Indie Naruto OC
Independant, Selective, Private, Mutually Exclusive & Low Activity
Loved by HikariDana

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IMPORTANT PORTRAYAL NOTES

BIOGRAPHY

  PART ONE  Margaret was once part of a small, secluded village in the forests, born with a foreign name given by her father, who was a traveller from another land. But he didn’t stick around during her mother’s trimesters, choosing the life of travelling instead of settling down with a child. Thus, Margaret was grew up without a father. She was a relatively quiet child. The children of the village found her odd, from her name down to her reclusive behavior. Some offered to play, and oftentimes they did, but they never stuck around. Margaret was sometimes too far off in her own world and often wandered off by herself. The other parents of the village often shot her glares of disgust, knowing the origins of her birth, but her mother was always there to shield her.It wasn't until Margaret hit the age of 10 that her village collapsed in on itself. Tensions over 'the good of the village' broke into violence, and Margaret was whisked away from the heat of it. Her mother ran as far as she could, away from the carnage, before setting Margaret down in a hollowed old tree. She begged that the animals watch over her daughter, and to Margaret, promised her return. But Margaret waited throughout the night. Hours passed, and the young Margaret had gotten hungry enough to forage for berries, but no sign of her mother came to pass. A full day later… and Margaret was forced to make up her mind to move on. Even if the animals didn’t say it, their sorrowful eyes said enough. She was all alone.The small girl travelled the well-trodden roads for days. She had her teachings of foraging to keep herself going, and the animals did what they could to guide her as well, but reality was slowly settling in. Without anywhere to go, or anyone to turn to, she would eventually starve out here. A week would pass, and the beginning signs of starvation were beginning to set in. She was becoming weaker, stumbling over herself because she was beginning to drag her feet. The lone girl attempted to beg along the sides of roads. Most passed her by, leaving her voice, her pleas for help, unheard. Few offered bread or grains and left her there. But it wasn't enough. The rice only lasted so long, and the bread was often gone when shared with her fuzzy friends. She became desperate enough to steal. It started as little stunts of thievery in the night. An apple or a carrot plucked from a resting merchant's harvest when they weren't looking. The easiest targets, if only because they had so much to account for that the small thievery wasn't always noticeable. It then extended to resting travellers. Riskier, as they were not always asleep, and often carried much less food than a merchant. But then, one night, her rabbits told her of a small platoon. Men who were carrying rations, food that could last her longer than a day! Food dried and preserved in such a way that it wouldn't spoil easily! It became the heavenly answer to Margaret's problem.She followed her rabbit friends as they leg her to a small camp. Each of the shinobi were resting in different areas of the camp. Their campfire had long burned out, thus, Margaret had the darkness of the night on her side. Or so she thought. Little did Margaret know that there was another shinobi resting in the trees above, keeping first watch. Margaret didn't get the chance to dig into the bag of supplies before a shuriken was thrown at her feet. Capture came quickly, the shinobi, one after another, awakening from their sleep. A newly lit torch revealed headbands with a leaf engraved on them. Though she was only a child, she was met with a distasteful scolding. A little thief they called her. Maybe a spy from another village. They pondered among themselves what to do about this little thief, all the while Margaret tried with all her might to push and pull free of the iron grip that had her wrist. She screamed for them to let go, resorting to kicking and punching against her captor. But something strange sparked within her. Her emotions called to a power buried deep inside, and before she knew it, she had blood and viscera splattered over her arms and face. She didn't know what overcame her. The shinobi who held her still now lay on the ground, screaming in agony with a portion of his abdomen blown open. Everything that followed became a blur. The yelling, her trying to flee, the recapture... And then suddenly, silence.A new presence was here. A tall, pale, dark-haired man standing among fallen bodies. The torch one shinobi was holding had burnt out, thus... the two people left alive among corpses stood in near complete darkness. The man turned to the terrified child and knelt to her level, meeting her terrified gaze with calm golden eyes. Maragret flinched, having not long ago been pulled around by her hair. But the man only smiled, gentle and warm. He'd never seen chakra like hers before. In the wrong hands, they would make her a mindless weapon, he said. "I will teach you to take control of your chakra under your own terms. But first... You must be starving." And that, she was.


