide steamed and even longer before the tears dried. Nestled against her soft bosom, he felt drained, physically and psychologically. Listless in the aftermath of an emotional storm.

The steady beat of her heart fluttered against his cheek, the sound as soothing as the gentle hand gliding over his spiky hair.

Exhaustion bloomed.

His swollen eyes dropping.

He shifted, turning puffy blue orbs to the night sky, feeling calmer, less hurt than when he’d initially looked up at the gleaming balls of light. In the ensuing silence the twinkling stars became blurred, their shining brightness fading as he drifted off to sleep.


He awoke to the warmth of morning light and the melodious trill of birds rousing him from a dreamless slumber. Naruto sighed beneath sun’s rays, his achy eyelids lifting to fluffy white clouds drifting lazily across an azure sky.

Confusion gripped his drowsy mind. His sluggish brain struggling to recall why he was sleeping outside.

This wasn’t the first time he had ever woken up outdoors, but most nights beneath the stars were the result of exhausting hours of punishing training. A plausible explanation for his current predicament, except for the fact that his muscles weren’t sore. Aside from a dull throb in his eyes, he felt fine.

Comfortable even.

A gentle palm smoothed his forehead, pressing back his spiky blonde bangs.

Startled blue orbs swiveled.

Pupiless eyes soft with tenderness stared back at him.

A palatable silence passed between the two, a recognition of each other that brought her hand from his forehead to the safety of her bosom. Her milky lavender gaze skirted from his, a dusting of pink bloom along the pretty ivory of her cheeks.

He blinked.

‘Hinata?’ his befuddled mind questioned.

Another beat of quiet passed before environmental awareness pierced his puzzlement. Lush thighs cradled his blonde head and above him, an impressive set of globes encased in a purple jacket. The closest he’d ever been to a girl’s breast.

Dull heat crept into his cheeks.

Burning embarrassment propelling from his comfortable nook.

He sat up, spinning to face the quiet female with a bumbling apology.

“Sorry!” he exclaimed.

Blushing furiously, he rubbed nervously at the back of his head, an awkward smile curved his lips as he struggled to provide an explanation,“I don’t know why I…”

A switch flipped in his memory as he spoke. The events of the night before unfolding in his mind’s eye. His uncomfortable grin slowly vanished, arm lowering to his side. He remembered the agony he’d been in last night and the relief she provided with her soothing presence.

He turned his grateful gaze to the female in question.

She sat fidgeting, cherry red staining her face. Lilac orbs peeked beneath thick black lashes before her bashful gaze returned to the blades of grass at her knees. Her timid mannerism was just as strange as ever, brought in sharper contrast compared to her behavior the night before. She was puzzling. Holding him one moment and unable to meet his gaze the next.

She was one of the weirdest girls he had ever met…and one of the kindest.

Certainly the first to show him this level of compassion. To hold him through an emotional storm in the middle of the night and stay with him until the sun rose was the type of benevolence he’d wished for since his Academy days. A slice of solace that was often scarce in his lonely world.

He was overwhelmed.

At a lost for what to say.

‘Thank you’ felt woefully inadequate in the face of her kindness. She’d pulled him out of a pit of despair and covered his wounded heart in a soothing balm of peace. What was the proper way to express gratitude for something as priceless as that?

He didn’t know.


Her flush deepened, milky eyes trained on her fumbling fingers.


Her voice was soft and hesitant. A step above a whisper.

“Last night,” he murmured, “What you did for me…”

He trailed off, searching for the right words to express the warmth he felt in his chest.

“I-I hope I didn’t bother you, Na-Naruto-kun,” she worried, her index fingers beginning a familiar bump, “I know you probably wanted to be alone, b-but I thought…being alone…wasn’t good…”

He smile, a sad upturn of his lips.

“You’re right, I did wanna to be alone, but,” he scratch awkwardly at his cheek as heat flooded it, “I’m glad I wasn’t.”

Throwing off his self-conscious hesitancy, he leaned forward and captured a fidgeting hand between both of his. Beaming brighter than the sun above, he gave her delicate appendage a grateful squeeze.

“Thank you, Hinata,” he grinned, “I don’t know what I’d do without a friend like you, dattebayo. Hey, I know! How about we go get some ramen, my treat!”

Seconds ticked by.

Enthusiasm dimmed, concern taking its place.

She seemed frozen, her face rivaling the crimson of a tomato. He leaned in, nearly nose to nose with her.

