Disclaimer: Naruto is in no way mine. Its characters, plot, and setting all belong to Masashi Kishimoto.

Prologue

Academy Arc: I


Hate. That was all she'd known through her entire life. When she walked the streets, she'd see glares of malice and scorn. When she tried to enter shops to purchase food or clothing, or anything at all, she was met with sneers and more often than not, turned away. And even if she managed to buy anything, it was always poor in quality or expired (or close to expired). Yet, she was forced to pay a premium for these. (Of course she noticed. Did they really think she would not notice when she was forced to pay nearly triple the regular prices? She may be just a child, but she felt even an three year old would notice.) She was always met with insults whenever she tried to say anything, so she'd just learned to keep her mouth shut and head down when she walked by the villagers. To never draw attention to herself — whether good or bad. "Demon Brat" she was called.

Judgemental eyes always watched her. She never walked out in the open streets anymore, especially not in broad daylight, preferring alleyways and short-cuts, if only so she couldn't see the stares anymore. Experience taught her that they couldn't hurt her if they couldn't find her, if she hung in the shadows and remained unseen by the condemning eyes.

She didn't know why she was so hated and she'd always wondered. The lack of knowledge was what haunted her the most. Was it because of something her parents had done? But no, the old man with the funny red hat had assured her that her parents had been honorable shinobi who had died protecting the village from the Kyuubi when she'd asked. So why? Was it because her birthday was on the day of the Kyuubi attack? That wasn't her fault; it wasn't like she could control which day she was born. Then, did they hate her for being her? That was what scared her; that they might hate her because of her, because they hate her and not something else. Because she could change the opinions of them if they hated her for something else, but if they hated her for her…

Why? Why did she receive scorn when others receive praise? She'd seen other girls her age coddled and fawned over. Older women would gush about how cute they were, comments of oh, aren't you just adorable!, followed by giggles. She'd see shopkeepers smile at them and offer little treats like tiny colorfully wrapped candies or little glittery accessories, yet sneer when she approached. She couldn't understand why.

She'd always watched the other children play. So carefree, so naive. She'd feel a pang of longing and perhaps a hint of envy at seeing them with their parents and other relatives — uncles, aunts, grandparents, cousins… Was that what it was like to have parents? Would her parents take her to the park to play, or laugh and tell her jokes, or speak with pride about her? Would her dad swing her up onto his shoulders and would her mom gently guide her to have fun and make friends with other girls her age? Would her mom braid her hair or do other "girly" activities with her or teach her to be a powerful kunoichi like Tsunade Senju? She'd never know. So she just watched and watched.

She'd ask to play, but they always said no. Cries of "You can't play with us! Go away!" and "My momma said not to come near you," were familiar to her. It didn't hurt so much anymore when she was rejected, when the parents pulled their children away when she neared them. It was inevitable. Too many times the other children would turn away from her, even those who had been initially friendly, after a talk with their parents.

"Get away from my daughter, you demon!" a civilian women snarled as she bore down on the red-haired five-year old and her new acquaintance. She dragged the six-year-old brown-haired girl away from the redhead she'd been standing next to, and proceeded to take out a cloth and wipe her skin as though one might wipe away a sickness or disease. "What did I tell you?" she scolded. "Stay away from the fox."

"But Mama —" the little girl protested.

"Don't argue, Chiyako. It's for your own good. That fox is dangerous, okay? Come on, I'll make your favorite, chicken tempura, for dinner." Shooting a glare at the little redhead, The civilian women grabbed Chiyako's hand, and began to lead her away. Chiyako looked back at the red-haired girl she'd been playing with. She probably knew it was wrong, but children are oh-so malleable. And so the seeds of hate and fear were planted once more in the younger generation.

The little red-haired girl watched sadly as another of her newfound acquaintances walked away after her mother. It was another playmate lost, another friend gone.

If only her parents were alive. Perhaps then she wouldn't have to live off the street, running away again and again from the orphanages she was place into, the orphanages that never cared about her. The caretakers who were so kind to the other orphans would always act indifferent, if not outright rude and mean to her. Perhaps then she wouldn't have to scrounge for every scrap of food or steal the occasional fruit when the hunger grew unbearable. Perhaps then she wouldn't need to collect rain so that she could have clean water to use or bathe in the small streams that ran through the outermost regions Konoha.

"Get back here demon!" The portly shopkeeper shouted, waving a rolling pin around, blundering about in the street. "Thief!" The little red-haired, bare-footed girl desperately tried to avoid the various civilians who tried to catch her, clinging to the stale, burnt pieces of bread she clutched in her hands. It was a week or so after she was driven out of the orphanage, and her hunger had gotten the better of her, having not had anything to eat for two whole days. She'd stolen a couple pieces of some old, stale bread that would likely be thrown away anyway from the bakery, but had been caught by the shopkeeper.

