I'm Yuuto, the nine year old boy sitting in a carton box, keeping dry while it rains. I have a good spot, my shelter is very close to Hanzo's main base, which means sometimes the Shinobi walking by take pity on me and throw me some money.
I haven't eaten in a while though. But that's alright. I have had longer dry spells, and it's not like I don't have any water to drink. Life could've been worse, I wouldn't have survived if I had been born in the desert. Or maybe I would've, I had learned a good few tricks the last few years.
It's not like those first ten days after my parents left me behind in the middle of Gyanõ Square. I don't really like to think back to that, I was only four and it wasn't fair that they left me there. I had made peace with it though, still, that didn't make the memories pleasant. And I had been so hungry.
Life before the Hansel and Gretel moment had been decent enough. Mom and dad were shinobi, and while they weren't home together a lot. I saw them enough. I was provided food and shelter, and we lived just outside the city centrum. Those first four years weren't unlike my first life.
Oh, yes, that's another story. But I had been born before. Hence the Hansel and Gretel reference. I used to be a big Naruto-fan, but I have to admit, with every passing month I become a little less of one.
I mean, it's hard to enjoy a story which turns out to be real. Especially when in that reality, you're kind of dealt some rough cards. I had made the best of a horrible situation, I thrived.
A coin fell on the wet stones before my bare feet. I gave the woman who had thrown it a smile. I always smiled when someone was somewhat kind to me. It was all I had, and it cost me very little.
The first few months, years really, after the departure of my parents, I had silently hoped that someone important would take pity on me and take me in. Train me and turn me into this kick-ass ninja.
But I had learned that life wasn't like fanfiction. Things didn't just happen because the self-insert needed a helping hand. I hadn't even met anyone that was remotely relevant to what I knew was the plot.
The only thing remotely interesting about me, was that I followed my faith like a sheep followed it's Sheppard.
I was just one of the many children who lived on the streets of Amegakure, the village hidden in the rain. The always-falling-down-rain.
The coin the woman had dropped for me was the last one I needed to buy myself a loaf of bread. Together with the other coins in my little pouch, which hang around my neck, next to my necklace with the pendant that represented my faith, I had enough coins –six in total- for one bread…
"One bread please." I ask the merchant behind the counter. He was a big man, and not the usual person to man this stall.
He looked at me like I was something disgusting. I couldn't wrong him for that thought. I could've looked worse, but the holes I was wearing hardly had any fabric holding them together. He was going to ignore me. Probably thought I wanted his charity.
"I can pay." I say, my voice is strong. I like my voice, it's the one thing I'd say this me was lucky in. "See, six coins." I can't help but be proud of the six coins in my pouch.
"One loaf is eight coins boy." He says briskly.
I wanted to object, for as long as I'd come to this stall, one bread was six coins. In the spring it was five. And in the winter seven. But never more.
Never eight.
"I only have six coins." I look again into the pouch, hoping that suddenly there are two more coins. There aren't. "Where's Uki? He always sells me bread for six coins." I can't help my voice from raising.
Next to me a shinobi stands still. "Is this street urchin bothering you?" he asks as if I wasn't there.
"I was just leaving." I say before the merchant could answer. I made a point of very much not smiling at them, my own petty revenge.
I'm sure if adult me walked this street, he would ignore me too. I used to walk past beggars and homeless people without a second thought, other than the slight awkward feeling in the bottom of my stomach. I'd given money to a beggar once, or twice. But I always expected that money to be used up for drugs.
I wonder what people thought when they walked by me.
All I know for certain is that it took me three more days to get those two coins. I wasn't hungry anymore by then though. I knew I needed to eat, and I did, I ate till I was full. Which took me three mouths full.
The rest of the bread I took with me. To the bridge. I wasn't the only homeless street kid in this city. And bread didn't last long. So I shared it with some of the other kids. And the bridge was one of the most crowded places.
It provided shelter from the rain, but it wasn't safe. Too many people knew that young children slept there. And I had made the mistake once to sleep there overnight. I never would make that mistake again. It had actually been the night I turned to my faith.
That horrible night had probably saved me. I smiled. See, the silver lining. And during the day, it wasn't anywhere near as bad.
So I shared pieces of bread with other kids. I don't really know them, don't want to either. I have enough on my mind on my own, but I know they have it tough. They are actual children living in a place that no child should live in. And the kids that got to eat because I brought them food, didn't have to steal. I pitied them more than I did myself.
Though I did that plenty too. But my faith was strong, it kept me going. Gave me a purpose in life.
I kept the last piece of bread to myself, I'd eat it before sleeping tonight, and made my way back to my home.