“Hinata, you okay?” he asked, “Your face is really red.”

He placed a hand to her forehead, worried she might have caught a cold. He hoped her night spent with him hadn’t resulted in illness. He’d have to buy her a week of ramen just make up for it. Besides, he didn’t like the idea of her suffering just to alleviate his.

Thankfully, her the soft skin beneath his palm didn’t feel unusually warm, but the red shade of her face had deepened and spread.

Maybe she-

“Ah! Hinata! Are you alright?!” he exclaimed as she keeled over.

He shot forward, wrapping his arms around her limp form before her dark head hit the ground.

He shook her gently.

“Oi, Hinata,”

She didn’t stir.

‘Weird girl.’ he thought.

He lifted her, arranging her slight weight against his chest.

She hadn’t fainted like this in a while.

He glanced down at the sleeping kunoichi, her unconscious, rose colored face filling him with nostalgia. Calling to his mind the years of his childhood and early teens.  Memories in which the prepubescent Hyuuga swooned at his feet. Something that only seemed to happen when he was around and it was just as perplexing now as it was the first time she’d done it. It was weird, just like her. Even more consistent was the gentleness she exuded. A tenderness she’d extended to him in his time of need.

A soft smile spread his lips.

‘What a really weird girl.’


Settled behind the strong oak of his disorganized desk, Kohei began a second read of the damning information outlined in the scroll, brooding over the hurried words sketch out on the rolled paper. While the clandestine intelligence gathering was proving incredibly fruitful, the content of the reports grew increasingly alarming with every correspondence.

He exhaled, dark brows creased with concern as he digested the new, troubling developments.

Jiraiya, one of the Legendary Sannin of the Leaf, had met his untimely end at the hands of the Six Paths of Pain.

He sat back in chair, thoughts shifting to the puppeteer behind Paths of Pain.

A small frown marred his lips.

It took incredible strength and cunning to stand toe to toe with the Toad Hermit, and even more of both to best him. Nagato wielded a great wealth of power to have killed the legend alone.

And somewhere down the line, had grown vicious.


To stain his hands with blood of a man that had once cared for him was something Kohei would never have thought his old mentor capable of. The Nagato he had once revered and admired was gone. Nagato and the Akatsuki were his enemies. Jiraiya hadn’t been able to reason with the murderous nin, Kohei chances were slim to none. His former sensei wouldn’t think twice of condemning him and his village to the same fate as the Toad Sage. And he was shrewd enough to acknowledge that if they were discovered by his old teacher, none of them wouldn’t stand a chance.

Honey brown eyes narrowed, peering sightlessly at the far wall of his office.

There would be no talking.

No negotiating.

No mercy from Nagato, of that, he was damn certain.

He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, chin resting atop his folded hands.

The Akatsuki had changed since his departure. The people that made up that small band of ninja had the strength of an army and the soullessness of a demon. He no longer recognized in that bunch, the principles and values the Akatsuki had been founded on. He knew what Yahiko’s death had done to Nagato, understood better than anyone the madness that could nip at one’s mind with the loss of someone dear, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Konan had even attempted to steer Nagato back to sanity.

From the reports he’d received, she seemed on board with the insane plot Nagato had concocted.

Tension lined his shoulders, dread unfurling in the bowels of his stomach. Pain crept along his temples, the warning signs of an impending headache. A migraine of stress brought on by the sheer volume of worries burdening his floundering village. They were surrounded by adversaries, hemmed in at every angle. Struggling to keep tabs on the growing number of threats standing in their way. Avoiding the Akatsuki was the least of their troubles.

The Five Great Shinobi Countries were a consistence thorn in his side. Their thirst for power and bullheaded posturing created conflict far beyond their borders. Small villages like his own made casualties of the ensuing wars. Clashes of savagery culminating in senseless death, sweeping destruction and the orphaning of children.  And in between bouts of warfare was the disgraceful pillaging of the surrounding areas. Looting from ravaged towns trying to rebuild in the wake of bloodshed. Taking more than their share of land and resources simply because they could.

The Great Five were the bane of many villages like his.

Thriving beneath the yolk of global powerhouses was an exercise in exhaustion, made worse by the intense internal feuds dividing his village.

