"So…" Kakashi scratched his nose through the cloth of his mask, glancing at Iruka before turning his gaze back to the window of Naruto's apartment, watching the blond rock back and forth on his windowsill, his hands curled around a cup of coffee.
"So what?" Iruka said, his legs crossed as he twirled a kunai around one finger.
"So I see Naruto hasn't changed his apartment at all," Kakashi finished lamely, looking back at the chuunin. Iruka cast a pitying, somewhat disgusted glance towards him. "Of course not. None of the shopkeepers will let him buy anything; all he gets is our old castoffs. I doubt even Ino or Sakura could make a nice-looking home out of the crap he gets."
"He's an ANBU and they still treat him like that?" Iruka snorted. "Of course! He's the Kyuubi after all."
"Cynicism doesn't suit you, Iruka."
"Watching the way he gets treated… it's hard not to be cynical." Iruka paused, then stood up in a rustle of cloth. "He's moving." Kakashi glanced over at the window and saw Naruto set down the mug, one hand pressed to his seal and a pained grimace stretching his angular face. Naruto drew the shades, and, dimly, Kakashi could hear the door open.
A black figure limped out onto the street and gasped in pain, steadying himself against the fence as he made his way to the gate of Konoha. Kakashi and Iruka trailed him, the jounin chewing on his lip while casting a few covert glances at Iruka's closed, angry face. Naruto's apartment had been dark and sad, blood stains smeared across the walls and a dirty, out-of-date calendar his only decoration. It was almost… frightening to realize that an ANBU, an elite ninja, was allowed to live like that, like no one cared.
Naruto slipped through a hole in the wall encircling Konoha and trudged into the forest. Kakashi leaped into the branches of a tree and followed him, the soft gleaming of moonlight illuminating his path. For a moment he debated using his Sharingan, then shrugged and moved on, Iruka a silent, unbreathing shadow by his side.
They stopped on the edge of a clearing, where Naruto knelt, a hand bracing him against the ground and his clothes in a neat pile beside him. The stench of blood was thick in the air. Kakashi swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he beheld something that put Icha Icha Paradise to shame.
The moonlight limned every strand of blond hair, turning it to polished gilt, and the short, thin form was almost… beautiful in the moonlight, whipcord-lean and tough, scarred with the ravages of battle, but skeletal, hips and ribs and spine pushing from the skin as if it were a size too small.
"I know you're there," Naruto finally said, his voice ragged and hoarse with pain. "I don't know why you guys think you need to watch this, but I'm too tired to make you leave." He sagged, "God, I'm so tired." Iruka tried to move forward, but Kakashi blocked him, holding him back.
"Okay, Kyuubi," Naruto breathed. "Okay. You can have what you want, now." Iruka plunged forward with a half-formed shout-
Blood-red chakra formed from nothing, racing outward to form a circle around the clearing, heat pouring from the chakra to pound against Kakashi's skin. This chakra wasn't the chakra of Konoha, strong and subtle like stone and earth; this was fury personified, burning flame and terror. Iruka pounded on the barrier, pulling back with a cry as his skin sizzled and burned. "Naruto!" Kakashi watched, sickness welling in his belly, skin crawling. This was wrong, somehow, terrifying and sad.
A cyclone of flame formed as Naruto's back arched, a terrible shriek of pain tearing from his throat. The flame roared, then sucked in on itself, fading. A form strode forward from the fire, and Hatake Kakashi, jounin, cringed.
Red, slitted eyes roved about the clearing, searching, then focused on Naruto. Pale lips drew back in a terrifying, cruel grin, and the beast spoke, his voice like the roar of the flames, only a thousand times worse.
That voice… was hate. Hatred without bounds, without reason.
"Naruto… you know what to do." Kakashi's student unfolded from his crouch and limped to the Kyuubi, then fell to his knees before the proud, unyielding form, settling his hands on the Kyuubi's hips. The fox rested a clawed hand on Naruto's head, his fingers clenching. Blood streamed and dyed blond hair dirty brown. Naruto leaned forward, his mouth opening, and Kakashi turned away.
