A/N: So, I know I said I was going to post a Bleach one-shot, but I'm still trying to figure out how to wrap that one up, but in the meantime, I wrote this Naruto one-shot.

Quick note on the Japanese real quick, though. I don't speak Japanese, and I'm not going to pretend to. It makes more sense for me to use the english translations for some words, since that's the language I speak, however there are cases where I think the Japanese sounds better, honorifics, for example. This is entirely at my discretion though, and it's entirely possible that I may flip-flop between the two as I see fit.

Also, if people like this, I might have a few ideas to add on to it.

Rotted Tomatos

Uzumaki Kushina is a terrible mother. It's not something I like to admit. I like to pretend she's an incredible mother, that she pays more than just few minutes of attention to me a day, that she doesn't leave the house early in the afternoon each day, and only come back far past midnight, reeking of sweat and alcohol. That she doesn't forget that children need to be nurtured with love and affection, and fed several meals a day, not just the occasional fruit or sweet to snack on when the thought crosses her mind. Most children, anyway.

It's not something I like to admit, but it doesn't make it any less true. Maybe in some other world, Uzumaki Kushina is a wonderful mother, who lovingly dotes on her daughter, granting her whatever her heart desires. But this is not that world, and such trivial thoughts are useless. In this world, the one that matters, Uzumaki Kushina is a sad and broken woman, not even a hint of the proud and indomitable Kunoichi that everybody tells me she used to be.

But I still love her. With all of my being.

I shouldn't. I know that. She doesn't deserve it. I had to grow up far too quickly under her care than any other child. I had to teach myself to cook so we wouldn't starve, keep that house clean so we wouldn't be buried under various trash and bottles of alcohol. Not to mention I had to fend for myself when it came to the irrational hatred the village had for me. Just the fact that I was capable of acknowledging this spoke volumes. No, Uzumaki Kushina could barely be described as a caretaker let alone a mother, I knew that. I think she knew it too.

She blamed me for Minato's death, I think. And I think she hated herself for blaming me, and she hated Minato for dying to seal the Fox inside me, and the Third for not taking his place, and Jiraiya and for not being there to help when the Fox escaped, and the village for not being strong enough to repel the Fox without the Fourth, and the Fox for just existing in the first place. Her life was a vicious cycle of hatred and self-loathing that left her barely able to function, let alone care for her five-year-old daughter. But that didn't stop me from smiling uncontrollably whenever she entered the room, grinning like a loon whenever she spoke more than a word or two to me, or staring longingly at her gorgeous red locks and mesmerizing violet eyes, aching for a touch, to hold her hand, to be wrapped in her embrace. I loved her desperately, and I wanted nothing more than to see her out of this depressive hole she was in, to see her smile and laugh like she did when Minato was still alive. To see her happy.

Minato. The Fourth Hokage. I didn't know how to feel about him. On one hand, he was my father, and probably a pretty great guy if his death sent Mom into her funk and the village to their unrestrained hatred of me, but on the other hand… his death was exactly the reason Mom was the way she was. And it wasn't an unavoidable death either, he sacrificed himself to seal the Fox in me, which meant there were other options that didn't involve him dying and leaving Mom in a pit of depression and self-hatred. Granted, most of those options probably would have left the Leaf with a less-than-working village and may or may not have ignited the Fourth Shinobi World War, but honestly? I didn't care. I'd probably be arrested for treason for saying it, but if it meant even a chance at seeing Mommy smile a true smile? I'd give the world for it.

Of course, I wasn't supposed to know all this, no one had told me directly, but it wasn't all that difficult to figure out. The villagers weren't exactly discreet with their mutterings and harsh whispers. That, and my resemblance to the Fourth Hokage was so uncanny it's a genuine miracle no one else has noticed, despite me taking my mother's surname. Which I was extremely grateful for, by the way. Uzumaki Kushina. I absolutely loved the way her name sounded, the way it rolled off the tongue. Probably. I had never actually said it aloud before. Plus, having the surname Uzumaki made being named after a fish cake so much more bearable.

