DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN NARUTO OR BLEACH.


'IT'S NOT POSSIBLE FOR A MERE HUMAN TO SURPASS ME!'

'As if...as if this pathetic Kidou could seal me away!'

'The Hogyoku...no longer recognizes you as its master...'

'That...That cannot be…URAHARA KISUKE! I DESPISE YOU! You, who possess such intellect!'

'How are you able to let yourself be ruled by a THING like that?'


'Victors must always speak of the way the world should be, not the way it is'

- Aizen Sosuke


I...must...

He staggered. Stopping, and leaning on one leg, he gasped in shock when the sharp pain ripped through it, yet he moved on. Haste was the order of the day.

Must...leave…

A huge gash ran across the left side of his parched and cracked lips. Blood had already dried around it, the flaky outer layers already peeling off. Two other cuts seemed to adorn his gaunt face, each running quite a distance across it.

Dusk was settling in; the young boy could tell by the way the sun was slowly submerging itself amidst the trees on the west side of Konohagakure. The wind was certainly picking up, and the young boy shivered, lacking any sufficient protection from the cold.

Making him feel comfortable was the least of the villagers' worries. All they cared about was to leave him alone between violent outbursts of anger so that his unnatural, cursed healing abilitygot him well enough for another.

The young boy limped along, weary and melancholic; two adjectives that didn't have anything to do with a boy his age. The village itself, though, was in a state of inebriated joy. The tenth of October, a day that always signified both great joy and great sorrow, the joy that the Nine-Tailed Fox had been defeated, sorrow that it hadn't been killed, as, the villagers stated every opportunity they got, it should've been.

Uzumaki Naruto limped dazedly, not caring where he was hobbling off to, as long as it meant that he was putting a sizeable distance between him and his oppressors. He needn't have worried, though.

Beating a little boy into submission, rendering him both mentally and physically broken, now held not the original amusement it had provided for the commoners of the Leaf. Satisfied with their noble work, the men had swaggered off, deserving of a few drinks after the service they'd done for their beloved village.

Have…to go….to…

He stopped short, unable to walk further. Drawing in a breath, he bent down, clutching his right leg. It seemed to throb with every step he took, and it only kept getting worse. He couldn't carry on much longer, telling himself it didn't hurt, when it felt like a thousand knives were working their way up his legs and into his weak thighs.

'Torn right thigh muscle.'

Uzumaki Naruto, at age ten, was no stranger to physical injuries administered by his dear fellow villagers. In fact, he was so well acquainted with the various cuts and bruises running across his pallor that they didn't even hurt now. The thing was, this time it had mattered when his right leg had come under high duress.

He looked up and frowned.

'…. 44…'

Forty four….such an ominous number, a signal that things would always go wrong. It was fitting, however, to have that number designate this certain segment of the village.

'…The Forest Of Death…'

He stared at the thick steel netting that separated him and the dense overgrowth. Unbending, unyielding, the aptly named forest was where the Chuunin exams were held once every four years. At other times, it remained a forbidden territory, ravaged as it was by the fierce battles for survival that took place during each iteration of the tournament designed to prove each village's supremacy over the other. The land needed healing, so they said.

Walking alongside the tall steel fence, he ran his hand across the bars. Continuing for quite some time, he suddenly stopped at a certain point. Poking the fence timidly, he got the desired reaction when it bent just a fraction more than it should have, a weak link giving way, just a little.

He smiled, despite the pain.

Bending down, he punched the fence. It seemed to break only at that point. It flapped in and out harmlessly.

Pushing the flap, he crawled his way through. The flap was a really small one, made for him, Naruto thought, on these types of days, when the villagers were feeling a bit too exuberant and were in the ideal mood to punish something in their joy.

Crawling in, he stood up, wincing at the pain. This time, when he stared at the fence, it was from the inside. He turned around, coming face to face with the huge, rather imposing forest, with a dark ominous green aura surrounding it. At least, that was what anyone else would describe it as.

Uzumaki Naruto simply hobbled in.

What do you say to this, you useless villagers? Being the beaten down fucker of the village never felt better.

Fucker.

A new word; only recently added to his growing vocabulary of such 'colourful' language.

In his opinion, the villagers seemed to call him that freely enough when he was around, oh, and a whole bunch of other interesting sounding words that he'd yet to try.

What a start to the big day, eh, Naruto?

