Chapter Two
He abided to being shoved into the wall, bloody and battered, bruises covering gaunt, ghoulish white skin. His wide blue eyes darted around, searching for help, but who would help the beast? Who would help the monster who destroyed lives? He shook his head; feeling strong metal cuffs bound around his wrists, a metal choker held his neck as the big men in matching polyester white scrubs bound him in a hefty straight jacket. The boy growled as he listened to their conversation. They laughed about how bad he had failed, gossiped on how the warden was going to make him pay for his attempted escape.
He was stuck in this asylum full of the criminally and mentally insane. As soon as the big brutes left the all-white room, panic built within the boy. He could hear the distant voices of his fellow cell mates. Their conversations picked up with excitement as rumors spread of his failed attempt at escaping, of the daemon that inhabited his gut, and so on. He bit his lower lip as the cold fell heavy on his thin shoulders. It pulled him closer to the edges of his insanity; he could feel that he was slowly losing himself in darkness. These 'safe' white padded walls swirled before him, creating a slow gyre of white. The sight itself alarmed him. Every time he was in here for too long, he would start to see these freaky things. He hadn't been in here too long now, had he? He shook his head; it couldn't have been a long time, could it? Is there truly a sense of time when trapped behind these white walls? He heard the back of his mind answer with a "No"; time does not exist here in this cage of white. In this oblivion, there was nothing but him and the daemon within.
He shook his head, his eyes focused on the door. His body tensed at the thought of that woman walking through. The tall, strong woman who had such a firm grasp on this place, the woman with short, almost purple-brown hair and onyx eyes with Orochimaru's curse mark (he wasn't sure who this Orochimaru had been until told by another patient)on her neck. She had once been one of the patients, the curse mark burning her as insanity had been thrust upon her body. But now, she was the boss of this insane jail. She shoved large pills down patients' throats, and locked away the innocent; people were thrown into large, cold caves, fists and legs beating them until they couldn't scream or fight any longer. They were told that they were insane, that they were not well, that they have had no progress at all, and electro-shock therapy was soon to come. His body shook; he trembled at the memory of his body shaking under the burning electricity, his insides jolting from the flashes of searing pain.
He shook off his own dreadful thoughts, and focused on the now opening door. He dreaded the sight of white scrubs, it's surely sadistic owner wearing them proudly. The owner of the clothes was a nurse here, a volunteer to the medical community. He had long, dark brown hair, his clear eyes a recessive trait to the Hyuuga line.
The daemon boy's lip curled into a snarl. The Hyuuga's eyes darted down to the boy, half in fear and half in fascination. He shoved a pale hand into his shirt pocket and fished out a small white bottle with unidentifiable characters scrawled on its side. The top was half-popped open for easy access. The nurse spilled a few of the small white pills into his hand, his other hand picking one up and putting it near the boy's lips.
"Take the pill," The Hyuuga ordered.
"No," The boy growled in response.
"Take the bloody pill!" The Hyuuga yelled, frowning as he shoved the pill to the boy's lips.
"No," The boy said through clenched teeth, his spine bending backward away from the nurse.
"Take it!"
"No!"
"Take it! Uzumaki, take it! Take it! Take the bloody pill, you'll be just fine!"
The daemon shook his head. Frustrated, the nurse grabbed the boy's chin and pulled his face forward.
"Take it! Take it! Take it!"
The boy finally let the pill pass his lips.
"Good, now swallow. Swallow! Come on, boy, just swallow the damn thing! Swallow!"
It was not going to happen.
"Swallow!"
He didn't want to let them win.
"Swallow!"
The boy felt the hand on his mouth move to his throat.
"Swallow!"
The daemon boy finally gulped the small pill dryly, feeling it slowly slide down his throat as it achingly burned his esophagus. The nurse smirked, leaving the boy as another came in. This nurse was large and muscular, his arms covered in scars. His face had a large scar running across it. He smiled, and cracked his large knuckles before slamming the door closed behind him. The boy looked away as he felt those familiar hateful eyes on his body, the eyes that daydreamed to rip him apart.
The large man approached him. One of his large tanned hands sprung out, gripping his wild and unkempt blonde hair. The daemon boy winced as his roots were slowly pried from his skull. The man laughed, pulling up a fist and slamming it into the boy's jaw. The impact caused the boy to fall to his side, his body pressing up against the cold, white cement wall. He growled, trying to command his body to obey, but it seemed the effect of the drug had come. A hazy feeling fell upon his fatigued limbs; his brain became mushy and his emotions were restrained. He felt...tamed; like a puppet doll without its master to move his strings.
