The Cycle of Hatred: A Naruto Insert

I’m used to being alone.

Not in the super-edgy, I-hate-company kind of way, though. Loneliness has simply become a part of my life. Not a constant companion, but more like a visitor – one I stopped trying to keep away.

You see, I’d simply grown numb. Numb to the villagers veering their children away from me when I pass by in the street. Or on the better days, when I’m completely ignored. Don’t get me wrong, I’m well aware that the way they treat me is horrendous, but as much as I want to, I can’t hate them. Not when I understand exactly what they feel and why they feel it.

Regardless, I’m the one who receives their glares and muttered curses and that makes me angry. Because while they might not know the true culprit behind their grief, I do.

There are vicious cycles, and then there is the hell that is my existence in the Hidden Leaf.

Sometimes, I wonder if it’s the Nine-Tails’s fault. That maybe, he’s manipulating me and nurturing my hatred for his own benefit. But then I remember the spray of blood and the huge ivory nail running my parents through and the possibility burns to ash.

No, my hatred for Obito and the Nine-Tails is definitely mine. The Nine-Tails manipulating me, though… is a whole other can of worms. After a nightmare a few years back, I went through a period of second-guessing my every thought. Even now, despite knowing dad’s seal is airtight, there’s a small voice in my head terrified of the possibility.

I’m used to being alone. Which is what scares me the most. In a handful of years, I’ve turned into someone who I don’t recognise sometimes. Then, I’m left staring at the mirror, wondering when I changed.

I’d like to say I know the exact moment it happened, but truth be told, I’ve got no idea.

My faith in genuine human kindness hasn’t quite bottomed out yet – mostly thanks to Mr Teuchi and Ayame. See, I didn’t know exactly how attention-starved I was until I decided to visit Ichiraku Ramen for the first time -- a given when one finds oneself reborn in Konoha.

One visit became two, three, and then four, until I was going there daily. 

Hell, I blew almost all my stipend on it a couple of years back. Not the wisest decision, I know, but the food was worth it and thanks to that, Mr Teuchi offered me a job. I was pretty sceptical at first, given my age, but it really wasn’t anything too difficult. Mostly, my job’s to shadow Mr Teuchi – and Ayame when she’s around – and do whatever I’m told to.

In other words: washing equipment and prepping ingredients. Neither allow me anywhere near the actual cooking no matter how many times I swear that I know my way around a kitchen.

All in all, against the grim backdrop of my childhood, those two have made for some of the brightest memories of my life.

A small grin swept the frown off my face as I trailed through the empty streets. Well, relatively empty. Konoha’s a fairly early-rising place where people either produce stuff for a living or sell things from people who do.

Case in point: Ichiraku Ramen.  Despite being open for a few decades now, it’s a small restaurant that can seat about six people at a time so most take their food to-go. Ayame and Mr Teuchi live above the shop but spend more time downstairs than they do up.

The morning freeze seeped through my jacket and trousers, chilling me to the bones. Though winter wasn’t quite in full swing yet so it hadn’t begun snowing. Still, I could see the white sheen over the grass and the fogged windows of houses as I walked through the village.

I entered the shop through the back, making sure to lock the door behind me. My eyes tingled at the heat in the room and I immediately shrugged off my jacket, straining to hang it up on the rack behind the door.

A light voice chuckled at my misfortune. “You’re not tall enough for that yet, Naruto.”

“Ayame,” I looked over my shoulder, voice strained. “Would you please help me out instead of judging me from across the room?”

She snorted and took the jacket out of my hands.

“Thank you.”

“Dad’s in the middle of making some ramen broth but we’ve got last night’s leftovers in the fridge if you want them. Unfortunately, there’s no miso, but there’s tonkotsu and salt. Which one do you want?”

“I’ll have scrambled eggs instead, please.”

We moved into the kitchen where Mr Teuchi stood over four boiling pots with a mesh sieve in one hand. Every so often, he would scoop the scum off the top of each pot and empty it into the sink.

I guess he couldn’t hear us over the sound of the bubbling pots – which was good for me. I made a beeline to the other stove, but before I could go any further, Ayame steered me away.

I fought to break out of her grip for a few seconds and she laughed. “Nope. Not today, kid.”

“Really?” I sighed when she smirked. “No, really? I can’t even do that? It’s scrambled eggs. It won’t even take me longer than five minutes to make!”

