I do not own Naruto, nor Watchmen.
This could fit in a non-crossover Watchmen story, but it sets the scene for part two fairly well.
Walter Kovacs is three when he learns to feed himself. Mommy forgets sometimes, because she's busy making noises in the locked bedroom with all those grumpy grownup men.
He waits until his stomach hurts, until it gurgles in his belly like the water does in the rusting pipes in the walls. Then he leaves his room and shuffles down the hallway past the locked bedroom, past the men waiting their turn on the hall bench, to the cramped kitchen with the stained floral wallpaper. He tries not to look at the men, never makes eye contact, Mommy said she'd hit him with the belt if he stared. He is expressly forbidden to talk to them, even if they talk to him first. She never tells him what the punishment for talking would be, but if she can't even say it, then it must be far worse than the belt or a slap could ever be.
In the kitchen he pushes a chair against the counter, and stands on it to get to the pantry. He pulls out the plastic cereal bowl he keeps under his bed for the express purpose of filling with the cereal or crackers he can find in open boxes in the cupboard. Then he puts the full bowl down, pushes the chair back to the table, and goes back to his room with the bowl. He closes the door and eats his find, freckled legs swinging over the edge of his bed, pretending he doesn't hear the noises down the hall.
Walter stays in his bedroom, which is just big enough for his cot, a dresser with four small drawers, and a tiny window so caked with grime that even the brightest sunlight barely shines through to his dim, dank space. It's the one place in the apartment he considers safe. He keeps his toys under his bed so there's room for the door to swing. There's not much, but he keeps it tidy. He likes everything to be clean and neat, as so little is in his life.
There's a story behind every toy. The five faded wooden blocks were given to him by the next door neighbor in the tenement building, once they realized there'd been a little ghost-like boy living next door for over two years. The piece of string he'd found in the closet. The sad remains of a popped balloon Mommy gave him for his third birthday, the only birthday present he's ever gotten, and it had been bright, and floaty then. A stick he brought back from the park, just the right size to be a pretend sword. A collection of soda caps from the trash. A dirty tennis ball.
The threadbare stuffed cat that has a place of honor on his cot is not a toy at all. It's his very best and only friend. Her name is Pushy, and she plays with him and his toys. She likes to knock down his blocks, and chase the string, and bat the bottle caps around, and pounce on the ball. She talks to him and tells him things no one else does, like he is a good boy, and nice, and that tomorrow he will make friends with very nice girls and boys and that's okay, as long as Pushy stays his very best friend, or that maybe Mommy will be happy when she sees him.
She cuddles him when he goes to sleep, and comforts him when he's sad. Pushy loves him, and he thinks his Mommy loves him, maybe, when she's happy and not drunk.
This delusion does not last long.
******
One day Pushy gets so worn, her head falls off. Mommy throws Pushy's dead body into the dumpster outside the building, so Walter can't pull the stuffed cat out of the trashcan again and try to revive her.
Walter cries himself to sleep for a week.
Poor baby Walter...
No ninja anything yeet, but soon!
Reviews are greatly appreciated.