Iruka watched the child, eyebrows furrowing as he scratched his nose and narrowed his eyes. He had not wanted to be one of those ordered to teach the child, but now he couldn't help but amend his position. The child wasn't exactly as he had claimed; and he couldn't help but find himself drawn to the silent and almost forcefully happy child.
His eyebrow furrowed further as he watched the blonde child contently build something out of the sand he was seated in. He had also watched earlier that day, as the other children carefully and meticulously avoided this one child despite his sunny inviting smile and the instinctual drive to just simply play. But he had seen the parents whisper to the children, not even caring if it was not one of their own, and he had even heard some of the whispers.
And he had watched.
He wouldn't have bothered to look so close, had the hokage not approached him and spoken to him about Naruto. And maybe he wouldn't even have bothered to listen to the hokage- if he had not been talking of children's games, of all things.
But the hokage had approached him with an enquiry of the games on the playground, if they helped to develop ninja skills and bonds that would help the soon-to-be-shinobi in their life. And there had been the underlying notion that he should watch one. And if Iruka knew the hokage – as he liked to think he did – he had been specifically mentioning this child.
This child that had blonde, spiky and uncontrollable locks of sunshine that were only shadowed by the ever brilliant smile that crinkled his sky-bitten blue eyes up into happy crescents and caused the cheeks that were scarred with the demon's mark to curve and dimple into something completely innocent looking.
And with this new, if forced, perspective he had set out to watch the children like he always did- and he paid specific attention to one in particular.
Despite the whispers and the taunts and the subtle snubbing that seemed to set something off in Iruka and make him raise his hackles he couldn't help but watch now. Watch like a predator waiting for his prey to reveal himself, watch like a scholarly man waiting for the divine truth of his tomes, and watch like a man waiting to be proved right.
And he found himself disappointed, if that was really it at all. The disappointment didn't stay there for long, even though he'd been proven grossly incorrect…
He couldn't find himself to be irritated at his loss, because he was too busy just watching.
…And damned if the perspective wasn't forced now.
He had lost his whole family to the demon– granted it wasn't a large family, but he had still lost his parents, the Umino house was now hauntingly empty, only the faint ghosts of scents belying the fact that there had been others living there. And he had grown up with that, the faint whispers of a presence he longed to remember so clearly but only received vague hints of thoughts and emotions before it was whisked away by time and (despite all he tried) the natural forgetfulness of the human mind.
It was hard to go through life like that after being so happy with his parents; it was hard to find these fleeting recollections and these scents, and it was very hard for him to even think about the young child as anything but the nine-tailed fox brat. He did not want to think of Uzumaki Naruto as anything other than the demon fox brat- the kyuubi brat, the nine tails, the gaki, the one that…
But now he couldn't. No matter that the esteemed sandaime had tried so many different tactics before this and so many different angles with him. Now he understood.
Despite the fact that he didn't want to understand…he now did.
He guessed it was a matter of perspective.
Now he understood, he understood, he understood.
He shook his head and slid his gaze back to the child, sitting in the sand and seeming to ignore these villagers and children that were so set in ignoring him. But now that he looked, now that he really looked…he couldn't help but notice. Now all he could see was a little lonely child who wanted someone to play with.
And that was why Iruka understood.
He had to see it from this angle, because he knew this angle.
He had been one to play with his parents and he had been one join in with the villagers during their times of fun and games…and then without his parents he had been the one to pay pranks on himself and others to get their attention- to shout and laugh so loud that no one would notice how loud he screamed in his mind.
But this pain was different; this child that no one noticed was unique in his pain, but who could fault him in that? To him the easiest recollections of the villagers were the ones where someone didn't know his identity and had been warned away by some 'good-intentioned' villager. The only kind memories for him were those where he was alone, where only the hokage or some random and gentle animal that had let him approach and fondle it for affection.
And he watched the child and couldn't help but find that the child was just that…a child.
Iruka himself had enjoyed playing with the other kids- somewhat of a hero's child because his parents had died honorably trying to protect the village from the infamous and malicious Kyuubi no kitsune. Parents had only been too proud, with that irksome glint of pity, to let their children play with the kyuubi orphan. And then Iruka had turned to games and tricks…
He had been shunned as well, only the child to laugh at when he played this prank or had one of his 'klutz attacks'…he had not had one of those good friends to just simply sit beside after a long day and bask in the simple silence that seemed to permeate the comfortable bond that all friends had seemed to share.
But even then his happiness had been a mask…
But this child…he hadn't even known who his parents were or if he hd a family somehwere (just like the rest of the villagers, but they really had no desire to search out his history) and he never knew the difference between laughing at him or with him…it was always at him. But he was simply happy.
And Iruka watched.
The comments continued, parents dragging their kids home after a long day of school or work and subtly shifting around the lone child- although it wasn't really all that subtle when one cared enough to actually look.
But he couldn't ever think of this child as the demon fox- never again.
Because he had watched.
And now he cared enough to notice.
A demon would resent such harsh words - a demon would hear those words no matter the distance – a demon would have at least a flash of hate or malice spark in those eyes before they could cover it with a mask and smile and try to keep the judging villagers clueless that he was indeed not as defenseless as the child's body appeared to be.
But no…this child with the sunny hair and brightening smile and happy crescent eyes only let his presence dim faintly as he noticed them blatantly (yes, he admitted it now that he actually looked) avoiding any path that would bring them close to the Uzumaki child.
And the dimming only lasted but a faint second before he gave another smile…a smile that was completely different and one he had never seen before. Of course, there was always the ever present sunny emotion that seemed to pulse around Naruto's every smile that you never really looked at but knew was there. But this was a different feeling smile.