She opened the latch separating the restaurant’s kitchen and dining area and ushered me out. “You

will take a seat and I will make you breakfast. Go do some homework or something while you wait.”

“Already done it all,” I muttered – mostly to myself.

With the morning cold at my back and the kitchen’s warmth at my front, I watched as Mr Teuchi tossed a whole onion, about two cloves of garlic, and a ginger stick into each pot. Eventually – when he had placed a lid over each pot – he noticed me.

“Oh!” He wiped his hands on his apron. “Hello there, Naruto. Would you like me to make you a bowl for breakfast?”

“No thank you,” I smiled. “Ayame’s making me some eggs.”

“Speaking of eggs…” Ayame glided across the kitchen with a steaming plate balanced carefully beneath a towel on the palm of her hand. She slid a fork across the table. “... here you go!”

I muttered a brief thanks and dug into my food, mood quickly plummeting in the face of the school day ahead. Not only that, but after Itachi went and butchered the Uchiha clan last month, the Konoha Council (in other words, the ex-members of Team Tobirama) decided to put an end to letting kids graduate early on grounds of – and I quote – “emotional instability”.

I suppose it makes sense if you squint your eyes. Kakashi is an emotional wreck of a man who tried to kill himself through a blaze of high-rank missions and… well, Itachi killed his entire clan save for Sasuke.

But that’s ignoring the fact that they were capable shinobi who were forced to dance to the tune of the powers that be.

It’s not all too bad, though. There’s nothing difficult to do since I find most things on the academic side a breeze. History is actually interesting too – at least when I put aside the blatant propaganda against enemy villages.

The sting of onion filled my nose as Ayame snapped her fingers in my face.

“Huh?” I wiped the thin film of tears out of my eyes.

“Dad was wondering how you find the physical side of the Academy.”

“Don’t say like that. He’ll think I’m doubting him,” Mr Teuchi admonished her. “What I meant was that back in my day, the Academy was faster-paced so I was curious if they changed how they teach you things.”

“I can see that,” I nodded. “It’s not anything too difficult, to be honest. We spar every week and do something physical daily, but right now, the focus is bringing everyone up to standard – so lots of running. For those of us with decent stamina, they’ve started us on flexibility and complex obstacle courses.”

“No kunai or shuriken training yet?”

“That’s after the winter break. Most of the class can’t even do the basic Academy taijutsu style properly yet. Hell, we’re not even doing anything chakra-related until summer.”

“You know, it’s things like this that have me appreciate the shaky peace we’ve got right now.”

“Really?”

“Not so long ago, children entered the Academy and graduated as full-fledged shinobi in no more than three years before being immediately shoved onto the battlefield.” His eyes almost glazed over before he pulled himself out of the reverie. “But do your best, Naruto. Just because we’re in a time of peace, doesn’t mean it will remain peaceful forever.”

I blinked away the image of a swirling orange mask and the crimson eye burning behind it.

“I know, Mr Teuchi.”

He smiled and passed me my coat. “Good lad. Now get out of here. You’ll be late if you hang around any longer.”

“See you after school,” I smiled and zipped it up.

Ayame stuck her head out of the stall’s blinds and waved me up the street. “Have a nice day!”

---

When I really think about it, it takes a special kind of caution to willingly curb your own progress. Both by accepting that I was in for a long six years and that I wouldn’t be able to use the shadow clone jutsu to make things easier.

…Nope, that’s bullshit.

There’s just no way for me to realistically get my hands on a forbidden jutsu guarded by ANBU. I don’t care that canon Naruto did it, I’m not going to play games with my life or hinder my progress onto a team that would fit my disposition just to get it.

I’m not so close to the Third Hokage anymore either. He still comes by to visit, but our conversations are stilted. He’s stopped making efforts to bridge that gap and I… just stopped caring.

Why should I? I tossed him an olive branch, a helping hand, a goddamned lifeboat that he decided to throw back in my face. 

There are other ways to get my hands on it. Maybe I do well on a mission and get to ask for a reward or bring it up to my jonin sensei.

I huffed explosively, slightly picking up the pace of my run. My thoughts flitted from the shadow clone jutsu to Ichiraku Ramen to the complicated frown on Iruka’s face every time our eyes met. The rhythmic thud of footsteps and laboured breaths followed me as I jogged around the track.

Sasuke was close behind, his pale face red and slick with sweat. Kiba lagged just barely behind him – neck and neck more often than not – and over the gulf was a cluster of people spread across the track.

