Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of the characters sadly, only this story and maybe a few minor OCs if I can be bothered.
Okay, so now that I'm stuck isolating I'm finally getting around to doing what I've wanted for a while, making a series about a certain young Senju! This story was inspired by Iryo-nin Kasa, I loved the idea of such a minor character that many forget about playing a part where they are recognized as a major threat or ally to the main character. Please review and tell me where to improve!
Anyways I hope I did decent enough, here's the prologue! Enjoy!
Edit: Just added a couple of improvements and more detail on some scenes that didn't make much sense.
-ILikeFoxes828
Drowning.
"All deaths are sudden, no matter how gradual the dying may be."
― Michael McDowell
"Remember that people are only guests in your story – the same way you are only a guest in theirs – so make the chapters worth reading." ― Lauren Klarfeld
Prologue.
"Na-Chan!" A young girl's voice giggled, "where are you hiding?"
A soft chuckle caused the blonde-haired girl to throw herself around the corner of her home, smiling widely at the sight of her younger brother being held in her grandmother's lap, the woman's wrinkly hands gently running themselves through his soft beige hair as she smiled at the girl.
"Ah, Tsunade, it seems you've won, hm?" The elderly woman asked softly, gesturing to the seat next to her for the eight-year-old to sit down. Taking a seat, Tsunade nodded, "when did he give up this time?"
"Hm, he lasted longer than yesterday..."
The young girl childishly stomped her foot, "Na-Chan's sooooooo lazy!"
The woman laughed and stroked her granddaughter's soft blonde hair away from her eyes with a soft chuckle. "Quiet down, Tsunade, you'll wake him up."
The young blonde gave a sheepish smile, "sorry Mito-Baasama!"
An empty brown eye with the dredges of love and adoration beginning to blossom gazed at the warm scene in front of him, an unnatural intelligence of a boy his age shining through.
He desperately threw himself around the corner of the street, his heart pounding in tandem with his legs as he rushed to the hospital.
Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay!
The young preteen continued to pray, as the large white building in front of him seemed to become smaller and smaller the closer he came to it, his breath coming out in deep exhales before he furiously inhaled as much oxygen as his lungs could house, before he finally skidded into the hospital, slamming his palms down onto the receptionist's desk.
He was a strange boy, it was a fact known and acknowledged by the entire Senju estate, as they were used to having a few odd balls every generation or so in their family, Hashirama being a fine example.
But he was even more strange than he ever was, he always seemed so... mature for his age, even at three years old, more knowing than any other child that came from the Senju clan with the exception of maybe Tobirama, or Daichi Senju, a man known throughout the clan as the creator of herbal medicine from many years ago.
The Senjus knew he was too smart for his age, so they shielded him, and kept that fact to themselves, they wouldn't let him be taken as a tool to the village before he had even started to learn to wield a kunai, they refused.
They would protect their Shodai's legacy, even in the face of death.
He rushed down the hallway, eyes quickly glancing at every room number he passed, before eventually he skidded to a halt.
Deep breaths take deep breaths.
Calming quickly, he slowly slid the pale green door aside, before his heart clenched at the sight of a too small body encased in a bed they were practically swimming in.
"Hey ŞåπΣÃΩ... How're yeh feelin'?"
Pained eyes slowly trailed up to his face and he fought down the urge to sob as those devastated orbs spoke for themself, telling the elder brother that the girl currently lying limply on the bed was most definitely not fine.
And neither was he.
He requested to join the academy early, already tired of the training inside the Senju compound, having already learned and memorized everything he needed, to make for his failures in a life that was no longer his, to be seen as a competent shinobi in his clan's eyes.
Two years earlier than the regular admittance age, He joined the shinobi academy and began learning to kill grown men four feet taller than himself.
He slid the door to a close behind him, walking out of the hallway before backing up against a wall, his body slowly sliding down to the floor. He let out a broken sob, why did his little sister have to suffer? Why did she have to slowly waste away in a pasty white hospital bed, her memories of a happy childhood slowly slipping from her grasp.
Memories of him that were already faint now becoming unrecognizable.
The doctor who had been taking care of his sister froze at the sight of him crumpled against the wall, before the man joined him. They sat there for a while, quiet in the face despair.
It hurt. To be forgotten by the person you loved most in the whole world. He didn't want to watch anymore as his little sister desperately tried to remember her own name when he wasn't there to remind her, to watch as she slowly wilted away like a dying flower.