The sunny hair seemed to droop only slightly as he looked up to the sky and offered a somewhat confused and wry smile, nonetheless still almost as bright as his other. But this smile- it seemed to say so much more; Yes I don't understand why they're so mean but you can't hate me for trying to understand can you? I mean it's not like I'm that bad…am I?
And there was so much more than just that, Iruka found he was slightly pained as the child did all this and then went back to playing in the sand below that one swing that no one seemed to use- because the demon brat was the one who used it. The grass tickling the edge of the sand and the child's tucked feet seemed to become the impenetrable forest and the sand became the safe haven complete with a castle and moat and stick flag posts proudly displaying allegiances…
All with that sunny bight smile that seemed to once again light up the little patch the true kyuubi orphan seemed to preside over.
No true demon would smile like that.
Or like…that….
So Iruka smiled and gathered a steeling breath in his lungs – holding it there for a brief second – and he walked towards the last child on the schools play yard.
The child looked up with that smile, it wavering slightly before coming full blast in that cheeky little grin that used to remind him strongly of a certain fox…but now all he could see was the forced impishness of a child.
He saw the closed eyes, holding back what he knew now to be curiosity and confusion and maybe a little bit of wariness…
But how could he even think that those eyes and that smile could hide the maliciousness of a demon's vengeful thoughts?
How could he believe that this young boy was the demon itself?
This child was a sacrifice for the safety of the villagers; how many times had he heard the reason that Konohagakure had the best ninjas…how many times had he taught that the Konoha nins were better than any others because of their willingness to sacrifice oneself for the whole…to sacrifice ones happiness without thought of reward or praise except that someone else precious was safe? - that someone's family was safe.
And here was a child not yet a shonobi, a child that had yet to learn the true strength of the Konoha nins. And he was performing the greatest sacrifice of them all.
Iruka firmed his new perspective.
So as he settled himself in the sand beside the blinking and still smiling child he ruffled the blonde hair and set about making a little town, creating something alongside the little boy who (if it were possible) only seemed to grin brighter and harder and set about reinforcing the walls surrounding their little village.
After all, a village was only as strong as the people who make it; and that took care and time and effort and unity. He guessed Naruto and he understood each other on that part, and now Iruka found something about the child that he could understand.
Iruka just found a child under that villager bias, a child with whom he could identify.
This little child so overlooked and already condemned.
This child, in his perspective.
And he guessed that was all that really mattered now, he would help the child grow as much as he could and then watch as others realized this and helped the child grow. But now that Iruka understood and accepted and offered…he found himself wishing that others could see this wonderful child as the gift it was.
After all, Uzumaki Naruto was a child one had to view on a wholly different perspective than one viewed the natural world.
Because Naruto was just like that.
And the academy teacher and the orphan child built their flourishing town, taking up a great deal of the sandy space available to create an extensive set of roads and huts and stores, all ruled by the strong and compassionate leader that resided in the proud fortress like tower at the center of the town.
And then the child created something that totally took Iruka's perspective and almost made him weep. But no, it was only a sphere of sand caught in his eye.
The child carefully constructed a mountain towering over the village and even the all-important tower at the center of said village, using child hands and unskilled fingers to mold the side of the cliff into some semblance of faces- all in view of the village they had created.
And he smiled up innocently and then looked happily down at their work- late at night. No one would be worrying about two orphans coming home or that supper was getting cold…
"The most important precious people go there!" Came an enthusiastic and gleefully ringing voice, and the child grinned proudly at his creation. "They protect us don't they? They make sure that all the families feel safe at night in their beds…"
And Iruka had to wonder what the night held for this child as he slept in his bed…
But he too glanced down at the small village built of sand, only then realizing that it was eerily similar to a certain Konohagakure. The child smiled to him again; "I hope I can be one someday."
And Iruka could only smile and let that tear from the sand trail down his cheek. He stood up and dusted the remaining granules of sand off his pants, reaching out a hand to help the child up and grinning when Naruto squealed with delight at being almost lifted off the ground- he was a rather small child after all.
And Iruka walked the child home and watched the child reach up to unlock three locks upon his door and open it carefully and check inside before he entered completely and turned to smile up at him again.
"Goodnight Iruka-sensei!"
And Iruka nodded and smiled and left.
Those weren't the smiles of a demon, and those weren't the eyes of a demon. In fact those scars on the tanned cheeks weren't even the mark of a demon; they were the mark of a sacrifice. This was the mark and embodiment of the true nature of all of the Konoha shinobi.
He looked up at the stars with this new perspective, and couldn't help but think they seemed just tiny bit brighter…although he understood the impossibility of that very fact he couldn't help but let his grin grow wider in response.
Naruto was like that he supposed, he was a child that by all means was the opposite of those demons that lived to rain down death and destruction and havoc- Naruto was one who was just there, a beaming child who couldn't help but make you smile at the impossible brightness of it all if you cared enough to look.
And Iruka chuckled and vowed to himself; "By my words, I will help that boy."
And he could just see it; a child gaining the respect of the village and those around him just because he was one who persevered simply as he was.
And Iruka found himself admiring the child.
And he entered his house and turned off his lights for sleep with the thought of what that child could become swimming in his head- after all, who was he to deny the cry?
And he would help them see.
That's the beauty of it all.
He could help others see and watch- and he could help the child.
Iruka nodded his head and let himself drift off to sleep with a smile. After all, he was always considered rather fathering; who better to father than the fatherless?
..x.x.
Yes, I'm sorry carried away again I know. March, 2007: Now Edited
Sighs.
Anyhow I wanted to know what others thought of their childhood, what they associated with it. Cha.
But suggestions are welcome! Peace!