Inside a small, rundown apartment in Konohagakure's Red Light District, sat a child named Uzumaki Naruto. It wasn't the most well-kept place, cracks lined the walls, holes and dents scattered about randomly, but it was his. Although only four years old, Naruto is enchanted by the space despite its flaws and looks about excitedly. He is free from the orphanage, far from the dark or fearful stares, mocking laughter, and the mean-hearted children with an allowance to spend as he pleases. More importantly, he is free of that bone-deep ache in his stomach with no "caretakers" to withhold food, meanies weren't allowed in Uzumaki Naruto's apartment!
Naruto ignored the circumstances that led to his new home. Memories like that were locked tightly in a small box along with everything else that made him feel yucky and bad. Feeling sad didn't fix the problem it only made you want to cry.
Of course, this optimism would not come to last.
This child, naive and hopeful despite it all, had never left the orphanage grounds. He's explored the forest out back and the playground next door but he had done so alone or was locked away in a small room. Naruto was blissfully unaware that the unexplained hatred felt for him was not merely confined within the small, rundown, and overfilled orphanage. Instead, it was a hatred that branched far throughout the village of Konoha.
That is until he went out to stock up on food and other necessities.
Little Naruto walked through Konoha's shopping district, a familiar ache setting into his tummy and heart as neither booth nor store let the boy near their wares. Shouts of, "Demon!" and, "Stay out!" shook that small locked box deep inside. Some didn't bother yelling but the results were all the same. Uzumaki Naruto, only four years old, out on the crowded streets surrounded by the same glares, whispered insults, and ridicule he thought he'd escaped.
"Look at those eyes, they're the eyes of a beast!" A woman hissed to her husband.
The young Uzumaki lowered his head, spiked bangs the color of spun gold and sunbeams curtaining sky blue eyes with slitted pupils and unshed tears. He bit his lip, stoppering a sob. Crying won't help.
"Are those fangs?" Another gasped, " I thought its whiskers and ears were bad enough, but fangs?"
Small sun-tanned hands gently pressed against the symmetrically whiskered cheeks; his left hand brushed past towards small elfin ears. Sharp canines dug painfully into a plush lower lip and Naruto could only retreat to the confines of his small rundown apartment. 'That's not fair,' he thought, 'I'm not the only little boy with fangs and special markings, Jiji said so!'
"Claws! Solid black claws!" Another squeaked in alarm.
Their voices began to mix and blur as he ran his vision clouded over tellingly.
Naruto slammed his pealing apartment door behind him, clawed hands whipping at tear-stained cheeks. It was an eye-opening experience that led to him locking himself away.
It wasn't until the third day of Naruto's somewhat self-imposed isolation that another change would come. There were stipulations to receive an apartment and allowance, like joining the Ninja Academy. Today was supposed to be his first day and he hadn't bothered to show up. He wasn't aware of how much time had passed, he was too hungry and depressed to care, but he had probably missed it by now.
Jiji would be so disappointed.
Naruto never hated how he looked before; he used to think he looked cool! Now he knew it was what made him a monster.
He was startled from his thoughts by a knock on his apartment door and reluctantly he left his lumpy little futon to answer. It was Jiji and Naruto welcomed the weary old man nervously into his home and they sat upon a little couch just as lumpy and stained as his futon. "Naruto," The old man began. His voice was soft and reassuring if a bit gruff from his smoking habit, "I didn't see you at the opening ceremony and your Sensei had informed me that you hadn't shown up at all."
Naruto's nails dug into the palms of his hands, his head not lifting from its downward tilt. He couldn't bear to see the look of disappointment that no doubt graced his Jiji's face.
"I can't." The Uzumaki whispered.
The old man slipped from his place next to Naruto onto one knee before the young boy, the smooth graceful movement belying his old age. Gently resting a wrinkled hand on Naruto's shoulder he comforted the boy, "Naruto, we both know that's not true. Come now, tell this old man what's wrong." And he did.
Naruto gave into his Jiji's probing, he told him about the day he moved in how happy he was to be away from the orphanage, and how he left to stock the apartment with the things he lacked. He told the grim old man of the terrible yet familiar treatment he received once in public and how he's had nothing to fill his stomach but cold rusty tap water. Naruto told Jiji he could no longer muster up the courage or desire to leave his lonely but safe little space.
Sarutobi Hiruzen quietly sat through Naruto's account of events, his hand was a grounding presence on the crying boy's shoulder as he listened. "What do I do Jiji?" Naruto croaked, small hands covering tightly shut eyes as he sobbed wetly, shaking, and hunched forward. Only after Naruto was finished did the Sandaime Hokage move to pull Naruto into a tight embrace, his hand running through short spiky hair. It never failed to surprise Hiruzen how soft it was despite its appearance.
"Oh, child, why did you not come to me?" He lamented softly, "Do not cry my boy, I will fix this." And as he held Naruto in his arms his mind drifted from one silver-haired shinobi to a clan of bug users whose own sense of style showed little to nothing of their appearance.
Naruto's Jiji knew just how to fix this.