A/N: This chapter was EXTREMELY fun to write. I don't believe I've ever enjoyed working on a story as much as I do this one. Please review if you like it or believe I could've touched things up better. Happy reading! :)

A/N 2: Every character in Stan's alternate world speaks Japanese because elements of Naruto and South Park have blended together. It only makes sense that Japanese would be the main language rather than English. At some point actual Japanese is spoken, but I did so because I was tired of having to put "said in Japanese" after everyone was talking. I may end up changing that part because I don't want to butcher the Japanese language. Hehehe.

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park or Naruto.

Chapter One: Monster

A pair of blue eyes fluttered open and Stan Marsh slowly sat upright in bed, removing his sheets. The world hadn't ended and everything had been a bad nightmare. It made sense that the whole thing was a dream because of the fire fox that had burst out from nowhere made no sense in real life. But he also felt really, really – strange somehow. He felt physically taller, and there was something else about him that was drastically different.

It was still night, and he glanced at his Terrance and Philip clock to see the time. Or rather, where his Terrance and Philip clock should be. He stared in disbelief at the a simple flat and black digital clock that had taken its place. The walls of his room were different, too, in that there were no Terrance and Philip posters – or any posters. In some places the walls had deep grooves like the claw marks of a large, vicious, and rabid animal.

His room also consisted of very few toys, and he recognized none of the stuffed animals. Also, most were ripped in half and torn to pieces. The one whole toy, a red fox, was hanging morbidly from the window. Stan touched it and watched as it swayed on its makeshift noose, black button eyes staring creepily into space as it swung back and forth.

Feeling more than a little creeped out, Stan stood to his feet and crept out of his room to find the culprit. The only logical explanation, of course, was that someone had broke into his room, stolen his alarm clock, removed posters, and then had replaced all his toys with ones that were broken. It was probably Shelley. Leave it to his big sister to do something like this on top of constantly calling him a turd and beating him up. But, it really didn't feel like something Shelley would do.

The only thing that greeted Stan when he walked out of his room was utter silence and emptiness. He slowly tiptoed downstairs, swallowing back his fear. The walls down here were torn in places, paint was peeling in various spots, and there were the same deep grooves from his room. The couch had a deep gash in it and yellow stuffing was coming out of it.

Stan ran to his parents room, heart hammering in his chest, and opened the door. Normally he would knock, but the situation called for more drastic measures. His blue eyes stared in disbelief and horror. His parents' bedroom was completely bare; there was no bed, dresser, or anything else in this room.

Feeling sick inside, he decided to try to see if he could find Shelley. She was hopefully sleeping in her room and would yell at him for bothering her. There would be nothing better at the moment than to hear her voice her annoyance; this was just too freaky to be a mere prank. Why would Mom and Dad be in on it, too?

He opened the door and walked inside his sister's room. Her room was the only one that didn't have large gashes in the walls and this one actually had a bed – that his sister was sleeping on. He hardly noticed how different the room was from normal; he simply felt extreme relief that Shelley was still in the same house.

"Shelley!" He shook her awake. "Something happened to Mom and Dad!" His voice sounded weird in that it was a little deeper.

Shelley opened her eyes. Stan half expected her to say something like, "Yeah, right, turd!"

Instead her brown eyes were haunted and filled with utter terror as she stared up at him. Had she witnessed what happened in the middle of the night? Did she know what happened to their parents?

"Shelley, what the hell happened?" he asked again.

"What do you want?" she asked warily in Japanese. T he only reason Stan understood her was because he had become fluent in Japanese during the Chinpokomon craze, and he had no idea why she was speaking in Japanese.

"Something happened to Mom and Dad – everything's different. What happened?" Stan repeated. He had a bad feeling inside. This was his sister, but she was very different. For one thing, she spoke clearly and didn't have braces. Also, she wasn't snapping or barking at him. Instead this Shelley wasn't the person he remembered.

"Don't joke around – you killed them!"

Stan wordlessly stepped out of the room. Killed them? Why the hell would he kill their parents? The entire situation he was in felt either like a very cruel joke or a Twilight Zone episode. Everything was extremely surreal. There was no part of the house that felt the same as before. He felt different, too, somehow.

Stan didn't know how physically until he saw his face in the cracked bathroom mirror. There were six deep reddish black scars on his face like the whiskers of a feral animal. His eyes, too, had reddish black lines around them. His messy black hair only added to the animal-like characteristics. Also, the entire face didn't belong to an eight-year-old boy but someone at least twelve or thirteen years old.