Regardless, no matter how difficult living with her was, I wouldn't have it any other way. And it wasn't like I was trapped with her either. I still had Kakashi-niisan, Jiraiya, hell even old man Teuchi. None of them quite realized what it was exactly it was like living with Mommy, but I could have very easily told any one of them one and they could have done something about it. Teuchi probably would've even been willing to take me in while Mommy got help. Except that would mean seeing even less of her than I already do, and I don't quite think I can handle that. Besides, while Leaf was better than most thanks the the Yamanaka, therapy in the Ninja world more or less boiled down to "suck it up and deal with it," and I'm not certain taking me away from Mommy wouldn't just worsen her condition, like what happened when Aunt Mikoto started distancing herself from us.

So I did what a Yamanaka would tell me to to, and sucked it up and dealt with it.

I would get up every morning and made a big breakfast, taking a plate (or bowl) up to Mommy's room. Sometimes I couldn't help but just stare at her before waking her up. She was so beautiful, even with her sunken eyes and her too-pale skin. She was skinny, too skinny, you could almost see her ribs poking out. But her hair was a gorgeous fiery mane, so silky and soft, her lips looked so pink and plump. But I couldn't keep staring or the food would get cold.

I would gently shake her awake, and it would always take a minute or two. She slept so fitfully, and it was hard to pull her back from the cusp of her nightmares. But then she would blink her pretty violet eyes awake, staring blankly at me before I gestured to the meal in my hands. From there it was a toss up. Usually, she would just stare at me lifelessly for several seconds before turning around and falling back asleep. I would sigh in disappointment, setting the food down on the nightstand next to the bed and left the room sullenly, not expecting any different, but hoping nonetheless. Occasionally, though, she would take the food from my hands, her face a blank as ever, eliciting a bright smile from me as her hands lightly brushed past mine, her skin calloused yet somehow still so soft. If I was especially lucky, she might even mutter a soft "thanks" that left me positively beaming for the rest of the day. Then I would sit and watch as she slowly ate, taking miniscule bites at a time, watching as her eyes glazed over for several minutes, lost in some unknown memory before suddenly focusing her attention back to her food, as if she only just remembered it was there and taking another tiny bite until she was done, never finishing more than half of it. Then I would take whatever was left of her food and kiss her on the cheek to let her know I still loved her (just in case she forgot.) I'd wait a moment to see if she would respond (she never did), then leave silently to clean the mess in the kitchen, along with whatever other trash managed to clutter up the house.

Afterwards, the day was mine, really. There was no telling when Mommy would get up, and she could (and often did) sneak out of the house without me knowing, no matter how much attention I paid. There was little to no entertainment to be found around the house, much less outside it, what with the villagers general avoidance of all things me. The glares and whispers never much bothered me. It was hardly worth the effort to care either way about them, and even when the occasional angry villager got a little too physical, any cuts or bruises that may have turned up always healed within a few hours at most. Besides, I knew they didn't actually believe I was the Fox incarnate, not really. If they did they would never do something as stupid try and anger me.

The only thing ever really angered me, no, infuriated me, was when they spoke about my Mother. I don't know how, but somehow it had leaked that Mommy was the Nine-tailed Fox's previous container. I was sure someone had done it on purpose. Someone high up as well, after all, they were the only ones who knew, and they kept it a secret for decades, which meant they weren't careless enough to let it slip accidentally, which meant they had done it purposefully. And I swear, when I find out who it was, I'll kill them. Because I may not give a damn when people call me "demon brat" and "devil's spawn", but if I hear so much as a single person mutter the words "demon whore" then… well. Just ask the last person who dared in my presence.

What the villagers don't realize is that whenever they see fit to push me around, I let them. Because letting them is far easier than dealing with the aftermath of fighting back. And remember when I said I have the day to myself? I spend it training.

Even if I haven't entered the academy yet, the public library is a fountain of knowledge for beginners, and it's laughably easy to sneak past the haggard, near-sighted librarian always working the desk and hide in the rows and piles of books. Just teaching myself to read proved to be the biggest hurdle, but once I had overcome that particular obstacle, I soaked in information like a sponge. Of course, none of what I learned about basic Chakra Theory or simple Katas was exactly dangerous (or even accurate), not for a five-year-old. At least, not unless you were me.

You see, one of the most basic applications of chakra was to use it to enhance your body. Make it stronger, faster, more durable, and so on. Most children my age didn't have enough chakra to enhance anything, even if they had the control. I, on the other hand, had a lot of chakra. Of course, I couldn't just pump my arms full of chakra and lift up a mountain, not without blowing my arms off in the process. There was a technique to it, a skill the took time and practice to refine, but again, I could sort of cheat in this regard when it came to practicing.

