AN/ Please bear with me here! Although this isn't the first story I've written, it's the first time I've actually posted a story to be read by others. So I'm a little nervous. As such, please don't be too harsh.
Disclaimer : As is obvious, I do not own Naruto, nor any of the character's within.
Warnings for chapter : Nothing too serious, although if you're faint of heart, I'd probably not read it. Just in case.
Dull, glassy eyes stared unseeingly at the cracked brick across the alleyway, the once vibrant blue orbs now milky and pale. In contrast to the dark eyes, bright, almost gaudy splashes of red covered the too small body, hiding the sickly pallor of death beneath the thick, coagulating liquid.
The blood originated from numerous sources - from the deep gouge at his temple, from the obviously misshaped and broken nose, from the missing teeth in a gaping mouth, and from many more. Cuts and bruises mottled the child's body, some small and forgotten , other's large and painful. Like the deep lacerations across the blonde's cheeks, or the broken fingers attached to his now useless hands. Or even the bruise spreading across his side, one that started under his armpit and ended just above his hips - that sat as a testament to the broken ribs beneath.
Slowly, as if the effort to do so almost exceeded his abilities, the beaten child blinked. Once, twice, three times. And yet he still could not stop the tears - tears that fell unwanted down his bloodied cheeks. Each salty drop was agony as it slid across the gashes, but the child made no move to ease his suffering. He simply sat there, the far wall nothing but a blurred image easily ignored.
The boy's legs sprawled away from him at awkward angles. One lay straight out - mostly untouched except for a few large bruises across his calf and thigh, painful reminders that people didn't even waste the effort to step over him when he laid broken and defeated in an alleyway, just stepped on the offending appendage before continuing on their way.
The other leg, however, was a different story. It followed the same path as the first - straight out - until right below the kneecap, where it then jutted off suddenly at a ninety degree angle, his thigh bone glowing prominently in the moon's waxing light among the other gore. The bottom half of his leg was useless; He could no longer even feel beyond the steady beat of pain in his shattered knee, couldn't feel the now dead tissue of his toes or even his calf, could only ignore the useless flesh as he sat there, propped against the grimy wall.
He could hear the far off voices of the villagers celebrating, could almost feel the thumping bass of the music from where he sat sprawled amongst the trash - "Where you belong, you filth! With the other trash!" - and other debris. And as if his body knew exactly how he felt before he even thought about what the sounds meant, the tears streamed harder and faster, causing one of his few intact fingers to twitch at the added burn.
He knew he had no answers to give himself, and yet he still asked silently, his thoughts enraged and hysterical and filled with pain and every other emotion - every emotion that he kept locked within himself at all times, lest someone chance to glance into his eyes and see the fear, or notice hunched shoulders or quick flinches - 'Why me? What did I do?'.
All that answered him, however, was the silence of the street, the faint strains of musical notes, and the remembered voices of all who had ever hurt him. He was a monster, a freak, the lowest of the low. Unworthy of walking the street of Kohona, unworthy of carrying the title of citizen when his soul was stained so black.
The words got to him, sank deep into his childish mind and latched onto any positive thought, easily leeching away the good of the world and replacing it with a constant, bleak existence. And although he always fought his assailants, always struggled and cried and even begged to be let go, a quickly growing part of him agreed with the things they did. He deserved their beatings, didn't he? He had to. Otherwise, how could everyone hate him? No, he had obviously done something wrong. If only he knew what! If only he could find out what exactly he had done, he could rectify the situation in any way how and appease the angry villagers. He could -
Naruto flinched violently as a large being suddenly blotted out the light of the moon, the action almost a spasm as his train of thought suddenly ceased, every fiber of his being tense as the person loomed over him.
"'Ack, boy's already as good as dead! 'E's no fun when he's lifeless like this, he ain't!" The stranger slurred out in a strange accent, and although the blonde was naught but a child he instantly recognized the repugnant smell of alcohol. He would have moved - would have struggled to run away from this new threat, except the last beating had obviously been large, with upwards of a dozen people circling him at all times, and his consciousness had fled from the abuse, hiding deep within the boy and leaving nothing but an empty husk with minimal reactions.
The sound of hacking filled the otherwise silent street, and again the boy twitched at the sound; The response was automatic, part of his body's natural fight or flight response. Obviously, his flesh chose the latter, but since moving was even less likely to occur than fighting, the small child's muscles settled on random spasms.
Something wet suddenly hit his cheek, and Naruto realized dully it was phlegm, the yellowed, sticky substance mixing with his blood and tears and sinking into his ripped and mutilated flesh, pulling a low moan from the blonde. The sound was quiet, barely audible as it slipped past the boy's bruised lips, but it held all of his anguish, the sound so much like that of a dying animal that - for a brief moment - he was surprised the sound came from him.
"Piece o' trash." the drunk man mumbled, already moving away. For whatever reason, however, the stranger obviously thought better of just walking away like that and, turning around, placed one good kick at the boy's already bruised side, sending the small child flying into a nearby trash bag.
The blonde screamed, a raw, broken sound, when the foot connected with his broken ribs, his hands lifting as his broken fingers uselessly tried to wrap around his side. The pain was exquisite, and after sitting for so long with only dull flashes from his wounds, seemed twice as bad as usual. He writhed, agonizing his numerous wounds further, as his eyes, wide with fear and bright with pain, stared at the large moon overhead.
The scream seemed to appease the large man, for he was already at the end of the alley by the time Naruto's wails drifted off to small whimpers. He took one last, drunken look at the broken child before, with a merry tune on his lips, he stumbled away, most likely to find another bar to haunt.
The blue eyed blonde was only glad the man had left with that. He also couldn't help but hope that his screams hadn't garnered the attention of anybody else, because more than anything, he feared another group of people stumbling upon him before he had enough energy to crawl to safety.
His unexpected flight had left him sprawled across a large and obviously rotting bag of garbage, his arms wrapped awkwardly around his middle with both of his legs splayed wide in front of him. That was something to feel thankful for, at least. With the two pieces of his broken leg now roughly together, it would heal much more easily. He didn't ask how he healed from such wounds - was just grateful, since he was only ever allowed to enter the hospital when the Hokage screamed and yelled. And Naruto hated seeing the old man like that, hated how he had to anger the citizens to help him, and so went out of his way to avoid needing the Sarutobi's help.
Slowly, the youth's thoughts calmed again, and several hours later found the blonde laying there, eye's large and glassy, body sore and bloody but, for the most part, healed. He had fallen unconscious a few times, only to be startled to awareness by some noise; A rat scurrying through the trash, a man stumbling past the end of the alley, and once a dog, obviously malnourished and uncared for, leaning over him and sniffing the blood. But even the animal seemed wary of the child, and with a faint snarl and a long growl was gone, leaving Naruto with his heart thumping and his eyes stinging.
Finally, when the sun was just starting to kiss the horizon, the beaten and battered child could be found awkwardly walking through the streets, hopping on his good leg, completely avoiding the use of his other (which still felt broken, although the skin had knitted itself together during the night) as he leaned against the surrounding walls, cowering in the shadows. Another night was over, but a new day had just begun, and Naruto, eyes wide and glassy, the blue muted and milky, was already afraid for the following night. What horrors would await him then?
AN/ So what did you guys think? Stupid? Interesting? This is kind of like a mini prequel to my other story, Misbelief, because I based the Naruto in that story with the child Naruto in THIS story. Understand? There was just no seamless way to integrate this into the story (unless I took it down and somehow worked in a chapter about Naruto's past? Which doesn't sound likely) so I'm leaving it as is. If you liked this, go read Misbelief! Really!