He glanced down at his arms to see that they were no longer soft with baby fat but were hard and sinuous. Everything had changed about him. He was taller, stronger, and older, as though he had woke up in the future.

But tucked in the corner of the bathroom mirror was a picture of him, Shelley, and an adult he had never seen before. In the photograph, in this weird alternate universe, he was wearing the same brown coat, blue denim jeans, mittens, and blue poof ball hat he always wore. But his blue eyes were frigid, humorless, and too old for his scarred face. Shelley was smiling from beside the younger him in the photograph, but her smile was strained and forced. She was obviously leaning away from the grim version of Stan's alternate younger self.

Man, this is pretty fucked up. I'm still asleep or I've gone insane. Of course Stan was still asleep. As a rational thinker, he knew there was a logical explanation to this strange world. There had to be; no one simply woke up in different realities, right?

Sharp pain ripped through his head like the most painful headache he had ever experienced and he doubled over, gasping and almost knocking his forehead against the sink. What the --?!

"Baka gaki! Sore wa yume ja nai!" a deep, menacing voice rumbled. Stupid boy! This isn't a dream! The voice was the same one he had heard before this dream. It dripped with malevolent venom of someone who obviously wanted nothing more than to rip him to shreds, and the owner of the voice's presence was letting him know it as the pain in Stan's head increased.

The pressure gradually let up and Stan slowly stood up straight. He had been abducted by aliens (but so had Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny), trapped in Imagination Land, watched a close childhood friend get raped by George Lucas, had seen Kenny die (but that was a hardly traumatic occurrence save that one time) over and over again – but nothing from what seemed out of the Exorcist.

During events that made sense there was one person Stan would go to, and that was Kyle. Kyle was likely trapped in this strange world, too, and together they would find a way out of this mess. Cartman and Kenny probably were too, but Stan wasn't very close to those two. Especially Cartman.

Stan walked back to what was now his room, searching for a coat to wear. His closet was barren of normal clothes. There were all sorts of patched bulletproof vests, fishnet undershirts, and a few threadbare Gothic jackets with Japanese kanji scrawled over them ("Death" and "Revenge" were probably one of them – Stan could speak Japanese but couldn't read it); but nothing he would normally wear. For safety's sake, just because this alternate reality was unpredictable, he slipped on a bulletproof vest. In the back of the closet, he could see his favorite brown coat; it had torn in some places and haphazardly patched as though the person fixing it could care less about what it looked like. It looked like something had splashed on it in the front, and Stan took a closer look at it. It was covered in blood.

Swallowing, he pushed the coat away to find something else to wear. Though he considered himself far from being a Goth pussy, he decided to wear one of the Gothic jackets because there was nothing else. If he stayed in this world any longer he would definitely buy better clothes.

If a normal coat was hard to find, so were pants and boots. The only good pants were ones that cut off mid-calf like feminine capris, and the only good shoes looked like a hybrid of sandals and sneakers. The boots were open toed, too, and wouldn't do much good against the cold elements of South Park. The only article of clothing he wore from his own reality was the blue hat.

Once dressed, he took a step outside to find Kyle's house. The houses of South Park were still flat, drab, and for all external appearances just how he remembered them. On the other hand, in the background were tall skyscrapers and large electronic billboards with Japanese hiragana scrawling across them, advertising everything from graphic comics to fruit blenders. There were also more people walking the streets than should be out at this time of night.

Once he stepped onto the street, the crowd parted. People old and young stared at him with eyes of revulsion, hate, and terror. Stan shivered. No one had ever looked at him like that. Sure, sometimes he pissed people off, but these looked like they would like him dead. The animosity rolling off the crowd was tangible and suffocating.

"The K-Kyuubi kid! Let's try not to make him mad!" someone whispered. In Japanese, of course.

"Shut up – It'll hear you!" a man beside that person said.

Stan ended up running the rest of the way to his friend's house. Hopefully Kyle hadn't changed, either. There was nothing more that Stan wanted than to be with someone who wasn't going to treat him like a dangerous animal. Even Cartman would be a better option than Shelley and those people. Cartman hated pretty much everyone, but at least not to that extent.

One the way there, he felt like he was being followed closely, but ignored the feeling.

Once at Kyle's house, he was relieved to see the lights were still on. Kyle was still awake, then.

Stan knocked on the door, taking a quick glance back at the people who were still staring at him with those cold eyes. He couldn't stand it. The sooner he talked with Kyle the better.