For most, if one just carelessly threw their chakra around they could easily damage both their muscle tissue and chakra coils irreparably. But not me. Thanks to the combined forces of my Uzumaki heritage and the Demon Fox in my stomach, I could heal from almost anything short of loss of limb (and even then I wasn't sure it wouldn't just grow back.) And you know how when you break a bone, the point of fracture grows back stronger than before? That's exactly what happened to my body. As long as I kept the proper nutrients in my body, any torn tissue would stitch back tighter and stronger, any ruptured coils would be thicker and flow easier. Even when all was said and done and I'd finally more or less mastered the basics of the technique, I was never sure whether it was because I'd finally figured out how to do it correctly, or if my body simply adjusted itself accordingly.

Either way, by the end of it, I was intimately familiar with my chakra. And it was… almost intoxicating. I could, and occasionally did, spend the whole day just meditating, playing with my chakra, spinning it, folding it, twisting it. Flooding my body with chakra, pumping every inch of me with it until I felt I was about to burst then suddenly releasing it. Clamping down on my chakra network and halting the flow, then pulling back on it and forcing it to flow in the opposite direction. The only thing I never touched was the Fox's chakra.

Oh, it was always there, just underneath, mixed in with my own. It's part of why my natural reserves were so large, it was constantly pressuring my coils, forcing them to grow and thicken to adapt. But that was just the infinitesimally small amount that the seal purposefully leaked to build up my resistance to the Fox's poisonous chakra, and was already so ingrained in my own that it may have well have been mine.

But if I focused deep enough into my core, I could sense it. That unfathomably vast pit of oppressive rage and hatred that made up the Fox's chakra (though, since the Fox was supposedly just a giant, sentient chakra construct, it wouldn't be inaccurate to say that it was the Fox.) I never really understood why people said The Nine-Tailed Fox was a force of nature until I discovered that pit. Just sensing the sheer size and scope of it compared to my own was akin to comparing a firefly to the Sun, and the pure hate and anger it radiated was almost alien (and yet still somehow so very human.) I wasn't even slightly ashamed to admit I did my very best to avoid direct contact with it at all times.

Various chakra exercises weren't the only things practiced, though. Early Academy textbooks were available to anyone in the public library, and I studied them with a fervor. As boring as subjects like Projectile Physics, Human Biology, and Poison Chemistry could be, I soaked up every bit of information I could learn, and when it come to learning the Academy Katas, I practiced them vigorously. I'd spend hours upon hours practicing at home or in the woods until I could do them exactly as the books described quickly and efficiently, even sneaking into the Academy training grounds to watch the older kids do them when I wasn't sure if I was doing it correctly.

I'd say I trained until I dropped, but that never actually happened no matter how much I worked myself. And given that I would often push myself to my limit and kept the pace up until night had fallen without me realizing, I was no longer sure if it was even possible for me to collapse from exhaustion. Sure, I worked myself to the bone, until my body ached and my skin was raw and bleeding from striking trees over and over again, but I have never actually passed out.

The greatest treasure trove I'd found though, was a textbook all about the Academy Three; the Transformation, Substitution, and Clone Techniques. This one wasn't actually found in the library (any and all Ninjutsu and Genjutsu was regulated with varying degrees of strictness. Even something as simple as the Academy Three wasn't normally available to the general public, though there were no real consequences if it had somehow found its way into it.) Some kid seemed to be pulling an all-nighter (probably in a last-ditch effort not to fail) at the library of all places and I took the liberty of "borrowing" the book during one of his ten-minute power naps (i.e. dozing off every so often before abruptly awakening.) The look on his face when he realized it was missing was priceless.

The Academy was actually fairly lax when it came to the written and physical portions of the graduation test. Basically, as long as your handwriting was vaguely legible and you could more or less keep us with the rest of your class, then you really only needed to worry about the Ninjutsu portion of the test, and that portion was very strict. Because being a Ninja was all about chakra, and if you couldn't master those three techniques, then that meant you stood virtually no chance of being even a halfway decent Ninja. Your physical scores had to be truly exceptional to even stand a chance at passing if you couldn't do the Academy Three.

