Born Into Trouble As The Sparks Fly Upward

He felt like he'd been hit with shrapnel of some sort.

But the bombs had been made of paper. There was no damage done to the property. There was nothing that could have been shrapnel.

...Besides bone.

Sitting on the floor in his room, Naruto took a shuddering breath as he looked at his arm: badly burned, covered in blood, and punctured with small pieces of something. Something thin, splintered, and blackened from the blast.

He did his best to pull the needle-like shards from his skin, though layers of fat and muscle showed through what little he had left—sickeningly white and red and covered in so much blood. His shirt was already ruined, but he thought he could salvage the floor, if he was careful.

But Naruto wasn't careful. It was impossible to be, when images flashed through his mind, distracting him from the task at hand. Images of Gaara, helpless and bloody. The pained gaze of the blond man, Yashamaru... and then, what little was left of him.

He remembered Gaara's cold words. Saying that he was a monster, that they were both monsters, undeserving of any sort of love or happiness. And maybe... maybe he'd never said those things aloud. Naruto couldn't quite remember. Did he need to?

It was a stunning realization, the fact that even the person closest to Naruto, the person the most similar to him, hated what they both were the most. Of course, it almost made sense. Being dehumanized and scorned all their lives... self-loathing was a natural reaction. And Gaara had just been told that the one person he loved like family never cared about him. Logically, Naruto could see why he'd lashed out.

But damn if it didn't hurt.

He shut his eyes, hissing in pain as he pulled a shard of... shrapnel from his arm. Tears leaked from his eyes—the pain was unbearable.

Until it wasn't.

An overwhelmingly empty feeling overtook him.

Reality faded into the background. A mental defense against the pain he was in.

Ah, what did it matter if he let his arm get infected, anyways? And his face was burned too, right? What if he just left it? Who would care, Gaara? His friend saw him as nothing at all, and the fact that Naruto still referred to him as his friend despite that fact was pathetic.

He was pathetic.

With that realization, his thoughts began to change.

It was as though he wasn't quite in control anymore. As though his feelings weren't quite his own.

Anger coursed through his bloodstream. A pit grew in his stomach—but the emptiness had turned to sheer rage.

His burnt skin tingled, but Naruto didn't notice.

He... he wanted to hurt someone.

Do something.

Something big.

Steal, stab, kill, hit, anything so long as he didn't have to just... sit still and wait for the pain to fade.

The anger was almost comforting. At least, it wasn't pain. It felt so much better.

The people in the village hated him. Nothing he could do would ever change that. Why even try? Why give a damn.

Even if he hurt somebody. Even if he killed somebody.

And anyway, the incredible anger he felt was better than incredible pain. Couldn't he be selfish for once?

...Ah, shit.

No. God damn it.

No, he couldn't.

Fuck.

Why? Because he was kind. He was supposed to be kind. Hurting people, causing the same pain that he always felt, without regard nor regret?

He'd really deserve the title "monster," then.

And he wasn't a monster. No matter what anybody said.

And all of a sudden, the anger faded.

Replaced by nothing at all.

His eyelids drooped. He fell backwards on his bed, limp. Tired. Who knew being angry was so draining?

Naruto stood up from his bed, stretched, and stumbled into the bathroom, still half-asleep.

He took his toothbrush, covered it in toothpaste, got it wet, shoved it in his mouth, and looked in the mirror.

He froze.

It was lying. Sure it was a non-sentient mirror, it had to be lying.

His face, as expected, was covered in dried blood. So was his hair, and most of his body.

Plus, his shirt was totally ruined. The sleeve—the one on the arm he'd used to shield himself from the blast—was burned off completely. Most of his shirt was stained red. Naruto knew from experience that any stain on that light-colored fabric would stay forever.

But it was not the blood nor the ruined pajamas that caused Naruto's reaction.

No, the reason for his fear was much greater.

It was because his wounds were gone.

Every cut, every bruise, and the burns that had covered half of his body... all gone. The only trace they'd ever existed was the blood.

Naruto nearly sobbed, trembling.

"It's gone..." he muttered, eyes wide and frightful. "The burns... They're gone... How in hell?"

Shakily, he took a washcloth from a drawer, got it wet, and scrubbed at his face until his skin was peeling. Then, his arm.

After ten minutes, his hands were shaking so hard he couldn't hold on to the cloth, much less wash himself off. And by then, the cloth had been rendered ineffective. It didn't do much but smear.

Naruto shuddered out a breath. He tossed the bloody rag on the counter and walked out, eyes downcast.

He couldn't bear to see himself anymore.

Naruto didn't know where to go besides Gaara's bedroom, just next door to his.

Exactly as he'd expected, Gaara was inside, sitting on his bed and looking out the window. When he heard Naruto open the door, however, he looked over.

Naruto bowed his head. He didn't want to know what Gaara was thinking. Even his usually blank face could be read, and Naruto was, unfortunately, literate.

But he didn't want to know how Gaara felt. He didn't want to know if he hated him or wanted him dead or what. But... as much as it hurt him, he needed his friend.