  PART TWO  Margaret became a willing resident of Otogakure, home to Orochimaru, the man who saved her that night. It was here that Margaret thrived whilst Orochimaru studied her. There was something about her that stuck out as odd. Not just because she’d often attempt to speak with snakes, but because her chakra felt so very off. His interest in her allowed Margaret to remain there until she was about 12 years old, the age at which Margaret’s uniqueness shone brightly. Within the first two years, Margaret learned how to assist Orochimaru with his experiments by fetching supplies when he needed them. But on her twelfth birthday, an incident occurred between her and another resident. The young girl was on her way to delivering something for the exiled Sannin... when something overtook her. The parcel of equipment was dropped in favor of clutching her head and face. Her heartbeat resounded within her ears as the roar of blood raged behind it, her chest heavy, and a red fog, only visible to her, began settling in.When she next woke, she woke behind bars. A new condition arose in her. One similar to another subject under Orochimaru's care. Thus, she was transported to the Northern Hideout. Margaret didn't know what she had done. There was the ugly aftertaste of copper on her tongue that made her want to wretch. The young girl asked, pleased from behind the bars to know what was going on. She was only told that her new condition could aid in a medical breakthrough. It didn't make sense. None of this made sense! She only remembered delivering a parcel for the Sannin! What did she do wrong??When Orochimaru approached her again, collected and warm as he was when he first came across her, he detailed the incident. The young girl lashed out at the nearest person. Unprovoked, wild, inconsolable, covered in cursemarks without Orochimaru having given her a Curse Seal. It took Kabuto's intervention to prevent any further injuries, or death for that matter. The good news was that the villager survived the attack, though were left in serious condition. Behavior none too different from another resident in this hideout. And it was from henceforth here that Margaret would be treated differently. Found with her cursemarks in full view, she was reminiscent of another test subject already occupying these walls: Juugo. The one other remaining member of a similar clan and their notorious Kekkei Genkai. She would only see him a fair few times, often following behind a white-haired boy with kind, blue eyes. One day, while she sat in her cage, the boy assured her that Orochimaru would help her, just like he would help Juugo and himself. She even asked Orochimaru himself in his passing, her eyes full of tears, bubbling apologies. “Will you help me? So it won’t happen again?” He smiled kindly at her, warm and doting as always, and took her face in his hands to wipe her tears. He promised.Maybe in the beginning, it was easy to forgive the tests that poked and prodded with sharp tools. To forgive the provocations that got her to change form as the year went by, to study the stages of her Sage Transformations. Because it was all necessary, right? It was all necessary to understand her problem, wasn’t it? But the year passed into the next. And into the next year. And the year after that. Little by little, the realization that this was nothing more than an empty promise. That she was nothing more than a guinea pig to be poked and prodded. That they, the Sanin and his most loyal and selected few, would only continue to take and take from her! And despite her growing distaste and hatred for the Sanin (as well as his assistant Kabuto), she made some attempt to make allies while housed in the Northern Hideout, most primarily Juugo himself. He was the only one she could truly relate to after all, sharing empathy for his normal, gentle nature being straddled by the violence that their Kekkei Genkai made them capable of. And the fact that his friend, Kimimaro, was at this point no longer around. They were both well and truly alone. But she didn’t get to know him well, due to how often he would lock himself away. Her knowledge of him would remain at surface level. With no one left to share her sorrow, Margaret turns inward. Only ever answering when she needs to, but her cooperation in procedures and research begins to erode.Then, something truly incredible happened. A miracle, a twinkling light in the dark she'd become so used to without anyone to talk to. Their research on Margaret finally made a breakthrough. For years, for as many candidates they found and spent to test Juugo's DNA on, just as many were found and died to the harsh nature of Margaret's DNA. Many either perished due to incompatibility or were so uncontrollably feral that there was no point in keeping them. But one lucky candidate lives. The fire chakra nature makes the acceptance of Margaret's chakra nature and DNA much smoother! They're placed in the same cage with a divider set between them. For the entire day, Margaret refuses to face them. A copy, a fraud she calls them. Like the many 'copies' of Juugo that saturated this place. The duplicate, on the other hand, continued to try and reach out. Even during Margaret's worst moments of throwing herself into a stir-crazy frenzy attempting to soothe and calm her frenzied state. Until one day, it finally worked. The soothed beast found herself collapsing against the cage in tears, something she'd thought her eyes had run dry of. She was tired. So very, very tired. She couldn't stand the loud silence of her cage