Calmly making his way through the dense vegetation, Naruto sighed. To him, this…this atmosphere, this thick rich scent of soil did more wonders than a soothing balm on a searing wound. This was what he craved for, every time he'd been ostracized, this still, calm air, the silence, punctuated by the sound of the ever so sparse breeze that made its way unwittingly through the green cover.

He walked for a bit, turning here and there, following an extremely crude natural path. The darkness was starting to magnify, yet the blonde-haired little boy seemed to know where to go, and how to get there.

Finally, sighing heavily, he reached his destination. A lone spot, just as big as a small room, yet so comforting. It was unique, this place. Promptly dropping to the ground, he felt himself hit a sort of soft pillow, made out of leaves and moss on the bark. Tilting his head obliquely, he could spy the moon, a full, bright moon in all its resplendence, as it traversed its ascent. It was rather ironic, that the very forest that spelt doom for the villagers would be a refuge for him.

Finally, some peace.

The peaceful moment was, however, disturbed, and rather harshly at that.

An uncharacteristic squeak made its way out of Uzumaki Naruto's larynx. Make no mistake, Naruto never really got the time to squeak all that often, and yet, there were times and occasions that demanded squeaks like these, rather loud and shock-inducing.

Occasions like these, when Naruto could clearly see the visage of a man, battered and broken, physically no better off than he was, yet eyes open, and looking at him with clouded interest.

"…"

"HOLY FUCK!"

"….."

Uzumaki Naruto saw the man open his mouth. His lips too, caked with blood, moved. He shifted a little, his mangled body strewn over the underbrush.

"That's…not a very…..nice thing to say…..young man."


The first thing Uzumaki Naruto registered was the man's voice. He didn't know how long this man had lain here, alone and unattended, nor did he know how he got here in the first place, nor why he was here.

All that didn't seem to matter. They simply receded to the back of Naruto's mind when he heard this man's voice. A slow smile formed on the blonde Jinchuuriki's lips, though he himself couldn't fathom the reason for his amusement.

All he knew was that very, very few people used that tone when they addressed the blonde-haired Jinchuuriki, and the fact that he was being addressed such seemed to fill him with some sort of inane joy, some inexplicable gratitude to this man for simply talking to him.

"Th-they hate...you too?"

Naruto didn't know what made him ask the question, yet, looking at this man, with his careless brown hair slipping over his, he thought, a rather hollow face, which certainly had the makings of a certain gentlemanly charm, with weary yet intrigued hazel-colored eyes, and body slumped against the tree trunk in tired resignation, a strange tingle went up the ten-year-old's spine.

Belatedly, Naruto noted two things. A blood-stained haori cloaked the man's injured frame, but more importantly, Naruto could spy an absolutely beautiful-looking sword in the man's right hand. He was holding it like a lover holds his beloved's hand, a gentle grip, almost caressing it...

Naruto realized that the man seemed unable to reply, and reiterated.

"They hate you too?"


Overcast skies blot out the sun, and that always brings people's spirits down. So why not let the sun shine…just….a little longer.

He looked straight into the little boy's eyes, and a slow, yet placating smile tugged at the corners of his barren lips.

"….Yes…..young man….yes….they do hate me."

The boy's eyes widened in surprise, and he felt even more amused at the boy's surprise. Slowly lifting his hands, willing himself to do so, even against the numbing pain, he waved for the little boy to come closer.

"They do…hate…."

The boy seemed to scoot closer to him, though he knew not why. After all, he was a man, and merely a stranger to the boy. Not to mention, he was grasping his katana like a drowning man held a piece of driftwood. But it didn't seem to matter, as the boy drew even closer.

For Uzumaki Naruto, time seemed to stop still when the stranger brought his raised hand forward. A strange sensation filled his stomach, as he felt the man's rough fingers make contact with the gash on his face, caressing the wound so foolishly inflicted on the unknowing little boy.

Sosuke Aizen smiled, whole-heartedly, for the first time in a long, long while, and for the first time, Uzumaki Naruto saw someone smile that smile at him.

"They do…hate….and yet…"

Naruto brought his shoulders together, trying to draw in as much warmth as the sensation could provide. No, not the warmth one craves when the cold starts seeping through the skin. No, not that one at all.

The warmth of being acknowledged, the warmth that emanates from the sun in one's 'solar' plexus, when the realization that someone is actually in the same despicable, despondent predicament that you are in, hits home. It filled him with a boundless joy.

He was not alone.

"…and yet….shall we…give them a reason…..young man?"

Tired cerulean eyes met tired hazel brown.

"Shall we give them…a reason to hate us?"