Kaleidoscopes
By Crimson Kaleidoscopes
A/N: This is my first attempt at a fanfic. Please be kind on it. Constructive criticism is more than welcomed.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Summary: Kaleidoscopes are pretty things. But if you look closely enough, what will you find? One shot
Kaleidoscopes are pretty things. You could look at it all day and be mesmerized by it. Playing with it could be delightful and fun.
There was once a boy. A lonely boy, a guilty boy, a boy who has never known the true meaning of happiness. A boy who felt the intense hatred of the entire village that pricked every inch of his skin and slowly pierced through his heart. He was sure he had done something very wrong and unforgivable in the past. If not, why did everyone hate him? Perhaps he had killed someone when he was younger; perhaps he had stolen something from a very important person or perhaps...
But have you ever wondered what a kaleidoscope is made of?
He tried very hard, very hard to try and recall what he had done. After all, there is always a reason behind everything right? Every night, he would try to recall what he had done to deserve the anger and hatred of everyone. He found nothing. Nothing to tell him what he had done, he just could not remember, he just could not find the answer to his torment.
Have you ever wondered why a kaleidoscope is so colorful?
People wanted him dead; they would do anything to ensure that. They would form mobs to try beating the life out of him; they would hire assassins to murder him. When they sold food to him, they would place poisons in his food; when he was in the hospital getting treatment for all the beatings he had taken, they would try to stab him when he is unconscious. However, to the dismay of the people, all attempts stayed as attempts. When they found that they couldn't kill him, they sort to break him. They would chase him out of their stores. They refused to sell him necessities essential for survival. When they do sell him things, it would be grossly overcharged. They refused to allow their children to play with him, they would tell their children to stay away from him, encourage them to bully him, to ostracize him. He then created a mask, a mask of happiness. A mask to hide the pain he was feeling. He would always smile. When parents pulled their children away from him, he could smile, when he was chased out of a store he would smile, when he was grossly overcharged for an item he was purchasing, he would smile and say thank you. He would play pranks on the village; he would create all sorts of trouble for the inhabitants. He would laugh when he gets chased for his many pranks, he would evade his captors who sort to find him, and he would always be smiling. He made his mask to be like the sunshine, to always be bright and cheerful. To always be so colorful, to always smile.
Have you ever wondered why a kaleidoscope sometimes seems so… fragmented?
Every night he returns to his apartment, to face the loneliness that was perpetually part of his life. There was no warmth in his apartment, only coldness that nipped his skin. There was no one to welcome him home; there was no one to cook for him his meals; there was no one to scold him for staying out late in the night. He would sit on the floor and begin his routine of searching through his memories to try and find the things that he has done to deserve such hate and anger. He knows that he is unlikely to find anything within his memories, but he clings on to the fading hope that there will be an answer, an explanation on why was he treated like trash. He would try, for many hours, then giving up and headed to bed, reflecting on his day. He would contemplate on people's actions, he would tell himself that he deserves that treatment, he had done something very wrong and this was the price. The boy would mull over what he should do the next day, in order to keep up his façade. He would think, he would recall scenes and analyze them. He would try to help himself improve in the ninja arts. He knew that no one would help him; he was after all, the criminal of this village.
If you look closely enough, what would you find?
There was once a boy, a frightened boy, a boy without a friend in the world, a guilt-ridden boy. A boy, who never knew contentment, a boy who was hated.
There was once a boy, a boy who isolated from others, a boy who fashioned a mask of perpetual joy. A boy who only knew sadness.
There was once a boy… who never knew the truth of his treatment.
Hundreds of tiny fragmented pieces of glass placed together.