The man grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up against the wall, his body hanging numbly in the air. The man threw him to the side, completely ignoring the fact that the chains on him would jerk him back. The chain pulled taut, cutting into the boy's skin and choking him. He fell limp; his consciousness muted and thoughts muddled, he came to know only pain. Within himself, he wondered if he was breaking, that as his body shattered so would his sanity. That's the reason they kept him, right? Because he was really sick, because he wasn't getting any better? The brute pulled him to his first resting spot in the middle of the padded room, kicked his back for good measure, and finally left. This lesson was short. Perhaps-no, he didn't want to think about it any longer.
Sleep wouldn't come so peacefully that night; his mind saw hallucinations of what they claimed to be daemons. They told him in their ghostly forms to kill himself, to rid his self of his pain and sorrows, to try to escape again and jump off a cliff-or even better! Hang by the chains tied around his body; a make shift noose cradled around his neck as his life drifted from dead, slack lips. He simply shook them off, rolled over to face the other way from the sight of such ugly images, and from thinking such ugly things. Seconds had passed by, the daemons coming and going as they pleased. They invaded his mind and his inner sanctum, their ghostly forms drifting above his body as they whispered into his ear deadly memories. They told him about the days his body laid beaten and thrown around, and the day everything started going to hell.
He was young, still fresh in the academy, pulling pranks left and right. He ran down a dusty road, his orange jumpsuit half zipped, tied around his waist to expose his dark green t-shirt underneath it. Little green goggles sat on his head as he pulled at them, grinning from ear to ear. His tiny blue sandals pounded against the path as he ran into the town, the roar of angry villagers yelling behind him. They screamed profanities and threats that one day, the fox boy's capture would come. Naruto merged with the villagers, suddenly becoming one of them once more. He walked, wearing a smug grin with high confidence at the thought of his smooth getaway. He wandered through the twilight-dusted town, feeling a familiar chill creep down his spine.
He looked around and noticed something was out of the ordinary, something that wasn't anticipated. Little red lanterns were beginning to light up the shops, most of the shops looking like they were closing up. The boy felt confusion sweep over him, not sure on why they were closing up so soon, or why they were getting out of the area as fast as they could. The boy shivered, now a little less certain of his venture through the small village hidden in the leaves. As people passed him, the familiar scent of booze becoming stronger, the sun slowly drifted from the lazy blue skies and to dark depths. It was soon to come again with the promise of a new day. Now many drunks staggered around, making the small boy tense. His insides screamed for him to run; something was going to happen, something did not seem right.
Glares penetrated his skull, sinking deep into his brain as the boy walked even quicker. If anything, he could run-no! No, he can solve this, he told himself. He could be a true ninja, fighting if he had to. With sweet ignorance in mind, he walked with his chest raised and head floating among the heavens.
He did not see the people who were creeping up behind him, did not notice the drunkards surrounding him. He was busy dreaming about the day he would become Hokage.
A large, buff male grabbed his throat and held him up. The small boy clawed and screamed for him to let go. The brute laughed, alcohol burning the child's throat as his body slammed against the dirt. His body burned on impact from the sharp pain. The others advanced on him-a group of at least five or six drunken males-with weapons held in their hands. The boy screamed as loud as he could when glass penetrated his arm. It slid upward, and with it rushed fire through his veins.
His arms were held behind his back by strong limbs, the attackers' bodies barely visible to him. The others threw punches and kicks into his spine. A fist came out and collided with the boy's face, earning a yelp from him. A kick to the stomach left him feeling nauseous. His screams pierced through the still night. He tried to get help, tried to get the attention of someone of the law. No one would stop, not a civilian, not a ninja, no one.
When the drunkards finished him, they left him face down in the street, the yellowish dirt stained with his blood. His stomach had been cut open, a knife still stuck in it, bruises littering his body. His hair red with his own blood, he looked unrecognizable. The boy lay unconscious in the alleyway, until two of his classmates found him. His classmates were none other than the Hyuuga heir, Hinata, and the boy of the Inazuka Clan, Kiba; he had smelt the horrible odor and found his classmate close to dead. He fetched help; Kiba had grabbed their sensei and the two recruited some medical ninja to help the boy in the alleyway while Hinata watched over Naruto's body. He owed Kiba and Hinata his life, so the dog boy had become a friend, though rival might have been the better term. Hinata, although, never really grew close to him. Either way, Naruto had a good relationship with them, granted it was small. They also thought Naruto had gotten better.
