Author's Notes: 'Sup everyone? This is my first fanfic, so try to go easy on me, 'kay? I have feelings too. Now before I start ranting, let's get into this fanfic.
Summary: Life is rough; he knew that better than most. He knew that everyone needed someone to save them, eventually. He knew they'd wait, hope and cry for a hero. He knew because he used to do the same, to no avail. He wouldn't let the same happen to others. He'd be their hero.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, and anyone who thinks that I do, is probably a little off.
Heroes - Chapter One: In the Veil of the Night
Blood. Splattered on the cold, brick-walls; soaked into the clothes of the academy student; singular droplets trickled down his cheeks, and he made no move to stop them.
Under the few cracks of moonlight that slipped into the alleyway, lay two fresh corpses; kunai, as well as deep gashes scattered amongst their frames. Civilians. They were civilians. They were criminals. Scum. Monsters. They were dead.
Nearby lay a barely visible figure, alive, mostly unharmed, cowering in the furthest corner, away from the carnage.
His shaken blue eyes locked on her own shell-shocked browns, barely visible from her place in the shadows. She trembled, he saw; shook like a leaf in the wind. He saved her. They were going to hurt her. He hurt them. He saved her.
She was afraid of him.
He took a step forward, sandals plonking through puddles of red. She flinched.
He called out to her, "Hey, we gotta get outta' here; come on," he extended a lightly-tanned hand, "we'll get in trouble if we stay here, we gotta go." She blinked.
A cool gust of wind rolled through the alleyway. She shivered.
"Come on, you can't stay out here; it's cold. I'll take you somewhere warm. Come on." He shook his extended hand, taking a few more steps through the blood-soaked ground. Brown eyes remained locked on him as he drew closer. He was going to hurt her, she was sure; why else would he be here? He would hurt her like he hurt them. He'd kill her. She was going to die.
Her breathing became more ragged, she cowered even further away; trembling with poorly-concealed fear.
"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt ya, or anything. You got hurt enough already, don't ya think?" He tried for a reassuring grin, but found it hard to maintain. It was almost painful. He had nothing to smile about.
She remained silent.
"You'll be safe with me, just— come on." He took another step forward, almost wincing as the girls shell-shocked expression hardened with distrust.
"Y-you… you're lying… th-they… they always say that… y-you're... lying..." She choked out, cheeks damp with fallen tears. He watched her, his heart crying out to the poor redhead as she drew into herself, muttering almost inaudibly. He heard her. He'd save her. She needed a hero. He'd save her.
"Well I'm not them!" He repressed a flinch as her head snapped up, startled by his outburst. He continued, "I'm a hero, believe it! It's my job to save people!"
She wanted to believe him; to believe he was a hero. But heroes weren't real.
She averted her gaze.
"Come on, even if you don't believe me, I'm gonna help you. I'll drag you outta' here if I have to!" He pressed forward, arms ensnaring the shaken girl, as he forced her to her feet. She tried to scream, but a quick hand over her mouth silenced her. He could feel her dry lips against the palm of his hand. He figured she needed water, but that'd have to wait. "Hey, you can't scream, alright? They'll catch us if ya scream, so try to be quiet, okay?" She nodded, albeit hesitantly. "Good. Now let's go."
He pulled his hand from her mouth, and before she could get to moving on her shaking legs, he scooped her into his arms, eliciting a startled, —if a bit fearful— squeak from the redhead. Then they were gone.
Her eyes were squeezed shut as she struggled to remain calm. She was too weak to stop him, she knew she was. So she'd wait. She was good at waiting. Her thoughts drifted back to the alleyway where the two men who tried to rape her lay dead in pools of their own blood. He saved her. She could admit that, but that didn't mean that she was safe; no, she wasn't safe. He could've saved her so that he could finish the job. The thought made her quiver.
She was pulled from her thoughts as the wind ceased to pound against her blood-speckled clothing; they'd stopped. She opened her eyes.