They also only started teaching students the Three in the final year, because, like I said before, carelessly messing with your chakra can cause irreparable damage, especially for children, whose chakra coils were still developing. If a small child, whose reserves were miniscule and control atrocious, attempted a Ninjutsu, even one as chakra intensive as the simple Clone Jutsu, they could very well die of chakra exhaustion.

So-called geniuses like Itachi and Kakashi-niisan (and Minato) instinctively used their chakra even in everyday tasks without ever first learning how, and this helped them subconsciously know exactly how much chakra to put into a technique to avoid killing themselves.

Again, I was an exception to this rule. I don't know exactly how much chakra I had compared to the average Ninja, but I did know I had much more than a freshly-minted Genin. Even beyond the Academy Three there were few Jutsu that could wipe me out in one go, chakra exhaustion wasn't something to worry about. And, since brute-force training my body with chakra enhancement had given me ample control over my chakra, The Academy Three were almost disappointingly simple to learn. Hell, the least chakra intensive technique, the Clone technique, was the most difficult to learn, simply because it took so little chakra that I had a hard time siphoning off just enough to power it, but not so much as to overload it. I had a feeling it would only get harder as my reserves grew.

I wasn't quite satisfied with just learning them, though, mostly because they seemed so impractical. After all, who has the time to form hand seals in the middle of battle? The Substitution Jutsu uses five whole hand seals, and that one would presumably be the most time sensitive since it was mostly used to dodge enemy attacks, and higher ranked Jutsu used even more! The only way I could think of to make them feasible in battle was to either just keep practicing until I could go through them all nearly instantaneously (which made a certain amount of sense, the books seemed to place a lot of emphasis of doing just that) or… find a way to do it without them.

At first, the idea seemed crazy, Jutsu were performed using hand seals, that's just how it worked, but whenever I went through the seals, I could feel my chakra shifting and shaping on its own and I figured, "Couldn't I just mould it manually?"

I don't know. It made sense in theory, but in practice I just couldn't get it down. No matter how much I pushed and pulled and twisted and folded, the end result was never quite what I get when I just used hand seals. I was certain I could do it, but until then I resolved to just practice going through the hand seals faster and faster.

The only thing I very much wanted to learn, but just couldn't find any information on was Fuinjutsu. There were almost no mentions of the art - only ever in passing - and the only detailed description of it (a single paragraph in a book describing the different Ninja arts) didn't so much as hint as to how to get into it. This really disappointed me. More than anything I wanted learn the sealing arts, it was my family's legacy! Really, the only way to learn was to ask Mommy to teach me, but… well, that just wasn't an option at the moment.

She just… wasn't around. I didn't really know what she got up while she was gone (though I had heard stories damaged property and hospitalized Ninja, so I knew it wasn't anything too… degrading,) but I did know she drank a lot. Because she always came back drunk. And it took a lot to get an Uzumaki drunk. Our metabolism was just too high, we had to drink a lot and drink it quickly to even get tipsy, and it also meant we never got hangovers. It's why Tsunade of the Sannin was so famous for her drinking, she was a quarter Uzumaki, and Mom could drink Tsunade under the table (Not that I was exactly proud of that fact.)

So I would wait every night for her to come home (usually training in the meanwhile) and I wouldn't fall asleep until she was. And if it got too late I would go out to look for her, though after the first few times she was surprisingly consistent in showing up before I went out.

Usually when she returned, she would have that same blank mask she always wore. She would see me in the entrance hall waiting for her, and she might grumble under her breath about how it was late, and I should get to bed before stumbling her way to her own room, and I would nod, smiling brightly at her.

Sometimes she would come home crying. I always hated when she did. As soon as she sees me her tears would multiply and she would hobble over, engulfing me in her arms as she apologized over and over and over again for everything and nothing all at once, and my heart would ache because no matter what I did, no matter how tightly I hugged her back or how many tears I kissed away, she wouldn't stop crying. I would carry her (drag her really, I was much too small to lift her up off the ground) to her room, setting her down on her bed, but she wouldn't let go of me so I would lay down with her, holding her until she quieted and fell asleep. But no matter how badly I wanted to stay there, wrapped in her embrace, once she fell asleep I would slowly untangle myself from her arms and head back to my own room, where I would lay in my own bed silently, my heart burning, but I wouldn't cry, because Mommy's cried enough for the both of us.

