This Small Child
By
LigerJager
Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto
The darkness was clear, cold and silent. Not a cloud marred the starless night. The moon hung in the sky marking the highest point of its nightly path. It marked the time of the fateful attack three years before.
A figure, unseen, watched as his worst fears came to fruition.
He never wanted this, any of this. Things like this were not supposed to happen.
He watched as the village he had once loved rose up to vent their pent up helplessness, sorrow, rage, and grief. All he could do was watch in this cursed existence. Neither helping nor hindering any, just an observer.
The gathered crowd was working itself into a frenzy. It was becoming a hunting posse. No, it was turning into a mindless mob with one intent and one objective.
Tonight they would have their revenge. Tonight they would act as one and finish what had been started three years before. The old Hokage couldn't very well sentence the entire adult populace to death now could he? Not if his own armed forces turned against him as well.
No, those with empathy were few and could do little to stop what was coming, though they were kept in the dark. All the while those that felt like the majority of the villagers just watched, only guilty of not raising a helping hand.
Tonight all that hated the chosen would watch and be satisfied for the payment. Their sacrifice and their need to have atonement for the sins of the past would be satisfied with the blood of one.
The mob was hunting.
It somehow seemed fitting to them that this momentous event take place at night. After all the beast struck from the darkness as well and now they would pay it back a hundred fold. Something told them to make sure that it happened in the shadows. Darkness to cover what was to come.
Their quarry had always given them the slip. Not today. It was cornered and it would pay for everything it inflicted. Blinded they were and unwilling they were to see what was truly before them.
The light from their fiery torches illuminated and danced across the designated place. An area large enough to accommodate every member, an area clear enough for all to witness what was taking place. A place where their prey could not hid from them.
No, this was their designated area of execution.
Against the wall of a building standing in on the side of an empty lot, surrounded with nothing to hide behind, was their scapegoat. Kidnapped from his nursery by a 'helping hand' he stared. His wide innocent eyes showing his pure unadulterated fear.
All he saw before him were a lot of stares each filled with open hatred, contorted with pure rage, and writhing with the unsaid lust for blood.
His blood.
He was no longer sheltered within the safety of his nursery. He was no longer within jiisan's loving reach.
Even in his young mind he knew that his cries wouldn't be answered.
They started advancing on him. Those cruel hands filled with painful objects were coming for him. He did the only thing he could; he curled up tightly and waited. There was no escape.
The monsters fell upon him without restraint.
They wanted to drag this out as long as they could. Each group coming in waves, each having a shot at the huddled, bleeding and beaten form. When their prey fell into unconsciousness they would stop and wait for him to revive so they could continue their cruelty.
In their eyes it was justice being served. For every cry it uttered they heard the cries of their own lost that very night. For every scream they replaced it with those that the beast had tormented.
They wanted more. They wanted to make it feel their pain. Their suffering. They wanted so much more.
This was their excuse to show the ugliest depths humanity could offer. This was their scapegoat. They used everything they had to justify their self righteousness. Their pitifully weak excuses were used to bolster themselves and keep them strong in their cause.
They worked themselves into a further frenzy calling out insults and derogatory statements with every fettered, poisoned part of their beings.
The shinobi impassively watched as the villagers poured their own cruel and malicious brand of justice out on one small three year old. They wouldn't raise a hand against it, but they wouldn't help either. They just waited there apathetically and remembered their fallen comrades, some grinning darkly in their own way as they looked on.
Those sympathetic to the tiny tormented boy were being occupied or detained. Some were forced to watch even as they fought their gags and binds. They were so few, the so very precious few. A few couldn't help but silently weep as the cries reached out to them begging for them to do something. With each utterance silent tears wet the ground. They were helpless.
The others laughed at and taunted mercilessly those few. Whether they be shinobi or civilian. They would be cleansed of the spell the demon wove upon them that night. Once its blood was drained from its now mortal corpse they will have been freed and soon see how right the rest were in their actions.
Blood had spattered against the wall; some of it was staining the ground. All who struck out at the small form were marked with his blood. Oh, how they reveled in it.
They thought they would be seen and honored as the heroes who had avenged the fallen.
What they could not see is how they were so very wrong.
What they didn't see was a small child. This small child. Innocent of all crimes other than existing and being born on the wrong day.
Even as things grew dark something flickered in his tiny, precious, so very precious heart. Hope is said to be the sustainer of all, stronger than most and yet more fragile than a spider's web. Hope was the cruelest of all.
As he lay there in a curled up position to protect himself as much as his small limbs could afford he began thinking of all the things jiisan told him.
Jiisan always told him that his tousan loved him and was proud of him. Jiisan always said that his tousan would be with him and protect him.
Where was he? Where was his tousan? He wanted his tousan. He wanted his jiisan. He wanted to get away from the scary monsters.
