Title: Same as
Always
Author: Sankou-chan
Fandom: Naruto
Genre: Angst/General
Rating: K+
Warning: A slight
darkish portrayal of Christmas
Disclaimer: I don't
own Naruto
Same as Always
A boy slowly kicked his legs, lifting himself higher into the air. He soared higher and higher until he saw the ebony fingers of bare tree branches above him.
"Tch. Look it's that kid." Someone snorted.
The boy felt himself careen down and the tips of his sandals drove into the ground, coveting them with a blanket of dirt. His choked laughter filled the air and the serene breath of wind flaring his blonde locks enticed him.
"Look at him. He doesn't deserve to be happy, not after what he did 7 years…"
"Shh! We're not allowed to talk about it!"
"It..?" Sapphire orbs trailed along the vast hilltops, searching for the haunting voices. He craned his neck in all directions, but all he could see were the fresh canvases of green, yellow, and grey… "Grey..?"
The boy leaned forward, shuffling to edge of his seat and squinted. The sun's glare strained his eyesight, painting white-yellow patches in his vision, but he slitted his eyes and concentrated. At first, it looked like a river of dark grey but as his vision sharpened, he could make out distinctive forms and curves. What is it?
Shapes, curves, and colours, they continued to appear as the blonde's vision sharpened. It was clear; he saw, but he didn't want to see. The boy sank back onto the piece of wood, knowing with a familiar expression what it was. It was the villagers, standing before him, staring, but not with beady eyes but with their backs. Their backs were turned, staring blankly. Their backs, cold and stiff as always stared at the neglected boy. He always hated that.
"Just stay away from him. He's a burden to Konoha."
Rigid fingers entwined the chains tethered to the swing.
"I hate his face. His face sickens me!"
Hollow orbs stared down at the bladed grass.
"It's the face of death. Blood has stained his hands."
He seethed through gritted teeth.
"Baka! No one would want him as Hokage."
The chains rattled as he gripped them tighter…
"A monstrosity doesn't deserve to live!"
and tighter.
"I hate him! I hate that demon child!"
Demon child...?
Naruto swung up in his bed, wrinkling the sheets with an iron grip. Moist lathering sweat drenched his face and strands of disheveled hair embraced the sides of his burning cheeks. His breathing was hoarse and distorted, puffing up his chest with each struggling intake of air. Somehow, the air felt too heavy for him to appreciate.
"It…" Trembling sapphires stared down at his pale knuckles. "It was that dream again."
A vibrant chill swept into the room, accenting its contents with an icy touch. A shudder escaped his sore lips, but the cool whispers of wind seemed to have a soothing affect on the traumatized genin. His eyes softened and he felt his fingers curl around the bounds of white fabric, conveying a gentler grip. His chest rose slowly as the endeavors became light and even.
Why..? A sigh trailed out of Naruto's lips. Why do I always have that dream? His eyes stalked the egg-white ceiling as if the answer was hidden up there – somewhere.
They scrutinized the deep creases engraved in its rigid texture and then traveled downwards grimacing at the empty noodle cups piled on his desk, dripping with cold savory soup. Naruto stared listlessly, but it wasn't his bilious etiquette that he was peering at, it was the trifle hung above it. There, flapping against winter's breath was his half-torn calendar and on it was a beaming circle marking the number, 25.
"That's right…" Half-lidded eyes flickered. "It's Christmas."
An echoing thump bellowed as Naruto dragged himself off his bed and onto the frosty floorboards. His slouched figure pursued into his quaint living room, one which was illuminated by ghostly auras of light. Its radiance reflected a brilliant blue, but its harsh glare was much too unbearable as the hunched boy looked away with the palm of his hand raised. It wasn't really the metallic glare, but there was a sense about it that he found utterly petulant.
Naruto paced towards a towering figure standing by the open window. Its arms were ebony and sharp needles pierced around them, giving it a thick coat of green. Adorning the lush tree were hooked balls of red and gold and ribbons of tinsel entwined its branches. From where he stood, he could make out the bronzed texture of the star he had put up last night – though it took him a dozen attempts before it finally tired of falling to the floor. Normally, remembering his comical antics would plaster a foxy grin on his groggily face, but for reasons unknown, Naruto only saw dull eyes mirror off the glistening decorations.
Every year, He thought, rummaging through the prickly branches until the pads of his fingers met the tree's trunk. He crouched down onto his knees, vaguely searching for colourfully wrapped boxes and bags. There were none. It's all the same. There have never been any gifts snuggling the tree, only the cold feeling where he crouched down every year.
He wasn't really surprised by the fact though. Naruto heaved a heavy sigh before hoisting himself up and brushing the sprinkles of dust from his sagging pajamas. Turning around, he inspected the tray of cookies he left the night before, lingering with Santa's myth. It wasn't that he really believed an obese man would fall down the chimney to deliver gifts to all the pleading children; it's just that he found it enticing to play with such a feigned story. There were five oatmeal biscuits – still in their distorted states. Barely any crumbs stained the porcelain plate.
Same as always
He didn't know why, but it had become a ludicrous routine to check under the crooked tree and the cold plate of cookies – even though he already knew the answer. Yet, what was the point? There will never be presents under the tree or a missing cookie from the plate, but there is a meaning to his livid actions. Deep in the forlorn crevices of the genin's mind, a single fragment of hope lies – hope that he could believe there were people precious to him. It was a hope the desperate boy had built ever since he could remember, but it was one that became more feigned as the years pass. With the frosty floor tiles and the untouched treats welcoming him once again, Naruto found it harder to believe and he knows, one day a lonely Christmas will finally push him over the edge and there won't be a single shard of belief left for him to hold onto. For the 12th time in a row, Christmas was the same as always: lonely.
Naruto bent down and raised a biscuit to his lips. He had heard that Kiba will be having a family reunion and that Shino will be vacationing in Bird Country to find new specimens. For him though, he doesn't quite smile at the thought of Iruka treating him to ramen for the 12th time in a row. Naruto takes a bite of the stale treat, wincing at its daunt flavour. After all, on a tumultuous holiday like Christmas, the Kyuubi-bearer doesn't expect much.