~*~Feral Instinct~*~
~*~Prologue~*~
The horizon was a charcoal grey, the smog disallowing light to penatrate through to the old growth forest beneath. Only long grasses and small shrubs thrived as the trees decayed, their remains slowly healing the earth under-foot that was presently deprived of all nutrients. A small stream flowed and ebbed through the dying wood, but it was poisoned by disease, driving away many of the animals that had lived in the vacinity, sending them in search of a place that was better, more beautiful, where there was no failing struggle for survival. A Utopia.
The problem was that it was a false hope, an illusion created by the protest of the body, the aching muscles and the shivering bones, which screamed "there must be something better," based on an ancient memory full of comfort and love. The surviving race of sentient creatures, the humans, ignored these instincts, for they knew there was nothing left for them. It was like this for as long as anyone could remember...or, that anyone wanted to remember. Before the Great Disaster, many a life had been bright and happy, overflowing with the radiant warmth of companionship. Afterwards, the land had been stained with the blood of friends, family and comrades. This had been the same for the villagers of, what was once, Konohagakure.
The beautiful prosperous town, their trade primarily in the services of shinobi, had been hit hard, every building desecrated with shockwave after shockwave of unrestrained power. It had been mass panic after the initial attack, for it was unexpected, and many of the villagers threw any emergency training they had learnt in the Academy out the window in the heat of terror. The sheer number of people massed and surged like a tidal wave, fearing only for themselves and loved ones, and trampling many underfoot while desperately trying to escape.
The second assault only used the pandemonium to its advantage, surrounding and massacring the unsuspecting people. The few that gained their wits hid behind bodies, using them as shields until the danger had passed. Then, without a second thought, they up and left, leaving the large amount of dead and seriously wounded to be picked at by roving animals and demons. They were guilty of this action, fearful that the deceased wouldn't be laid to rest, but they were too concerned with their own lives to assist others. This is the reason a small blond boy, who had immediately hid in a gap between the roots his favourite tree when the Disaster struck, had been overlooked. The boy's name was Uzumaki Naruto.
After all, no one could be bothered with a weak little orphan, a loudmouthed brat who would pull annoying pranks on a daily basis. Even if someone did care that he didn't have parents, if they did notice, they would sneer at him, mocking the boy for the Kyuubi inside him, the demonic fox that had laid waste to their countryside seven years ago. But the way he lived had given him a twisted understanding of others, and for that, he had stayed. The bleeding men, women and children soon learned that the kid wasn't half as bad as they thought, as he patiently listened to their pained moans as he patched up their wounds. Their fond thoughts were tinged with regret, for they knew that they had condemned him even though they did not understand his true disposition, and they couldn't take back what they did. Their death was inevitable. What would it matter if they said 'I'm sorry' to a little boy?
But one man had tried his best to right his wrongs. He taught the innocent child to survive, to throw a shuriken, to use a kodachi and to hunt for food. That man, Umino Iruka, was seen as a father in Naruto's bright blue eyes. Iruka was an honoured, chuunin-level sensei in the Academy, and would spin tales of the old days, of his parents, when he became the class-clown after losing them, and after meeting his lover - a lazy-eyed jounin by the name of Hatake Kakashi.
"Sensei?" Naruto's squeaky childish voice would gently implore.
"Hmm?"
"Ne, what was Kakashi-sensei like?"
At this, the ponytailed man would laugh - a cheerful, hearty sound, tinged with a slight wheeze from his injuries. He would rub his scar with his undamaged hand in contemplation, before setting his lips in a gentle smile. "He was...Kakashi" a chuckle escaped him when he'd see the boy's confused scowl. "It's hard to explain. He was so mysterious, but a real lazy ass, too! I would always joke to him whenever he picked up a broom. 'Oh God! Hell must be freezing over!' I would always say, and he would glare at me with that one uncovered eye of his, and begin sweeping while reading that damn dirty book..." The man sighed sorrowfully at the memory, but Naruto was too young to grasp the concept of such a loss, himself never experiencing a close relationship.
"What happened to him?" the boy asked abruptly.
Tears stung at the corners of Iruka's dark eyes. "I'm not sure."
Six months later, the man took his last breath, like many others had done before him. His wounds were infectious, and he was too weak to battle the fever down any longer. During his delirium, he had once grabbed Naruto into a tight hold, and tucked the boy's head under his sweaty chin. "I don't want to be alone again." he whispered, his voice hoarse from coughing. "Please don't leave."
The firecly loyal Uzumaki Naruto promised he wouldn't, and for a decade after the man's burial, he lingered, slowly transforming into a wild child. The kunai from the village had long since rusted, the wooden houses had rotted. He lived and hunted in the forest and sparce grasslands by day, against all logic, for there was almost no food left. He then slipped into the concrete basement of the old Administration Office to sleep in his nest of shredded clothing by night. None of this routine had changed. The fight for survival was almost monotonous by now.
That is, until a new element was introduced into his territory. A strange dark shadow that carried a makeshift spear.
