Devil Child
Naruto had been running for a long time. The terror inducing chase that always ended the same way. With spite and injury and touching. Oh the touching. Every touch sending an inferno of pain across his skin, unwillingly pooling in his gut. Even Naruto knew that adults did not touch kids this way, even subconsciously.
He had stopped believing in hero’s at age four. At least, hero’s that would save him. Because no one in there right mind would take time out of their day to help a monster, a demon. His house was in the perfect place for all the villagers to be able to reach him.
In the middle of Red Light District, it was a converging point for many, where they could take out their frustrations on the only thing that could possibly ever deserve it. Himself. It was either a severe beating, kidnapping, torture, or the touching, sometimes all at once.
Naruto was five when he learned how to read. It took many painstaking hours, and multiple months of watching others, but he pieced together enough to read all the basics, and the rest he could refer to his dictionary for.
Naruto’s dictionary was his prized possession. It was the first thing that he bought on his own with money he earned (read: stolen) himself that wasn’t food. While he was learning to read, he had come across several terms that he had to use his dictionary for.
One of the many was pickpocketing. He had made great use of that skill, and it helped him pay his expenses. It seems just existing would get him taxed with a higher price for literally anything.
His food, his clothes, his rent, everything was more than the tag said. The first time he pickpocketed, he was caught and given a beating. The second time he was also caught, same with the third and fourth. By his fifth attempt however, he had it down to an art, merely so he could survive.
Despite his newfound ability to steal and buy whatever, Naruto was still an avid reader, and he could not afford all the books he wanted, no matter how much he stole. This is where his beloved library came in.
The Konoha library was huge, and it had everything from ninja techniques, to cookbooks. The first time Naruto stumbled upon the library, he was amazed. That library is where Naruto learned to read, write, do math, and many many ninja techniques.
When Naruto turned six, he read a book about chakra. It was after one of the touching nights, so he was more tired than usual. He was just mindlessly browsing the towering brown aisles of dusty books.
The librarian, an old lady with glasses that was always recommending books, had said that this was the part of the library almost no one came too, except some guy with gravity defying silver hair, whatever that meant.
He was just about to leave the section when one of the titles caught his eyes. Chakra: Explained and Unlocked. He grabbed it along with a few history books before sitting down eagerly as opening the giant tome.
Inside was a comprehensive guide to chakra AND his chakra points. He learned of Yin and Yang, and how that people who take chakra tests only get their main chakra affinities, but everyone could use all of them, it would just be harder. He understood why he sucked so much at genjutsu in the academy.
He had SO MUCH Yang chakra, which had to do with fighting, and so little Yin chakra, that he would have to have absolutely perfect chakra control to even attempt to do a genjutsu correctly. It was a relief to know he wasn’t just stupid like his sensei said.
However, it didn’t really matter much, because Naruto beaver talked in the academy. Sure, he hummed in response to things, and made little noises, but he had never spoken a word in the academy, other than to introduce himself on day one.
It seemed to provoke everyone however, because the other kids always went out of there way to try and bully him into talking. It was an ongoing occurrence, and with the chases the villagers did in the evening, it was a miracle Naruto hadn’t dropped dead, and he knew it.
So, after he learned how to read, he read anything and everything he could get his hands on. He even found a clone technique that worked for him, called Shadwo Clone Jutsu. By the time he turned seven, Naruto hadn’t gone to school for a year, just sending a clone and gaining its memories while he read in the library.
Naruto had always been a multitasker, and while he read and one clone went to school, his other clones got jobs and shopped. But only when using the transformation jutsu. Otherwise, he would be harassed relentlessly.
Seven year old Naruto was very smart for his age. He knew how to dodge and evade, courtesy of the villagers, how to turn off his emotions, and he was about to be able to test out multiple fire and wind Justus, and even a few lighting. He was currently trying, and failing, to find out why the villagers called him a demon.
He knew it wasn’t something he consciously did, because he would just stop. But it was an unknown, and he knew, deep down, it had something to do with the howling. It rang in his mind every second of the day, a dark sound, one that had been there for his entire life.
The sound had never stopped for more than a minute at a time, not until he started reading. Because with every new book he read, day by day, the howling grew quieter. Naruto sincerely hoped that one day it would stop forever, but he knew that it would never happen. It would always be a distant ring in his head, the only constant in his life.
As time moved on, Naruto’s hair slowly bleached itself white. He hadn’t made any headway on the demon thing, so he took a break and researched his knew hair color. Unfortunately, when he found out the answer, he wasn’t surprised.
