What they saw was just an illusion. None had the skill to see what was real, only concerend with what and how reality should be. Never would they see that they fell inlove and placed their faith in...
Behind The Smile
You know, sometimes it's best to live in a world of dreams; it's less painful. Staring out at the night sky hanging above the village he walked down memory lane. Each ally, corner, store, shop, park, training ground and even street possessed a bloody memory for him. Memories of pain, screams, helpless cries and unanswered pleas of mercy. It had taken them six years but they had broken him so much that in desperation not to show their victory over him he crafted his dream world. A place where the village became a place worth dying for, along with its people. How ironic that they would fall for such a mask from him, willing to accept the illusion of care, joy and devotion that was never and will never be there. Any way that such a bond could be formed had been fragile for the first twelve years of his life and had shattered never to be restored on the night he graduated the academy. The only reason he was still a shinobi at the age of eighteen was because he knew no other way of living and there was no way this village would let him go. Heck they wouldn't have let him go at six except through death so why would they do so now?
He knew that the village possessed people who cared for him but their care and loyalty was to the village first and him second so he could never show himself to them. Even if they did they would never be able to understand. Never be able to understand that he had been hurt so much that he could never feel physical pain and only reacted as such on reflex taught through years of abuse, since the quieter he was the more brutal his attackers were. He would never be poisoned as he had been poisoned too many a times. Hunger did not bother him; it was too natural to him. Blood, gore and torture would never phase him seeing as that was all he knew for the first twelve years of his life. How the smell of blood, metal and rage soothed him like a mother's lullaby to her child. How the dark comforted him more than they would be comforted with. How he made his first kill at the age of four out of self defense only to freeze and never do it again until a year later. How he wished to rip, tear, shred, maim and mangle the population of his village and would breathe deeply enjoying the flavor and scent of their blood when he did.
It was aweing and disgusting the way these people did not notice the rage, loath and hate hidden behind his smile, his 'joyous' blue eyes and the cheer he showed. The only one to ever call him out on it was Gaara and that was only because he too was broken. Imagine, telling someone that fighting for your precious people was what made you strong when you didn't believe it nor had any precious people. He was so hypocritical it wasn't funny. He wondered what Tsunade would say if she found out that she had been conned into a position that he himself thought was a waste of time and one of fools. He could just see her shattering in shock and horror, it would be so spectacular. It might seem a little too dark for him but that's all he knew. He was raised to be dark, to live in the dark and to embrace things of the dark. He was fed and nurtured on all that could be considered dark and dark emotions. It was so difficult to go against how he was raised but to live and survive he had to. No doubt that if they saw him behave and act like how he would not have lived to see this age.
Looking at the rebuilt village he frowned, if there was one thing he was happy for was the gift the Akatsuki gave him. They had unwittingly given him a period of chaos, blood and destruction that he cherished almost as much as the destruction Pein rained down on the village. It had been such a marvelous sight to him that he had actually felt something close to joy and happiness, or at least he thought so. It had been so long since he felt anything other than negative emotions. He probably at one point in his early life knew the feel of positive emotions but it had been so long that he didn't know how they felt. He was only able to fake it after years of observing people as they reacted to different stimulus. It honed his acting skills so well that no one, sometimes even himself, knew differently.
Looking around the room he was currently in he wondered if he would stay long enough to actually have these people declare and vote him Hokage. He had heard rumors about it happening. They wanted to train him to take up the office and follow his father's footsteps in protecting the village. He couldn't help the snort that came from him. Him. Protect this village more than he had? Hell no! He would have preferred to give the Kyuubi to Madaara, thus ending his life, before doing so. Looking down at the desk he checked to make sure everything was in order. There was the letter of resignation he conned Tsunade into signing as well as the form to hand over his entire inheritance. The banks had been in quite a whirlwind due to that, having ordered the transfer of his funds to a bank in Wave where he then had it transfer to spring under a different name before having it split into so many directions that it would give Shikamaru a head ach for weeks. He then had them all meet back in one nice account in Wave under the name given to him by a mercenary he met once, "Aka no Moui", the Red Fury. Placing his headband and a few letters to those that mattered he left silently through the window having taken what he needed from the vaults. They didn't need anything from the Namikaze line. Making his way swiftly to what should have been his ancestral home he thought back to what Gaara told him. "Find a place of your own, in Suna, Izumi, Nami, even Kiri if he must. Find a place away from Konoha so he could heal."
Naruto didn't think he could heal, he would have to reopen the wounds and … what could he do? What could he do? He knew how to heal others but not himself, nor could he help another to heal him. He was just too broken and had learned to live that way since he could remember, to change would be impossible. Arriving at his parent's home he quickly activated the one seal he was glade his father made, even if it was out of curiosity and sheer boredom. With a quick charge of chakra he had the entire place and majority of the grounds all wrapped up in a storage scroll. Slipping it into his black trench coat he looked down at his outfit. They wouldn't be able to recognize him now, black combat pants, form fitting blood red shirt, black combat boots and his trench coat. So unlike the look they were accustomed to, he could probably pass by them in the day and they wouldn't know it was him. Running his hand through his hair in a habit he picked up for some reason or another he turned and walked to the gate. It was time to leave, he didn't want people coming to get him to change his mind. He had already decided he would leave and start over in Nami. He didn't know what he would do there but it was a start. He walked through the massive gates of the village without a second glace or thought to the fact that he was leaving. He had no attachment to the place so no reason for him to do such a sentimental act. He had a new path before him and where it would take him was a mystery that he would relish.
No flames. If I suck tell me why and don't just say i do.