anymore, the lack of birds, the lack of earth beneath her feet. She wanted to leave this place. The duplicate, sharing her turmoil, decided that that day, they would make a promise with Margaret. That they would leave this place together and never look back.Time would pass, experiments continued, and there were many times where the duplicate was used as a bartering chip for Margaret's cooperation. So long as it meant that her one and only bond in this place would remain unharmed, Marg would cooperate, and it would continue until Margaret grew to the age of 15. They'd made their plans, they'd memorized a map of the hideout and its exits. There was no hope of finding a key unattended, thus... Margaret had to get creative. Using her own claw to lengthen, she carefully, slowly, undid the lock on their cage. And once they'd freed themselves, they would set their plan into motion. The Jailbreak.It didn't take long. Gates flew open, vicious creatures, experiments made up of Juugo's DNA, broke loose from their containment. Margaret and her counterpart kept their distance as creatures formerly human tore themselves, as well as any hideout guards they saw, apart. They needed to act now while the chaos was unfolding. The researchers would have their attention split into too many breach areas to herd them all at once. But a new problem would make itself known. Previous clones of Margaret, ones that hadn't been culled yet, also broke free. This was an unintended consequence of their plan. Margaret took her counterpart by the hand and ran. The clones followed suit. They could make it, she thought. They could throw themselves into the sea and escape them! Alas, Juugo could not be convinced to leave his containment and join them, but he was equally capable of protecting himself! Everyone else didn't matter! It could just be the two of them! Or... so Margaret thought.The air of the sea outside was rich. A fresh wash over the senses. Salty and refreshing. But Margaret's hand is no longer being held. Her counterpart stands at the edge of the exit, bright and brimming with black and red energy. Their face is sorrowful... but they smile at her. They tell her that they're sorry. They don't want any of these experiments to see the light of the outside. That it wasn't right for these people to be marred in such a way. That they, too, are a selfish byproduct of Margaret's powers. They can't do anything about Juugo. But if it's one thing they can do, it's that they will ensure Margaret's freedom. And they'll take every living remnant of Margaret to ensure her eventual erasure from this place. Because Margaret deserved that much for her pain. The energy grows brighter. It's a spectacular display that she could ever hope to achieve. The clones latch onto her counterpart, digging in with malformed claws, biting into her limbs and shoulders. Margaret can only remember reaching out, the tears stinging her eyes, before all goes black.

  PART THREE  The next few days are a blur. She doesn't remember much. There are lapses in memories where her eyes drift open to stare at the starry sky above, her body weightless and afloat, before drifting closed again. And again, when she's being pulled onto a vessel, voices loud but muffled. She can't keep her eyes open. She's so very tired. The next time she wakes, she's been tucked into a futon with an oil lantern at her side. It's soft and warm, but the comfort brings her no ease. She shoots up from her resting area, though vertigo forces her back down. She doesn't know where she is. Her lungs sting, her ears roaring with liquid trapped inside. One hand to her locs tells her that she had been somewhere wet. A body of water, perhaps? And as she turns her head to drain the water from her ears, everything suddenly clicks. Where is her counterpart? Her brief thought, however, is interrupted by shuffling. Someone was on the otherside of that door. Panic sets in. There's only one route of exit, but her body is weak.The door opens, and a burly, bald man wearing casual sleeping attire enters the room, seemingly started by the wild eyes staring back at him. He tries to soothe her obvious panic, holding up the one free hand he has. The other hand is occupied by a steaming bowl. Food, Margaret recognizes by the savoury smell wafting over to her. It's only then that she realizes just how hungry she is. Her mouth waters, and it's hard to keep her focus on the stranger holding onto it. It's Miso Soup, he says. Something to introduce nutrients into her system without overloading her. She only continues to stare. He can see that her eyes occasionally dart to the bowl in his hand, so he makes a slow approach for her. She can't leap up, she can't run, so Margaret does what she can. Baring her teeth and 'growling'. This gets the man to slow his advance toward her, to instead opt for crouching to her level. Margaret leans away, her sharp canines visible. It isn't much better, but at least he's not towering over her. The bowl is set down before her, and the man backs off. He tries to ask her where she came from. Margaret only stares. He asks if she knows where she is. She continues to stare. He asks if she's in any danger. There's a brief moment where her eyes dart off to the side, but her fierce gaze locks back onto him. She squints. The man notices that the entire time... she hasn't picked up the spoon for a single sip of soup. He nods, sensing that perhaps his presence is too much. He's slow to stand, but as soon as he does, he backs off, leaving her to acclimate to her environment and wishing her a good night.
