The Calm Before The Storm
I don't own the franchise Naruto
Among the peaceful alleyways of Konoha, Naruto found solace, a stark contrast to the chaotic main street that resembled a raucous carnival, teeming with vulgar parrots. Merchants, with voices akin to the bellowing of whales, competed for attention, screaming their goods and prices.The special offer on cabbages could probably be heard in the afterlife.The cacophony of smells, a mixture of fresh fruit, meat, baked goods, horse excrement, tobacco, and saliva, would have have left him in a state of stink induced nausea if he hadn't grown accustomed to it. The crowd surged left and right, like bees swarming different stalls, jostling and pushing to secure the best deals. Horse-drawn carts rattled along with uneven wheels and rickety carriages, while the clamor of overlapping conversations created a symphony of screams. The marketplace was an undeniable testament to the absence of civility in Konoha.
As Naruto continues his trek through Konoha, he encounters the disdainful gazes and biting remarks of its inhabitants. Still, he knew it was only a matter of time before the drama that came with his existence reared its head. It only ever took one incident.
A few steps ahead, a butcher was seducing a couple with a wide contagious smile, showing off his curry-colored teeth. They were all jovial and cheerful, but upon seeing Naruto, their mirth evaporated. "Tsk," the butcher went, clicking his tongue. "Oh my, something stinks," he said, hawking loudly and spitting. "Yeah, like a musty beast. Hold me, darling, I am going to hurl," said the woman. "Now, now, honey, don't look at it too close. You might catch something," the man responded
And there it was - with the fall of one, like dominoes, a chain link of Konoha degenerates all fell in accordance with one and all. Another routine that persisted ever so much in Naruto's daily life had begun.
Moving further into the village, Naruto encountered a gathering of people around a tree-sculpted water fountain. Each person existed within their own self-centered bubble, oblivious to anything beyond their own interests and happiness. However, upon spotting Naruto, they united in their disdain, forming an alliance of "who are you's" solely focused on expressing their hatred for their one mutual enemy: Uzumaki Naruto. As he walked past them, their already limited vocabulary was reduced to three words: beastspawn, demon, and monster—the infamous three hate-dubbed nicknames Naruto had come to know and unwillingly ascribe to.
A younger Naruto had dampened the dirt road with his tears and tilled the soil with his feet, running away. A younger Naruto had. The Naruto of now kept his head straight and chest up. He walked with some speed, but he didn't haste. He wasn't going to run. He wasn't that boy anymore.
To the left of him, two women, housewives by the appearance of their deteriorating assets and heavy makeup, were engrossed in animosity filled gossip about their husbands and the girls in the red-light district. Complaining about how their men spent all their time there, and never did it with them anymore. And Judging by the looks of both of them, Naruto wholeheartedly understood their contempt. He definitely wouldn't want to be the sorry sucker who woke up to their faces first thing in the morning. Such nightmares should only exist in dreams.
The taller woman spotted Naruto first, and her buck-toothed companion soon followed suit, their disdain evident on their less-than-beautiful faces.
"Why does Hokage-sama allow that thing to wander the streets? Doesn't he realize it's dangerous?" whispered the buck-toothed woman.
"That old man has become too senile to think rationally. The Fourth would have gotten rid of it, so we the villagers wouldn't have to live with it." the taller replied
"Honestly it should just die"
Their words were spoken in whispers but were said only when he was close enough to hear them. Naruto could care less; they could be screaming their hate-filled words at him like they used to, and even then, he wouldn't bat an eye. His head was straight, his chest was up. He walked with some speed, but he didn't haste. He wasn't going to run. He wasn't that boy anymore.
Above him was a worn-down flat with an old balcony. Old Crabby Crotch balcony. His classmates called her. the nickname, they likely inherited from one of their inbred parents. Word must have reached her that he was out and about, because there was old Crabby Crotch, waiting on her balcony. He didn't need to look up to know she was wearing her signature black nightgown and head wrap. Since the Kyuubi's rampage, she's never been seen in anything else. The bag of bones have obviously been driven stark mad by the burdens of loss. Naruto didn't care. If she was still sane enough to express her hatred for him, his heart would hold no sympathy for the woman
What caught his attention, was the bucket she was struggling to keep steady in her wobbly hands. At that Naruto shook his head.The lengths these insects went through to express their disdain for him was beyond obsessive. Never, could he imagined allowing another person to become that significant a factor in his life. He couldn't, even if wanted it to, and lord Sage how he didn't.
