Naruto put the cigarette to his mouth, pulling out a lighter as he cupped the other hand around the end of the unlit end. He snapped the lighter three or four times before it caught.

The sparks lit up his face then turned to a steady glow, illuminating his rough face.

He felt the warmth from the fire as the cigarette held the flame for a fleeting moment. The embers glowed bright as he took the first drag. He held his breath for a few seconds, then blew the smoke out of his nose. Naruto's face was shrouded in the opaque mist.

He closed his eyes and inhaled again. Naruto took the cigarette from his mouth and let it rest between his fingers. He sighed.

The moon reflected off his pale skin and light hair. The wind blew, pulling at his shirt, threatening to extinguish the precious cigarette.

Putting it back into his mouth, he looked over the city from the roof of his fourth story apartment. It was dark. And cold. He shivered. He gazed at the different values of purple, blue and black that defined the city this night. Naruto could see houses, a few lights still on, see the forest, and the large crescent moon that was lighting up this city, his personal hell.

He quickly finished the smoke, threw the butt off the edge and stole back into his house through his window. The lights were off, giving it the same lonely, empty feeling that the entirety of the city did. But he liked it. The dark felt safe... Maybe Sasuke had rubbed off on him.

The young man turned on the lights to cook himself dinner. The dim light presented a nineteen year old with blonde hair. His facial features were prominent and attractive, but displayed no emotion. We wore the Anbu uniform, the hard porcelain mask hung from his neck and rested upon his broad back. It was designed in the likeness of a fox. How cliché.

He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks. He untied the bright red string that tied his mask to him and tossed it on his bed. He un-strapped the white protective armor that covered his chest and back, and shucked off the ones banded to his sinuous forearms.

Naruto was left with a sleeveless spandex shirt and tight cotton pants. He pulled on a pair of black sweats over the cotton pants. He habitually ruffled his hair, trying to calm the static and slapdash characteristics that made it stick up in all directions.

He was hungry. He hadn't eaten since morning, and even then all he'd eaten was a meek rabbit he caught in the woods.

Naruto had been returning from Sound, another absurdly pointless stake out mission for Orochimaru. It was blatant that the Konoha government didn't give a rats ass about the snake, all they wanted was the Uchiha. Just because he was assigned the missions didn't mean that Naruto had to care. And he didn't. If Sasuke wanted to come back, he would've. He wasn't a god, just an angst-ridden adolescent who only cared about self advancement.

Naruto had such a pessimistic view of his former friend because of many lonely years and many wounds. When Sasuke had left, Naruto fought as hard as he could to retrieve him, then he fought even harder to survive. In all honesty, he had nothing to live for once Sasuke was gone.

Naruto had done everything to handle it. Once Sasuke was gone no one respected Naruto, even Kakashi and Sakura became distant, no matter how hard Naruto held on to the weak strings that bound them together. In the end they were severed just as badly as the twine that had held Sasuke to him.

He took up smoking to calm his nerves about his worthlessness. He became powerful.

Naruto found that if he taxed himself physically and mentally, everything hurt less. The pain subsided when he drove himself, when he was under strain.

In the 6 years since Sasuke had left, Naruto had become the best ninja in anbu and the most feared in the city. He was so close to Itachi's previous records in everything. Strength, efficiency, successful missions, and with the exception of the Uchiha clan, Naruto had even met his records for killings.

This supremacy changed nothing, in fact, it even encouraged people to keep their distance. He occasionally chatted with Shikamaru, the number two ninja, but it wasn't the same. He had lost all the enthusiasm and determination that made him Naruto. Yes, he still had determination, but this was different, this determination was driven by sadistic thoughts. Fueled by nightmares and horrors that populated the young ninja's mind.

Naruto was just blank.

And it all started with Sasuke.

It left a wretched taste in his mouth. How hard he had tried to save Sasuke, and all that effort was met with pure hate. Naruto understood this now. Sasuke didn't care for him the way he cared for his own self. Sasuke's number one priority was himself. On Naruto's ranking, Sasuke had been number one, and Naruto himself had been around number ten. All those people he cared for, Sakura, Kakashi, Gaara, Lee, and everyone had preceded himself. Now the standings were empty. Naruto didn't care who lived or who died, He didn't even care about himself. It was terrible but comforting.

He ate his ramen alone like always, went to the bathroom and took a scalding hot shower. The heated water felt good. He ran the shower until the water heater ran out and it turned cold.

He was tainted. Solitary in every aspect.

He dried himself off and used the towel to smear the fogged mirror. Naruto looked at himself. The six 'scratch marks' on his cheeks were darker in hue from the shower. His blue eyes narrowed.

"Heh." He smirked.

If only Sasuke could see him now. Powerful. Even more powerful than Itatchi. Menacing. A true beast. Was Sasuke this strong? Could he have stopped Sasuke if he had been this strong six years ago? How would Sasuke have responded if Naruto told him that he meant something? Was Sasuke happy?
That didn't matter. Those thoughts were stupid. Sasuke was stupid. It was all very, very stupid.

These were the thoughts that haunted him day after day, what made him strive daily, what made him lose his temper in random fits of uncontrollable rage. What made him throw things across his apartment. What drove him to rip his pillow to pieces. That forced him to throw the lamp at the wall. And when Naruto was on his knees, rocking forward and back, moaning and yelling, he was thinking these thoughts. Cruel thoughts that made him into the monster that he was so frequently referred to as.

These thoughts made him tired and lonely.