Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of the characters and likenesses thereof. This is a fan-made work created purely for entertainment, and I am not in any way affiliated with the author or publishers. In other words: It's not mine! I'm just having fun with it!
A/N: This is my first Naruto story... and my first one-shot! I got the idea from my understanding of the way a child's psychology works and a story I once heard about Hugh Hefner. Review! It makes me feel good about myself!
He loved his little blanket very much. He carried it around everywhere he went. It had tiny toads on it, little orange toads that hopped around on a field of yellow. He'd always liked toads. They seemed so at peace with their little toad lives, and they didn't need anyone else… the only problem was that the little boy wasn't a toad.
He had not seen his father since he was too young to remember. He wasn't dead, Mother said, but the fact remained that his important ninja business had taken him away two weeks after the little boy was born and had not yet let him go.
His mother was obsessed with the warrior arts. It was her religion, in a way. She judged his worthiness to receive her love and affection by how well he performed in training each day. He could not count the number of times he had been pushed away from a warm embrace and sent to bed because he had been beaten by a sparring partner.
His sensei was the only person who seemed to care about him at all, but this was only because a teacher is obliged to treat his students kindly, wasn't it?
Even the giant toad he would someday be learning to summon would only come because it had to. It seemed that no one really wanted to know him; they only wanted to see what he could do. It seemed that there was really nothing special about the little boy beyond his abilities. Nothing set him apart in the human realm. It was sad, but it was true. It seemed to him, as he rested his head at night, that the only place he would ever make a mark was in the brutal world of war and stealth... not that he was particularly stealthy.
His little blanket meant a lot to him. It was the only thing he could touch without being pushed away. The little boy wasn't sure why he was so repulsive, but he could take a hint, so he stuck with his blanket… until, one day, his sensei brought him a little injured toad.
It was so tiny, so helpless, and its tiny little broken hind foot dangled uselessly from its leg, flapping to and fro in the slight breeze, oozing blood and dark, gangrenous pus as the little toad struggled in his sensei's strong hands.
He took it from his sensei and ran all the way home, cradling the little toad in his arms so as not to jar it too badly. He wrapped it in his special blanket. Surely that would help it to get better. He nursed the little toad all that night, until he had to go to school the next day. He gave his mother very specific instructions.
So it went for three days, but on the third day, the little toad croaked for the last time, laying on it back, reflexes twitching in a macabre mockery of life. The little boy cried. His mother promptly flushed the body down the toilet and burned the blanket.
That night, he lay alone… all alone, crying in the indifferent dark.
Is it any wonder Jiraiya spent the rest of his life searching for real love?
Please review... Seriously. I need to know how I did with the character.