Mask

The mask that separated reality with illusions was always there as a defence mechanism, to protect him from everything. Everything from the demons, to humans to nature itself was against him. There was nothing he could do about their prejudice. The hate was, after all, completely second nature to the citizens within the village. Nothing could be done, or so he continuously told himself.

Shrouded in darkness, and a cold environment, there was nothing for him and nothing he could do for others. He was a nobody, an expendable life form, useless. He was an orphan, with nobody to care for him, to love him. Everyday, routinely being harassed by the villagers did nothing for him, whether it be negative or positive. He would continue wearing the mask, that same mask that saved him from the hatred directed towards him.

Nobody was to be able to penetrate his world that way. Nobody would cut through the mask and find him in the dark, huddled away from the world. It was to the benefit of both him and the villagers, he reasoned. In this way, he would not bother anyone directly, and nobody should bother him. He was wrong.

Year after year, on October 10th, he was chased around, beaten and left in the garbage heaps. Bloodied, bruised and hurt, he would return to his small, rundown apartment suite and nurture his wounds in the dark. That day, October 10th, was the day that he would be given the most amount of attention, it was also the day of his birthday. No one would bother to wish him a happy birthday, even the Third was too busy to come around anymore. He would be alone once again, left out of the celebrations, the celebration for the defeat of the Kyuubi no Yoko, on his birthday.

As alone as he was, he would not show it. He would smile to others, act as a clown of sorts, seeking attention, seeking approval, seeking friendship. It was an act, a play, where he had to play his part perfectly, there was no room for slip-ups. If there was even on tiny mistake, his mask would crack. From that tiny crack, it would continue, spreading all around and until the mask finally shatters. The many pieces would be impossible to piece back together one by one, it would mark the end for him.

An end, he gladly accepted, because there was finally someone there for him. Waiting.