Nezumi no nindo
I own no intellectual rights to the writing I am about to perform, and I acknowledge this fact in full.
Naruto was running.
Through alleyways long used by the most deplorable denizens of Konoha's finest citizens he ran, as quickly as was possible for a mere five year old, but sadly not quick enough.
He was never quick enough.
Refuse and small vermin scattered before him as he fled, forming a wake, a small path through which they tracked him, flitting from shadow to shadow, panting like rabid dogs and swaying fiercely to and fro in their inebriation, drunk on cheap booze and the heady nature of the news that had passed quickly through the undercurrents of the hidden village.
Naruto had just been ejected from the orphanage for what felt like the twentieth time.
And the hunt was on again.
He had hit the ground running, knowing from experience and his painful scars that his pursuers had been notified ahead of time and if he didn't run fast enough, or even worse if he simply sat on the orphanage steps crying, he would be at their mercy until Inu-san deigned to rescue him.
He quickly grew out of feeling sorry for himself; survival instinct will do that to you.
As he ran he memorized his route, he had to be careful never to go the same way twice, for they watched the roads he frequented in anticipation with no cognisance of the words: fair play.
This, of course, put him at a disadvantage as he ran through unfamiliar streets, hoping against hope he'd come close enough to spy the Hokage Tower on the horizon over the oppressive rooftops of the dark, cluttered alleys.
This time however, it was not to be.
He struggled in the mans grip as the smells of sweat, alcohol, rotten garbage and death pervaded the area and seared its way into his mind, worming through his senses as if he could hear it thumping in his ears with every heartbeat, see it in the air, feel it, like a thick, dense fog settling over his skin and holding him there. It was an intense, reassuring feeling; this was the place where he would die, this was where he'd lived, no one could take this away from him.
And then there was nothing.
Naruto awoke with scarcely a whimper as he was dragged over the steps of the building. They were warped and creaking, with nails catching on his pants, skin, hair, like little hands trying to grasp him and pull him with sharp fingers back down into the abyss that was his nightmare. He ignored them mostly, focusing on the comparatively soft sensation of being dragged ever upwards.
*Thud. Thud. Thud.*
He'd been awake for twelve steps now, time enough to take stock of his injuries. Three bottles over his head, maybe even four, six new knife wounds to the sternum, wrists slashed again and his throat was raw, which could mean anything from strangulation to having to regrow a new windpipe. Naruto would never know, he always passed out before they'd gone too far, far enough for Inu-teme to get up off his lazy ass and send them home again. By the time he woke up again all he ever had was scars. Scars that throbbed deep into him as the new flesh protested its existence. Scars that would fade in time, weeks, months if they were thorough, and leave a fresh faced boy ready to face the world and an entirely different kind of pain.
*Thud Thud Thud*
Quicker now he was ascending, the hand in his hair grasping tightly to keep its grip on his slick, dirty hair, Inu always did know eventually when he'd come too, and used it to inflict a few more humiliations on his burden.
A door slammed open, and with a quick jerk he went sailing through, crashing into the table like a cruise missile, "Here's your new place brat, there's some instant ramen in the cupboards, if you can get to it before the rats do. You're on your own now." And with that he vanished, and it was like he was never there.
Naruto eased up to his feet, taking stock of the situation, "Ninja, heh, always so goddamn mysterious, heh." he rasped out, new windpipe then, strangulation would have kept him quiet till he could uncollapse his trachea.
It was quite the dump they finally stashed him in, as first impressions went. Not much better than the stairs on the way up, the floor was tilted to one side like it was designed by a drunken monkey with siblings for parents. All the cupboards were smashed in and besides the decorative firewood that used to be a table, the room was stripped bare, the place was abandoned like a freshly robbed grave.
"Heh, I love analogies."
The bedroom, if you could call it that, was lacking both a bed and room, but he'd make do with the mattress on the floor until he could sneak some blankets from the rubbish bins behind the whorehouse. Provided he could get in and out before they caught him, they had better hearing than most ninja, and there were a few so good with knives you'd swear hand to god that they're spies come to whittle Konoha's secrets out of its horny malcontents.
"Ninja whores eh? Nice thought that, and not a bad idea to begin with, I'll ask the old man what he thinks of it next time to get a laugh out of him." Naruto had hauled the fridge to the door by this point, and slapped together a barricade with it. It was going to be a long day, and he wouldn't put it past Inu to sell his location over a couple of beers. So if he had a choice he didn't want them sneaking in and catching him with his pants down. He'd rather have this big heavy spoiled milk smelling hunk of shit between him and death than nothing at all. At least this way they'd have to come in loud and messy, his kind of fight. Maybe even give him time to get out the fire escape, if they hadn't already blockaded the damn thing before heading up to say hi. Actually...
