Chapter Four
The black night felt good, its calm winds lightly touching his bare chest. He leaned against the frame of his window, his eyes focused on the sleeping town. A sigh escaped his pale lips, which quivered slightly. His apartment door creaked open, a growl echoing into the room. His eyes still stared out into the city. He felt claws on him then, but he still didn't move. His body, already scarred, developed red scratches from whatever thing that was clawing him. The darkness surrounded him, suffocated him, flooding his throat and eyes. He coughed, shoving his hands around as voices echoed into his head. The voices mixed together-he couldn't understand what they were saying. The darkness was swept away in a heap of fog, his body suddenly tied and stuffed into a wooden box. A black gag muffled his cries, his body trembling in fear. A familiar large, old man loomed over him with the wooden crate door in hand, a grim smile on his face. The door was thrown over his head, the latches snapping in place.
His breath shuddered, fear jolting up and down his spine. His eyes searched for a way out, limbs pulling against the restraints. No use. The air started to grow thin, he could feel it leave his lungs-asphyxiation. A soft, continuous pitter-patter hit the box, dust slipping through some of the cracks. Muffled laughs of triumph died out, fading away as he tucked his head between his knees. He tried his best to breath, focus on scrounging for oxygen. His lungs burned, ripping inside his chest. His heart pounded against his rib cage. His body grew weak and he curled into himself. Trembling and burning, he stopped breathing. His head drifted too high to realize that his lungs gave out. Everything gave up, shutting down to preserve energy, and yet failing slowly. His heart beat slowed to a gradual stop. His heart abrogated, the oxygen deprivation moving to his head. His life pulled out from his head, he floated into his memories. Bitter things memories were; remembering brought only pain and suffering. Panic scorned him as he tried again and again to move, open his eyes, or make his heart continue its beating once more. His lungs started to burn again as he took a deep breath of fresh air, coughing and gasping.
The young daemon sat up suddenly, eyes burning as a few tears escaped. He was...dreaming. Only dreaming. He didn't live in the Asylum any longer, and he wasn't going through any treatments. He had an apartment and a sensei. It's okay, he convinced himself, everything's alright. His heart still pounded against his rib cage, his body tingling at the memory. His nightmares, his memories, damn. He shook his head, rubbing his face. The boy noticed how clammy he'd gotten, slipped off his windowsill, and walked into his bathroom. He turned on the water, washing his face to wake himself up. He dared to steal a glance from his reflection, noticed the haunted ghoulish eyes, and decided against such a notion.
His weary body trudged into the kitchen. Swinging the fridge door open, he picked up a small plastic box and took a water. The sun had already begun to peak through his window, its light illuminating the village. The rays also brightened up his room a considerable amount. A sigh escaped his lips as he ate another piece of cold dried fruit, bitter depression falling upon his shoulders. The young daemon cleaned up after himself, got dressed, and decided to go to the training field before his sensei did.
Walking into the village so early in the morning made the boy feel relaxed. There was no one outside, no anxiety, or any aching feeling that someone planned to attack him. He could walk at his own pace and keep his head forward. He decided to take his time to notice any changes among the town, and familiarize it once again. It held the same look as before; large old buildings and even older people. But it felt strange; it wasn't home any longer. Well, at least not his home. He wandered deeper into the town, touching a familiar wooden fence. This was where that man beat him, when that event occurred and he was brought into the asylum. A sharp pain rippled into his stomach, making him wince, though he continued on his way back to the training grounds. He decided that reminiscing is dangerous and that it should be left to the old people.
The young daemon approached the training grounds, his heart rate increasing slightly. His breath became shallow, and panic burned his chest. The boy didn't understand why his body felt like this, why he felt a panic attack coming on. He sat under a tree and put his head between his knees, below his heart. He took deep breaths, panic slowly rising and freezing his limbs. He couldn't move from his position, he could barely catch his breath. The young daemon shook, this must've been caused by someone; it couldn't just happen for no apparent reason. What would've caused this? His head spun, he felt like his spirit drifted away from his body, and yet he was still seeing through his own eyes and could feel. His body trembled, and hot tears slipped out. He tried to force them down, but they kept coming. The young daemon took a deep breath and relaxed against the tree, done with panic. He's had so many of these back in the asylum, every single one of them filled with suffocation and depression from being trapped so long inside. His body relaxed, slowing down his thrashing heart.
