Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Kishimoto
Notes: For mon and joz who encouraged me to make this longer. To writingzeal and an-sama, thanks for editing my work.
Dreaming Alone
They knew something was wrong with him as soon as he came quietly to the world. The joyous parents ignored it, happily tickling their newborn son. Bright, blue eyes sparkled with curiosity but the infant kept silent, letting his parents coo him. The doctors watched worriedly but kept their mouths shut, at least for the time being. The joy of having a firstborn was something that shouldn't be ruined, they thought. It only came once and should be cherished. They didn't want to replace such joyful laughs with the anguished tears, which they knew would be inevitable if they spoke up.
They didn't realize their mistake until a few months later, by which time it was much too late.
Those few months Naruto spent at the Uzumaki household were supposed to be happy. Doubtless, babies cry, gurgle, shriek, throw tantrums, and wake their parents up in the middle of the night, while the parents enjoy every moment of it. However, the boy was as quiet as a shadow. When Naruto turned ten months old, his parents paid a visit to the hospital. Nothing could have prepared them for the news they received.
Naruto had been born with a rare disease.
The family broke down at the sullen announcement from their doctors. Mrs. Uzumaki cried her eyes out while her husband, hands trembling as he tried to comfort her, asked if something, anything at all, could be done. The doctor looked sadly at the devastated couple and hesitantly shook his head. The child was immediately assigned to one of the many stark-white rooms of the hospital.
Naruto grew up with the colour white, images of strange, complicated machines, and the ever-present, pungent smell of the hospital.
His parents visited regularly, bringing with them an assortment of fragrant flowers, exotic fruits, and expensive gifts, confidently repeating to him that he would be better soon. Always there was encouragement, but with time, the tone of assurance became fainter and fainter. The presents also grew fewer as the years passed by, with no improvement to be seen. What they didn't realize was that the situation would soon become more problematic that it already was.
At the age of 10, Naruto's legs ceased functioning.
The visits became fewer and fewer with each passing month. After a year, his parents stopped coming entirely, simply sending him the occasional letter. No longer was there the encouragement. The nurses and doctors were very sympathetic and kept him company, but soon, the doctors changed and the nurses became busy with other patients, leaving the cerulean-eyed boy to himself.
And so he dreamed of a world where he had no parents, and could jump from treetop to treetop freely, where the lakes and rivers were as clear as crystal, the mountains majestically towered over all, and one could walk on water with ease. A place that was both reality and fiction.
Naruto dreamt alone, imagined alone, and smiled alone.
At twelve, Naruto fell into a deep coma.
The hospital dived into a state of frenzy. Nurses and doctors tried to bring him back to the land of the conscious, but to no avail. His parents watched from a distance, unsure whether to be happy or sad, their five-year-old daughter clinging tightly to them, confused by the scene.
With not a single cloud to obscure the rays of sunlight, the bright orange sun shined joyously down at the world. Naruto waved at his friends.