Detractors within his own community exacerbated their daily burden, breeding infighting among citizens and encouraging fractures of their united front. Loud mouthed naysayers were pushing for action while snubbing the careful planning of their overtaxed leader. Their inflammatory rhetoric were whipping apprehensive civilians into a resentful frenzy.

It was useless squabbling they could ill afford.

Detrimental, dangerous to their mission of self-preservation.

The hostile environment in which they’d settled demanded the attention and cooperation of every single man, woman and child. Resources were waning and in the midst of all the arguing and backbiting, their chances of survival grew bleaker. Harvesting what they could from infertile land, entering enemy territory to trade for the essentials, concealing their location from the Great Five and Zetsu was a continuous burden everyone had to share.

He looked again at the damning words on the scroll.

They had to do something.

HE had to do something.

This was his village.

His people.

His dream.

He wouldn’t allow it to fail. There were too many people relying on him, depending on him.

Trusting him to pave the way to a better life.


His eyes lifted, frown deepening at the man standing in the doorway of his office. Takahiro stood poised in the open entrance, his wintry shoulder length hair pulled back in his customary ponytail, chocolate eyes shrewd and determined behind his circular spectacles.

The white coat encasing his tall, lean form an indication he was fresh from the labs.

He hadn’t even heard the door open, a testament to the depth of his distraction.

He could guess why the younger male was here.

Lobbying for more funding for his department no doubt. Why else would he enter his office without knocking and announcing his presence?

Kohei had established a routine of hiding behind a closed door. Unwilling to endure the often contentious discussions over funneling resources to their genetic projects or the shouting matches that ensured after Kohei rejected authorization of human testing.

It was an unspoken rebuff spanning several weeks. One that had apparently come to an end.

He sighed, the ache in his temples spreading.

He didn’t want to be at odds with foster brother.

Didn’t want to quarrel over the best way to move the village towards prosperity.

But from the starch in his pseudo brother’s stance, he knew he no longer had the benefit of avoidance. He knew Takahiro was loyal to him, to the village they’d founded together. Knew unequivocally that younger male had their best interest at heart, but his recent rancor and the fervor with which he pressed his agenda gave him pause. Takahiro had become obstinate in his insistence, pushing for riskier decision making and urging Kohei to cross lines he wasn’t sure they could ever returned from.

Thanks to the latest news, Takahiro had plenty of fodder to bolster his arguments of altering the genetic makeup of their shinobi forces. Kohei couldn’t deny that their situation was beyond desperate but was it hopeless enough to warrant a shift down that treacherous path?

He wasn’t certain he would grant Takahiro’s request even if the village was in peril. Everything was moving too fast for his liking. He was no geneticist and often differed to Takahiro in situations such as these, but in this, he wasn’t sure he could trust his lead scientist’s judgment. Takahiro was growing impatient. Scorning the small incremental steps they’d taken towards establishment and stability.

The bespectacled male wanted instant results.

Craved recognition and confrontation with the adversaries they worked so hard to elude.

He couldn’t say he didn’t understand the urgency driving Takahiro towards recklessness, but what price would they pay for haste?

The lives of their people?

Their very humanity?

“I take it you’ve read through the recent correspondence from the surveillance unit.” Kohei commented, re-rolling the scroll.

Intelligence frequently reached Takahiro’s hands before his. The needs of the village routinely forced him from his office, leaving important documents to pile up on his desk. During instances where he was to be unavailable for long stretches of time, that information was then delegated to Takahiro. It was an arrangement that had thus far worked for the betterment of the village. He had always trusted Taka’s judgement but he was beginning to suspect the arrangement had outlived its usefulness considering Takahiro’s careless stance as of late.

“We’re out of time, Kohei-sama.” Takahiro stated, shutting the door behind him.

Kohei sat back in chair, tension tightening the muscles along his neck and shoulders.

“Taka, I will not-”

“You no longer have a choice…sir.”

That tension spread, encompassing the entirety of his body. Honey eyes turned sharp, cold even, as he regarded his adopted brother.

“No choice?” he repeated, the words clipped.

Takahiro hesitated.

Foster brother or not, even he knew he treaded on dangerous ground.

“I take full responsibility for this…situation. A subordinate of mine and one of the testing volunteers have already began using the serum. We’ve only just become aware of their actions this evening.”

Ire darkened Kohei’s eyes and suffocating chakra filled the room.

Takahiro swallowed, pressing his glasses further up the bridge of nose. The nervous action a dead giveaway.

Kohei didn’t believe that bullshit accounting for a second.

