Such A Fake

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Demon.

Monster.

Uzumaki Naruto.

Everyone in the village, they hated him. Hated him for what he represented, what he was. A Jinchuuriki. A container.

They never even tried to get to know him. The real him. The bouncy, optimistic, ramen-loving kid whose only wish was to be not alone.

The loneliness was like a bottomless lake in which he was drowning. However cliché that sounded, it was, without a doubt, true.

He couldn't stand it.

How many times had he walked in the street, innocently, minding his own business and not bothering anyone? Yet even the mere sight of him provoked others. The beatings, the bullying, the isolation and rejection.

He thought that by becoming Hokage, he might gain some recognition. He would have to, right? After all, the Hokage was the most important person in the whole village. So he told everyone everywhere about his newfound dream, his dream that he would work hard on fulfilling.

Beast.

Devil.

He never fit in anywhere, never had any semblance of friends. All the people he tried befriending ignored him, shunning him.

He wanted to cry, to yell, scream, kick, and throw a tantrum. But he didn't. Because that's what the villagers were hoping for him to do – just another excuse to beat up the dirty monster.

No, he made sure he kept a happy face, a mischievous grin plastered on his face whenever people could see him. And when people couldn't, he'd cry himself to sleep.

Suicide, he'd tried, but to no avail. The Kyuubi's chakra kept him from cutting, and overdosing on pills triggered the demon chakra into purging the poisonous substances. Nothing worked. And so he had nothing.

No friends, no family. No happiness. All just sadness and longing.

And then he entered Academy.

There was nothing really new; he tried to fit in, and maybe it worked a little better. But still, there was almost a line of separation from the others, a border between him and them.

He barely graduated. It wasn't that he wasn't good enough, or that he wasn't motivated, but that thin boundary kept him from going far.

He was placed on a team, a team from which he knew that he would get no affection from, no matter how hard he hoped. He assumed that they would be unforgiving and cold, treating him like trash, just like everything else.

But going through so many missions and hardships, they proved him wrong.

Kakashi-sensei, the ever-lazy and perverted jounin knew that Naruto had the ability and potential to become great.

Sakura, the pink-haired medic, and fangirl of Sasuke, recognized him as a true friend.

And Sasuke, the cold bastard, even acknowledged him as a rival.

His happy façade didn't fool them.

So he was surprised when, during one moment, when he was almost cracking and breaking under the strain of his burden, all the while trying to keep his hyperactive personality up, his teammate said, "You're such a fake, Uzumaki."

He was frozen.

A fake? As if the pampered, special Sasuke could know! As if the loved, cherished Sakura could know! As if the talented, famed Kakashi could know!

As if they knew the sorrow he carried.

They didn't know. Not one bit.

"But that's why we're here. We're your teammates, Naruto. Your comrades. And your friends."

Friends.

He'd never had any before, not really.

But he supposed that he could give it a try. Wait, who was he kidding? He'd waited for this his whole life.

To have friends.

And so, little by little, he opened up. Let his new friends see his worries, his troubles. And they wouldn't dream of letting him shoulder all of it.

Was this what it was like to have friends?

If so, he loved it.

Missions came and went, and Uzumaki Naruto learned to love. He'd always pawed after Sakura anyway, but now, he truly did love her, like a sister. She, in turn, cared for him like a mother hen. It was the incessant 'Have you eaten breakfast yet!' and 'Don't be late for today's meeting!', or 'Ramen is not healthy, you need vegetables, dammit!' coupled with a friendly bop on the head (which still hurt, with Sakura-chan's superstrength) that never failed to bring a genuine smile to the blond's face.

Sasuke was his brother in all but blood. Sure, he had this slight obsession with Itachi, but Naruto didn't care for that. Sasuke saw him, saw Naruto, and not the demon that lurked within. A simple 'Hn. Dobe', and all was right as rain.

Kakashi was the wayward uncle, always late, always ready with a smile (not that you could see it anyway). Oh, and always with his precious Icha Icha. There was also the ever-present hint of sorrow in the sensei's movements and actions, emotions Naruto could see, but never ask, out of courtesy and respect.

Naruto learned to love his team, and love them he did, with an unconditional passion, a passion that was as strong as the hardest rock.

But even the sturdiest of stones can shatter.

And even though Naruto had finally learned to shed his mask, and even though he had his comrades, there were those who could never see the real him.

Villagers continued to hate, to glare, to badmouth and curse him. Yet Naruto held his head up proudly, back straight and chin raised.

Whisperings of this and that accumulated around him, and dirty looks were constantly thrown his way, whether he was alone or with his teammates. Naruto didn't worry, but his friends started to wonder.

Why a demon?

Why a monster?

So many insults, and inquisitive eyes, black and green, of Sasuke and Sakura respectively, always made their way back to ocean blue.

And Naruto became afraid. He'd dodge their questions, pointing out something over there, can't you see, or steering the conversation away to So Sakura-chan, I heard that Ino-chan's been saying something about a forehead lately…

He'd often look to Kakashi for help, but the Cyclops looked uncomfortable with the topic, and Naruto didn't press.

And slowly, the abandoned façade built itself again, but this time more subtle. There was still a gap, Naruto realized, between him and everyone else. He could tell his teammates, but would they run? Would they fear him for the beast inside, or would they hate, like all the villagers?

Naruto found that he really didn't want to know. He didn't want to find out, didn't want to chance it.

Cowardly? Perhaps. But he'd had his taste of happiness, and it was enough. For now.

The mask came back, stronger than ever.

And although it'd break in the future – and it would, Naruto knew – he needed it. For now.

"You're such a fake, Uzumaki."

Naruto spat in the face of destiny.

You're such a fake.

Who cared, anyway?

A fake.

Not him, that's for sure.

A/N: Well, here's cheers to another oneshot! Mm, after a long hiatus, I'm sort of back in the fanfiction scene. Sort of. Except that this little meandering bit of story was already half-written when I happened to re-stumble upon it.

Enjoy, and, as always, feedback is appreciated :)