DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN NARUTO OR ANY OF IT'S CHARACTERS!!! i wish i did tho.....

Hey y'all, this is pa0lini! not really, just my role model author lol. Anyway this is my very first fanfic ever so R/R would be very much appreciated! planning on being a fairly long story, dont know yet if im gonna put any pairings up. suggestions are welcome! rated M for graphic fight scenes and torture scenes to be seen later on in the story. Not gonna talk anymore, coz im distracting u from the story. Thanx 4 reading!! =]

Pain. It was all he could feel. It was all he could think. It consumed him completely. The hateful glares of the villagers stood by watching as the children continued to kick him. The boy was lying in the middle of the street, curled tightly in a ball protecting his head with his hands. He could hear their jeers and taunts as they encouraged the youths in their daily beatings of the boy.

"Why?" was a thought that echoed in the depths of his mind that broke through the haze of pain. "Why do they do this to me? WHY ME?!" As these thoughts continued to circle through his head, a low growling could be heard by the hateful crowd. They paused, listening to the noise with a growing fear. The children stopped their thrashing of the child as their parents and guardians drew them away from him. The growling slowly gained in volume. One of the braver villagers drew a kunai knife and threw it at the boy. As it pierced through the flesh of his leg, the growling suddenly changed from the low growl to a cry of pain.

"Ha! See the boy is a demon! How else can he growl so at mere children?!" cried the villager who threw the kunai. His cry was answered with cheers as the mob circled closer to the boy. Many drew knives and swords while others grabbed near-by rocks and sticks to further torture the child.

As they collected their new weapons the boy raised his head. His golden spiky locks were stained with blood and dirt. His piercing blue eyes were dull as they surveyed the crowd. Three lines marked each of his cheeks giving the impression of whiskers. His 3 year old body screamed in protest against the small movement. He had a moment of dread before a stick whipped his face down, drawing blood from his cheek.

"How dare you raise your head?! Know your place demon!! You should have died the night you were born! Your filthy presence taints our town and today is the day we shall finally cleanse that stain" screamed the man who had hit him. Many others joined him with their taunts and insults. None were very different from the original

"Monster!"

"Demon!"

"Devil!"

"Just die!"

As their insults continued to ring in his ears, their blows rained down as hard as any storm. Through the pain and fear the boy thought desperately, "Someone, help! Help me! Please, someone...SAVE ME!!" But he knew no one would come. No one ever came. No one loved him. No one cared for him. No one even liked him! All anyone ever did was hate or pity him. And the only people who pitied him were the Old Man and Iruka. But they could do nothing; they were powerless to stop these vicious rituals.

The mob continued with their entertainment long into the night, only leaving when he finally lost consciousness. Little did they know the boy was still awake. He never fell unconscious during these beatings. There was always something that kept him there, forced him to endure the torture of the villagers. He felt a wave of sorrow and guilt from the dark recesses of his mind after this thought. The boy waved it away like he always did, not caring where it came from or why it cared. He stayed motionless for what seemed an eternity to make sure the entire mob had gone and none stayed to give him a nice wake-up call. The blonde boy got up slowly, wincing as his wounds stretched and blood flowed freely down his body. As he tried to stand up he realized both his legs were broken in several places as well as numerous ribs and other bones. He could feel tears gathering in his eyes that threatened to drown him. Only the fear of someone hearing and finding him kept the tears at bay. So he simply laid there and waited. Waited for what always happened, waited for his body to heal.

It was a few moments before he could feel the usual fire and warmth that came with the healing. It was why he could take the beatings everyday and not have his body destroyed before the next round with the villagers. He almost smiled as the warmth enveloped him and his wounds began to heal, but he didn't. He hadn't smiled for as long as he can remember. As his limbs slowly fixed themselves, the boy's thoughts turned to the village, the Land of Fire's shinobi village: The Hidden Leaf. No matter how much they beat him, insulted him and tortured him in every sense of the word, he couldn't bring himself to hate the village. Instead it was the shinobi that were the focus of his rage. They were the ones that always started the beatings. The ones with the masks were the worst, they could find him no matter where he hid and brought him to a crowded place so more pain could be felt. The villagers were just ignorant.

He felt the last of his wounds heal and the warmth fade away, with a sigh the boy got to his feet and began the trek home. This time the ninja had brought him to the other side of the village. The boy kept to the alley ways and shadows of buildings to avoid detection. If he were to ever go for his ninja hitai-ate he would pass the stealth part with flying colours! Not that they would even consider him a ninja. Another sigh left him as he passed the gates that marked the village entrance; a sudden silence was all the warning he had before a sharp pain penetrated his back, thrusting him forward into the ground. He lay there for a moment dazed before he sat up and saw his mistake.

A group of shinobi had just returned to the village and had seen him walking past, uninjured.

"So you escaped today's punishment, did you?" one of them asked. He had one of them masks on so the boy didn't see any of his facial features, just the pale face of a dog and a mass of spiky silver hair. The others were tired from their mission and just left the boy alone with new tormentor. The child felt the familiar stabs of fear as he looked at the man.

"N...no... t-today I've a-already..." he never got to finish his sentence as a foot met his face with astounding force and he was sent flying into the wall behind him.

"It's your fault he's dead you demon!" yelled the man as he continued to pummel the boy and his fists coated themselves in his blood. Then the boy felt something from the man that he had never truly felt before, blood-lust. Hate filled blood-lust. The man oozed it from every pore on his skin. Never before had someone beaten the boy with this much hate before. It shocked him and he felt the icy fingers of fear bury themselves deep into his bones.

"He died and you lived! How is that fair?! Why does the demon deserve to live and the hero die?!" The man seemed to be yelling more to himself then at the boy. The boy just curled into his usual position and waited for the pain to end.

"I should kill you... and I know how. With the jutsu that I myself created with his guidance" the man muttered finally after many agonizing hours.

The boy's eyes widened as he realized that this man was actually going to end his existence. Many had threatened to but never actually committed to the act. The man stood back and made a succession of hand signs as the boy coughed up blood. A light chirping could be heard, the boy thought it was because dawn must be close and the birds were waking up. How sorely he was mistaken. Lightning had gathered around the man's hand and the whips of it against the air caused the bird like sound. The boy instantly knew the deadliness of this weapon and desperately looked for a way to escape, but the only way out was through the gates. He had never considered leaving the village, it was his prison and his home. A place where he was beaten but a place where he could sleep. But right now the only thing the boy had in his head was survival. He started to run, away from the man and away from the Hidden Leaf.

The man's smirk was hidden by the mask as he caught up to the fleeing child. He ran the lightning covered arm through the boy and felt his insides burn from the contact. The boy let loose a scream of pain. His blood boiled as if every cell was on fire. The man wrenched his hand from the boys gut and stared down at the child. He was still conscious and was still trying to flee, although he was reduced to a crawl. The man spat on the boy in disgust, turned on his heel and returned to the village.

The boy kept crawling away from the village, away from the beatings and away from the pain. After many long, agonizing minutes that seemed like days, the boy realized he would not die from this. He started to weep as he kept crawling. The warmth that usually caressed him whilst healing was lost in the aftershock of the pain from the man. He kept crawling until the first rays of dawn broke over the tops of the trees, and still the boy was in pain. The healing was taking longer than it usually did, probably because the attack was more serious than the others. Weariness dragged on the boy as he crawled along. Soon though he could fight back the darkness no longer and fell into the waiting arms of the abyss.

Just before he blacked out he could hear someone in the distance,

"Oh Kami! This boy needs serious medical attention! Shizune! Bring me my bag!"

TBC

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