Deciding to repress it with work, he focused on his hand signs and chakra. The boy found himself letting go, and his chakra seemed to run smoother, simply coming together with lax effort. Maybe he was forcing it too much, and now that he was able to let his body do as it pleased; the jutsu came more naturally. A shadow clone appeared beside him, staring at himself. He investigated the clone, finding no faults with it. It-he-was him. He cringed at the tacky orange jacket, glad that he at least kept a black shirt exposed to help calm that annoying color. He needed more money to go out shopping, but he would deal with it for now. His eyes looked like they needed a long rest; red veins and a slight yellow brimmed the edges of the white of his eyes. His blue eyes held this sort of cold numbness; empty. His eyes were just that, empty. There's nothing special behind them, and they only could tell stories of secret pain. He undid the jutsu, the clone disappearing in a poof. He turned his head, his white-haired sensei standing there.
"Well then," He handed the boy a Konoha headband, smiling at him. "You're a ninja now. Want to go and celebrate?"
The boy stared at his head band and fastened it around his head. A sort of warm calm feeling washed over him, his lips lifted just barely into a smile. He was finally a ninja; finally a genin at last.
"Thank you, sure," The boy nodded his head, following his sensei towards the heart of Konoha.
He kept to Kakashi's back, his eyes wandering over the village's buildings. The people still looked at him with noticeably hateful eyes, but he had learned to ignore that. Being around Anko had been great practice. The buildings hadn't changed any; no new colors or remodeling. Just the same old Konoha and its spiteful citizens. Kakashi stopped in front of Ichiraku's, leading the boy to sit at the counter. The old man who cooked the delicious and famous ramen smiled at the sight of the boy, his favorite costumer.
"What can I do ya for, Naruto?" The old man asked, his daughter beaming at the sight of the little blonde boy. He always made tons of money for them, and he used to buy from them frequently. Although right before he was carted off to the asylum, he didn't visit them. In fact, he rarely ate during that time period.
"Pork ramen, please," He bowed his head slightly. The man returned to cooking when he got Kakashi's order, working diligently over the hot stoves.
"After this, I'll be telling the Hokage of your progress and you'll officially be in team seven," The older man stated. The boy simply nodded, eyes casted down. "Tomorrow you are to meet up with us on the roof of the academy. We're going to discuss about our likes, dislikes, and goals, and I will test you from there. Be there on time or else I will personally send you back into the asylum."
The boys eyes widened, fear coursing through his skin. He gulped, staring at his sensei, whose lazy eye rested on his. The boy quickly turned back to his original position. Their meal was eaten in complete silence.
When the boy had excused himself, paid for his meal, and left, Kakashi headed out himself.
Naruto had looked so fearful, it worried his sensei. The older male took it upon himself to tell the Hokage of his findings along with the succession of his jutsu. The old man nodded, his eyes closed while he puffed away on his pipe.
"His fear wasn't because of my threat, Hokage-sama. There's something sinister going on within the asylum," Kakashi concluded.
"I-" The Hokage cut himself off with an exhale. "We have already done an investigation, but there's no evidence. We don't know what happened to him, and I'm well aware of the fact that Naruto is afraid of Anko," He shook his head. "We've tried to get into some patients' heads using a yamanaka, but their minds are literally too scrambled. And we tried to see into Anko's, as well as Naruto's, but there's a block set up on Naruto and Anko is clean. We don't know who did the block, but who is to say that it's the asylum?"
"He's frightened by the mere mention of it," Kakashi replied coolly, his arms crossed over his abdomen.
"I see," The Hokage took out his pipe, "Try to get him to confess, but don't push him. Even though he's a little more stable, it doesn't mean he can't regress."
"I don't mean to be rude, Hokage-sama, but I doubt he's stable," The Jonin said before he left the round room. He wasn't sure how he was going to make the boy confess, but as long as it's ordered by the Hokage, how could he refuse this challenge?
The boy sat quietly, feeling the gazes of his teammates upon him. Didn't their parents teach them not to stare? It's rude. His eyes lingered up, first looking at the all pink girl and then the blue-clad raven-haired boy.
"What?" He asked them, his voice gruff to the point where it came out in a near growl.
"N-nothing," Sakura waved her arms in front of her, laughing uneasily.
"We're looking at you, dobe," Sasuke deadpanned.
"Really? Thought you were watching a dancing parade of pink elephants," The boy shot back.
"No, this is more entertaining," The emo king smirked. Heat burned his veins, rage built within his chest. He shouldn't have taken those pills Anko prescribed to him; he knew they would cause strange effects. He expected hallucinations or endless pain, not mood swings. It was very calm in comparison to the other crap she pulled.