I wasn't quite awake yet, but I could feel someone was too close to me. The muffled sounds of someone trying to be quiet wouldn't have woken me up, but the warmth of another person this close did. For one breath I was terrified. Then I opened my eyes and saw it was another kid.
Just a child.
Nothing to fear.
It was a boy, around my age, perhaps younger. Was he trying to steal from me? I didn't have anything that could be stolen, at least nothing that he could possibly want.
The boy stopped and his head turned around slowly, it seemed to have dawned on him that I was no longer sleeping.
I could've gotten angry, yell at him to go away. I could defend myself against the intrusion. But I didn't. We street kids had it rough enough without making it harder for each other. Stealing amongst ourselves, we didn't do that.
"You're new at this." My carton box was big enough for three kids my size to fit in. So I moved all the way to the left to make room for him. "Sit."
He looked at me as if I'd grown a second head. "You're not mad?"
I'd been him once. How could I be mad at someone making the same mistakes as me? I had tried to steal from Ganesh, and he taught me this lesson the hard way. I swear my nose didn't always point to the left.
I shook my head in answer. "Did you leave, or were you left?"
The wound must've been pretty new, he started bawling. His shoulders going up and down with every shaky attempt to breathe. I rested my hand on his shoulder, because that's what you did when someone was crying. "You don't have to say, but I don't mind listening."
His story was a sad one, but not uncommon. And I was right, he'd only been living on the streets for a few days. "There are places you can go for food, and there's a shelter not too far away from here." I told him. "You don't have to live on the streets."
He wiped away the last of his tears, and I finally got a good look at his face. It was plain, no features I hadn't seen before. A classical Ame-face actually. Probably from a long line of people living in this village.
"Then… why are you?"
Because the world is a shitty sinkhole and Amegakure is its bottom, and we, we are the bottom feeders. "Because you have to pay a price I don't want to pay." It wasn't a lie, not really. A half-truth maybe.
"What kind of price? They want coins?" His puffy eyes betrayed that he didn't have any.
"Nothing so simple." I answered him. "They want your service."
He looked at me, the question clear in his eyes. "It's part of the shinobi academy. So if you want food and a place to stay and keep warm… you could go there."
I had gone there too. Years ago. I had just turned five, the minimum age they accepted street kids. But I'd hardly set foot inside or they had already declined. No chakra. No chance of being useful to the village. It had hurt, because back then I had considered the academy my only chance of making something of my life.
But now I thanked them. Because in my desperation I turned to faith. And that saved me. My hand travelled to the small pendant hanging down my neck.
"And become a shinobi?"
I nodded. Yes, that would be the price you would have to be willing to pay.
His face cleared up and a smile formed for the first time since I met him. It seemed like he had made his decision.
"Come, I'll bring you there. It's not too far from here."
We walked, the rain had stopped its downpour, which was nice. We talked while making our way. I asked him questions about his dreams. And he answered in the way all small children did. We reached a small alley way.
It was dark, between two buildings that nearly reached the clouds. "This way." I told him. "You don't have to be scared of the dark, I'm with you." I held out my hand.
He took it.
"What's your name?" I asked him halfway the street. I turned to see his face, there wasn't much to see in the shadow. In my head I mused that to people looking at us, it would be like we were just one of the many shadows. Like we weren't even there. "I'm Yuuto."
"Ozaki." He answered.
"Good." I smiled, Ozaki was a good name. I let go of his hand, freeing mine. It was so terribly sad he would die so young. Never even hitting puberty. But, I had to survive somehow. Water and bread wasn't enough for a growing boy like me.
"Do you see this pendant?" I said holding up my necklace. I had made it myself, a circle made out of stolen steel wire. And a triangle made from three nails I'd pulled out of a piece of wood.
Ozaki's eyes peered through the darkness. "It's pretty."
"Thank you. Made it myself." With those words I let my necklace go, and pushed him against the wall behind him. My hand over his mouth.
He reacted, like they all did. Not sure what was happening, but trying to get out of my grip. But my faith had made me strong. And I held him in his place. I told him I took no pleasure in this. It wasn't a lie, not really. A half-truth maybe.
I bit him, my teeth piercing his skin until his warm blood erupted into my mouth. I spit it out, the taste of iron was disgusting. I used my bare foot to draw a circle with his blood. I collected more of his blood in my mouth and spat it on the ground to finish the seal on the ground. All the while my hand over his mouth.
I couldn't have someone overhearing us.
He tried to kick me, bite my hand. And it hurt, it hurt so good.
And then the seal was finished and I felt a rush of power come over me. "Lord Jashin."