Taka was beyond meticulous, excruciatingly exacting. Not a damn thing slipped by his sharp eyes unless he’d wanted it to. He had looked the other way on this. Had orchestrated circumstance to force Kohei’s hand.

And he wasn’t alone in his machination.

There were others involved.

Others that held Taka’s ear.

Individuals eager and willing to push their ideals forward, no matter the cost. It was no coincidence that Takahiro was the one at his door. They’d sent his brother to be the sacrificial lamb knowing Kohei didn’t have the stomach to imprison and execute his brother for actions that reeked of treason.

“Let the testing continue,” Takahiro implored with a cautious step forward, “You know we’re out of options. Out of time. If we don’t start now, all of this will be for naught. Everything we’ve done, everything we’ve trying to build, wasted. The Great Shinobi Nations and the Akatsuki are going to war, and we’re going to end up being collateral damage again. We have chance to protect ourselves, to fight back for once. We have to take it.”

The burgeoning headache of earlier seeped into his temples, the pounding pain rivaling the ache in his tightly clenched jaw. Kohei exhaled a harsh breath through his nose, fighting the urge to clear the clutter from his desk with an irate sweep of his arm.

Kohei could refute none of his brother’s assessment.

He knew what was coming. He’d lived through war times. Could see the writing on the walls but he was upset with his brother, enraged at those that sought to manipulate him…

But he also had no desire for his village to be the unintended casualty of someone else’s war.

“How long?” Kohei demanded, his voice the lash of a whip in the taunt silence.

Takahiro swallowed again, clearing his throat before speaking.

“Testing began a month ago,” he admitted, “We have enough data to make adjustment but we’ll need more people to be tested. More personnel to analyze the results and stabilize the serum.”


The ensuing silence was heavy.

Filling the room in an uncomfortable mute.

Takahiro stood perfectly still, a drop of sweat slide down his spine.

Kohei in a fit of anger, an increasingly common occurrence in the face of mounting woes, was nothing new to him. Finding himself on the receiving end of his blistering fury, however, was a rarity that left him distinctly uncomfortable. This dense level of hushed ire, directed squarely at him, brought a knot to his stomach.

For the first time in the great number of years he’d known the older male, he feared his brother would actually do him harm. He’d stepped way out of bounds, he realized that, but whether Kohei knew it or not, Takahiro was attempting to spare his brother from having to soil his hands as much as possible.

Kohei agonized over the decision to either stain his hands with the blood of his people by authorizing wide scale testing or to sit back and do nothing and pray things worked out in their favor.

Either decision would lead to bloodstained hands.

‘Let me sully my hands,’ Taka urged silently, ‘Let me do what is necessary to realize our dream.’

Kohei stood and with great force swept his desk clean. Scrolls, ink wells, books, maps and other debris went flying, crashing to the floor and against the wall. Takahiro didn’t move, didn’t breathe. He stood watching, waiting as his brother collected himself with great effort.

Long moments passed.

Kohei moved, striding towards the door, nearly throwing it from its hinges as he stepped outside and made his way to the labs.

Taka released the breath trapped in his lungs, feeling dizzy.

Reaching up, he adjusted his glasses seated on the bridge of his nose, a nervous habit he’d thought himself rid of.

This was the right decision. He was sure of it.

It would work out, and when it did, they’d finally realize their dream. They were close, teetering right on the cusp of success. All they had to do was reach out and grab it.

Composed, Taka turned and followed Kohei’s retreating form down the hall.


So this will be my first Naruto fanfiction. I finished the anime and was inspired to write this. For those that read my Inuyasha fanfictions, those are still in the works, so don’t worry but for now, I’ve gotta get this story off my brain.

Some information going forward; in my vision of Konoha, for shinobi, there are a lot of things you can do at age 17. My thinking is that if you can hold a blade as a kid, go on missions as a pre-teen and go to war as a teenager, you can damn sure have a drink and move out of your parents house sooner than age 18 and 21, I mean, come on, for real, lol.

A lot of the beginning is going to be centered around Naruto and Hinata growing closer, and its a lot of fluff because I fuckin love those two together, so I’ll give you fair warning now.

This fanfiction is really an experiment for me. I’ve never sat and planned out how a story is going to go before, normally I just take all the crap in my head and vomit it onto the computer so I’m interested in seeing how this turns out.

Please let me know what you think so far.

Thanks for reading.



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