"Good morning," Kakashi's voice interrupted the glaring boys stare-off.
"You're late! It's nearly past noon!" Sakura chided.
"Mah, mah, I had to help a little old lady cross the street," He scratched the back of his head, the only visible eye closing in a sheepish expression.
"Liar," The kunoichi grumbled, crossing her hands over her stomach, her cheeks puffed out in a pout.
"Alright," He clapped his hands together, "let's get started with..." He looked at Sasuke, "you."
The raven haired boy clasped his hands, propping his elbows up on his knees. His eyes glared at nothing.
"I don't have many likes and I dislike many things..." His eyes slid slightly to the boy clad in orange, "and my dream-no, what I'm going to do-is to kill a certain someone." The jinchuriki stared back, noticing the slight haziness of the Uchiha's eyes. He wasn't looking at him, maybe remembering something?
"Well my likes are," Sakura looked at the Uchiha and giggled, "and my dreams are," she repeated the same action, "and my dislikes are..." Her eyes for a second glanced at the young demon, quickly going back to her sensei. "Ino-pig! She's so disgusting and impure!"
Kakashi rubbed the back of his head, gesturing for the last ninja to go, all eyes turning on him. The boy shivered, folding his arms and keeping his eyes trained on the ground.
"Um...I'm Naruto," He began softly. "I like..."
What did he like again? He liked when they used to allow him to play outside in the asylum, he liked meatloaf Thursdays, and he liked the soft padding of the walls that felt like a giant feathery pillow. This wasn't normal though; he'd have to decide something else.
"Uh...food. Yeah, ramen especially," It wasn't a total lie; he loved ramen, but during the last few years he grew accustomed to not eating. "I also like being outside. I dislike..." Being locked up? Tortured for days on end? Violent mood swings? "The three minutes spent waiting for instant ramen," He nodded, another old truth about him. "And my dream," A small grin fell on his lips, his eyes trailing over the sky, "is to become free."
"Right," Team Seven's sensei stood up, nodding to his students. "Tomorrow I will be giving you a test, so don't eat unless you like to throw up." And with that he disappeared.
The young daemon got up, starting for home. He walked home, eyes staring at the ground and hands in pockets. He ignored the villagers' stares and whispers, knowing that it was better to pretend they didn't exist. He felt a little less burdened at the thought that this day wasn't so bad; he hadn't been beaten up and he had eaten;it was a good day.
He entered his apartment with a content sigh, locking up before he drew himself a bath. Steam rose up from the hot water, clinging to the mirror and window. After he undressed, the boy climbed into the tub, resting his back against the tub wall. He relaxed his head, letting himself sink deeper into the warm water. Warmth touched every part of him; his fingers, chest, feet; everything was warm. He sat up, sighing before reaching over the tub's edge to grab his shampoo. Someone grabbed him, forcing him down into the water. He struggled against the tight grip on his head and neck-his body shook and twisted, trying to get the assailant off of him. The grip tightened, a thumb pressing roughly on his throat. He lost control of his breath, bubbles of oxygen flying out of his mouth. Water sucked down his throat, filling his lungs and sinuses. His head spun, his body weakened. The boy stopped struggling, his body too limp and fuzzy to control. And something strange happened then; he felt comfortable-safe almost. He drifted deeper into this feeling, surrounded by calm. No one was whispering anything, and no one was hurting him. He simply was there, enjoying the safety of this dark comfortable place.
This dream, though, didn't last long. He woke up, his chest burning and lungs sputtering out water. He gasped for breath as pain ached through his body.
The boy looked around him; he was lying on his bathroom floor, his tub empty and shampoo bottle dropped below his foot, white goo slowly spilling from it. He sat up, feeling his throat. His lungs burned as he got up, looking at himself in the mirror. Red hand marks covered his throat-obvious that someone choked him. He frowned, returning to his clothes and slipping them on. Of course she would come; every time he felt even a morsel of content, she was there to take it away. He swung open the door, jumping a little at the sight of a shadow sitting on his bed. The figure let out a soft laugh.
"Hey, daemon. How's it been? D'ya enjoy the little treatment I gave ya?"
He frowned, moving towards his hamper to set his laundry down. He felt her presence behind himself, though he kept his eyes on the ground when he turned around to face her.
"Submissive again? Wonder where all that fiery passion went," She played with his hair, knotting it in between her fingers, "you were filled with such fire back then, always being such a bad boy. And you're still no better."
The boy counted the cracks in his floorboard, trying to ignore her words. She went down on one knee, leveling their eyes. The cold woman smirked, still playing with his hair.
