Disclaimer: I don't think Kishimoto-sama would appreciate me taking his manga, so NO!

-Eine Kleine Nachtmusik-

When people yell at him, he ignores them. He can't ignore them using the normal ways.

He can't think happy things. He's never been truly happy.

He can't glare at them. That takes too much effort.

He can't breathe in, count to ten, and breathe out. His lung capacity just isn't big enough.

So he found an alternative: music. He'd have his CD player with him in his pocket, and his earphones were the tiny kind. No one could tell he had them. They were that small.

Somebody calls him stupid? A little V6.

Somebody calls him an idiot? A little of The Pillows.

Somebody calls him worthless? A little Mozart.

The melodies blocked out their harsh words.

The world would be wrong-side up, and the blood would rush to his head.

Then he would turn his CD player on. A gamut of notes would spill out, and suddenly, miraculously, the world was right again.

Everything would seem tolerable for a little while.

A little while.

But hey.

Meaner insults?

Crank up the volume.