Sometimes she would come smiling. That was always the worst. Because when she did that, it was because she had drunk herself to the point where she could no longer see anything other than what was in front of her. She would stumbled in, her violet eyes locking with my blue and her smile would brighten and my breath would hitch because God, she was so beautiful when she was smiling, but at the same time it hurt so much because it looked so fake.

"Naruto-chan!" she would call, rushing over to me, surprisingly coordinated for how much she no doubt drank, and picking me up easily, spinning me around and causing a giggle to rise up from my throat. Then she would stop and press her forehead against mine and look deeply into my eyes, and I would do the same for her. And I'd want to cry from how broken she looked.

Then I would notice the smell of sweat and dirt and alcohol that clung to her like a second skin and I'd grimace, and she'd notice, of course.

"Ehehe…" she'd laugh sheepishly, like I'd just caught her stealing from my personal stash of ramen. "I guess I do kinda stink, eh Musume? How about we take a bath together, Hmm? We haven't done that in awhile."

Not since you were last this drunk, I would think, but I'd just smile and nod my head.

"Great!" And she'd take a step and suddenly all sense of poise would leave her and she'd stumble harshly, and I would have to break free of her arms to catch myself and avoid getting hurt, but Mommy wouldn't be able to do the same and she would fall to the ground in a feeble mess. I'd frown and make sure she was okay, but she'd just laugh it off with a joke about having one too many drinks, and I'd force myself to smile again.

I'd pick up as much of her as I could and drag her to the bathing room, while she coos over how strong I'd gotten and how I was going to be an incredible Kunoichi. Then I'd help her out of her clothes before discarding my own, and we'd rinse each other off. Once all the dirt and grime had washed off and all that was left was smooth, porcelain skin, it was very easy to get distracted by her figure. It was lean and toned, muscle visible, but not prominent, and still so curvy and soft. I wasn't yet old enough to be attracted to her sexually, but I knew that once I hit puberty, all bets would be off. Of course, that didn't stop Mommy from teasing me about my blatant staring. It'd make me blush but it wouldn't stop me.

Finally, we'd get in the tub to soak, Mommy getting in first and then dragging me onto her lap. My face would be flaming from being so close with nothing between us, but I'd be smiling widely all the same. By this point she'd be dozing off, and I'd be admiring her gorgeous face when she'd suddenly snap awake and see me staring, again, and smirk.

"Like what you see, Musume?" She'd ask teasingly, and I'd blush harder, but my smile wouldn't fade and I'd nod.

"Well," she'd say, "How about a kiss, then?"

My heart would quicken in my chest, my blush intensifying further, and I'd lean in and peck her on the cheek, but then she'd pout adorably and say, "Not like that Naruto-chan. A real kiss."

And I'd want to, I'd really, really want to, but I want our first kiss to be something special and not just a drunken tease to be forgotten the next day, so I'd shake my head and bury my head into her chest, and she'd whine cutely about how I'm being unfair.

Moments would pass as we both enjoy our silent embrace before Mommy speaks again, and she says my name softly, almost reverently, and I'd stiffen because I know what's coming next.

"Naruto," she'd say, and I'd tighten my hold on her and I can't keep the tears from leaking because I hate this part and I don't want our moment together to end.

"I love you."

I'd pull back suddenly, looking desperately at her as she stares back at me, searchingly, each second that passes looking more and more broken.

"... Aren't you going to say it back?"

And I try, I desperately try to show her how hopelessly in love with her I am, to get her to see the affection and devotion I have for her that's showing on my face and shining in my eyes.

But she doesn't see it, and she breaking down crying, and I can't do anything but hold her as she sobs.

"You never say it back."

But I do, I say it everytime I see her, it's written in my smile and shining in my eyes.

"You never say anything… You must hate me..."

I could never hate her. I'd give the world for her, but she's too lost in her grief and self-loathing and nothing I do can get her to see it.

And later, when I've gotten her out of the bath and into her bed and I'm lying awake in the darkness of my room, I let out a single, gut-wrenching sob as I wish, wish that any of it was real. Because the next day, everything is just as it was before, and I don't think she even remembers it. Nothing had changed, so I do it all over, again and again, every day, hoping and praying that one day she'll see the endless love I have for her, and finally start working toward getting better.

Because I don't think I could survive anything less.