This is something I threw together quickly because it wouldn't let me sleep. I may come back and add more, fix it up, etc. if I get any feedback. Also, expect updates from my other stories during the month. Maybe.
P.S. the lack of indentation in this editor annoys the piss out of me. I get frustrated and randomly obtain an English accent.
Disclaimer: You've read billions of these, over and over again, but I still gotta write it. I don't own Naruto. If I did, then it would be completely different. For fuck's sake, Kishi.
The human psyche is an interesting thing. Stimuli from the surroundings of a person, whether it be people or the environment, can cause many affects on a single person's mind. Mental illnesses of many kinds can be attributed to outside stimuli, or are made worse after having already existed through the genes of that person. Most of the population has some sort of mental defect, ranging from mild depression or anxiety to having a concoction of mental problems such as multiple personality disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder.
One example of the latter is a young boy named Naruto Uzumaki. A boy hated for his entire life by nearly the entire village he lives in. Ignored, mistreated, despised, abused...Naruto seems to have gone through more torture from his own people than the prisoners of war went through. One would think that, in a village full of ninja, at least a few people would have the common sense to realize what the child was going through. But, alas, the civies remain ignorant and most of the ninja hold on to misplaced hatred.
At nine years old, the blonde boy walks through the streets of Konohagakure in the early morning sunlight. The village is bathed in a beautiful orange glow as the sun rises slowly, preparing the civilians and young ninja for a new day. However, despite the beauty and splendor of the view, Naruto trudges along with a blank, soulless stare towards the Ninja Academy. The building where, instead of making friends and having fun, he is ridiculed and abused even further. The child's descent into darkness has long since started.
No sane human would suffer this abuse without changing in some way. Some may put on a mask, to pretend they're happy and alright. Others would crack, break, fracture; destroy their entire beings. However, there are a few like this young blond boy who shoulder their problems internally and become...distorted.
"I'm glad...there's nobody out here to glare at me this morning," Naruto mumbled to himself quietly as he wandered towards the administrative building. "Yes," he mumbled to himself again, but in a lower tone, "it's quite nice to be alone like this some times. Just the two of us." Naruto's lifeless visage slowly grew into an empty smile as he continued his mumbled conversation into the still air.
"Uzumaki! What the hell are you doing?!" The instructor's panicked shout called the attention of the rest of the students. All eyes turned to the blonde boy who was mercilessly beating on another boy who was a year older than him. The older boy's face was red and bloody as tears ran down his face. Naruto was pried off handily by the much stronger instructor and slowly looked to the teacher as the adult began to speak again. "Uzumaki, just what were you doing? You can't just do that to someone!"
Naruto's grim stare became taciturn and the blonde simply says, "He insulted me, and I had an argument with myself. I lost, so I punished him." The blonde nodded to himself as if this were the absolute truth and everything was completely fine, disregarding the blood on his hands. The somewhat horrified academy instructor was baffled for a moment before deciding to just take the injured student to the infirmary.
"Just...just stay here and keep quiet, Uzumaki. Everyone, I'll be back shortly." The teacher cast one last disturbed glance at the blond before taking off with the injured boy. He didn't even know the first thing about dealing with such a psychotic student.
Naruto simply shrugged and sat against the building, ignoring the students around him who were already past their shock and whispering to each other. 'Something, something, demon, something, monster, blah blah blah' was all the boy got from them before tuning them out completely. He had no use for their smattering talk.
Besides, he always has a much more interesting friend to talk to wherever he goes. The humor may be a bit dark, but the company was nice. After all, who would you get along better with than a different version of yourself?
