125Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters
As he lay prone on the cold, rubbish strewn floor, only one thought made itself known to his spaced out mind:
'Why the hell do I put up with this?'
What had he ever done to deserve such harsh treatment? Certainly, it was nothing he could remember. He used to think it was normal – perhaps something all orphans went through – until he started at the academy, where every one in five kids had been orphaned on the Night of Tragedy. After trying to get along with them for a while, he realised that none of them suffered his plight every other evening.
Every day he lived with the cold, disgusted faces of all the villagers looking down on him, and every night he bore their murderous voices and hard fists. No matter what happened during those beatings, he would always wake the next day, free of injuries and full of conviction to do better. But better had never worked, so he tried the opposite. It had helped some, because he no longer had to pretend to care. He could shove it all to the back of his mind, put on a big grin and get his own back in his own special way.
The beatings had reduced in frequency but they had never stopped. Jiji occasionally tried to help, but he was nearly always busy; so it didn't make a lot of difference. If anything, the beatings after Jiji stepped in were more severe.
He used to dream of one day taking over Jiji's position as Hokage – no-one touched the Hokage, but that dream had ebbed with his dying feelings towards the villagers, and even the village itself. How could he lead a village he didn't give a damn about? He wouldn't protect it, he would raze it to the ground – and maybe build it anew with the few people he liked.
Like Jiji… Tsuchi and Ayame… Jiji.
So instead of aiming for Hokage, he found a new dream. It was a position he had discovered after spying on one of Jiji's private meetings (though he knew he wouldn't have been in there if it was important, he wasn't stupid enough to think he could actually hide from the old man).
Jiji had been talking to another old fart about the goings on outside of the village. Boring stuff really, but that wasn't what had caught his attention. The old man (the one that wasn't Jiji) hadn't been wearing a Konoha-hitai-ate, and Naruto had only ever seen him in the village that one time. That surely meant he had to spend most of the time out of Konoha, which meant no villagers…
Naruto had been dreaming of a similar role ever since. A career which allowed him to stay out of the village and would give him as little human interaction as possible. He had kept on spouting about his wish to be Hokage of course, though he wasn't entirely sure why he bothered. But one day, he would be an awesome ninja like Jiji and he would travel the world; proving his superior skills to everybody!
But for now…
He shuddered in the cold night air, the chill wind pulling him back to the present moment and reminding him of his vulnerable state. Sometimes, if he laid there long enough, some people came back for more. And although he wasn't too well versed in illnesses, he was pretty sure he could catch pneumonia or something, laying in the cold like this.
With a painful groan, he managed to shift himself up onto all fours, and then again onto his feet - just. Next time he would be very careful not to study outside. He'd enjoyed the sunlight, and the tree he'd perched in had been very comfortable, but the falling asleep and consequent beating just hadn't been worth it.
He sighed at his stupidity and began to limp his broken body back to his apartment. A cold shower and his lumpy mattress sounded so inviting right about now.
As he trudged across the dull cobbles, a slight shiver began to run up and down his spine; the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention. As a ninja in training, he had been taught to listen well to his natural warning signs – which were good indicators for a sour twist in the day.
He chanced a look over his shoulder, his worry growing as his eyes met the silence of the empty alley behind him. It definitely wasn't a civilian then, and he could usually pick up on chuunin trying to be stealthy but … he didn't think a jonin had every joined in on his beatings before. They tended to be more subtle, using genjutsu to make him walk into walls or even off buildings, once or twice.
He increased his pace, wanting to get back to the relative safety of his home - if it could even be called that. He had once overheard someone telling their child that 'Home is where the heart is.' If that was so, then he'd never been home.
He was panicking slightly as he turned the last corner, forcing himself to stay at a walking pace to keep his footsteps quiet. Maybe whoever it was hadn't noticed him.
"Kukuku… it seems your informant was wrong", a snake like hiss sounded not 20 metres away.
He froze, holding a hand over his mouth to stifle his breathing.
"He was meant to be unconscious," The words were clipped, and almost analytical in their precision. Not a hint of emotion soiled the sterile tone. Given his previous condition, Naruto could only assume they were talking about him, though he didn't recognise the voices from among the usual mob.
Their rather distinctive way of talking also didn't bring to mind any of the ninja he had ever met, but he wasn't particularly interested in sticking around for a further beating – if that was what they were after. He used all his acquired stealth skills to tiptoe the rest of the way to his apartment. A few flights of stairs later saw him shakily twisting his rusty key in its lock.
For some reason, his mind couldn't seem to focus on anything other than those creepily impersonal voices. It was as though he had been dropped into a pool of black ink, the words were flowing around him and drowning him in a thick pool of fear. Why they had such an effect he couldn't say. All he knew was that he wanted to find Jiji – or even his new teacher! – and take solace in their strength and protection.
He really wanted to find someone, but no one would appreciate him bothering them without proof of some kind, and he wasn't interested in getting any. So instead, he tried to put it out of his mind and went about his nightly ritual; dragging his bruised body into the bathroom for a hasty wash before he cuddled up in his pyjamas.
Long fingers rose up to push silver, wire framed glasses back onto the bridge of a finely chiselled nose.
"Well? Was that him Orochimaru-sama?" He earned a look for that. One that quizzed his intelligence for asking such a stupid question. He knew the answer was rather obvious, but there was never any harm in being sure.
Orochimaru stalked off without bothering to reply, heading off to the only lit apartment window and leaving Kabuto to take the door.
He shook viciously as he shut off the ice-cold water of his shower. His only contact with hot water came in the form of the academy taps – which he would spend hours washing in if he could. He dried his greying body off quickly and shoved his limbs into bright orange PJ's, practically the only colour he could afford. As he finished brushing his teeth, he thought he heard the creaky floor board go off in the lounge/bedroom.
His mind – which had been blissfully free for a moment or two – delved straight back into the fear from earlier, forcing his breath to come out in short gasps and automatically arranging his legs into the only attack stance he knew. He shakily rested one hand on the doorknob, half formed plans of jumping out and scaring the intruder chasing around in his head.
His face arranged itself into the blank mask he wore when Jiji tried to lecture him on his much deserved pranks, the familiar expression lending him the strength to tighten his hold and harden his resolve.
"Hello Naruto-kun."
He jumped with a curse, spinning and flattening his back to the door as his heart raced behind his rib-cage. His chest heaved in lungful's of air as he tried to get over his shock. As he looked up into glowing, snake like eyes, a part of his mind vaguely wondered how on earth this man had managed to squeeze through the tiny bathroom window, high up on the peeling wall. The rest of his brain was screaming bloody murder and yelling at him to get the hell out of there!
Not knowing what else to do, he took hold of the cracked knob once again and turned his back on the creep, flinging the door aside.