A/N: I don't know what inspired me to write this one- it's pretty depressing. Oh well… read on.
Summary: The village of Konoha expects him to be a monster, so that's what he's become. She told him so herself.
Monster
Naruto.
Distantly, the monster wonders if the black haired boy is referring to him. He quickly brushes off this thought- 'Naruto' is not his name. He doesn't have one.
It isn't until now that the monster realizes his hands are burning. Fire. He recognizes this word. Fire burns, fire destroys, fire is what's killing his friends and demolishing his village. But he supposes that he can't blame this entirely on fire- it's his fault too. He made the fire.
The thought plagues him somehow, and he doesn't like the feeling. He gets rid of it by strangling the boy that had called out to him. Or at least, the monster thinks he'd called him. His choking and spluttering makes the monster grin in victory- this is what they all had brought upon themselves. They're all idiots for provoking him. He doesn't let go of his victim until his squirming dies down and the tears leaking from his eyes are replaced with blood.
Suddenly, he finds himself moving, which is strange because he doesn't remember using the muscles in his legs to do so. Crashing into a tree, he realizes that he didn't move, he was forced to move. The monster doesn't like being told what to do, or being forced to do it. Who had dared to punch him? Looking around, he spots a girl leaning over his latest victim. His mind is hazy, but he knows he's supposed to recognize this girl, he's supposed to know her, he's supposed to love her. The monster doesn't like the odd feeling in his stomach, the one that seems to make his heart feel as if it's being squeezed. The feeling is familiar- guilt- but he doesn't remember what it is.
He moves towards her, and the monster can tell she's afraid. She's trying to hide it though- but the girl should really know better. He can smell the terror on her, in her, and smiles lazily. She's quite brave for trying to conceal it, but she still steps back from him as he approaches. The monster's claws are bloody already from killing so many people- what would one more hurt? Pressing his claw to her neck, he gently traces it across and cut's the artery there. A strange gurgle comes from her mouth and he knows that her lungs are being filled with blood, and the thought excites him. What's this? She's trying to say something-
"Monster."
Monster? He remembers this word clearly now, remembers it so much it hurts. He doesn't like the feeling of the word, but somehow it seems to fit.
"Monster." He repeats to her, but the monster knows she's already dead.
A/N: It's short, yes, but I didn't want to drag it out… Reviews are gratefully accepted, but not expected.