Chapter One

He was pushed against the creaking wooden fence, a fist hoisting him in the air by his white-collar. The orange-clothed boy choked for a fresh breath of air, struggling underneath the man's grasp. The older ninja smirked, his cracked lips curling up to show small, yellow, dagger-like teeth. He had such distinct features; a pencil tip-shaped head, snake eyes, thin pale lips, and a large, muscular frame to match. He played the perfect role of a stereotypical biker or a gang member's henchman. However, the young daemon boy had ignored his hard features and ventured into the man's family owned shop, only to get yelled at.

"No animals allowed!" The man had shouted, and obviously the boy had to retort in some way, so commenting about his ugliness seemed fair.

But the insult he had made was apparently not taken lightly at all. The boy felt his mind suddenly sway, and the man abruptly let go, only to kick him. The young daemon cried out in pain, clutching his stomach as he curled into himself, his hot forehead touching the cold, sandy ground. The cold wind blew lightly on his neck, and he shivered. The man was still there, his fat fists clenched tight. He punched the boy's exposed back, the younger male gritting his teeth together, trying his hardest not to give the older male the satisfaction of hearing his cries.

A burning sensation crawled down his spine and spread throughout his body like a wildfire. Darkness swept over as the man kept beating him. Warm blood dripped down his sides. His skin was breaking and becoming so agonizingly sore. The small male didn't know what to do. His tan hands gripped tightly to his blonde head. What could he do? He wasn't a Genin yet, and he didn't even know the Shadow Clone Jutsu for crying out loud! He wouldn't be able to defeat a Jounin. Or could he? Maybe if he believed in himself-he tried to get up, but his nerves were completely unresponsive. What? He tried to move his limbs again. Nothing. Could he be...?

The man laughed at him now, pulling him back up by the collar while he beat his body like a punching bag. The young daemon opened up his sapphire eyes and begged silently for any passersby to help him. A man in all ninja clothing, a Jounin perhaps, with distinct pale, lavender eyes that could only signify Hyuuga lineage, and long dark brown hair walked right on by. He pulled a familiar young, pixie-haired girl by his side.

"Help me!" The boy cried out to them, "Please!"

The little girl looked back with concern, but her father pulled her forward, not even bothering to look at him. The man's assault suddenly became less painful. Over and over, villagers he knew passed by, ignoring him. The boy couldn't believe it. Betrayal fell heavy into his heart; cold weights settled upon his shoulders. And suddenly, he didn't care anymore.

So what if they passed by him? They didn't care about what happened to him. He was a nuisance to them and should die for being such. Exterminate the evil of this world, they say, so the boy must have been one of those "evils", right? Hysteria took over and he laughed; his voice was dry and cracked. Tears slipped down round cheeks, claws dug into the ground. Something within him had just snapped.

And then, he blacked out.

The young daemon didn't understand what was going on when he came to. The sharp smell of iron and rust filled his sense of smell while the sight of crimson washed the world around him. Looking around, he realized that he was still in the alleyway with the man from before. The older male's body was ripped in half, pink guts ripped from his body and strewn all over the small path. Crimson stained the once yellow-orange ground. The boy scooted back, feeling sick, his arms clutching onto his sides.

He bent over his knees and threw up all the contents in his stomach. The first person to find him was Iruka, who had pulled him into the infirmary immediately and called over other ninjas to block off the area.

And then they discovered a little secret about Naruto; he had cut words into his arms. Naruto, the cheery, happy, go-lucky kid, secretly hated himself and couldn't take the pain any longer. Huh. It just seemed so out of character for him. The first course of action was taking him to the asylum.