He's always been shunned for a reason. He can pretend all he likes that it's for the fox, because of the tenant that he can't help for holding inside of him, but that's simply not true. For the most part, they couldn't care less that he's the Jinchuriki of the Kyubi. The fact of the matter is that he's violent beyond all comparison, a savage child who picked fights no matter where he was. The Hokage had even taken him on a diplomatic mission, several years ago, and he'd ended up in a brawl with the Kazekage's son; it was alright, though, since they were both Jinchuriki and could take the respective beatings that their opponent had been dealing. When asked about the experience, he'd only reply that he'd made a friend because of it.
In the Academy, he reigned supreme as a fighter from the day he entered. At seven, he was beating thirteen-year-old kids who were in their last year at the school. He paid rapt attention the the practical theory and application of techniques, though little else, because he knew that it would allow him to fight better. In his time off he played video games, strategy games. From his inmate, he learned many things. Cruel, and terrible, things that would make him a better warrior; he learned of chakra auras, and how they were given off only by the most powerful of techniques. He learned of strategy, of predicting the switch and inflicting status. Most importantly, though, he learned the one thing that he already knew: your enemy can't fight if they're busy running away from you.
Though he wasn't the top of his class, as that position belonged to those children who actually gave a damn about school, he was certainly the most powerful. He was a juggernaut, one who saw little difference between an organized spar and a frenzied match to the death...but perhaps that's not fair to him. To lose would mean that there was someone better than him, and that couldn't be allowed. The chakra-less boy had fallen to him easily, his rigid stances butchered before the might of a Jinchuriki. The Hyuga boy had tried, valiantly, and was one of the few people who'd ever actually managed to land a hit or two on him; when he fought, it became clear, he was in a league of his own.
That kind of separation only grew as elemental techniques were briefly introduced in classes...until he "accidentally" set fire to Uchiha Sasuke's hair and clothing. In truth, he did it just to see what would happen. And to watch the colors, and even to laugh a little bit at the thought that an Uchiha, a supposed master of the element, would actually panic and not know what to do about it. The boy might have hated him after that, as is natural for all regular humans, but in his eyes it was still totally worth it.
He failed the graduation exam on purpose. With the way that Mizuki had been looking at him, it was clear that he had something planned out for the "class failure." He went along with it, and managed to predict the switch; Mizuki just wanted power, which was understandable from the Jinchuriki's point of view, but couldn't be tolerated. Giving the man power would mean that it was power he could've had for himself. With that in mind, he copied down the entirety of the Kinjutsu scroll and decided to deal with it later. When Mizuki had arrived, and Iruka, it hadn't been a contest; the would-be traitor was killed with relative ease, which was disappointing. How could he grow stronger when he defeated everyone he came across?
The answer, as always, was within. He went to the Kyubi, to Kurama the Son of None, for power...and the demon, as a merciful and benevolent lord, granted it to him. It was evident first in the battle against the Demon Brothers; where Sakura had hesitated, and Sasuke held back, he went to battle with a look of wild exhilaration on his face and a wordless war whoop screaming from his lips. In that instant, those seconds, it had only been himself and his enemies. When that time had passed, though, he'd stood over their bodies with a melancholic look. He'd thought, and hoped, that they would be stronger. Confronted about it later, by Kakashi, all he could say was that he did what he wanted to do.
When Zabuza had arrived, Kakashi was the one who would battle; he couldn't stand for that, and blitzed past his teacher on all fours with a joyous shout of challenge. The swordmaster might have been amazing with his signature blade, and all of his mist or water techniques, but he couldn't physically outclass the boy...so Zabuza resorted to jutsu, which he easily predicted. Dodging, he sent out a moderate Katon attack that would throw the swordsman off while making him expend more chakra. Behind it, though, was a lightning strike that would only be amplified by the water that Zabuza stood on. It had been then that the would-be assassin had been slain by a Kirigakure oinin, but the death was false. Kakashi might have been fooled, but the demon could smell the life that still clung to the man's body...so the boy stayed behind, killing the pair before rejoining his group. That was what a ninja did, wasn't it? Remove all obstacles in the way of completing the mission? Yes, yes it was.
As Gato had arrived on the bridge, Kakashi hadn't needed to explain their duty; his feral student had crouched down on hands and feet, running towards them as a growing aura of bloody red chakra had surrounded him. His laugh was cold, his teeth like knives, and he roared with all the power of a demon of hatred and rage. He was violence incarnate, in that moment, and none of the onlookers could truly say that they'd ever before seen something that looked so natural or so right. He'd been born on the battlefield, and it was his home. It was where he was safe, where he could unleash his emotions without the chance of being ridiculed by nonexistent parents or siblings. And if a man's home is his castle, then the boy was truly a king; in war, nothing could touch or faze him. He was, for real and true, the one who was destined to save or destroy the world of the shinobi.
The Chunin Exams had given him a chance to sincerely cut loose, and he fought with fervor against anyone and everyone that he could. Most of the time, he killed them. The sole exception was when he ran across a boy he knew from long ago, his first and only friend...and succinctly beat him within an inch of his life before hugging him, as warriors and brothers often do. The six of them traveled together, and when Orochimaru arrived it was not to an Uchiha and a Jinchuriki as well as a civilian-born girl, but two Jinchuriki and the second's siblings to boot. Rip, tear, kill. He regenerated. Rip, tear, kill. He regenerated. Crush him with sand, he regenerated. Cut him up into lots of itty-bitty teeny-tiny pieces, he regenerated. Burn him alive with wind and fire, he regenerated. Mitarashi Anko showed up, he retreated. Until such a time as they would cross paths again, the boy would forever be irked that there was someone who he simply couldn't kill; the thought went against everything he had ever told himself, any notion that had ever popped into his head. He was the strongest, and could not lose, so why couldn't he win?