Margaret waits for the stranger's footsteps to quiet completely before her eyes return to the steaming bowl next to her. Its the first time she's seen a reflection of herself in a long time, even if just barely. She looks disheveled, her locs have been past due for care, and the bags beneath her eyes are dark and heavy. She thinks it better not to stare any longer than she needs to, and she finally takes a spoon of soup to her lips.Two days pass. Margaret has become somewhat familiar with the man who's come to care for her. She still doesn't care for him being too close, but she's grown to tolerate his presence. And to tolerate eating in front of him. It's enough that she's comfortable enough to verbally answer his questions. To give him her name, to say where she'd come from, and that she can't remember anything from a few days ago. He asks why a girl from the forest would be out in the middle of the sea, and Margaret's eyes suddenly grow distant. The sea. The island. The Hideout of that snake. And a sorrowful smile that suddenly brings her pain. Margaret folds inward. She doesn't want to answer anything anymore. The man nods, and though he's happy to have unlocked an important blockage of her memory (as he's assuming), he won't press her any further.The next day, she's gone. The man finds her missing from her futon entirely. The room is upended, the closets checked, but the strange, wild girl is nowhere to be found. The only clue left behind is the window left ajar. Margaret had left in the middle of the night to find the sea she'd been pulled from. Though she's still not back to her full strength yet, meaning she hasn't gotten very far, she's pushing onward anyhow. She can smell the sea from here on the cliffs. The forest is beginning to thin and give way to a rocky shore. If she could just make it, she could see if her counterpart made it! They had to make it... They had to have washed up here! But Margaret's path is cut off. The man stands between her and the shoreline. She demands that he move out of her way. He argues that she should be resting. "You shouldn't be walking around like this so soon out of bed rest. You could get hurt or worse!" But his words fall on deaf ears. Margaret attempts to run around him, but she's caught by an arm that pushes her back. Her desperation to see her counterpart again, the anxiety, the worries, all combined by this brief, unwanted contact, causes her to snap.She bites down on his arm like a touch-sensitive bear trap. The man winces, but he doesn't let go. "I know what you're trying to do," he says. "I know that you're looking for someone. But they're not here, Margaret. You were the only one I found at sea." She bites down harder, the blood of his arm dripping down around her mouth and to her chin. Denial grips her chest. She doesn't want to hear it. She doesn't want to accept it! But she can't escape his next words."I came here every day to the shore to check for anyone else. Just to see if I did, by chance, miss some other refugee or victim or what have you. But no one's washed up on shore, Margaret. No one but the clams."The revelation hits hard. Notably, she tries her best to clamp down even harder... but her grip trembles. She can't bite any harder. She can't fight the truth any longer. Any strength she might have had left leaves her at once, and her bite loosens entirely. She nearly drops to her knees if it weren't for the man still holding her up. All she can do is grip onto his arm as the crippling sorrow overtakes her. They're gone. They were well and truly gone. Her counterpart never made it out of the hideout with her. The last memory she has of them was their smile. Sorrowful... yet so at peace, before everything around them brightened, and Margaret was blown back into the sea from over the cliffside. Margaret is eased down to the ground as sobs wrack her body. Once again, she was alone in this world. Once again, the people dearest to her are stripped away. Though the man's arm bleeds with a fresh wound inflicted by her fangs, the man's hold on her doesn't change. Her shuddering grief is met with kindness. After all, he better to understand loss than a retired shinobi like himself?"I'm sorry for your loss, Margaret," the man speaks up, just barely audible over the adolescent's wails muffled by his shoulder. "...I'm Leo, by the way. Like the lion. Maybe it doesn't mean much to you right now, because you're mourning a lot right now. But whatever you need, from here on out, don't be afraid to call on me. Okay?" Margaret doesn't answer. Her sobbing softens, if only slightly, but it's the only sign she can give that she heard.

  PART FOUR  Four years pass. Margaret decidedly remains in Leo's care. In her time with him, she's learned his style of taijutsu, learned more basic academic subjects, and the general basics of chakra control required for executing ninjutsu. It also goes without saying that Leo has had the unfortunate experience of learning, by now, about Margaret's dangerous, primal nature that flares from time to time. However, at this, he still approaches it with kindness. Even though his method wouldn't be considered conventional, considering he tends to hold her close to soothe her until the beastly wild girl calms down.Margaret wonders, though. In the time that she's spent in Leo's home, a private piece of land just on the outskirts of Kumogakure, how much longer she should stay. The retired shinobi had done so much for her in her years here. Maybe every so often, they butted heads over certain matters, but Margaret could never say that she hated her time here. She was thankful more than anything, having grown strong in body, mind, and through a bond. But it was because of these factors that she felt she could no longer stay. Whether or not Leo could handle her bouts of frenzy, Margaret would no longer allow her loved ones to be put in danger because of her. She couldn't risk losing anyone else. Not on her watch. She would seclude herself away from people if it meant that she could keep them safe from herself or anyone who chose to come hunting for her. It would be her problems to deal with. No one else.It saddens her to put pen to paper, to be writing a note of her departure while he shops in the Kumo markets, unaware of her plan. Margaret fights to keep the tears at bay. Just a little longer, she tells herself. The note is almost done.And when it is, it's tucked underneath a cup sitting on the kitchen table. The cup he always used when he brewed a morning batch of tea. It would be waiting for him when he got back. And by then, she would be long gone to venture out into the world on her own.