Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Author's Note: I love Naruto to death and everything but I'm one sick bastard, I thought of this on the way to school...-.-o Yea, I was like what would it be like if I write a fanfic about Naruto being buried alive. Well let's get onto the story.

Dysphemism

Thwap!

Thwap!

Thwap!

This was the sound that Naruto awoke to. He opened his eyes and he could see nothing. There was no light and he wasn't even sure his eyes were open in the absolute darkness. He blinked his eyes yet there was no change. He knew that his eyes had to have opened, for he felt the brush of his lashes against his cheeks.

The sound that awoke him continued, like something continually thrown against a hard hollow surface. He tried to move but could feel a barrier as soon as he rolled to the left or right. He tried to sit up, only to bump his head against an unseen object. He moved his hands against his surroundings. There were sharp angles and the texture of the surfaces was of crude wood. It was also slightly damp and the scent of moss and dirt filled his nostrils. It was only then that he realized he was in a box, a casket to be precise.

"What the hell am I doing in a casket?" he asked himself. His voice deepened by the confined area only pronounced how truly alone he was at the moment and a wave of sadness overcame his frame.

He tried to recall what he had done last before arriving at this place. He remembered going off to rescue Sasuke… and failing. He remembered the hospital room Tsunade had placed him in as well. He remembered laying there all wrapped in bandages and then he took a moment to move his thumb over his knuckle. Yup still there, coarse linen had met the calloused pad of his thumb.

It was then that he remembered the last moment before he had awoken in such a depressing position. A nurse had come into his room offering him his medication. There had been a number of unfamiliar pills, but he figured Tsunade knew best. After he took them, his whole world had instantly become hazy, his surroundings had blurred, and his senses had fumbled together until he fell into a dreamless slumber.

He was drugged! That nurse was one of the countless villagers, filled with spite that he carried the demon that killed their loved ones. Couldn't they see that it was a mere child that held the demon and not a demon that held the child? So they had finally done it. While he was weak in a hospital bed, they struck. They took him and placed him in a coffin. He must've been six feet under by now, truly lower than dirt.

He felt the hot tears soak the bandages around his face. No! He refused to cry. He refused to die. He had to become Hokage and make them see!

He took his already injured hands and started pounding against the top of the coffin with all his might. He knew the only way he'd get out alive was by his own means. He pounded and pounded against the thick wood, never noticing that the other sound had slowly been decreasing in intensity before finally stopping.

Thump!

Thump.

Thump…

It seemed like hours had passed as he slammed his fists against the interior of the casket. His breath had gotten ragged and the bandages on his hands tore. Something warm had trickled around his fingers. At first he thought of tears, because of the intensity of his misery. But the thought was stupid, hands didn't cry. He realized it was blood as the coppery scent replaced the mossy one. The scent of death was near. He didn't care though; he just wanted to get out of there while there was still some air left.

Then the sound of the pounding changed until the muffled sound of flesh covered bone rasping against wood had cleared to a sharper tone. The flesh had worn away, just as the bandages did. His knuckles were bare and the top of the coffin was still not budging. He finally stopped, realizing that it was hopeless. No one would find him because no one cared. No one had wanted him in the village. Hadn't he heard this all his life? The screams, the hateful stares, and uncalled for violence.

And it was all because of the demon sealed within him. Was there a demon at all? He hadn't heard anything throughout the whole ordeal. Did the Kyuubi already give up hope or was there never anything at all? Did they just hate him for him? His whole life had been aimed at being acknowledged, and if there wasn't a demon was he truly that awful. Was he the only one that couldn't see what there was to hate about him?

These were the final thoughts that traveled within Naruto's head as he drank in the last of his oxygen. Any bit of the cheerful façade the boy once carried, dissipated as death corroded over...

Hours Later

Tsunade tore at the dirt. She overturned the earth, looking for the sun, before finally coming upon a plain narrow box. Slowly with trembling fingers she opened the lid. There he was, small, helpless, and stiller than he had ever been even in a deep sleep. Tsunade lowered her hand feeling the boy's cheek for warmth. It was frigidly cold and moist. Unable to withhold herself she drew the fragile body into her arms and wept.

There in the dirt was a broken woman holding an even more broken boy. Seeing this, the sky wept as well.

Days Later

Tsunade held a funeral for Naruto, hoping to give him some semblance of a respectable passing. This would be her last duty as the Hokage.

The villagers were all there but none of them showed sorrow or remorse. They couldn't mourn for something that wasn't one of them, he had been an outsider and he died one as well.

Author's Note: Man this story made me sad. Well I hoped you people enjoyed it. Leave a review on the way out, won't you?