"What are you doing in here?" Gaara asked.

Naruto laced his fingers together, trying to calm his nerves.

"I don't know where else to go," he said softly. "I... I don't know what to do. I don't know how I can just..."

A pause. His breath caught in his throat. When he could finally speak again, his voice was weak.

"I can't get the image out of my head," he nearly whispered. "I keep thinking that it'd be better if I'd just died than to have seen him... afterwards."

Naruto looked at Gaara with wide, pain-filled eyes.

"I just want to be your friend again, man. I need you."

He needed someone, that was the truth. And Gaara was all he had.

Gaara stood. Naruto flinched hard, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard only his footsteps, until the door clicked shut.

"Naruto," Gaara said. Opening an eye, Naruto saw the more emotion on Gaara's face than he'd ever seen before. He decided it was safe to open the other eye, too.

"...Yeah?" Naruto sked hesitantly.

Gaara bit his lip, then spoke.

"You know, I thought I was a monster. All night, I just kept thinking about what I'd done to deserve being killed. And I couldn't find a reason. Not a good one."

He swallowed. "But... I couldn't convince myself otherwise, either. The only person I could think to turn to was my—" he cut himself off. "Uh... Yashamaru. But... then I thought about... you. I thought you wouldn't want to see me. I was... I shouldn't have..."

His voice took on an apologetic quality. "I shouldn't have said... that. You're not... I just... I don't know why I... believed him. When he said we were... y'know. I just know it... hurt. And I was angry. I can't understand why I..."

Naruto's expression softened. He didn't fully understand how vulnerable Gaara was being. He couldn't. He'd been betrayed by his only family. What could Naruto do but respond with kindness?

"You believed him 'cause you loved him," Naruto said. "You trusted him. Whenever he said something, you believed, right?"

Gaara nodded.

"I guess that means you'd believe it if he said you were a monster, too. Even if it's crap."

He tried to speak with his usual bold mannerisms, but his voice remained weary.

The kid's conversation faltered. They'd shared their feelings. What next?

Suddenly, Gaara spoke again.

"I talked to my sister," he told him.

Naruto was surprised as the quick switch in topic, but he nodded for him to continue.

"She told me the greenhouses were short on staff. And that the only Shinobi qualified to work there aren't any good with plants."

Gaara's tone changed almost imperceptibly; he sounded nervous. More obviously than before.

"Uh, the minimum working age here is ten... unless it's Shinobi work... so anybody who'd want to work at the greenhouses that are under ten would either have to, uh... 'accept half of minimum wage or get the money transferred to a different account.' I think."

Naruto blinked.

"...Why are you telling me this?"

"... You were really upset about your plants. So... earlier this morning, I asked Temari if you would be able to work in the greenhouses... since we train near there. She's working to be a political advisor, so my dad lets her... look at paperwork, or something. She said you could, as long as—"

Gaara stopped abruptly as Naruto pulled him into a hug.

It was... odd.

Naruto's head was still full of blood. He could still feel the pain of his own skin charring and burning off. He was still half-convinced he'd be better off dead.

But at least he could hold his friend. At least he could grow some flowers.

Training, every single day, was hell.

Run.

Fight.

Eat.

Drills.

Ten hours or more, three times a week.

And Baki was harsh.

He shouted demands, forced them to work until they collapsed. Then, when they came to, he'd move on. Only eat after you throw up. Sleep when you pass out.

It was torture.

But Baki was kind, too. Compassionate. He'd bandage their scrapes with a gentle hand, he'd look at them with a gentle gaze. They were children, and he knew it. He was tough, but never cruel. Even Naruto could recognize the difference.

And given the life they were likely to lead, such rigorous training was necessary. They wouldn't survive without it.

But Naruto couldn't deny the sense fo dread he felt every time he walked onto the grounds.

With Gaara in tow, Naruto climbed the fence. He scanned the area for Baki, spotted him, and walked towards him quickly.

"Hey!" Baki called as the pair approached. "I didn't think you were gonna be here today, Gaara. Your dad said you'd miss training."

Naruto's stomach dropped.

That's right...

Wasn't it Rasa who had ordered the assassination?

The Kazekage?

Gaara's dad?

And they... they lived with him.

The man had tried to kill a child, he was a monster.

And he was alive.

And he wanted to kill his son.

That sorry excuse for a man wanted to kill Naruto's only friend.

A terrible anger, similar to the one prevalent after the attempt, overtook him.

Baki lifted his eyebrows, visibly shocked. For some reason, he glanced at Gaara, whose eyes narrowed.

"My father," Gaara spat, "ordered my assassination."

Baki's expression changed the slightest bit. His eyes widened even more, his lips curled into something like a snarl. Then, he adjusted, creating an apathetic mask.

"Explain," he demanded.

"My father ordered my uncle to kill me," Gaara told him simply. "He blew himself up. We were both burned, but Naruto got it worse. Tried to protect me."

Naruto nodded sharply.

The more he thought, the more furious he became.

