A/N: Thank you for reading my story! This is the first story I have uploaded onto the website! Please comment with feedback or if you have a question. I accept all criticism and advice, but if you dislike the story, please tell me why so I can improve. Enjoy! DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN NARUTO!
The rock hit the side of his head with a thonk. Warm blood slowly oozed from the cut, dripping from his cheek to the ground. He lifted his tiny hand up to his cheek and gently fingered the cut, wincing as it stung.
"Take that you monster!" the villager shrieked. Tears gathered in his stunning blue eyes as the villager spoke the words he heard so often. Why do they do this? He wondered, not for the first time. What did I do to make them hate me? A sob escaped from his throat and the tears followed, leaving tracks on his dirty face. It was his birthday. Shouldn't they celebrate? There was a festival, but why wasn't he allowed entrance? The little five year old turned and fled. He could hear the villagers' footsteps pounding behind him and the profanities that were shouted at him. He weaved in and out of the crowd that had gathered for the fifth annual Kyuubi festival where they celebrated the defeat of the great fox demon. He wanted to celebrate it too. True he didn't know what any of it meant, but there were games and it looked like fun. He arrived at the Hokage tower and bolted inside, seeking protection from the old man Hokage.
He flung the door to the old man's office open, startling the occupant, and flung himself into the Third Hokage's arms.
"Ojisan, help me!" he cried. The man wrapped his arms around the toddler and patted his back, comforting him despite his surprise at the boy's sudden appearance.
"Naruto?" concern laced his voice as he saw the cuts and heard the boy's sobs.
"The villagers," he cried, "They're after me!" The third Hokage rubbed the young Uzumaki's back and whispered soothing words.
"You can stay here, Naruto. They can't hurt you here," he said. Naruto nodded his thanks and, after taking a few minutes to collect himself, slid from the elder's lap to find a chair to sleep in. Once he found the said furniture, he climbed on to it and curled up, his head resting on the padded armrest. He fell asleep quickly, listening to the scraping and scratching of the old man's pen. Thank you, Ojisan.