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With But the Pull of the Leash
Uzumaki Naruto has always been known to be a quick thinker. As a child he would pull pranks on any person that held a title to their name – citizen, student, teacher, ninja, ANBU, Hokage – and with every prank there was the means of execution and the execution itself. The utilities needed to pull it off, the best routes and hiding places that had to be memorized, the string of obscenities to spur the soft- and hard-hearted; everything was stemmed from thoughts and only the Thought.
After all, what comes from earth return to earth. Men are but clay shells protecting their soft, malleable organs. And he…he is no exception. No different from his (fellow) man. Two legs, two arms, ten fingers and ten toes and one head. Muscle tissues wrapped in layered chakra coils and nerves attached with sparking tenketsu. Whiskers on a too identical face inlaid with (his) blue eyes and framed by (his) shock of blonde hair. A black spiral painted on his navel, carved into moist, slippery innards, stalking and growling and raging and roaring—
He really is no different. When they see him and turn their backs on him, he felt the hurt and pain just like anyone else would. When they murmur nasty comments and call him not by his name but names like Demon, Murderer, Hellspawn, Child-Killer, he wanted nothing more than to strike them down and refute their claims just like anyone else would. And when he is tripped by a random passerby or chased down dark, empty streets by angry (and/or inebriated) night-owls, he was scared and confused just like the rest of them.
He is like the rest of them. There's nothing wrong with that. He tried telling them – tried and tried and tried and kept on trying, but they would not listen. They would not heed the words of a demon, no matter how many times he repeats himself.
That's okay. Everyone's entitled to their own opinion. They're obligated to say whatever they want, to do whatever they want. Spit on him, lash out at him, belittle him. Besides, it'd be pretty boring if everyone acted the same, right?
Right.
So he let them do what they do. He put on his mask and played the cheerful, stupid boy who proclaimed to the entire world to be Konohagakure's Orange Hokage.
Everything starts with the Thought, and ends with the Thought. The one and only Thought.
Love me. Shape me. Worship me. Lavish me. Give me a smile, pat me on the back, cheer me on and call me Hero!
They call him Hero. They chant his name, picking up rhythm and synch and volume, until the air they breathe and the earth they stand upon vibrate in tandem. They compare him to his parents; compare him to the great legends who had come before him. They say they look forward to the day Lady Tsunade crowns him with the Hokage hat and robes. They say it, pass it along, spread it like tossed fertilizer and watch the seeds grow. And they say…they say…he is the One who will revolutionize the shinobi world, the One who will herald eternal peace to warring nations forever more.
He is the Child of Prophecy, as is foretold by the Great Toad Sage.
And the Hidden Leaf Village burns, burns, BURNS. Fire burns everywhere – burning wood, burning thatch, burning cloth, burning skin, burningBurningBURNING.
It does not stop. It will not stop. Because what comes from earth must return to earth.
And Naruto Uzumaki, whose eight tails tears through ranks of desperate ninja and black-on-red irises glaring at the Hokage Monument, decides to do just that.
He screams—
The seal breaks—
The mortal body crumbles into dust—
The Kyuubi no Yoko howls triumphantly, bathing his surroundings in the loveliest shade of redRedRED….