Away from the soft, wet noises that came from a defiled mouth.
Away from the salt scent of Naruto's tears.
Away from the fox's murmurs and the smell of blood and the way that Naruto sighed raggedly when he was violated in a way that never should have been.
Time passed by as slow as honey, Iruka's babbled curses and sobs fading away to nothing. Kakashi sat with his back to the clearing, a hand pressed to his empty chest that hurt worse then Obito's death had hurt. How long…? How long had Naruto suffered in silence, enslaved to a beast that no one could tame, no one could heal?
The heat from the chakra barrier disappeared, allowing him to turn around and leap down to the scorched earth of the clearing.
Naruto lay curled on his side, bleeding cuts scattered over his back from where the fox had scratched during… he wouldn't think about that. Blood dripped from between his legs. Iruka dropped down beside him and raced over, falling beside Naruto and reaching out, his hand hovering, uncertain, over the dirty blond head. His hand descended, stroking Naruto's hair.
Kakashi stood, helpless, over his student, thoughts chasing each other in circles inside his fogged brain. 'Clothes. Get his clothes.' In a moment, the clothes were in his hands. "He's unconscious," Iruka said roughly. "Give them to me." He did so, and watched as Iruka wrestled the limp form into tattered black pajamas. "I'm taking him home."
He nodded wordlessly and watched as Iruka moved off into the trees, blood trailing in his footsteps. How had this happened? How had he not seen, not known? How had he failed so miserably?
He drew a ragged breath.
Then he wished he could cry.
Naruto came back to himself slowly, opening his eyes to a vision of white. 'Ugh…' The dull ache in his spine intensified when he rolled over, swinging his feet off the bed. He needed a shower desperately, needed to wash the feeling of the fox's hands and mouth off his skin. He needed to brush his teeth, needed…
"Aaah!" This wasn't his house! The door to the room slammed open, making him jump, and Iruka leaped inside, kunai in hand. The chuunin slowed down when he saw there wasn't anything inside, the kunai disappearing into his vest. Naruto stood, hands dangling limply, by his sides, as his teacher turned to face him, Iruka's eyes quickly filling with tears.
"Naruto," he said, the word full of agony. Naruto froze as Iruka came towards him, resting a hand on his shoulder.
Hands holding him down, gaggingdrowningthrashing on the thing in his throat
"Don't touch me!" He barely recognized the voice as his own. Iruka took his hand away, swallowed, grinned weakly. "Of… of course. Do you want ramen?"
"No, my throat hurts too much for that," he said offhandedly, fiddling with the ties on his pants. Iruka's face froze into a mask of pain. 'Oh, shit.' "You… you know?" he croaked. Iruka nodded. "Naruto… you could have come to me!" His voice was hurt and confused like Haku's had been. "You could always have come to me!" He was crying now, tears trailing in glimmering streams down the face of one of the people Naruto loved. Naruto had made him cry because he was dirty.
"I'm… sorry?" he ventured. This just made Iruka cry harder. "Oh, jeez, I'll… I'll go get you some coffee or something." He bolted from the room, ignoring the pain in his belly and his jaw and his heart, tormented by the phantom claws of the Kyuubi ranging over his body. Forgetting his words to Iruka, he found the bathroom. Stripping, he turned on the water and stepped in, taking the soap and scrubbing, his skin turning red and raw.
It wasn't clean enough! He choked on a sob and turned the water on higher, watching in stunned fascination the way his skin turned white then red where the burning drops of water touched, the way his skin bubbled up and formed blisters, scrubbing furiously everywhere he could feel the fox's hands roaming, but it still wasn't enough.
He howled his pain and terror and sickness and collapsed onto the floor of the shower, rocking back and forth, clawing at his skin as if he could tear the Kyuubi's marks from him by force. They knew. They knew. They knew how dirty and disgusting and sick he was, they knew what he did to keep them safe, they were going to hate him!
Dimly, through the pain of his burns and the sorrow in his mind, he had a clear thought.
'I'll never be clean again.'