This is my first story~ Please be kind, ne?
The prologue is dark, beware. The story lightens up latter on though.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of its characters
Pairings: Obviously Kakanaru
Summary: Our love story is never to be: I love you and you don't. The End.
Prologue: A Sin, hidden in the Shadow
Konohagakure no Sato, the one claimed to be the strongest of the 5 Major Hidden Villages, residedin Hi no Kuni, is famous for its love of peace and unity. Night in the Hidden Village was serene and quiet; the wind chimed softly joined with the light fluttering of the leaves, created a lullaby long thought lost in the flow of time, luring the denizens of Konoha towards a peaceful slumber. The moon hung gently upon the black velvet of the night, basking the village in its silvery light. At night, the Village Hidden in the Leaves was the picture perfect of serenity and ease. But was it really?
In a dark alleyway of the worse part of the village, hidden from the all-seeing light of the moon, hidden from the probing eyes of the public, blood curling screams echoed out, shattering the calm silence of the night. Blond hair, once rivaled even the sun, now matted with blood and grime; blue eyes, once put the summer sky itself to shame, now a dull grey, glassy and hollow, and so heartbreakingly tortured. His broken body was laid on the cold unforgiving cement road; innumerable bruises and cuts covered his torso, arms and legs. His eyes occasionally squinted shut in pain; his mouth let out broken strings of nostopplease and pleasesomebodyhelp. But nobody heard. Nobody listened. And nobody cared. Let alone his very tormentor.
Pale skin, silver gravity-defying hair glittered like moonlight. Face hidden three fourths with clothemask and a Konoha-insignia hitai-ate. Well-toned body covered with sweats, pounded mercilessly into the broken body of the body beneath him, with no remorse, no regret. The boy, Naruto, couldn't decide what hurt worse: the fact that he was being so brutally raped, or the maelstorm of emotions swirling in the lone eye that was staring at him intensely. He picked apart the emotions: anger (well, that he could deal with, what with being subjected to that his whole life), pain (now this is more hurtful, more damaging to his soul, no matter how much time he got that look), deep-seated grief (it hurts, oh god, it hurts just by looking at it), and accusations (Was he the one to be blamed for causing such grief? Was he the catalyst to such a monstrous disaster? Was he the monster?). The accusation broke him, killed some part of his soul; however many times he saw it, he inadvertently died a little more.
Matured far more than anyone even close to his age (god I was only four) has a right to be, for he was exposed to the darkest, dirtiest part of humanity since forever, Naruto lost his innocence and his childhood early, too early (did I even have one?). Nevertheless, the boy, the child, the toddler, still so very young, preserved a kind heart bigger than each and everyone, so he taught himself to forgive and forget every misgiving subjected to his person. His heart went out for his tormentors, be it the civilians, the children, or the shinobis. And like every time, he grounded his teeth together and bore the excruciating pain that was threatening to tear him in half, if only so that this tortured teenager above him could feel a bit better, so that the pain in that eye could lessen, even at the cost of his torture.
Before long, the teen released and slid out of the boy. The haze in the lone grey eye, distinctively of alcohol (Naruto knew), had lifted somewhat: not enough to comprehend what he had just done, but enough to note the urge to get the hell out of there. And so he did, leaving behind the broken body of a boy, doomed to bear the brunt of a village's hatred. Said boy lied still for a moment, breath laboring, cuts healing and bruises fading, then oh-so-slowly sit up. An action once so easy now took him at least 15 minutes to carry out. He stood up, wobbled on his feet, and slowly dragged his battered body home (no, a house, not home, never home, because home is where the heart is and his heart is in pieces already).
He was in pain, sometimes unbearably so, but he held no hatred for his tormentors. For one so young but mature beyond his age, he knew he was the scapegoat for this village, that he was the living reminder of what could have been but never will be, of blood, deaths and losses. So he let them use him, if only for them to have peace in their mind (but sometimes it was so hard). The pain in their eyes spoke volume, so he let them do as they wished, never bring the abuse up to his Jii-chan, the Sandaime Hokage, never want them to get hurt (no never, because they were hurt enough already). And they acknowledge it, so they never go too far; only torture but not kill, only temporarily but not permanently. Plus he heals fast, so it is alright, for he knows in time, their pain would ease into a dull ache, and that dull ache would go, and they will see him as the savior that he was (Because he knew far more than he let on. Because the truth was blatantly there, the marks on his stomach and the face carved into the mountain. Because he was a damn awesome prodigy in fuuinjutsu, Uzumaki standard. Because come morning the village would look so alive, so utterly beautiful, so he endures).
Please review XD
Any comment is welcome, minna-san~
