Disclaimer: Macdutton does not own Naruto.
Some people are born to do something. Born for one situation, the only times they really live. Naruto is born to fight.
Realising this is difficult. Accepting it is near impossible.
Naruto sank further into the watery depths of the Valley of the End. Behind his eyes, his life was played back to him, as if a reel of film was sliding before his eyes. He remembered many of the fights of his short life:
He saw his fist real fight, where he kept beating Mizuki even after the traitorous teacher was defeated, taking pleasure in the feeling of his knuckles crunching into the older man's body;
Trying again and again to fight Kakashi, even though he was so hopelessly outmatched;
His battle with Haku on the bridge, feeling the boy's mask shatter under his fist;
Fighting alongside Zabuza when Gatos treachery was revealed, taking Kubikiribocho as his prize and making his first kill with it;
Fighting Orochimaru and refusing to go down, even allowing the Kyuubi to manifest and take over his mind, just to keep fighting;
Going toe-to-toe with Kiba with his own body, instead of just using clones to overpower him;
Not summoning any foxes against Neji, even though he was given the power by Kyuubi during the month of training. Instead he had fought Neji with his own body, dragging out the fighting for his own pleasure;
Allowing Gaara to release Shukaku's full form, just to test himself against the full might of an unbound Jinchuuriki;
The prolonged battle with Sasuke, in this very valley, almost 5 years ago. The fight that could have ended so much earlier if he had used more of Kyuubi's chakra;
All the wars and battles he had been a part of in those intervening years: Kiri's second civil war; His battles with Akatsuki; All the fights where he had held back just enough to prolong his own personal heaven.
Sasuke was a better ninja, he always had been. He was cleaner, more efficient. The assassin. Sakura wasn't meant for combat. She was softer, the one who didn't like real violence. The healer.
But Naruto, he was the one who enjoyed it. He was the fighter. Naruto was the one who always chose combat. Always chose to turn a situation to one where he could truly live.
This was Naruto's madness.
Gaara had been driven insane by Shukaku's whispers.
Gai's madness was born of watching his sensei open the Death Gate. Seeing the Shinigami take his final hold on the man. Eventually he learned to open it himself, and as inevitable as the tide, he broached that last sealed door, ending his own life in a magnificent blaze of power and pain.
Lee followed in his father-figure's footsteps, suffering the birth of that same horrified insanity as he watched Gai open the final gate. The last straw for Lee was learning that every ninja who had learned to open the Initial Gate eventually died by opening the Death Gate. Every single one.
Shino's mind was forever damaged by an assignment to kill an entire village. He was the first to overtake the Yondaime's body count. But he did it in a single night.
Surprisingly, Naruto's insanity was not born of his tenant, nor even the abuse he suffered because of it. It was his blood. He was the heir to the Maelstrom, the world's true warriors, the Uzumaki clan. The son of Namikaze Minato, Konoha's Yellow Flash, Konoha's greatest killer, the man who held Konoha's highest body count for almost two decades. Violence was his birthright. His curse and his blessing.
Realising this is painful. Understanding the base instinct which drives you, it strips bare every delusion you have built up about yourself, burns away all the lies you tell yourself so you can sleep at night.
But it frees you.
At least, it freed Naruto.
For so many years, he had professed that his dream was to protect his village and it's people. But he had never done so, not once. He had fought a hundred battles, but never for others. In that one, crippling moment of realisation, his dream, and the slight scrap of innocence he had held onto, died.
But that was not the end. No. It was just the beginning.
The beginning of a new Legend of Konoha.
This legend garnered many names, from friend and foe alike. Throughout his life, he had been called "Demon", and "Kyuubi brat". Such names would eventually fall out of use in the village, but would never quite leave him. During the early years of his career, he had been called things like: "psychopath" and "murderer". These were what people had known him as before he became a legend. Maybe they were still the most appropriate names for him, but that was neither here nor there.
These days he had other names. To his friends, he was often called the Fox Sage, for his contract. The Headsman, in honour of the blade he bore. His enemies knew him as less savoury names. The Second Flash, the Red-eyed Monster. To many he was simply "The bastard who killed me".
The one name that stayed with him though, the one name that was his legend, was the one he was secretly proud of. It was not just a veiled insult, not simply another attempt by the villagers to demean him for his burden. It was the name given to him by the Yondaime Mizukage with his last breaths. It was an homage to the ninja he so resembled, in both the blade he carried and in his purpose.
The Demon of the Bloody Leaf.
Suddenly, two red irises with slit pupils appeared, glowing above a demonic, fanged grin.
A/N: So I couldn't get this out of my head until I'd written it. Any feedback I could get would be most appreciated. Please be gentle though. It's my first time.
11/08/13: Update: So, this has had a little bit of a rewrite, in an attempt to improve the flow a little, since it felt too disjointed before. I'll likely have another go at this again soon, since it still doesn't feel right to me.