She ran as fast as she could, ignoring the burning in her legs and the fatigue in her feet, racing through the streets of Konoha, taking back alleys and short-cuts until she stopped, tired and ravenous, by a small stream running through the outskirts of Konoha. She glanced around her to be sure no one else was around, and then broke each of the loaves of bread into four pieces, totaling up to eight pieces. She ate one of the pieces and wrapped the rest in a large leaf she picked up from the ground near her and washed in the stream. When she was finished, she drank from the stream and stored the wrapped bread in a hollow in the tree behind her. They would be her meal for the next few days.

When she slept, she dreamt of family and what hers might be like. Perhaps her mom would have red hair like hers but only prettier but with the same vibrant violet eyes. Her dad would have sparkling blue eyes like the sky and he'd be the nicest person one could hope to meet. Maybe he'd even have hair in the brightest shade of golden-yellow, she mused. Possibly, she'd have a brother, a kind, energetic one who would be all protective of her and would someday become a powerful shinobi. (She never knew how right she was, how close her dreams were to reality. Only, they weren't, were they?)

One day though, she promised herself that she'd make the villagers respect her. One day, she'd become a worthy kunoichi, fighting for the village. She'd seen the respect that the shinobi of this day were given, and she vowed that one day, she too would earn that respect. The grandfatherly man — the leader of the village, her mind supplied — told her that he'd let her enroll early, at six instead of having to wait until she was eight, like the others. (And she was just a child, and no child, no matter how mature, was smart enough to look underneath the underneath and see that he'd been worried for her and thought that maybe she might make some friends in the Academy. She'd also be safer there, too, he reasoned, and this way she'd get more training.) And the next semester started the very next day, a day she had been waiting impatiently for. Perhaps she'd finally make friends who would stay with her, who wouldn't leave after just a talk with their parents.

A small smile graced her face at the thought. Smiles were harder to come by these days, since she didn't really have much to smile about. She'd long lost that childish wonder and innocence that all newborns possessed.

She quickly tidied up the little apartment that the Hokage had given her. Even with plain cream-colored walls and a single, small window, —just barely big enough for a grown man to slip in — she still loved it. It was nice to finally have her own place after spending a full year living on the streets, so she tried her best to keep it as neat as a six-year old could. Even if she still had to steal food so she wouldn't starve, even if she'd still see the stares, she'd been happy for a rare moment in her life as the Hokage presented her with the apartment.

"Jiji? Where are we going?" the little red-haired girl asked as the Hokage led her along. For a second, she thought she saw a burning anger in the Hokage's face, but when he looked at her it was with a smile, so she dismissed it as nothing.

"We are going to get you a place all for yourself, because someone saw fit to evict you from the orphanage." She didn't notice the way his face hardened when the said the last line, didn't see the righteous anger at the orphanage caretakers, but she heard what he said.

"Really? A place for myself?" she said excitedly. The Hokage nodded, leading her to a quite nice-looking apartment complex, and steered her to the top-most floor where he produced a key and opened the door.

"Here you go," he said kindly. She peeked inside. It was a little bare, with plain white-washed walls, but it was clean, at least. It was somewhat small, with only one bedroom, a bathroom, and a kitchen, but it was hers. Finally, she had something that could belong to her.

"I love it!" she squealed, for once acting like the five-year old she was.

The Hokage smiled at her. "I'm glad you do."

Her only prized possessions — a calligraphy set from the Hokage and a cute, russet-colored stuffed fox plush she'd found on her doorstep on her birthday two days ago (her only birthday gift from someone other than the Hokage) — sat on the only table.

She hummed a small tune as she skipped out of her apartment to greet the Hokage. He'd promised to take her out for dango, and even if the people running the dango stand hated her, really, who would turn down the Hokage? And when she was with the Hokage, she never got more than a couple glares, and they never inflated the price, so maybe, for one day, she could pretend she was normal. (She knew she wasn't, not really, after all the villagers must have a reason to hate her… right? But it was still nice to pretend she was.)

He met her just outside the faded whitewashed building. His wizened face crinkled into a grandfatherly smile at her. "Hello Kazumi-chan," he said.

"Jiji," she greeted. He walked with her to the best dango stand in the village, inquiring about the month like he always did. Often when they went on these monthly (for the Hokage was busy, too busy to see her everyday) trips, she would see a violet-haired kunoichi in a trench coat scarf down dango near them, almost possessively. The Hokage would order two plates of dango for them when the waiter came along. She'd pretend not to see the waiter's gaze at her and how he practically sneered as she told him her order. They wouldn't try anything, not when the Hokage was there, but she knew that were he not there, they would refuse to serve her like all the other shops.