"Hey, do you think you can stand for a second? I gotta get my key." One affirmative "mmhm" later, and she was on her feet. Her knees still felt weak, and she was still shaking like mad, but she could stand. Her eyes focused on the boy —who was only a few inches taller than her— as he made his way to the door, fetching a key from somewhere in his jacket. The building was worn-down at best. It almost looked abandoned. The old door creaked on its hinges after it came open with a click.
She made to follow him as he stood in the doorway, but quickly found walking was harder than standing. Her legs gave out, her eyes snapped shut as she prepared to meet the unforgiving ground. And she did make an impact, but the surface she hit was best described as crusty, firm, and somewhat soft. Arms latched around her waist, and she knew he caught her. She kept her eyes shut as he guided her inside.
The rusted door-hinges sounded out as he shut the door behind them, a musky smell invaded her senses as they continued inside. She ignored it. She could care less.
"Hey," He whispered, drawing her attention. Her eyes tiredly drifted open, as she struggled to remain conscious. "Stay awake for now, you gotta shower and stuff. I've got some clothes you can wear, and some ramen if you're hungr-"
She cut him off, voice full of curiosity, and suspicion, "W-why the hell are you doing all this?" Suddenly a violent coughing fit racked her body, cutting off any further questions, as attention was drawn to her now burning lungs and quivering frame.
He silenced her, leading her to his bed, making sure she was comfortably seated. It was too dark to see what he was doing, but she could make out the sound of running water.
He returned. "Here, drink this." She reached out tiredly, grasping something cool and drawing it to her lips. She sipped. "Gimme a second." He muttered, unnoticed as he slipped away. Her attention was on the drink he gave her. She chugged it down, soon tracing her lips with her moist tongue, before nibbling on the dead skin. Chewing her lip had become a bit of a bad habit, but she couldn't care less about what people thought of her; when no one has anything nice to say, you get used to ignoring them.
She lowered the glass to her lap as his footsteps drew near. He took the glass from her loose grip, swapping it out with a bundle of —what felt like— clothing. Her chocolate orbs looked it over questioningly. "You gotta take a shower. Come on, I'll help you get there."
She nodded absently, thoughts focused on the blonde as he led her to —what she assumed was— the bathroom. She still couldn't figure out what he was up to, but since he didn't seem too insidious, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, though her guard was still up. She knew it was pointless, since he could kill her just as quickly as the two guys from the alleyway, but she wouldn't make it easy on him. No, she wouldn't. She'd been hurt enough. She would fight.
Lights flared as they made their way inside the bathroom. Their feet pounding against the tiled floor, the only noise in the deathly-silent building.
His scratchy voice cut through the silence, "Think you'll be alright on your own?" She looked up at him once the question left his lips. His eyes somehow gleaming in the light; she also took note of the whisker marks on his cheeks, which had previously gone unnoticed by her. His cheeks were quirked up in a grin, which she could tell, took effort to maintain. He was trying to make her feel at ease, she noticed. With that observation came the irrational need to wrap her arms around the boy in a hug, but she squashed the feeling. She could not afford to trust him. Not until she knew whether or not he'd hurt her like the rest of them did.
After a few seconds of blatant staring, she'd remembered his question, and gave a small nod in affirmation. After making sure her legs were able to support her weight, he turned on the bath, and left her to her own devices, shutting the door behind him, but not without calling out that, should she need his help, he'd be there. His words filled her chest with a dull warmth, and she found herself bearing a weak smile as she stripped the bloodied clothes from her bruised frame. Fortunately, none of the blood was her own, as the men were… stopped, before she could be dealt any serious injuries, thus ending the traumatic experience before it progressed further, to a place she'd rather keep her mind off of. The thought of being deflowered by such vile men sickened her. She found herself wanting to thank her blond saviour, but decided she'd wait. She couldn't trust him. At least, not yet.