The invasion allowed him to truly showcase just how far he'd come. His blood hummed with power, his mind filled with manic euphoria as he tore apart anyone who was in his way. He watched their liquid life drain, and his aura took its hue; he could taste the iron and the copper in his mouth, and knew it for exactly what it was: their fear, their memories, all that they might have been...and it was given to him, fuel for his fire of hate and fury and death. Their deaths were no more than tally marks, his war being one that was against all of the world. He was built for battle, crafted for it and nurtured to become the greatest warrior ever seen; he simply intended to show the world the truth of his training by ramming all his prowess through the world like a sledge hits a spike. He was proud, he was a warrior, and he was a true killer. He fought with the power of a demon behind him, as a man who defied gods he didn't believe in, and he could only smile as the corpses fell and his kill tally mounted higher. If the Hokage had been able to see him, the ancient man would have been shocked that such a devout follower of the Will of Fire was so obsessed with slaughter. The thought of another Uchiha Itachi was never too far behind him, but his better-subdued nature had always fooled those who tried to look.
His first meeting with the legendary Uchiha, the Second Coming of Madara, was certainly a lot less than what he'd hoped for. He'd spent his time fighting against a fish-man, Hoshigaki Kisame, who apparently belonged to the same order as Zabuza had prior to his death...and the blue-skinned monster had been shocked to know that the Jinchuriki had been the one to kill his former comrade. It hadn't been enough to enrage him, of course, since the entire idea of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen had been founded on absolute mistrust and dislike of one another, but no punches had been pulled; that's what made the boy's survival even more impressive, because he'd survived an onslaught from a wary S-ranked ninja. When Jiraiya had arrived on-scene, to a retreating pair of ninja and an injured Sasuke, the boy could only shrug sheepishly and say that he held them off for at least five minutes both ways of Sasuke's arrival.
His fight with Tsunade had been one of the greatest that he'd ever experienced, feeling true pain for one of the first times in his life. He'd gotten back up, leaping at her on all fours as red energy began to gather around him, and raked his newfound claws across her face. His stabs were nonlethal, to her arms or legs only, and once he discovered her hemophobia then the battle was as good as won; with a snarl, he'd flung his blood at her eyes and began his physical onslaught. It was just a mass of punches, to be sure, but any spot in the human body will become weak if it's punched enough by a teenage boy with muscle and gravity on his side. He left their fight without a single scratch, the Kyubi having already taken care of such trivial wounds. Tsunade, meanwhile, was facing broken or cracked ribs as well as a broken jaw and skull. Rather than facing Orochimaru that week later, he was stuck against the silver-haired Kabuto instead; the young man had taken his opponent mildly, and paid for it with a ripped-off face before being disembowled. That had been when Orochimaru had come to him, and he'd dared to tell everyone that this wasn't their fight to interfere with until he lost. That, of course, didn't happen...Orochimaru was weak and without arms, forced to retreat before any true battle could be done. The Jinchuriki counted it as a victory, despite his understandable melancholy mood after not getting to kill the man.
During the mission to retrieve Sasuke, everything basically went to hell as soon as he stepped out from the gates of Konoha. He left a clone to go with Shikamaru's squad and took a small platoon of clones for himself. The portly Jirobo was little more than cannon fodder to the Clone Explosion multiplied en masse, and the spider-boy Kidomaru's silk-spitting proved to be his downfall; the boy used demonic chakra to overpower and poison. Tayuya's illusions were worthless against someone who contains two spirits in one body, as one could disrupt while the other fought, but something about her made him want to keep her alive...though not to be found by Shikamaru. He killed the conjoined brothers quickly enough, using the power of the Kyubi's fiery soul to burn everything to ash save for himself and his carried prisoner. Last was Kimimaro, a soldier of bones, and the Jinchuriki child couldn't help but grin as he ripped the boy's arms and legs off; they just grew back, to be torn asunder once again...but, when that got boring, he used flames to roast Kimimaro inside of his shell-like armor.
Sasuke had awoken and headed off to the Valley of the End, the Final Valley, to await a confrontation...and so he would get one, with all the strength of a feral Jinchuriki behind it. There was great violence, with blood flowing everywhere; virtually all of it belonged to Sasuke, though the red miasma that coated his opponent could very well be taken for blood. In the end, it came down to knocking Sasuke out through the sheer power of blunt force trauma...something that he was, fortunately, very gifted at. The Uchiha was thrown back to the Konoha side of the valley and its waterfall, the side of the Shodaime Hokage's statue, as was a clone designed to "die" by exploding itself when they were found. To his credit, he didn't even hear the blast; that was how quickly and how far he'd traveled, even while carrying someone on his back.
He had made his decision that day...he was no man, no Jinchuriki, but he was himself. He was violence made flesh, the physical incarnation of the will to dominate and cause hurt in all life. He had no parents, was a Son of None just as his jailed tenant before him, and had neither friends nor ties to the world. He would not simply drive his prowess as deep into the world as he could, but wide across it as well. He would fight for the sheer sake of fighting, kill for the simple reason that it was what happened in life. It was his purpose, his destiny, and his duty. Just because he could, he would fight the world by himself and bring about his own blessed world of violent destruction. He was a ninja, but he was more than that. He was a fighter, a warrior. He was the maelstrom.
He was Naruto.