Disclaimer: Fiction is fiction, ladies and gents. The Naruto-verse is not mine to claim (unless my kick-starter to buy the rights hits off! Jk).
CHAPTER 1:
"I don't think you understand Demon," spat a villager with a deranged look in his eyes," you're never going to see the light of day again..."
The group of villagers behind mirrored the first, spitting insults and taunts, as well as sharp blows to the little blonde child on the ground. Uzamaki Naruto was no stranger to these public beatings—so he did the only thing that made it eventually stop.
He endured.
And all because of a misguided sorrow, which became rage directed towards a scapegoat. One who couldn't even defend himself.
He couldn't have been more than 6-years old...
The victim's age continued to run through the mind of a certain silver-haired shinobi, who at the moment watched the disturbing scene from the rooftops of Konoha.
"It's been six years already since you died, Minato-sensei," thought Kakashi as he watched on—a silent passerby in the night.
Just like misinformation is no excuse for discrimination or aggression, grief is no excuse for inaction, especially towards those that you love.
Yet as Kakashi looked on, he did not see what Sarutobi Hiruzen and Shimura Danzo saw at the moment—for they were stronger than him in mind, if not still in body.
One of the distant powerhouses was directing a squad of ANBU to retrieve the boy out of affection, while the other directed his ROOT-ANBU to retrieve the boy to make him a village asset. And the one silver-haired powerhouse, the one closest to the beating, left with tears in his eyes.
Kakashi did not see Naruto being beaten. All that he remembered from the event were flashes of his friends' deaths and his inability to save them. And he remembered all of this again, as he looked on at the darkening memorial stone, his eyes boring into the cold grating stone.
A stone more for the living than for the dead.
As the last rays of light faded from Konoha, the leaves surrounding the village swayed in an unsteady wind, as if to reflect Naruto's uncertain destiny. The last legacy of Senju Hashirama was an uncertain leaf, falling from the branches—dancing in an unpredictable path.
Naruto had a potential to turn the world's pain into something much more, if only he could see through the red curtain. The one dripping from his scalp and blinding his eyes.
To understand another is a small act of kindness.
To understand oneself is to empathize with all.
Not many can ever reach this level of understanding. And the little boy had the entire world against him in a quest that had yet to begin.
As the two squads of elite shinobi reached the scene of the incident, one from a grandfather and the other from a taskmaster, they found almost everything they expected to see.
The grass was stained at the tips with crimson, and various weapons were splayed across the ground. And all the villagers seemed to be dispersing from the area, most if not all walking away in drunken stumbles.
But what the shinobi did not expect was for Naruto to be gone also. Clearly, the blood was his, yet where was he in all this mess?
And one ANBU with the least control over his emotions said what everyone in the clearing was thinking.
"...Well, fuck."
And the two groups dispersed, not looking forward to the rage of two very different, yet similar men.
/
OMAKE: Why So Serious?
"…And?"
The team of ROOT-ANBU looked on at their master, who at the moment stood non-threateningly with his palm outstretched and open. This was highly unusual and this sentiment ran through the minds of all of the shinobi present. Shimura Danzo was not a kind man, and he had demonstrated that throughout their harsh, yet effective training.
But Danzo was the picture of patience, as he stood there with one eyebrow raised and his palm outstretched, offering an assortment of…lollipops.
"Raspberry or Lemon? We haven't all day," urged Danzo, with a voice beginning to hold the trace of becoming irritated.
"…"
Silence loomed for a few moments, but in this unique situation, one couldn't be so sure how to feel about it. Each and every agent there knew that those sweets could not be…no…SHOULD NOT BE CONSIDERED CANDY.
They were deformed into the shapes of little dead animals, which in a somewhat morbidly good craftsmanship, looked to be in agony. For fucks sakes, they looked like they were being impaled by the candy stick!
…And was that the distinct glint of a razor blade in that yellow one to the right?
So, the shinobi present decided to do nothing. Yes…that seemed to be the most non-life-threatening action at the time.
Shrugging off the emotionless stares of his subordinates, Danzo dismissed them and walked back to his desk in the darkest corner of the room (If you really want to know, it's the left corner, right behind the bookshelf of meticulously relabeled titles).
And he did all this right as he popped a raspberry rabbit into his mouth…
That was enough to shock the shinobi from their positions, which they swiftly left after hearing Danzo mumble about how no one ever accepts his treats.
Sometimes, silence and recognition of one's own ignorance of the world are enough to defuse a situation.
/
A/N: Just starting out on little thoughts that could really go anywhere, so wait and be surprised! Tell me what you thought!
Peace,
TheRisingSage