In no time at all, I lapped Choji, who looked dead on his feet.

During the winter, the physical portion of the school day is moved to the morning. According to Iruka, it’s supposed to warm us up and get us energised for the day ahead. When he called it to an end, I was sweaty, but no worse for wear. 

I could probably have gone for another hour or so too. We trailed back into the classroom, cutting across the track field.

“Goddamn it,” Kiba grunted, taking a swig from his water bottle. “I’ll beat you one of these days, Uzumaki.”

I snorted. “Beat Sasuke first, then set your sights on more.”

“I’ll definitely beat him,” Kiba huffed. “And then I’ll leave you in the dust.

Sasuke turned around and scowled at me. I sighed and shrugged my shoulders.

Kiba doubled down. “Yeah, I said it, Uchiha. I’m going to beat you one of these days.”

Sasuke deepened his frown and marched into the classroom. Kiba followed, probably angry at his dismissal. I shrugged again and walked to my seat, relieved. The trick to dealing with kids is to divert their attention and I’ve neither the patience nor the mind to deal with my classmates all day long.

Thankfully, I’m not the centre of attention in the classroom – beyond when my teachers make me. That honour goes to Sasuke. I snorted and pulled my notepad and pen out of my bag, reviewing last week's notes.

Quickly, a grimace crawled across my face. I crossed a line through a misspelt word and rewrote the correct one top. Learning how to read and write will always be a pain. Especially since Japanese is so far removed from English.

It’s not the most difficult thing in the world – or it wouldn’t be, if not for the constant suspicion of sabotage I have to carry with me at school.

The teacher, a chunin called Fujino, is an anomaly where my teachers are concerned.

My mathematics teacher, for instance, is deadset on somehow making sure I can’t properly learn multiplication, and my history teacher is an overzealous marker who treats me as if I pump out academic grade work.

But Fujino completely breaks away from the norm.

It’s been a little over a month at the Academy and I still don’t know if she’s teaching me wrong. Nothing about her suggests it. There’s no visible enmity when she speaks to me. She doesn’t one-sidedly zero in on any perceived misbehaviour like Iruka does either. After a while, my suspicion wore away.

But there are moments when I think twice because blindly trusting her could screw me over big time. 

The class around me settled down as Fujino entered the room. She had waist-length purple hair and warm brown eyes framed by circular red glasses. Bundled within her arms was a stack of paper – last week’s tests.

“Good morning everyone,” she beamed. “As promised, I’ve marked your tests!”

The apprehension in the room was heavy in the air.

She giggled. “Don’t be like that. The punishment for failing isn’t that bad. You’ll be staying behind after school for a month to work on your reading and writing skills, okay?”

Gliding around the room, she handed back each paper with either a smile or a conciliatory pat on the arm alongside a slightly smaller smile.

“Naruto,” she looked at me over her glasses. “Well done. Keep going and you’ll be writing pages of work in no time.”

I glanced over my paper, feeling a swell of pride. This is the one subject I genuinely had to try at and to see my effort rewarded definitely felt good.

Fujino moved on swiftly, breaking the bad news to an already tuckered-out Choji.

“Hey, Naruto?” a voice sounded from the row above me.

I looked up at a civilian kid – Taro, I think his name was. “What’s up?”

“Why is your wrong answer marked as right?”

“...Wrong answer?” I glanced down at my paper and then back at Taro. “Hold on, mind passing me your paper for a sec?”

Taro shrugged. “Sure.”

I placed Taro’s paper beside mine – and even used my deskmate’s to verify. Barely able to stop myself from snapping, I returned the papers and glared at Fujino from across the room.

“T-That little…” I dug my hands into my thighs.

A very large part of me wanted to march up to the bitch and rip her a new one but that would see me kicked out of class before I could really get going and if I complain to her, she could throw up whatever bullshit reason she wanted. …But if I were to take it to another teacher, she could straight up lie and call me a horrible student.

I felt a hot burn in the back of my throat as she laughed at something Ino had said. The harder I puzzled over it, the more I realised Fujino had thought this thing through. If I really were a child, she would’ve destroyed the best opportunity I had to learn to read and write.

And for what? Grief displaced on a seven-year-old? Some kind of sadistic perversion?

My pulse thundered in my head. There was no questioning that I’d make her pay – I just had to be smart about it.

And while I’m no Shikamaru, I can be cunning when I need to be.