No, he would stay strong. He had to.
For her.
He excelled, forever despising the word, failure along the way. He refused to be a failure. He would make his clan proud. He would be the best, or nothing at all.
His eyes were blank, his nose red with winters unforgiving bite after he had been seen out of the hospital by the somber doctor, waved goodbye with a bitterly fake smile as the elder man slumped his way back inside.
He didn't notice as three blokes snuck up behind him, crawling out of the alleyway a street back, slowly stalking him like a predator would its prey, didn't notice the venomous look the leader gave his backpack.
"Oi!"
He kept walking, the emotional exhaustion weighing him down heavily to the point that he just didn't care anymore, this annoyed them.
"Oi! I'm talkin' t' you tough guy!" One of the men ran over, grabbing his shoulder and whirling him around before decking him in the face. He fell to the floor, his previously expressionless eyes clearing as the situation dawned on the
young boy and he began to scramble to get up, "wut?"
He winced, they must've done something to his nose, he sounded all funky.
The leader picked up his bag without a care in the world, a nasty smile on his face as he searched his bag, only for it to fall in a sneer as when he didn't find what he was hoping for, throwing the bag to the dirty concrete.
He stalked forward, crouching down in front of the terrified preteen as he clutched his nose.
"Info, if yeh would'nah min'."
He was the best in his class, teachers already taking about bumping him up a grade or two.
They were quickly shot down by an overprotective big sister and irate grandmother.
It made him feel small, useless, to be protected by them.
Like the failure he vowed never to be again.
From that moment on, he despised co-dependency.
They searched his pockets and school bag again, before the big man growled as they came up empty once more, "Why the hell've you got nothin'?" The tall, looming, man snarled down at his petit in comparison body.
"I'm nut ma'e o' monay y'kno' nobedy 'ere is," holding a hand to his nose he stared defiantly up at the tall man, "am no talkin' 'bout no damn money, where's ma drugs? Where'd you 'n' yer ratty friends hide 'em!"
The spit from his open mouth spattered against his face, and the young boy grimaced as he shifted slightly to a slightly more comfortable position.
"Ah dinnei ken fit yer taulkin' 'bout." The blood from his nose poured steadily onto his once crisp clean green shirt, the injured bone causing his Glaswegian accent to be warped into rough slang that any hardened criminal would wince at, the big man in front of him snarled fiercely.
"He's lying, I can feel it. You an' yer boys' were the ones 'o nicked my stuff las' week! I ken it! Boys, get 'im to cough up where 'e an' his folk hid it."
Dragged up onto his feet by the burly men, one whispering into his ear with a voice filled with terror, "I'm sorry 'bout this, promise... it's nothin' personal..."
It didn't comfort him much.
The boy was beat until he was coughing blood, but they didn't stop, though the two guard dogs were obviously reluctant to proceed, "I know yer apart o' one of those gangs filled wi' those snot nosed brats, so where the hell are ye' hidin' our stash?"
The man paced furiously. "Jus' tell meh! Or poin' me in the direction of thos' other ponces!"
They didn't give him time to reply before the big man took out a small pocketknife from the inside of his jacket, the boy's eyes widened and he turned his desperate eyes to the reluctant capture holding him by the shoulders, the man stared back down in gutted silence, hands tightening on his shoulders in fear and reluctance.
"I'll give yeh t' ten t' squeal."
He had never felt so betrayed before, and what made it worse was the fact that the burly man had a photo of him and his sister, taken at the beach from when times were simpler, clutched tightly in his grasp.
His last words were, "ah hate dyin' kn'win' ah wis' a cow'rd 'n de'f."
He felt the hands on his shoulders tighten further, and he heard the breath the man sucked in as he struggled to stay put and let the boy die.
Good, the boy thought, maybe nex' time 'is happ'ns to someone he'll stan' up for 'em.
He befriended two children in his class, one was a clan heir, the other just some Inuzuka girl that liked to rile him up, however little she succeeded.
Though he would never admit it out loud, he would always be appreciative to them for pulling him out of the dark, no matter how much he fought it.
The man got to ten.
And the boy never got up again.
He was always seen as strange.
Because he was.
Forever haunted by the terror from his past life, Nawaki Senju felt like he was drowning.