|Prologue- Part 1|Also on Wattpad
It was the night of the Kyuubi Festival, the time when people celebrated the supposed death of the Kyuubi. Yet, not all people celebrated. Some secluded themselves from the feast in mourning and remembrance of their great Yondaime Hokage whom sacrificed himself for the sake of his village in the process of killing the monstrous nine-tailed beast. Others refrained from celebration not out of respect or solemnity, but out of trauma and fear. The image of the nine menacing, thrashing, needle-sharp tails whipping at the night sky on the day of the fateful attack was still fresh in their minds as the same full moon loomed over them as it did that dreadful night. A good portion of those people were shinobi. None of them could ever forget the horrible sight of their comrades, bloody and mutilated, splayed across the ground in gory display under the shadow of the monster.No one could ever forget the Nine-Tailed Fox.However, even the traumatized weren't alone in their fears on this particular night.In the Akasen, there were multiple men and shinobi alike parading the streets in intoxicated influence, a few moans from *ley or the occasional screech of an unsuspecting loser in poker pierced the loud sounds of rejoicing. However, amidst the jubilee, there was a shadowed figure lurking in the back streets of the Akasen.The small shadow was known as a boy named Naruto. He was seven years old, with a shocking combination of red and blue eyes, the ruby red being his right eye, and the sapphire blue, his left eye. His hair was long and red-tipped with lengthened *s covering his eyes. He had three whisker-like marks on his cheeks, giving him a wild look. He wore nothing but old rags as his clothes, torn and worn. He donned a dirt-clotted white shirt with the edges fringed, and slightly bloodied brown shorts.He broke into a grin when he found a large piece of fried chicken, and (As old and disgusting as it was) *ed it before shoveling it into a rickety old pail filled with different delicacies such as a two-headed fish, some animal's tongue, still-wrapped liver, a dead bat and a few herbs. Satisfied with his findings for the day, he walked back home in haste, making sure to * to the shadows as he walked to the sides of the crowded streets filled with Geisha and performers.Thankfully, he arrived back to his hut safely with little to no trouble. It helped more or less that the grand majorum of the population was either distracted by the decorations or high on alcohol or another shady product. His home was near the outskirts of the city, just a ways from the Akasen. It sat in an open meadow with a small creek beside it. metamorphic and sedimentary rock layered the borders of the stream, dry, light minty colored moss coating the outer layers of the rocks. The ground was muddy and mossy from the declining hill beside the house. Due to the constant rainfall, a small half of the house had been buried beneath gravel and dirt. Surprisingly, though, the side of the house still remained intact despite becoming practically merged to the steep hill. The house itself was dilapidated and old, in dire need of renovation. It was a small s* about the size of your everyday kitchen, with small red mushrooms sprouting on the top of the old wooden roof. The ground was natural earth, with moss inhabiting the floor.He flung open the door with careless vigor, the bucket in his hand rattling against it's coat of rust as he walked over to the stairs. He knelt down on both knees, the bucket making no sound as he placed it onto the ground. With a single arm he tore the wooden plank from it's hold on the ground, tearing up to corroded nails lodged into the wood. The aluminum bucket had it's contents poured into the hole atop a small cluster of older foods. Shoving his hand inside the cess pool of rotten goods he fished out an old snail.Then it came. The voice whispered inn his head, "You know you deserve more. Why don't you just take it all? You have the power. Just release it. Give in to the madness." It implored him, it's sweet, seducing, promising voices caressing his desire for better things. Me giving in would be madness. He shrugged it off, used to it's constant attempts to devour his being. His beloved grandfather didn't know about the voices. Only Kurama, the nine-tailed fox sealed within him knew about it. And himself, of course. He wished to get rid of it, claiming it to be annoying an a burden in times when concentration was needed. However, through confirmation from the great fur-ball itself, the voices were not linked to him, so there was unfortunately no way he knew how to get rid of them. It also didn't help that he had gone on his own form of MIA.Grimacing slightly when it turned it's ancient head to look at it's captor, he bit into the shell. The fragile mold shattered under his jaw as he slurped down the slimy snack. Not as fancy as escargot, but it'll have to do. He thought to himself after forcibly gulping down the small creature. Almost secretively, he glanced at the hidden pile of consumable that were, from both smell, sight and common sense, much more suited to human tastes. He did not eat it even though his stomach was growling like a bear. He only ate lunch, no dinner or breakfast, all in order to survive off of what little he could find. It was mandatory to plan your meals when you couldn't receive any nor get any for yourself. Though the Hokage constantly supplied him with funds to purchase fresh food and clean clothes, there was one thing the senile old man didn't take into consideration.Did he really think the villagers would take money from a demon-spawn?And while he could henge or put on a disguise, the Anbu who were assigned to watch him would tip off the store owners so they could grab a broom and quite literally sweep him out the door. He highly doubted that the Fire Shadow had enough time on his hands between juggling the council and dreaded paperwork to visit his dear Naruto as much as he actually needed.But Naruto was never one to rely on others.He knew better than that.Though the Nara weren't quite so prejudiced against the jinchūriki as much as most other clans were, but it would be a major * to their public view if they allowed him to hunt in their Shikoku forest. The demon container would have found *ternative method of finding food, and he did, but the Anbu wouldn't give him the chance to take so much as a peek through the village walls let alone allow him to step out of it and hunt. So he resorted to scavengery.Like a filthy mutt.This fact was like a parasite in his mind. This tiny, itching, *hing little blot of vile needs slowly eating his mind alive like maggots worming their way through the grey flesh of his brain. It spoke to him constantly. It started as a small, dark inkling prickling at the back of his head, telling him that this wasn't right. It grew two times as fast as he did, and only infected more of him as he was able to comprehend that he should be loved. Why wasn't he loved like the children he could see in the park?
This post was last edited by Kimera_Tokumeino at 2017-6-3 01:38