Was anyone going to save him like in those stories jiisan always read to him before bed?
The child looked up. Two tear brimmed sapphire eyes peered out at the mob. What did he do that was so wrong? He didn't understand.
One of the monsters saw him and told the rest. He wanted to scramble away to safety but all his little battered limbs could do was wrap around his now blood covered head.
They were coming.
His little heart wanted to cry out. He wanted to understand why. He wanted to beg and plead for them to stop. But he had no energy. There was only so much such a small body could take.
The child closed his eyes and silently waited.
The unseen bystander couldn't take it anymore. His unheard cries went unheeded as the final wave stepped in for the killing blow. He couldn't just stand by anymore and watch as these…fiends…tormented a child.
For a moment he wildly looked around.
Was there no one here willing to protect such a small child?
Not just any child…that child.
He spied the few tied and gagged. They were just as helpless as he.
Unnoticed tears were streaming down his cheeks. He had to get there; he had to do something before the fist rained down their final assault.
The boy was just three for Kami's sake!! Barely out of toddler hood.
His body began to move on its own. He didn't notice, nor did he care. He focused on the bleeding form before him. He had to stop this madness.
He had but one thought racing through his mind.
He had to reach the boy, he just had to.
Desperation was gripping him. He wouldn't make it. No, he had to, there was no other option. He just had to reach him.
The former observer threw himself at the crowd, muscling in some parts and barreling through in others. He grit his teeth, nothing was going to stop him, not even death itself.
They fell upon the tiny demon container. They knew that this final assault would end its existence and with it all that reminded them of that hateful beast that caused so much suffering that day three years before.
A lust filled joy emerged in their eyes and hearts.
They would have blood tonight and then celebrate their victory. Some cackled with glee, others waited with anticipation for it to come.
The death of the demon.
Fists began assaulting the tiny form. The last wave blocked the object of their aggressions from those gathered. The rest waited for the announcement to come. They waited for the kill.
Nothing was happening.
The mob became restless. This should have been completed awhile ago. The last wave of tormentors couldn't believe their eyes. The blows weren't landing. Though they rained their murderous fists upon what was left of the tiny form they weren't connecting.
They began to draw back in fear, not understanding what was happening. There it was the reminder of all they had lost and yet their strikes were not touching him.
Finally all could see the child. However something was not right.
The moonlight finally broke over the edge of the building. Its silver rays somehow purifying the atmosphere and cleansing the lot of the torches' tainted light.
The mob's dark deeds were now exposed for all to see on what had been a pure night.
Some, in horrified realization, stepped back and began to desperately try and wipe away the blood that now stained them. The hour of repentance for such thoughts had come and gone, they were too late.
All those who raised their hands were now forever marked and tainted. Even those who played the apathetic and cold hearted roles of onlookers to the event would forever bare a mark that they covered in embarrassed shame.
The bright silver light gently rolled over the form of the barely conscious child. As all those present watched a gently shimmering figure began to manifest.
It was at first transparent, only a small bending of the light. As each minute passed the outline became clearer and more solid.
The astonished crowd watched with widening eyes.
The being, which only moments before looked like transparent glass, began to solidify and fill with color. The body of a grown man was sheltering the child's body with his own. Protecting him from further harm.
The clothing worn by the man signified those of a jounin ranked shinobi. No one moved, instead they just watched as the figure slowly materialized. They waited to see what would happen.
He felt something wet drop on one his bruised and bloodied arms. The child looked up.
Pain filled, fear ridden sapphire eyes met sorrowful, tear brimmed ones that were only contained and shone with love. They held for an instant and in that moment and everything negative and fear filled washed away in the child.
The man slowly rose and turned to face them. In his arms the child slept. His own face shadowed by his long bangs, features unreadable.
The boy's own were those of peace and contentment.
The jounin looked up with hard, bone chilling eyes pierced through the souls of all present.
Never before had they felt such guilt for their actions, nor such unbridled fury directed their way. It was greater than the demon's had ever been..
All quaked and buckled under the weight of silent judgment.
The man closed his eyes once more before opening them, one tear of sorrow slid down his cheek. The silver rays glinted off of it as it fell through the atmosphere.
He spoke not a word. A small breeze blew through and then both he and the child were gone.
The only evidence that the man had ever been was the quickly drying spot where his single tear had fallen.
He might not have spoken any audible expressions but his final look burned shame deeply in each and every one of the mob member's hearts.
It was a look of great disgust and filled with disappointment. One they never thought would be directed towards any of them.
They had arrived in the hokage tower, in a swirl of leaves, to find it empty. For the time being it was the safest place for the small jinchuuriki to recover.
He took him and entered into the kage's personal apartment. It was attached secretly next to the office and could be used for the kage's relief at anytime. That meant it had everything that was needed.