The door cracked open and a thin red haired boy he barely recognized as Kyle answered. This Kyle didn't wear a green ushanka, orange coat, or anything similar. Instead he wore a midriff baring dark purple halter top and gray knee-length shorts. In place of the ushanka was a blue sash tied around the boy's forehead with a metal plate in the center. The right side of his face was scarred up, and his eyes had the expression of someone who had been through hell and lived through it all. In the safe world of play pretend, Stan would've thought Kyle looked cool. But then they would stop playing pretend and be little boys and friends again.

Kyle's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What do you want?" Japanese. Didn't anyone speak English in this alternate universe?

"I wanted to talk to you because you're my friend…" Stan said weakly, then trailed off at the chilling expression on Kyle's face.

"Friend?" Kyle snorted. "Why the hell would I want to be friends with a monster like you? You've caused me nothing but misery!"

"But we"—

In that moment a brown haired boy dropped literally between Stan and Kyle with a light thunk! This person was wearing a maroon jumpsuit and had a thick metal rod strapped to his back. He was a good few inches taller than both Stan and Kyle, and his shoulders were broad. He was too thin to be Cartman.

"What do you want with Kyle-kun?" the boy drawled, looking down at Stan with narrowed amber eyes. It really was Cartman after all.

"Look, Eric, I can handle it!" Kyle said, but he looked relieved. Stan's heart sank. Relieved because he wanted nothing to do with him. Relieved that Cartman was going to protect him from the "monster." His stomach churned with nausea from the growing pain.

"Why are you here, anyway?" he heard Kyle say as though from far away.

"Oh, I couldn't sleep and noticed the Kyuubi-kid was heading for your place." Cartman yawned, his brown eyes never leaving Stan.

The sick darkness evolved to anger. "I wasn't going to do anything to him! You fucking assholes! We've been friends since kindergarten. We used to fucking do everything together! All I know is I woke up in this stupid fucking dimension where everyone hates me!" The more angry, Stan felt, the more the thing living inside him grew excited.

He wanted to beat up Kyle and Cartman both for being so stupid, but the creature's excitement was over something much darker. And it was quickly taking him over. Stan had never been part of a mental battle before, so nothing prepared him for the burning white pain as his will and control was violated. "Leave this to me, brat," the creature whispered almost sweetly, "I'll make them suffer!"

The creature's rage and bloodlust flooded Stan Marsh's normally rational mind until there was no Stan left. This evil thing was taking his place and growing more powerful by the second, blood red strands of energy bubbled around Stan's body, intermixing with droplets of his blood from peeling skin. Two tails, lumpy and bubbling with the red-hot evil energy, unfurled from his backside.

Stan felt like throwing up from both the pain and strong alien desire to disembowel his two friends. They hated him. Why should he care?

An alarm blared and thick metal walls rolled up from underground as shields for the houses around him. Screaming, the people who had been watching the unfolding battle ran to cover. The Kyuubi snarled, red eyes glaring at the thick plates. Those bastards wouldn't know what hit them the day they ever forgot those shields. But first… he turned his head to smile sinisterly at the two young shinobi staring at him with horror.

He decided to go for the small one first, his red arm stretching, claws out to tear him apart. His claws impacted the boy's skin, but the boy disappeared in a puff of white smoke. A clone?!

"Now Eric!" Kyle shouted.

Cartman nodded grimly, whipping out the black metal rod strapped to his back. He opened it, revealing that it was a giant metal fan with the words "Uchihas Suck Ass!" scrawled across it in crude hiragana. He ducked behind it as the Kyuubi sent an inferno of powerful chakra his direction. It barely dented the fan.

So this boy was a wind-user, eh? Too bad he was an eyesore compared to Temari. The Kyuubi roared in defiance. They were incredibly stupid to think he would be brought down by a little wind.

Cartman swung the fan, wind sharpened by chakra cutting past the Kyuubi, blowing away streams of bubbling chakra. But, aside from being a nuisance, the Kyuubi knew very well the wind wouldn't kill him.

"Stop! I'll take care of it!" an all too familiar voice said. A piece of paper was slapped to the Kyuubi host's forehead. The Kyuubi recognized the pair of bright blue eyes staring down at him and the spiky blond hair and snarled weakly as he was being forced away from the control of his new host.

"Who are you?" Kyle asked.

The blond stranger smiled, but with daggers in his eyes.

"Uzumaki Naruto."

A/N: I was really afraid of making Kyle and Cartman TOO uber-powerful and cool. And how were they going to stop the Kyuubi, anyway? Oh, the reddish brown circles around Stan's eyes are more like the sort Naruto gets whenever the Kyuubi is taking over him - not like Gaara.