Author: Lilas
Title: Distorted Truth
Summary: Naruto's thoughts one the Kiyubi
Disclaimer: Heaven forbid they're mine! All Kishimoto-sensei's!
Author's note: I can't believe I wrote this. And in less than 30 mins. Yeesh. Well, this was inspired from all the Kiyubi fics popping up and the fact the Kiyubi is an evil bastard in all of them. Now, I'm sure he is an evil bastard, but I just felt like taking the opposite side of this. I must warn you guys though! I'm falling asleep as I write this. I'm most definitely not in a normal state of thought process, considering I can't even type this and I'm babbling. Blah. Whatever. Enjoy the madness!!
I never thought it possible to be afraid to lose something as much as I am afraid right now. I never thought I would anguish over the possibility of losing this. I always thought that if he was gone, it he wasn't there, if he had never been there, I'd be happy –or at least happier than I am now.
But I'm not. And I don't think I'd ever be.
Maybe if he had never been there to begin with, maybe if he had never been a part of my life, but a part of someone else's life, I wouldn't be so afraid to lose him. Maybe if he had never existed, I would be relieved. Maybe if I hadn't been chosen, nothing in my life would have happened, and I wouldn't be the person I am now, but a mere shadow of the person I am, another reality, another possibility. Maybe I would be dead. Maybe I would have a family.
The truth is, he was there, and I was there, and he was given to me. He became me. He is me. And I am him, but not really. Sometimes I feel him as his powers seep through the seal and ensnare me, caressing me and softly whispering to me tales of the old, tales long forgotten. I am nothing without him. Without him, I am but a part of myself. It's been so long since he was placed in me that our chakras have mingled, and to rip one out would mean killing both of us.
I don't think my friends realize that.
To them, I am nothing more but the boy himself, the troublemaker, the smirking brat who likes to show off and insult others. They keep mumbling to themselves that the villagers are wrong, that I am my own person, that I am not influenced by the power within me, that I cannot be conquered by the red chakra flowing in my veins. They wouldn't be wrong, but neither would they be right. I guess to a certain extent, the villagers had it right. I am both. I am both the demon and the boy, but not in a bad way.
I haven't been taken over in the sense that my mind is no longer mine, in the sense that my body is for someone else to control and to use. They are mine; always have been and always will be. They are not, however, without influence. My body is better, stronger, and faster than others'. My mind has more knowledge of the times before myself, less about the times from now, and is mostly cluttered with things of no matter, with empty thoughts and amusing observations.
Most people think I fear him, that I cower before his power and that I would do anything to be rid of him. I don't fear him. I could never fear him. We have reached a certain understanding, one which I have forced him to realize. I die, he dies with me. He has no choice. Such is the design of the seal forced upon him. And so he helps me when I need him, and saves me from situations I would never have been able to fight in otherwise. His power is my power to share. His mind is my mind to live in. I would never want to be rid of him.
But now he is being taken away from me and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm tied down spread eagle on a sacrificial platform with hooded figures standing about me and forming seals one after another, and I can feel their chakra seeping into my body and tugging at the seal, willing it to break, forcing it to come undone. I can hear him screaming inside my mind that he doesn't wish to leave, that he knows he will die, because I will die. I can hear him cursing the stupid shinobis forcing us apart, and I know, deep within my heart, that there is no escape. There is no surviving. And at this moment I make my most important discovery.
He was my first friend.
He was always there when I needed him. He had been there from the beginning, whispering to me, telling me to be strong, and telling me to move on and to ignore the stares and the cold shoulders because I was better than them. I was stronger than them. I was his vessel, and for that reason alone, I was more than they ever could and would be.
The Kiyubi was a precious person to me.
And I was losing him without a hope of salvation.