I have always felt it.

I have always felt it. Lurking in the back of my mind. Waiting, just waiting, to break free, rip itself from its confines and take everything from me. Wreaking havoc on all it comes in contact with.

Yes, I have always felt it, just brushing the edge of my reach. A power so great it could make or break my world. It exiles me, destroys my relations and makes others shun me from a fear they cannot place. I see it behind angry blue eyes in a mirror, in a clenched fist as I swing it at a fool's face. It's in everything I do, and everything I am.

What is this power? I used to ask.

No more. It's been years since I let myself wonder, worry, or whine about it. I have accepted this power, accepted my fate. Now I simply take the blows that life delivers with a manic grin—a crazed glint in my eye, confusing those around me. They don't know that I'm not laughing because I'm trying to be happy.

I'm laughing because I know that, one day, they will fear me, and they will know me in one word.

Kyuubi.


The day never starts out bad; it only ends that way.

My mornings are fairly simple: Get up, eat food, find clothes (anything not completely rancid will do), finish homework, and try to leave before school starts. My school days follow an even simpler itinerary, if you can believe it. There's only one chore: survive.

I avoid stairs, because too often I am pushed down them. I avoid jocks, because too often I am their rabbit and they are the wolves. I avoid teachers because mostly, they hate me.

I avoid people, because too often I am feared.

Imagine going each and every day being deterred from joining the rest of the world, passing your time studying for classes no one would believe you could understand, let alone master. You spend each day hoping against hope that you won't go home with bruises that you must find a way to hide or heal by the next day. You pray every time you go down the hall that the person calling your name is one of the fist-full of people who won't take away the little money you have, regardless of how hard you fight them.

It's not much of a life, is it?

Well sad to say, it's still my life.

But I survive it, against the odds, every hour and every day.

At first, this Tuesday seemed no different.

"Mr. Uzumaki, may I have a word with you after class?"

I appreciate Iruka. He understands my situation, and tries not to add flames to the fire. So instead of giving me my papers during class, he hands them all back to me at random after a class, making it sound like I'm in trouble.

­After all—I have a reputation to uphold.

I sigh dramatically, as if I find it bothersome to have to listen to his "reprimands."

"Yes, Mr. Umino."

When the bell rings, he waits until all but he and I, and another remain before handing me a grade report. I don't need to look at it; my grades rarely differ.

Iruka smiles. "Congratulations, Naruto. Perfect A-pluses as ever."

This is why I am grateful he does not post my grades with others--I can only imagine what might be done to me if anyone found out.

"Thanks Iruka. Do you have any more for me?"

"Of course." He hands me an impressively thick manila folder. In it there is a stack of papers and reading packets, each which I will turn in secretly that he will grade in his spare time. Of all the people in this world, Iruka is one of a rare few that I swear I will never harm.

A loud snore from the third occupant in the room catches our attention and Iruka frowns.

"KIBA!" he snaps, and the rough boy almost falls out of his chair as his head flings forward, drool still trailing down one of his red tattoos.

"H-huh?!"

"Time to go, dog-breath," I say and he dazedly gets to his feet.

"Lunch time already?" He stumbles towards the door and I grab his hoodie to stop him from running into the chalkboard.

"Thank you again, Iruka. I promise to have these in by next week."

"Be sure to take your time when identifying all the irony examples."

"I will." And with that I guide a drowsy Kiba through the door and away from the basement/ English class.


"Did you get all your work, Naruto?" asks a boy with a pineapple ponytail and a lit blunt as Kiba and I crumple onto the bowl-shaped steps behind the gym. A bulky boy with a mouthful of chips and rosy cheeks munches gently next to him while another with frogeyes and a bad bowl cut in a green sweater practices martial arts moves. In the corner, a boy with an Afro and thick glasses taps a red and white cane against Kiba's foot.

"Yeah. I think Iruka's going to try and bring up the whole testing issue again. I wish he's drop it."