He carried him gently in to the bathroom and ran a warm bath, adding in healing salts to help sooth the little one's aching body aide his already tremendous healing abilities.
He quietly sat with the child in his lap while waiting for the water to fill.
Tenderly he rocked the precious life he held, slowly, ever so slowly releasing the tension from the small body.
The boy was so light. He marveled that such a tiny, delicate body could survive such a harsh ordeal and how his skeletal structure seemed unharmed in spite of every thing. The superficial injuries were all that remained and they would be healed once he cleansed the boy of all reminders of his ordeal.
The water had finished filling the tub and had wisps of steam rose from the surface. He rolled up his sleeves and pulled off his gloves, after which he disposed of the rags that hung in pieces over the child's small physique.
Slowly he lowered the blood covered, battered and beaten body below the healing water's surface. The child whimpered slightly, though still unconscious.
There he knelt by the tub. One arm lowered into the water, supporting the tiny form while the other hand dipped in and out pouring the healing warmth over the injured skin and washing away the pain and the cuts that adorned him.
When the toddler was finally clean, and free of his unjust reminders, the man wrapped him in a fluffy towel and spirited him away into the bedroom, leaving brown, murky water behind.
There he found an old shirt of his, white with a red swirl on the back, some old shorts that were long enough to be sweat pants, and an old zippered sweatshirt that was small enough though it dwarfed the boy's entire body.
To top off the ensemble he placed his old sleeping cap on the boy's head. The creature, odd though it was, only added to the adorable sight. It was a heart warming and heart breaking at the same time.
The sight brought a sad smile to his lips. He would never be able to do something like this again. The man lifted the now sleeping, wound-free form of the child and gently tucked him in the small bed that occupied a side of the room.
Those precious minutes he spent allowed him to try something he had always been aching to do ever since he became an observer.
He looked out the small window and saw the moon setting beyond the horizon. His time was almost finished. He could do one last thing.
As he looked back from the sky, two sleepy sapphire eyes met his. So much like his own and yet still retained an innocence that reflected upon the world. He would be allowed this one last good bye.
His deep voice caressed the now healed child. The boy instantly knew who was before him and reached his tiny arms out to the man. "Gomen, musuko…I was late. This is all I can do for you." He knelt beside the bed and gave him a gentle hug, desperately trying to impart everything that words failed to express, before whispering in his ear. "Aishite-iru, Naruto."
He gently kissed him on the head and smoothed back the damp, unruly hair. The man stood up and walked towards the moonlight that now pierced through the window.
Before he took his final physical step, he chanced a look back at the small child, his chosen, and gave one last smile before disappearing into the silvery beams.
Just before he drifted off into a healing slumber, the tiny blond heard one last wish whispered in the silence.
'Grow strong, make me proud.'
Naruto looked up at the Hokage Monument one last time. He was about to embark on his three year long training trip with the gama-sannin.
His eyes rested on the bust of the fourth. Slowly his hand rose and he held it out towards the stone face a moment before clenching it in determination.
He remembered the promise from so long ago. It's what kept him going. Underneath the façade he had made, he kept his real desires hidden and secreted away from the world. One day he would make them known, but not until the right time.
'Watch me, I'll surpass you and make you proud.'
With a true smile he ran off to join his sensei.
Unseen was another, truly smiling with pride and love. He was looking forward to that day.
A/N: Alrighty then. First I would like to apologize for any mistakes and grammar errors. I really don't want to correct this...again.
Second, I hope it isn't too confusing.
Here's my reasoning for writing this. Many people, authors and fans alike, I think have the impression that Konoha abused Naruto physically. However, I never picked that up when I read the manga. Call me daft but the only thing I saw was solitude and verbal jabs at him.
So, me wanting to sound logical (even though this story is somewhat illogical) thought if Kishimoto doesn't have them assaulting the blond then there must be a reason as to why. Sandaime's law only protected Naruto verbally. So why not have shock value, I mean who expects the Fourth (I hope you guys got that) to materialize and protect the boy?
So people stay away from him not wanting to invite the wrath of the previous Hokage upon themselves.
I'm not an angsty person so it's hard for me not to leave well enough alone...I just have to better the lives of those poor tormented souls...Ookay off topic (don't mind me)
plus I just had to slip in that last part...I couldn't resist, oh well. Hope you enjoy anyways.
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I forgot to write this little tidbit in the story, oh well. It's here now.
The reason this happens when Naruto is so young is that he won't remember the violence event but he does will remember the last part. That's part of the reason why he still wants to be hokage.
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Tousan: short for Otousan...father, daddy...etc.
Jiisan: short Ojiisan...grandfather, old man...etc.
I was trying to capture a child's language patterns...meh.