He was taken from his home, forced somewhere new, then nearly killed? Trained every day, dusk 'till dawn, so what? He could serve a village that hated him?

His heart beat quickly. His hands shook. His teeth hurt. Why did his goddamn teeth hurt?

"Naruto," he heard Baki say, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Baki had forced him to run until he passed out and fight the only person that fucking mattered to him.

Fuck Baki.

...But it was hard to ignore his face.

...Shit, he looked so concerned. He'd knelt down, meeting Naruto at eye level, and was holding his shoulders.

In spite of himself, Naruto was comforted by the contact. And fuck him for it. The man was not his father. His father was dead. Baki was a teacher and nothing more.

"Naruto, quit it," he said. "I need to talk to you."

Naruto swallowed tensely.

"Why? Gonna tell me to run until I shit myself? Fuck off."

He wrenched out of his grasp and looked at Gaara for support.

"I think," Gaara said, and Naruto knew immediately that he wouldn't love the rest of his sentence, "that Baki's right. He's gonna say something important. You've gotta be yourself for it."

"What the hell are you talking to me like I'm not me for?" Naruto shouted, ignoring grammar. "Like I'm not fully conscious? What the hell do you think is happening?"

Baki frowned, still on one knee.

"I believe the seal trapping the Kyuubi has come loose."

...Yeah, fair enough.

Naruto, Gaara, and Baki were on the ground. Naruto hung on to his every word. Gaara looked bored.

"The seal on the nine-tails is powerful. Unlike Gaara here," Baki gestured at him, "your power is locked away. The beast is in something like sleep."

"And that's... good," Naruto said. "Right?"

Baki shook his head.

"Not in your case, apparently. I tried—"

"Why?" Naruto asked.

"Why what?"

"Why not in my case?"

Baki chuckled somberly. "I don't know, kid," he said. "I was ordered to train you to control the beast's chakra. I wasn't given a reason. Personally, I think it's best to keep it sealed, but it's not my decision."

"...Huh."

"Anyways..." Baki cleared his throat. "I tried to get the chakra to emerge organically... Put so much strain on your body that its chakra would emerge to keep you from dying. It's all subconscious, I wouldn't have pushed you to your death... just to what you thought was your death."

"So why did it happen now?" Naruto questioned.

"...A tailed beast's chakra emerges when you feel you need to protect yourself, when your fight-or-flight goes off. Even if the beast is trapped inside you, it doesn't want its vessel to die.

"When an emotional response is triggered, your subconscious mind takes it more seriously than a physical response. So, the shit you went through activated your fight-or-flight, which caused the tailed beast's chakra to emerge. I couldn't do that because I figured traumatizing you to that extent would be cruel... so I only traumatized you a little bit."

Naruto frowned.

"Okay. I get it... now say it again. But use less words."

Baki sighed, amused.

"Basically, the tailed beast wants you alive, but it depends on your fight-or-flight to trigger so it knows you're in danger, 'cause it's asleep. That's triggered from emotions more than physical strain. So I tried to strain you so much it triggered anyways. Guess I don't need to do that anymore."

Gaara spoke up.

"Why did the seal break just now?" he asked. "Not some other time?"

"If the seal were really broken," Baki said, "we'd all be dead. Even you."

Gaara blinked.

"I assume the chakra first emerged some other time," he continued, "which is why it happened much more easily now. Tell me, Gaara, did you notice any changes in him? Off-colored eyes, different teeth or birthmarks? Visible aura?"

Gaara glanced at Naruto.

"Last night. Red eyes, darker lines on his face. No teeth, no... aura."

Baki turned his focus towards Naruto.

"And you. Did you feel any... illogical anger? Violent urges? Uh... did any cuts heal instantly?"

Naruto nodded.

"All of that. Uh, last night, half my body was covered in burns. This morning, woke up, they were all gone."

Baki nodded thoughtfully.

"...How bad were the burns? Given your accelerated healing, it might've been..."

"You could see the muscle," he said flatly.

Baki's eyes widened.

"Yeah, okay, definitely beast chakra. That's... that's..."

He swallowed.

"Uh, any... any other questions?"

Naruto nodded.

"Please tell me. Why am I here?"

His tone was serious. Baki pursed his lips.

"I'm sorry, Naruto. That, I don't know."

Naruto frowned, disappointed.

"Well... do you know who does?"

Baki paused.

"Rasa, of course. And anybody he's told."

Naruto and Gaara looked at each other. Naruto's expression was conflicted, but both of their faces betrayed their pain. 

Baki noticed. Grimly, he put a hand on each of their shoulders. Naruto saw understanding in his eyes. Empathy.

"I don't want to ask him," Naruto eventually said.

"He'll kill us," added Gaara.

Baki sighed. He wasn't angry on their behalf, he wasn't even sad. He just looked... resigned.

"I know," he said softly. "I get it. It's... It'll be okay."

Naruto nodded.

Of course it would be. Because even if it didn't feel like it, the excruciatingly constant emptiness wouldn't last forever. The self-loathing, the image of the blond man's corpse, the feeling of being burned alive; it would all fade away.

Probably.