Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, or any of the stupid things in here, except the plot.
Have you ever lost someone precious to death?
People have always theorized about the levels of death loss; when asked, they will give different answers, all of it depending on their experience. It has been noticed that certain things, points, popped up more than once. According to them, the most painful and gruesome loss, death, is always of those closest to you.
Losing your friends was the lowest level; not because such thing was unimportant, no. That too can sent you spiraling down the depths of depression. The reason these deaths weren't that devastating is the first two.
On the following place was put close family; the ones you've spent you're whole life with and the ones you've build unbreakable relationships. No matter how much the family member in question was hated, he was still a part of your heart.
The first one, the one that shattered both body and soul, is the death of a child. Nothing in this world could be compared to a mother, or a father, that lived the day to see their child departing this world, way before their time. Before them.
My name is Uzumaki Naruto, and I have experienced all three kinds during my short 28 years of life.
I became orphaned on my 5th birthday, and even today I never got over it. Not only did I lose my father that day when a mad man broke into our home, I also lost my innocence. With no living relatives or friends, for my mother was presumed dead, I was sent to local orphanage.
I do not like to dwell upon what has happened in those far away days during my stay there, I can only tell you it wasn't pretty. Never getting a chance for a therapy, I closed off and sulked by myself; that didn't bode well with others.
Finally, after seven years spent in that wretched place, my grandparents found me. I could still remember that day clearly; in that dark, smoky office of principal's, I met two of the oddest person that walked this Earth. Tsunade-baba and Jiraya-jiji welcomed me into their lives and home open handed. With a few setbacks.
Tsunade-baba was a gambler, and a passionate one. True, besides my father, she was one of the most brilliant minds I have ever seen; a medical genius, that's what she was. Unfortunately, her constant gambling and drinking were making it hard for her to focus on what was really important. Like controlling her skirt-chasing, perverted husband.
Jiraya-jiji, as previously mentioned, was a pervert. A self-proclaimed super pervert, mind you. For him, it didn't matter the size, color, religion or age; if it wore skirt, it was good. Though, he has never cheated on Tsunade-baba, even though he had chances. I'm not that sure was it because of fidelity vow, or her nasty punch; either way, he stayed truthful.
It worked. An alcoholic doctor, perverted writer and an idiotic teen; we worked. We moved all the time, never staying in one place for too long. Sometimes, it was because of Tsunade-baba's debts or Jiraya-jiji's voyeurism; sometimes it was because of my inability to adapt to a new place. It didn't matter to us; we were free birds that loved to soar across the sky however and whenever we wanted.
I loved them both dearly, even though we fought daily. They were my family, my sanctuary and I honestly believed we would never grow apart.
However, life doesn't work that way; I should've guessed it would never be kind towards a pathetic human being like me. On their Pearl anniversary [1], another lunatic took their life. As luck would have it, it was the same one who killed my father; Orochimaru.
Let me share a little family history, OK? Jiraya, Tsunade and Orochimaru were childhood friends; they grew up together in the same neighborhood, went to the same school and all that. When young, Tsunade and Orochimaru loved each other, they even planned to get married when they finished college. Alas, life, or should I say, death struck again; Orochimaru lost his parents in a plane crash, while they were visiting their dear son. He went mad, though he had his quirks before, and in one sorrowful evening, he killed Tsunade's younger brother, Nawaki. He was immediately sent to a loony bin, and nothing has been heard from him after that. From what he told me, a month before he killed my father, he escaped.
Why, you ask, did he do such things? Simple; in some dark, twisted corner of his mind, he concluded Tsunade was to blame for all of this. If his parents weren't so eager to come to their wedding, they wouldn't die. Too much time spent with other crazy people probably fueled his theory; he has come up with a plan to destroy everything Tsunade built in her life. Starting with her son and then moving onto her husband and her. The only reason he left me alive, both times, was in order for me to see his suffering and maybe become just like him. That and his newly found pedophilic tendencies.
So, he killed them. Not in front of my eyes, not this time, but I was the one who discovered the bodies and his little twisted message; which was in fact, his short biography. And a sickly promise that we shall meet again.
That happened in my 17th year of life.
Normally, I was sent to an orphanage, thankfully not the same. Although none of that got to me, I was traumatized for the second time by the same man, and the third one could come anytime. I had no illusions that he would kill me; I knew he wouldn't. But that wouldn't stop him from killing any other person that walked through my life, right?
So, I suffered in silence and loneliness, waiting for him to come. I could've lost myself to the darkness, and I nearly did, if it wasn't for my first real friend, and later my wife, Karin.
She wasn't the sweetest thing alive, nor was she a prototype of a beauty. She had a sharp, sarcastic tongue, bi-polar personality and could pack a really mean punch. But, amidst all off that cold hearted bitchiness laid a good natured, supportive and intelligent friend. When nobody else wanted anything to do with a secluded and weird shell of a man, she kicked me in the stomach and said: 'Quit your mopping brat and buy me some ramen!' I can honestly say she had me at ramen- which was, by the way, and still is my favorite food.
She was talkative and hyper, always bitched about something or someone; never afraid to strike both stronger and weaker than her. She, like Tsunade-baba, had her sights on medicine. When finally given the chance to prove herself, she was one of the greatest doctors in all Japan. With her by my side, for she never let me leave it, I became myself again; a cheery, bubbly and quite annoying person. I was still scared of my past, but Karin never let me involve myself too much in it. She kept me alive.
On her twentieth birthday, I took her to the most prestige restaurant there was in town and proposed. After a good slap on the head and a 'What took you so long!' she complied. Not a year later, she made me the happiest man in the universe by giving me a gift of fatherhood.
Our son, Gaara, had a wild, bloody hair, just like her. But, when he opened his tiny eyes, what welcomed me was a lighter version of mine's. That day, January the 19th I cried like baby; which was quite the irony, 'coz Gaara was a silent kid.
He was nothing at all like the two of us; always silent, calm and strangely rational. At moments, he seemed like me, before I met Karin. But there were times, when he would give me the brightest and the most beautiful smiled I could imagine; and I didn't worry so much.
Then I lost them. Not to that sick, perverted man, but to a stupid bus driver. A bus driver that couldn't see them walking down the sidewalk. I got a call that afternoon, telling me the horrible news; my son had died instantly, while my wife was fighting for her life in the same hospital she worked in. I recall running to her like, faster than I had ever; thinking that he was the one responsible, praying to Gods that it was mistake, a prank call. By the time I got there, she was already dead.
I was crushed, torn and beaten, sinking next to their bodies; weeping, screaming, demanding for somebody, anybody to give them back. They both were still, freezing to the touch, sprouting bruises all over their body. I couldn't believe I could never again feel her fist and her soothing touch; that my son, my sweet little lovable panda would never open his eyes; that he would never again smile that heartwarming smile. Never, not even in a million years, will I embrace his tiny, pale, alive body.
That was the day Uzumaki Naruto died. Not from the hands of Orochimaru, nor by some stupid crash; but from a soul loss.
So tell me, I would really like to know.
Have you ever lost something precious to death? For it is hell.
[1] Pearl Anniversary – 30 years of marriage;
A/N: This is just a prologue to my new story, which would not be multi-chapter. And please, don't be alarmed, it is yaoi – and by that I mean SasuNaru; when have I ever written some Naruto story line without them in it? Though, I'm not promising a happy one, which can be concluded. I mean really?