The Hokage would then ask her how she'd been the past month, so she'd proceed to speak about useless chit-chat — commenting on the weather, how beautiful the flowers were, and isn't the sky gorgeous today?, but nothing personal — so she wouldn't have to talk about the villagers. She didn't want to worry the Hokage when she was already used to it. (She didn't know that each carefully deflected question, each idle comment made the Hokage even more pained.)

She didn't mind that the Hokage could meet her only once a month. He was busy; she knew that it couldn't be easy to run an entire village. So, when the ordinary-looking brown-haired chuunin dropped into their little lunch with a message for the Hokage, and he took off after paying the bill and offering her an apology, she was only slightly disappointed. She had looked forward to the monthly visits. But she accepted that the Hokage had more pressing businesses to attend to than to eat dango with an orphan, one that was hated no less. He probably was hard-pressed enough already to make enough free time to even meet with her at all.

The glares sent at her reminded her where she was. She quickly left the dango shop, knowing that now that the Hokage left, she was no longer welcome.

She let her feet carry her while she walked, not really paying attention to her surroundings, and found herself stopping in front of a beautiful garden high up on the plateau behind the Hokage mountain. It was barely one kilometer away from the back of the Fourth Hokage's head, but strangely, it seemed no one else came up here. She'd discovered this place just last year, — shortly after she'd ran from her third orphanage — but it was already her favorite place to be in Konoha, aside from her small apartment. It was very tranquil, and she often came here to get away from the glares. She suspected that only the masked nin who watched her — ANBU, the Hokage told her — knew about this place. If she tried hard enough, sometimes she would catch brief flashes of black, but if it were not for that, she never have thought they were there, quiet as they were.

She sat down on the large stone on the edge of the smooth, clear pond dotted with small white lotus blossoms, tinged with pink. The peace here calmed her and there always seemed to be some sort of lulling serenity present. She could sit at the edge of the pond for hours, watching the koi swim around flashing their brilliant golden scales and watching the tiny woodland critters in the surrounding trees.

During the late months of spring — May and even early June — the beautiful cherry-blossom trees planted along the gurgling stream that lead to the pond bloomed, and dropped the little blossoms onto the glassy crystal-clear surface of the stream, where they were carried off downstream. Colorful songbirds gathered in the branches of the trees and chirped out their exquisite melodies, blending together into a gorgeous melody. She often listened to them sing to their heart's content without anyone judging them and wondered if one day, she, too, might be as free. This place was her little safe-haven away from the villagers. Sometimes, when he was free, the Hokage would join her here and talk. They made an odd pair, an old man in large white robes and a little red-haired girl sitting together at the edge of a pond together. This afternoon, however, she was so tired that she ended up falling asleep in front of the pond, lulled to sleep by the warm sunlight and the playful babbling of the stream.

When she woke, the sun was already beginning to dip beyond the horizon, coloring the sky a golden-orange shade, mixed with hues of pink and soft purple. Shadows splayed out over the buildings, stretching inky tendrils over everything. She jumped up from her sleeping position on the rock when she noticed how it was quickly turning dark. The golden-orange was being swallowed up by darker shades of purple and indigo and small, diamond-like stars were coming out, one by one.

She rarely stayed out so late, since it was more dangerous at night in Konoha, with all its shadows. Something could happen to someone and no one would even know. Bandits — though not many — came out this late, although most were caught by the Uchiha police force. She knew this. She quickly and quietly took the secret path along the side of the Hokage mountain down, and carefully made her way home, threading through the streets and avoiding the dark alleyways. She'd nearly been caught a couple times by drunk villagers the last few times she had stayed out so late, but this time, it seemed they were all inside. The lights of the night-shops were on, and inside some, she could see older, seasoned shinobi tossing back sake and chatting amongst friends. What must it have taken, she wondered, to develop such a camaraderie, such a friendship? (She knew later, and wished she could unlearn it as she watched her teammate fall to the ground, crimson already pooling around him, even as she let out a scream of rage; knew the sweat and blood and tears, the danger, the life and death situations it took to form such a bond).

She breathed a sigh of relief when she made it home unscathed. She slipped her shoes off and put them neatly next to the door. As she closed the door of her apartment, her eye caught a flash of bright, white light streaking through the sky. She closed her eyes and made a wish even as the shooting star disappeared beyond the skyline, leaving the night dark once more.

Please, if only for one day, let me just be a normal child in Konoha.


A.N. So, what did you all think? This is my first actual, long writing piece, and I'm curious as to how you find it. Please, feel free to give any constructive criticism or feedback. My writing may not be the best since

Also, this may be a tad bit dark as she is, in fact a jinchuuriki (did I spell that right?) and a child, so yes, she is going to exaggerate the villager's treatment a little since children don't deal very well with any form of neglect or emotional abuse.

That said, please enjoy this story!

~Iridescent Moonflower