The fact was, while alone and suffering from the negative responses toward him with the occasional death threat, he grew weaker and gave in to self-harm. It was his outlet, and no one knew. That is until almost a year later when another attack occurred, him beaten to near death by an angry adult. His rage expressed through series of bruises and broken bones that hadn't exactly healed right with his spine slightly more bent than what should have been considered normal. When the doctors were treating him, they found certain words carved in his skin, particularly ones that said "monster" and "killer". Upon further examination, they found that these were self-inflicted; the boy was hurting himself. It was shocking; the staff were baffled at the thought that such a happy child would hurt himself so badly. His sensei wouldn't even accept it as the truth. His mind wasn't able to comprehend that the boy had in fact put a blade to his skin. Under the Hokage's orders, the boy was sent to the asylum, where he still resided today.
Finally, the boy found that his eyes were closed. Even his mind was tired of all the abuse. Slowly, he drifted to sleep, not even moving when a sharp sting slapped his shoulder, or when he heard his name screamed at the top of someone's lungs. He didn't want to stay awake anymore. A sharp blow to his side caused him to defy himself as he rolled over. His arms were free and clutched the ground, fingers digging into the soft padding as his lips curled up in a snarl. He looked at the intruder, almost smiling. It was Anko-the ruler of this asylum, the dark purple haired woman that wore her ninja clothing proudly and had an almost nauseating, egotistical attitude to match-and next to her a white-haired man with only one-fourth of his face visible.
"Uzumaki! Get up, we have to talk," Anko grinned, her eyes looking bloodthirsty.
"Is it about the pills? I'm not taking them anymore!" He growled, his hand clutching to the wall for support.
She waved her hand at him nonchalantly, her voice mock innocent as she replied, "No, but I did hear that you gave the nice men a struggle when taking them."
"I hate them! They make me see those things."
Anko rolled her eyes, her head turning to the white-haired man. His eyes had grown slightly wide as she whispered to him. She threw on a wicked grin.
"Come on, boy, line formation!" She ordered.
He stepped, one foot in front of the other, feeling a sort of limp in his step as he stood in front of her. His body tensed up at the thought that she would hurt him. She put a hand on his tense shoulder, her smile growing as he winced. Pain flooded down his back like water down a windowpane. The boy followed her out. Lazily slumped with his hands in his pockets, the white haired man followed behind him. His relaxed form put the younger boy on edge. They reached the front where two familiar people were waiting, their eyes widening at the sight of him.
One was a girl dressed in all red with pink hair, her eyes an emerald color. Her skin was beautiful, not a freckle or pimple in sight, just ivory. Though it wasn't as pale as the boy clad in blue that stood next to her. Onyx eyes and raven black hair gave the whiter boy a sort of menacing look, his hands shoved in his white cargo pants. The raven boy's posture looked on edge. The daemon wanted to back up. He didn't want to be anywhere near these two: the angsty prince, Sasuke Uchiha, and the annoying princess, Sakura Haruno. He frowned when Anko pushed his back, pain jolting down his shoulder blades. He winced, quickly stepped forward near the two, and immediately looked down at the blindingly white floor.
"H-hey Naruto," Sakura said timidly, trying her best to break the ice. His head snapped up and he eyed her suspiciously, before he cast his gaze down to the floor again.
"Hey..." He responded dryly, as he tried to remember how to act around classmates.
"Let's go; we have to get acquainted with you, Mr. Uzumaki," the white-haired man said, giving his shoulders a slight push. He immediately winced, and quickly pulled out of reach from the man. The boy turned around to glare at him before marching to the sliding doors.
The sun was hot. He hadn't seen it in years. His eyes ached as he shielded them from the light. He tried to hold in a snarl of distaste that clawed at his throat as the heat burned his skin. He took a few steps back, but gentle hands pushed him forward.
"No, you're leaving here," The man said to him softly.
The boy almost dragged his feet as he pushed through the black-soiled ground of the asylum, going around to the outside of the gate.
"Seriously Naruto, it's like you've never been outside," Sakura sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"I-I never did," Naruto muttered, his lips growing into a tight, thin line as he touched the cold bars of the silver gate. His blue eyes lingered over the large building that had kept him captive for many years-with the allowance of a few escapes.
"They didn't want me out, so they kept me locked away in that padded room. The only time I would get to see the sun is when I would run away. And even then it took them only a few minutes to find me and put me back." He turned his head to the side and noticed the sympathetic eyes on him.
"What's with the long faces?" Naruto asked curiously.
"This is your new life now, and you'll see the sun more often," The older man said in a disturbingly soft, calm voice.