At the ripe age of seven, Naruto Uzumaki, an avid reader, a monster, and a bright, blue eyed child, had developed Marie-Antoinette Syndrome.
It was a condition in which scalp hair suddenly turns white from sever trauma and/or stress. The name alluded to the Queen Marie Antoinette of France whose hair turned white the night before her last walk to the guillotine during the French Revolution. She was 38 years old when she died.
Naruto hoped and prayed to Gods he knew wouldn’t listen, that it didn’t mean he would die soon. That he would love long enough to become a ninja. When he sent a clone to school the next day, he put on a transformation jutsu so his hair would look like it’s normal blond color. He didn’t want anyone asking questions.
Once that disturbing discovery was made, Naruto dug into his books with an anxious fervor. If he was going to die soon, he would do it with as much knowledge as possible.
That year, Naruto became something of a prodigy, but only in Fünjutsu. He had found a book on it, and it had immediately enraptured him. He had found all the books he could, and even went to school himself one day, just to right a note to his sensei about sealing.
Surprisingly, his sensei grudgingly answered, and Naruto left that class just a little bit smarter. His seals were imperfect and often exploded because his handwriting was atrocious, but he did the same thing he did to learn pickpocketing. He practiced over and over and over, until he could do it in his sleep.
Then,he moved onto the next seal. Naruto had set himself a goal of learning all the seals Konoha used that he could access, and how to both make them and dismantle them. Once he finished that, only then he thought he could attempt making his own.
In his mind, it was quite logical. If he learned all the seals he could beforehand, he would know how to draw all the basic parts of a seal easily, which made him run less of a risk of blowing himself up.
Of course, what Naruto didn’t know was that most adults didn’t display that amount of self control, let alone children. And especially not seven year olds. If anyone decided to total up how many seals Naruto practiced, it would total up to around five thousand, give or take a few. People would look at him in awe for the discipline.
When he continued reading however, he also found out he definitely had an aversion to touch. When one of his bully’s, Evan, punched him, he reacted on instinct and drew an explosion seal on his back. It was volatile, bright, fiery, and the boy had to go to the hospital. And Naruto felt great, which led him to finding out he may or may not be a pyromaniac.
Naruto, well, he was okay with it. He had been tormented and touched by villagers and children alike for years, and it was a wonder he didn’t develop something worse than kleptomania and pyromania. Another bonus was that they were both skills he could hone and use as a ninja.
The villagers continued to think of him as a monster, however, when Naruto, (really his clone) was being bullied at school, everyone knew not to touch him, because they didn’t want to end up like Evan. With a blown out back and in the ER.
The Villagers however, didn’t think to look deeper, and in turn, didn’t find out until much later that Naruto was dangerous. They only saw a weak, pathetic monster, and not much else. If they had looked a little closer, they would see the fire behind his eyes, the way he twitched when they insulted him.
But alas, they saw what they wanted, and so they saw a troublemaker who didn’t speak or participate in class, had horrible grades, who was naïve and ignorant, and a monster.
What was really there though, was a boy who could do anything he set his mind too, a boy who was too smarty for his own good, but was treated unfairly, and was trying to find out the meaning for his existence.
He was dangerous, wild and unpredictable. His innocence stolen, his body stripped bare for the world to see.
He wanted a family and a home, but he knew it was impossible. He was a monster, and anyone who associated with him was in danger of bully’s, villagers, and even ninjas trying to attack him, just as they did to Naruto. But that would require Naruto even having friends in the first place, which would never happen anyway.
Naruto was a friendless freak, and nothing he did or say would change that. He knew it was a futile hope, but it was one nonetheless. It was slowly flickering and dying however, because once again, despite his non-stop reading, the howling was slowly but surely coming back. It was stronger than ever, and Naruto was scared.
He was scared he would die before he became a ninja. His white hair, the howling coming back, his worsening mood, it was all pointing to death, or at least unimaginable pain coming. He could feel it in his gut, and Naruto had learned from a young age to always trust his gut.
He had been able to avoid the villagers countless times just because he learned to trust himself, and in turn, his confidence grew in leaps and bounds, but only in his abilities. He was still self conscious about pretty much everything else, and anxious to a fault, but he went on.
So, Naruto went into his eighth year of life with stark white hair, knowledge beyond his years, touch based trauma, both pyromaniac and kleptomaniactic tendencies, and the constant reminder of his death hanging over his head.