*~*~*~*
Well, that's it. I hope someone takes interest in this. ^^; R&R. *goes off to hang herself* I killed Iruka-sama! T_T
~*~Prologue~*~
The horizon was a charcoal grey, the smog disallowing light to penatrate through to the old growth forest beneath. Only long grasses and small shrubs thrived as the trees decayed, their remains slowly healing the earth under-foot that was presently deprived of all nutrients. A small stream flowed and ebbed through the dying wood, but it was poisoned by disease, driving away many of the animals that had lived in the vacinity, sending them in search of a place that was better, more beautiful, where there was no failing struggle for survival. A Utopia.
The problem was that it was a false hope, an illusion created by the protest of the body, the aching muscles and the shivering bones, which screamed "there must be something better," based on an ancient memory full of comfort and love. The surviving race of sentient creatures, the humans, ignored these instincts, for they knew there was nothing left for them. It was like this for as long as anyone could remember...or, that anyone wanted to remember. Before the Great Disaster, many a life had been bright and happy, overflowing with the radiant warmth of companionship. Afterwards, the land had been stained with the blood of friends, family and comrades. This had been the same for the villagers of, what was once, Konohagakure.
The beautiful prosperous town, their trade primarily in the services of shinobi, had been hit hard, every building desecrated with shockwave after shockwave of unrestrained power. It had been mass panic after the initial attack, for it was unexpected, and many of the villagers threw any emergency training they had learnt in the Academy out the window in the heat of terror. The sheer number of people massed and surged like a tidal wave, fearing only for themselves and loved ones, and trampling many underfoot while desperately trying to escape.
The second assault only used the pandemonium to its advantage, surrounding and massacring the unsuspecting people. The few that gained their wits hid behind bodies, using them as shields until the danger had passed. Then, without a second thought, they up and left, leaving the large amount of dead and seriously wounded to be picked at by roving animals and demons. They were guilty of this action, fearful that the deceased wouldn't be laid to rest, but they were too concerned with their own lives to assist others. This is the reason a small blond boy, who had immediately hid in a gap between the roots his favourite tree when the Disaster struck, had been overlooked. The boy's name was Uzumaki Naruto.
After all, no one could be bothered with a weak little orphan, a loudmouthed brat who would pull annoying pranks on a daily basis. Even if someone did care that he didn't have parents, if they did notice, they would sneer at him, mocking the boy for the Kyuubi inside him, the demonic fox that had laid waste to their countryside seven years ago. But the way he lived had given him a twisted understanding of others, and for that, he had stayed. The bleeding men, women and children soon learned that the kid wasn't half as bad as they thought, as he patiently listened to their pained moans as he patched up their wounds. Their fond thoughts were tinged with regret, for they knew that they had condemned him even though they did not understand his true disposition, and they couldn't take back what they did. Their death was inevitable. What would it matter if they said 'I'm sorry' to a little boy?
But one man had tried his best to right his wrongs. He taught the innocent child to survive, to throw a shuriken, to use a kodachi and to hunt for food. That man, Umino Iruka, was seen as a father in Naruto's bright blue eyes. Iruka was an honoured, chuunin-level sensei in the Academy, and would spin tales of the old days, of his parents, when he became the class-clown after losing them, and after meeting his lover - a lazy-eyed jounin by the name of Hatake Kakashi.
"Sensei?" Naruto's squeaky childish voice would gently implore.
"Hmm?"
"Ne, what was Kakashi-sensei like?"
At this, the ponytailed man would laugh - a cheerful, hearty sound, tinged with a slight wheeze from his injuries. He would rub his scar with his undamaged hand in contemplation, before setting his lips in a gentle smile. "He was...Kakashi" a chuckle escaped him when he'd see the boy's confused scowl. "It's hard to explain. He was so mysterious, but a real lazy ass, too! I would always joke to him whenever he picked up a broom. 'Oh God! Hell must be freezing over!' I would always say, and he would glare at me with that one uncovered eye of his, and begin sweeping while reading that damn dirty book..." The man sighed sorrowfully at the memory, but Naruto was too young to grasp the concept of such a loss, himself never experiencing a close relationship.
"What happened to him?" the boy asked abruptly.
Tears stung at the corners of Iruka's dark eyes. "I'm not sure."
Six months later, the man took his last breath, like many others had done before him. His wounds were infectious, and he was too weak to battle the fever down any longer. During his delirium, he had once grabbed Naruto into a tight hold, and tucked the boy's head under his sweaty chin. "I don't want to be alone again." he whispered, his voice hoarse from coughing. "Please don't leave."
The firecly loyal Uzumaki Naruto promised he wouldn't, and for a decade after the man's burial, he lingered, slowly transforming into a wild child. The kunai from the village had long since rusted, the wooden houses had rotted. He lived and hunted in the forest and sparce grasslands by day, against all logic, for there was almost no food left. He then slipped into the concrete basement of the old Administration Office to sleep in his nest of shredded clothing by night. None of this routine had changed. The fight for survival was almost monotonous by now.
That is, until a new element was introduced into his territory. A strange dark shadow that carried a makeshift spear.
*~*~*~*
Well, that's it. I hope someone takes interest in this. ^^; R&R. *goes off to hang herself* I killed Iruka-sama! T_T