I do not in any way own the characters, storyline, or title of Naruto. This is a fiction purely fan made, and a reboot of my story "Making New Memories." I had written it as a rather inexperienced young dreamer, and though I am not to the level of Anne Rice by any means, my writing style has changed and improved drastically. Please feel free to leave comments, or ask questions, or even make requests. I take all under advisement, and consideration. Please note, this does not follow the Naruto timeline, it is my own, and so things may or may not match up.
Naruto stood staring at his reflection, his once vibrant hues or aqua and cerulean blue stared back with a dull tone, reflecting his blank stare. He had become despondent in the last few months, though not many people noticed. He had lost his vibrancy, his lust for life and his dream of being a Hokage seemed to ebb into a faded dream. He scarcely recalled why he wanted to be the Hokage so badly, it had once been in every breath he had taken, every meal he had eaten, and every moment he had lived, now it was as if he had finally accepted that wish was completely unattainable; just like Sasuke, just like Sakura. He couldn't recall a single birthday, he didn't spend alone. He couldn't recall a single exam he didn't fail on the first try. His best memories were of Iruka Sensei; and now he had gone too. Simply wandered away and didn't look back.
Naruto began to slowly realize after the day Iruka no longer had time for him, that it would never be different. No matter how kind, no matter how selfless or brave the blonde was, he would always be nothing, in the eyes of Konaha and the people in it. He lashed out, at everyone who had caused him pain, hearing the shattering of glass, and the gentle sound of glass hitting the sink like rain. He stared in shock at the pieces of Mirror embedded in his tanned, scarred knuckles. He blinked, his eyes carefully scanning over his hand as his blood fell into the sink with a steady
"Pat…pat…pat….pat…"
He could feel the physical pain, and it had made him for a moment, forget the emotional pain he felt slowly smothering him. He picked out the small glass shards and reached over, taking the first aid kit he had stored away in one of the cabinets. He opened it and took a bottle of disinfectant, pouring it over his hand, hissing in pain as it foamed, cleansing the damaged flesh. He waited a moment for it to air dry, before carefully wrapping it in gauze. That was stupid of him to do; he should have kept himself in check. He walked out of the bathroom leaving the shards were they lay, not really feeling like cleaning it up. He walked into his cramped bedroom and stared at his closet. Full of obnoxious orange jumpsuits and silly matching pants. He sighed and looked at his Jonin attire, which he had never worn. He made it a prided point to wear his orange that in his brightly colored outfit with hair that lit up like the sun on a bright day, could still manage to conceal him-self so well.
He with a form of resentment pulled on his orange garb, and quietly packed a bag. He took his weapons and his clean Jonin outfit, and slipped into his sandals. He looked at his headband, which he hadn't worn in weeks. It was Iruka sensei's once. He turned away from it, and took the one he had earned from the school, also never worn. He used to wear it over his brow, but he liked it better around his neck. It didn't fall in his face or hinder him visually in battle there. He took a look around the bedroom and shut off the light and closed the door. He made his way to the main room of his tiny cramped apartment, the kitchen, and looked around. It was bare of decoration, he could never afford much. A table and a single chair, furnished the entire room, along with a small sink, counter and cooking area and a small fridge. He spotted something out of the corner of his eye, and with his bag slung over his shoulder he walked to the counter. An old picture frame from when he was a small child. He picked it up and stared into the beaming faces that laughed and giggled back at him. His lips tugged into a small smile, for a fleeting moment at the memory of that day. Sasuke, Sakura and he had been chosen to be a team, and none of them were happier. Though Sasuke had kept his face fairly controlled, Naruto could see the excitement in his eyes. Naruto looked at his reflection, as if comparing the difference in age. The Naruto Uzumaki in the picture was smiling, excited and the grin on the twelve year old boys face was undeniable, in the reflection that looked back however, stared a pale eyed eighteen year old young man. Naruto wore his hair slightly longer, and his face had tanned and become more serious. He noted his cheek scars had also become more prominent. His face had matured and his eyes had aged, but mostly he looked the same. His jaw was a bit more angular, he had become rather handsome, though not in the eyes of anyone here. He was still the symbol of destruction despite his rather impressive record over the past few years. He had started studying seriously, and had stopped goofing around and making mistakes and saying stupid things.
He and Gaara had become near inseparable in their times together, enjoying genuine silence or even when they would share something and relate. He missed his only friend; perhaps he would visit the red head. He placed the frame down, and turned the picture face down before turning toward the door. There was nothing for him here in Konaha any longer, and it seemed as he locked his door; perhaps there had never been. He walked toward the gate, people laughing walking past, not noticing he had a bag with him, or even noticing him at all. He was at the edge of town in just a few minutes. He knew if he had gone to the gate it would attract more attention than it was worth, he simply wanted to fade from the memory of Konaha, and the people that once occupied his thoughts. He secured his pack and began his ascent, moving up the wall with ease through the varying stones and holes that served as an efficient way to climb up and over. He paused, closing his eyes and listening. Not a single person knew he was there. He opened his eyes with a steely determination and quickly ran through the branches of the forest, escaping the village hidden in the leaves, for a more uncertain future, which to him, was far better than the one he would ever have here.