"Umino is a very good teacher," says Lee, the green boy. "He will surely push you to strive for excellence while you are still vigorous and youthful. I do not see why you do not embrace your true identity as a masterful mind!"­

"My dad tried that once," says Shikamaru. "All it got him was a high pressure job and a nagging wife who won't leave either of us alone." He takes a long drag.

I know most people say pot makes you stupid, but I'd like to see what they make of Shikamaru—I swear, every puff he takes makes that 200+ IQ soar higher and higher. Literally. He passes the blunt to Kiba who passes it to me.

"There's no point in waving a red flag in front of a bull if it hasn't seen you yet."

Chouji nods enthusiastically and munches some more chips. If Shino has something to say about that, he keeps it to himself while Kiba just grins.

"That may be true," says Lee, "But only if you are cowardly enough to try and hide from it!"

As Lee launches into one of his long-winded speeches about "the power of youth" and success being the path too inner happiness, or whatever, I relax in the shadow of the gym.

This is where we congregate. The ultimate fools, losers, rock-bottom dwellers of the food chain.

Kiba, the jackass grease monkey who doesn't know when to shut his mouth. Shino, the only handicapped kid in the district with an uncanny ability to sneak up on people and an affinity for bugs.

Chouji is a little better off—a goalie for the school hockey team and sometimes the football defense. His bulk concealed some impressively strong muscles. He and Shikamaru have been friends since beyond even their recollection, despite some obvious gaps in their intellectual interests.

As for Lee…well…Lee's just weird.

I take the last puff of the almost gone roll and my world blurs at the edges while colors flare.

Aside from Iruka, I can name only these five as people I hold no grudge against. When the time comes, I will ask them to join me in my assent to power, and if they accept I will protect them with my life, as I would for any loyal to me.

But of course, should they refuse, they will be cut down like the rest.

They are not my friends, but people like me rarely have true examples of those. These people will never be truly close to me, but they'll do.

"Jesus Christ, you guys are pathetic."

I look around and feel a solid weight of hatred settle deep in my stomach.

Clean cut aristocratic features and pale skin frame dark hair and cruel eyes. A perfectly pressed designer outfit drapes over an Adonis figure that almost all females salivate over. Every inch of this person drips superiority and cash, from his obviously well bred looks to the pet high-and-mighty pale-eyed prince at his side.

Lee has stopped preaching and glares at the second boy.

Sasuke Uchiha. Neji Hyuuga. The two most powerful and influential people in a one-hundred-mile radius and some of my most notable enemies.­

I like to think of them as obstacles, or stepping-stones. I like to imagine stepping right over their stone-cold bodies on the road to greatness.

I doubt they'd like to hear that.

"What the fuck brings you bastards here?" Kiba politely snarls. Shino stiffens at his side and Chouji's bites are slower, frowning. Shikamaru and I exchange looks but say nothing. For now.

Sasuke sneers. "Just come to see if all the trash is being dumped together or if we're going to have to redirect them to the landfill."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" says Kiba.

"You didn't see them?" Neji this time. "There are a couple of new kids in school that look your type. We thought we'd see if Pathetic attracts Freak or if it needs a little help."

I know their kind of "help." In my freshman year Sasuke had his minions lock me in a closet with Kiba and Shino to "introduce me" to the rest of my species. They wouldn't let us out until we made-out, and when the janitor came by, they told him it was a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven.

Maybe you'll be able to breed with your own kind! I remember one jeering.

Kiba and Shino are hardly my type.

"If you're so curious about pathetic attractions why haven't you jumped each other yet?" I say serenely.

WHAM!

Before I can do anything to block it, Sasuke has jumped forward and landed a punch to my face. It was hard enough that my head is spinning and I'm now sprawled on the ground.

I feel my temper rise to the surface like a writhing, fiery creature and my nails dig into my palm.

KILL HIM!

Just wait Uchiha. You'll be the first to go!