Naruto walked calmly over to the window, ignoring the deep throbbing pain in his joints and the stabbing, rasping rattle his lungs made every time he drew breath, 'They're getting smarter this time, must've spread the word that shrapnel heals inside me just like anyone else. It's going to be hell coughing that up in the morning. Least the dumbshits stopped trying poison, there was a time when I couldn't remember the last meal I didn't puke straight back up.'
Only took one look outside to confirm what he already knew, "Heh, I'm boned."
Collapsed at the bottom of the alley was the twisted wreck of his fire escape, lying rusted solid into one huge lump of metal that look like what passed for a tree in this part of town, grown squat and warped, like it had been watered with booze, soiled with corpses and refused to die anyway in what had to be the most poignant expression of the sanctity of life anyone had every seen. But that wasn't the truth; the truth was it was a fire escape that just couldn't hold on any longer, and if his luck didn't hold out it might just get him killed in his brand spanking new home. Speaking of which, best get a last meal into him before he said his final regrets. On the plus side he knew where he was now, he'd climbed over, under, and through that wreckage bellow him enough times to remember where it was, and he was now even farther out into the district than the orphanage, something most respectable folk wouldn't have thought possible.
On the edge of Konoha's walls, not quite in their shadow, lay the district, a place for anyone that didn't own property anymore after the Kyuubi attack had forced the council to repossess the assets of anyone in debt. It was the harbour and safe haven for drunks and criminals, hustlers and prostitutes. And of course, Konoha's finest in government sponsored orphanages, positioned to keep the little brats no one wanted anymore as far away from civilization as possible. Whoresons and daughters, bastards from high ranking merchants, we got them all. Even had a Hyuuga bastard from the branch house, not quite branded and had run away from home. Didn't take long for them to find him after though, not with those special eyes of theirs. Then a bit of cleanup later, and his documentation read, "Escaped and deemed missing, please contact the main branch for information. Details leading to his recapture will result in..." blah blah blah, course no one but the orphans knew he'd never be found, least not anywhere except rotting under the floorboards. Ruthless bastards those Hyuuga, more proud than a peacock and willing to do anything to mop up their messes, "Heh, I'd almost rather be an orphan, oh wait."
"Heh."
Well he found the ramen, there was practicly a crate of the stuff, only problem was wrestling it from out behind a whole brood of rats, each one big as his head, which wasn't saying much him being a kid and all. Now under normal circumstances he didn't mind rats, wouldn't go so far as to say he liked them but he had learned to stand them well enough. But when they sat smack dab in between him and his next, and possibly last, meal, well then there was only one thing to do about that now wasn't there?
He fished the biscuit he'd nicked from the orphanage, hard as the fakes on some of the pricier gals that picked corners closer to the market, and began to break off pieces into his palm, staying back as they carefully followed his fingers. Then he cast it over the floor and they surged out in a wave as he hauled his prize from under the dripping U-bend in his sink.
Complete with some slight water damage, just like everything else in this hole, was a salivating crate of 120 prepackaged cups of ramen, circa five years before his birth. This shit was so old and stale, that even if the fourth hokage himself had risen from the grave to eat some, it still wouldn't fetch market value. To Naruto, it was heaven, a meal for the starving, and a drink for he who dies of thirst. He pried a few boards from the lid of the crate, and added them to the pile of wood that was his only furniture. It'd be too much to hope that the juice woul work in a place like this, so he'd have to do this native style and get a nice roaring fire going every time he needed to boil some water. He pulled out Mina and his flint, before groaning over how much damn effort this was going to take.
"If only all the freaking wood in this pit of filth wasn't soaked through, we could get some proper flames here. As it is I'll have to bust that window after we get started or we'll all suffocate." Naruto chatted amiably with the rats that had again taken residence in his cupboard, and they chittered in what he assumed was anger, beady eyes flashing from the darkness, "Aww don't worry about it, my life may not be worth spit, but I'm sure you guys have as much right to live as any other urchin out there on these streets." He broke out into a loud, wheezing laugh that quickly degenrated into a fit of coughs, culminating in a small, blood covered piece of crud flying from him mouth and skidding across the floor.
He spit out some blood, and got back to the task at hand, "Shit, never thought I'd have got that out on the first try, must be my lucky day."
Laughter rang out through the air, followed by the sound of glass tinkling down from a great height, and sometime later the sound of gently bubbling water, and the occasional snap of drying wood, as a soon to be Great ninja prepared for his last meal on earth.
Author's note.
This Is Not The Last Chapter.
I don't know why I'm writing this, but I can't get the idea out of my head. I won't ruin the plot for y'all here, but if you ask nice I'll PM you with the info. Be prepared though because I've got big plans for this thing, and it won't be for the faint of heart. I even wrote a fricken storyboard, and shit I've never done that in my entire life. Guess that's what'll happen when an idea grabs you by the balls like this one did. Don't read my other stuff, most of it's old news, garbage, or psychotic ramblings. If you want a good idea of where I'm at as a writer, stick with this and see where it gets you.