"Ibiki wanted to give you a new type of medicine. Somethin' his psychiatric team's been workin' on," She purred, wiggling an orange capsule of pills in his face before shoving them in his hands. "Take one every night, except when you're with them," Her voice lowered, "I will be recording your first night on them to see if it's to our standards."
He nodded, walking numbly to his small kitchen and getting a glass of water. He swallowed one of the thick white pills quickly, putting his glass into the sink. He went to his bed, laying down with Anko watching him from the kitchen table, her seat cocked towards him.
The first thirty minutes nothing happened-in fact he was nearly drifting off to sleep. Then his body started burning. He felt like he was on fire. Every organ, every vein, every piece of tissue-was intensely hot. Lava boiled through his veins, his heart pounding erratically. He curled into a ball, his skin feeling like it was going to melt off. He couldn't catch his breath then; his lungs heaved for oxygen, unable to be sustained. His throat choked, coughing and sputtering as his chest lifted up, veins popping out of his neck with his skin as red as a lobster's. Minutes passed, and still the effect didn't loosen up. It took another thirty minutes for the drug to wear off, slowly dissipating.
The boy faced his ceiling, breathing quick, frantic breaths. He thought he would pass out for sure, but it seemed the pill was definitely something else.
"Ah, wonderful. How do you feel?" She chirped, moving to the side of his bed.
The boy looked at her, still gasping for breath. His mind started to spin before he finally started to fall into unconsciousness.
"Wonderful..." Her voice echoed through the darkness.
The young boy prayed within his unconsciousness that Kami would be merciful and take him out. A strange thought then wondered into his mind: why not do it himself? He dwelled on that thought. It would be easier than having to be subjected to another experimental drug or more torture.
Kakashi jumped, completely avoiding the Uchiha's flurry of punches and kicks. The young daemon watched in fascination, impressed with the Uchiha's kick reaction and even more so with Kakashi's blocks. If he was able to do that, maybe he would be able to block all of Anko's beatings if he learned? He shook his head; she'd find a way. She always did.
"Naruto," Sakura whispered, crawling on her belly next to the boy hidden underneath the undergrowth, "let's help Sasuke get those bells."
The boy rolled his eyes. "No," He scowled at the pinkette, "why would I ever help him?"
"Geez, just thought I could get some help from you!"
The boy shook his head, crawling off. Trust her? No way in hell! He'd never trust a classmate-ever. The pinkette crawled away, and he locked his eyes on the battle. He decided to make his own appearance, crawling up from his hiding place and going to strike the ninja with a kunai. Kakashi dodged the kunai and Sasuke's fist in a single smooth motion. Kakashi lashed out, kicking the boy's stomach. He sputtered, falling to his hands and knees as crimson spat out of his mouth. He kneeled his head against the ground, his body trembling. Anko's beating last night wasn't healing as quick as he hoped; usually it'd be fine by next morning, but he was already on the ground with a single small kick to the stomach. Perhaps his sensei was really strong? His throat burned and he puked up more blood, his eyes stinging with tears. He hiked up his jumpsuits collar, making sure the turtle neck he wore covered the marks before getting back up to fight. Sure it was an idiotic move, but suspicion had to rise when he was crippled by such a weak throw. And suspicion meant possible discovery, and a slow death followed closely behind it. He swallowed some bile that crept in the back of his throat, faced Kakashi, and conjured up two other Narutos.
The clones started for their sensei, running at him with kunai drawn. The real Naruto snuck behind his sensei, aiming for his neck. The man seemed to already know, his figure disappearing into the atmosphere. The clones all landed within one another, big, billowy smoke filling the meadow. A slight tap on the boy's shoulder sent a short message of panic before his body launched into the air, his sensei right behind him yelling something about a thousand years of death. Pain burned up his spine, wrapping him in a cocoon of fire. He screamed, falling on his face.
"Idiot," Sakura's voice muttered as an alarm clock rang.
A/N
Thanks for all the comments and questions, and I'm so sorry for not answering every question, busy life and all.
But a few things;
1. Things will be revealed in later chapters
2. I will try my hardest to make sure that not everything bad is going to happen to him, make him less angsty and all (although he will still have PTSD and the symptoms will show throughout later chapters.
And I thank everyone for the wonderful comments and criticism! It really helps me grow as a writer and I would love to thank my editor especially for being so determined and hard working!
Have a good day everyone!
I will try to put up the next chapter by the beginning of next year! No promises, I'm busting some buns trying to school but I will remain determined! Thank you for reading!