As Naruto strolled beneath the balcony, he could feel Crabby Crotch's old, beady eyes staring holes into his head. He didn't look up, of course. He was going to Ichiraku's and he wanted to have an appetite when he arrived, not a second after. Exactly what he expected to happen did. The contents of Crabby Crotches' bucket came splattering down on the ground in a repulsive squelch, narrowly missing Naruto's back by a hair's breadth. The putrid stench of excrement and urine assaulted his nostrils, threatening to overpower his senses. Had he lingered even a moment longer, the vile projectile would have found its mark before the ground.
Continuing on his way, a burly chain-smoker, easily weighing two hundred pounds. kicked a barrel of vegetables directly into Naruto's path. It was a scene reminiscent of the market district, where similar situations persisted, all antagonistic and maliciously intended but none directly applied. While not all these instances directly imply or affect Naruto, there have been occasions when their animosity has struck him directly. However, ever since that one time, with the old man who vowed to never allow anyone to harm him again, such incidents have ceased.
From that day forward, and every day since Naruto had always kept his head straight and chest up. He walked with some speed, but he didn't haste. He wasn't going to run. He wasn't that boy anymore.
Leaving the citizens' district, Naruto made his way down the lane that led to Ichiraku's. He turned on the lane with the tilted lamppost and made his way to the main street. Across the street from him was an old woman, about the same age as the old man or older—he didn't know, you could never tell with old people. Her head was wrapped in cloth, the way old women always wrapped their heads, and she was hanging laundry to dry. Naruto watched her as he walked by. He found it funny how her fingers shook as she tried to pin the clothespins on the clothes, but every time they'd fall.
Unaware of the impending obstacle, Naruto inadvertently stepped on a tin container, the sound echoing through the quiet evening loud enough to frighten the deaf. Startled by the sudden noise, the old woman dropped a wet garment and turned to locate the source of her fright, her trembling hands betraying her fear. When she realized Naruto is the cause, her already incredibly wrinkled face acquired even more lines.
Naruto chuckled to himself and continued on, not caring to listen to whatever expletives the old prune was gearing to send his way. Unlike the younger villagers, who were undoubtedly penalized for the things they said and did to him, the elderly got away with not only murder but genocide. Naruto wasn't going to hang around to cause a scene. He was too hungry. He got about two steps away before the once-quiet bag of bones became a roaring foul-mouthed beast. Naruto didn't give her the time of day. He could care less about the things she said. It wouldn't be anything he hadn't heard before. He walked on while the old woman threw insults at him from all possible directions and topics, all of them missing their target like a toilet in every male-occupied bathroom.
Headshot!
Among all the garbage, something she said stopped him in his tracks. It was said fleetingly and without emphasis, like all her other insults. It was just said/screamed, lacking weight and oomph. Still, he heard it. Or did he?
"If only your slut of a mother, Kushina, had kept her legs closed, I'd still have my baby girl."
There it was. This wasn't a lane he frequented much because it was on the route that ass Sasuke took to get home. So, never once had he encountered this woman. But could this old cunt have known the unknown heroine that was his mother? The thought compelled Naruto, and in an instant despite his conviction never to. He turned around. This time, to actually LOOK at the woman. They made eye contact, and just as soon, Naruto regretted ever stepping into this lane. The world around Naruto morphs, transporting him to a different time and place. The old woman's eyes were no longer her eyes, and her face was no longer her face. He wasn't outside. He was in a building, on his knees, the floor concrete. The taste of saltwater with too much water and too little salt flavored his mouth. But as abruptly as it arrived, the sensation vanished. He was back on the dirt lane in front of the old woman's house. She was still screaming at him, and the salty but, at the same time, fresh water taste still flavored his tongue. Naruto ran away, his fingers gripping his stomach with a grip as tight as rigor mortis. The lunch that he'd never eaten threatened to escape his stomach. He wouldn't let it happen. He wouldn't let them have that effect on him anymore. He would not allow it. But what was once a threat was now a promise made with unwavering conviction, a law made by the Omnipresent Sage himself, a fact.
And before long, Naruto was on his knees, throwing up bile and stomach acid. When he was done, he sat with his back against the wall, his head in his hands, his chest filled with bile. His shoulders shook, but not with haste, and he cried.
He was still that same boy after all. Who would'a thunk?