The Boy
The boy sat there in his swing without a care in the world. The boy sat there watching the kids play. Watching the adults work. Watching the people pass him by without giving him a glance. The boy just sat there… watching. Just watching.
The boy could not play. The boy could not go near the children for their parents feared him. And he feared them. The boy snorted. Yes, he feared them. He learned a very important lesson the day he tried to make friends. And no, he didn't want that to happen again. He came home that night pain written all over his body. The boy's tiny body. Yes, the boy was tiny. He was frail and malnourished. A fragile thing. So little… so little…
And yet, his eyes held pain and suffering a child should not have. Should never have. Shouldn't be allowed to have. And because he didn't have any parents, the pain and suffering in the boy's sky-blue eyes would not go away. Would never go away. Sure, he had his caretakers, but the caretakers could care less about the boy. The boy's caretaker arrived early in the morning and would leave him soon after his or her job was done.
The boy hardly had any relationship with another human being. They simply would not go near him or ignore him altogether. But still, if the boy ever felt sad about this, he did not show it. If the boy ever did go out, though he surely would, all he had on was a smile. An innocent smile, but a huge one. A smile so wide you can no longer see the boy's sad and pain-filled eyes. A smile innocent enough to hide behind. A smile perfect for a mask. The boy's mask. A mask of happiness and contentment.
And because of this mask, the villager's wouldn't notice the boy's plea. A plea that can never be heard normally. A plea that can never be heard by the human ear… but by the heart. Yes, the villager's had a heart, but it was not big enough. Yes, they had room for the boy whose parents were murdered. Yes, there was room for the boy. But what occupied the villager's heart the most was revenge. Hatred for the demon who killed and destroyed so many. So no, they had no room for him. They had no room for the boy who was wasting away before their very eyes.
But the boy did not argue. All he wanted was attention. Even just a little one. A tiny one. A wee bit of acknowledgement. He no longer cared if it were good or bad as long as he had attention. So long as he'd have anything but hatred, anger and fear. So long as he had something else… something else…
To the villager's he had no name. He was merely called 'The boy', or 'The fox brat' even 'it'. No one called him by name. Only the funny man with the red hat called by name and one other. Naruto. Uzumaki Naruto. To the boy, his name held no meaning. To him, he didn't even have one. Not one of the villager's would care if he suddenly would forget his name (though highly unlikely). Not one would care if he were lost either.
"They would be happy, I guess. If I vanished, they would really be happy."
No one really cared if the boy was distressed or not. If anything, they wanted him to suffer. They never saw him and the demon apart. "And maybe will never see me…"
The boy started swinging. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until the world was the mere beat of the swinging. Until there was nothing left but the beat, the swing and himself. Until he was lost in his own little world. A world he so desperately wanted to be lost if.
Forever.
In his world, even if he was alone, he was at peace. No one to harm him. No one to tease him, call him names he didn't know the meaning of. No one to hate him… but himself. After all, it was what was given to him in the first place. Hate. Anger. Fear. It was all he ever had. He didn't have love. He didn't have it. Though he would get pity from the funny old man with the red hat. He even got it from his weird caretaker. This caretaker didn't hurt him. This one didn't beat him up, starve him, call him names, taunt him, shout at him, lock him up in his room for days, punish him for no reason at all.
This new caretaker even treated him dinner sometimes. At Ichiraku. The only public place he'd been welcome. This new caretaker confused him greatly. He didn't know what to make of him. If at first the young man had a bit of hatred in his eyes, he didn't show it anymore. In it's place stood something the boy had never seen.
He tried to make of the young man he had as his caretaker. He tried to understand what this caretaker had in his eyes. Tried to understand why seeing it made him feel warm and pleasant. That seeing it made him smile. Really smile. Smile a genuine smile.
But the boy could not understand. He didn't know what the young man had in his eyes for the boy grew without knowing it. Without experiencing it. The boy grew without anyone showing him what it truly was. How beautiful the world could be. How wonderful it made everyone feel.
A sudden realization came to him. He had seen it before. From the funny old man with the red hat, from the old man at the Ichiraku. And from his dreams…
Dreams of a kind face, smiling at him. Urging him to move on and live his life. It was what he needed. Kindness. And before he knew it… He had hope. And with hope came dreams. And with dreams came belief.
Someday he'd get what he'd wanted. He hoped on it. He dreamed about it…
And he knew for sure that it would come true.
"Someday… The villager's would recognize me. Someday… I'll find love."