Miss Lucy had Some Leeches

Dear Readers,
Hey guys, this story is set in 1845, in Beckenham, southeast London. (Which is, by extension, obviously in England) I haven't exactly decided on the pairing I want to happen in this story yet, and I'm open to ideas. Please leave a review with your thoughts.

Oh! And if you haven't taken the time to visit my profile, I want to write a lot of stories for you guys, so please leave suggestions on what you'd like to see, mkay?

Sincerely,
_xtabularasa

‘Two years. Has it really been that long?’ Naruto grimaced, looking down at his tattered clothes and grimy skin. There had once been a time when he had been the envy of his town, when his skin had been as flawless as Chinese porcelain. ‘Two fucking years. . .’ He let his head hit the wall as he slumped over; his greasy, knotted blonde hair dragging on the cold pavement behind him. His eyes, still as bright as they were when he first arrived, slid shut as he heard the footsteps coming down the hall. He silently prayed that he wouldn’t be subject to another session of electro convulsion[1], his last hadn’t ended prettily—and he could tell his doctor wasn’t pleased that he hadn’t made any progress in two years. But how could he? He wasn’t insane. ‘Though, it’s a surprise living in this shithole hasn’t made me so. . .’

The door to his cell opened. “Mr. Uzumaki?”[2] A nurse. Naruto refused to open his eyes, hoping the older woman would think he was asleep and leave him be. “Mr. Uzumaki, please don’t ignore me.” Again, no response. The nurse sighed and called down the hall for some help in ‘moving the patient.’ Naruto winced, the blonde could hear more footsteps, these ones sounding rushed and irritated. For his own sake, he cracked one eye open and raised an untrimmed eyebrow to his nurse, just as a few men arrived.

“. . . Mm?” It wasn’t much of a question, but he got his point across.

“Mr. Uzumaki, we are taking you to the airing ground, it’s time to discuss your next treatment plan.” The nurse, who had probably once been attractive, now resembled a goblin. Her voice however, was smooth and sweet, just like all the other nurses. “For your own safety, we’re going to put you in this jacket. Please stand up.”

He didn’t move for a moment or two, taking his time to examine the size of the men in front of him. Deciding they weren’t worth the trouble, (and that he’d be taken, no matter what he tried) Naruto stood slowly, putting his arms out in front of him so that the male nurses could slip the straight jacket on without much of a fuss. After being secured, each man grabbed one of his elbows, and proceeded to haul him down the corridor to the airing ground, where his doctor would be waiting for him.

The young man glanced around the hallways, noticing, much to his disdain, that it was much cleaner than his cell. The walls were a rich, polished mahogany, whereas his were made of grimy, cold pavement. His room reeked of mildew, and the hallways had a sweet citrusy scent—not to mention the corridor had windows, where sunlight crept its way in, and his cell had none. He was forced to live six out of the seven days in a week in his cell, without light, and without heat.

Fresh air filled his nostrils as they stepped into the airing ground, and he greedily took a deep breath, relishing in the smell of the nature around him. “Naruto!” As quickly as pleasure had hit him, it was taken away. His doctor, Tojiro Orochimaru, was a man of Japanese decent—like him—only he had a thick, nearly incomprehensible accent. He was sitting at one of the various benches, and gestured for the young man to take a seat across from him.

The men holding Naruto in place released his arms, but strolled off, leaving him restrained in the jacket. Not having much of a choice, he sat across from the pale man, and grimaced at the leery smile he sent his way. “Now, darling, you know you’re one of my favorite patients,” he started, his abnormally long tongue tracing his lips as if to emphasize his words “but it’s been two years since you arrived here at Bethlehem, and you’re not making any progress.” He said, trying to sound disappointed. He paused for a moment, waiting to see if the blonde would respond, but all he received was a grunt as Naruto turned his attention to something else in the courtyard.

He snapped, slamming a bony hand on the table between them. The cement, however, only gave off a slapping sound, similar to what Naruto imagined a stomach gave off whenever a fat man jumped or ran. 'Or," Naruto thought, 'The sound of Orochimaru and his hand outside that Kabuto kid's cell. . .' He snorted at the thought, trying to bite back a laugh, but only succeeding to chortle. Orochimaru sputtered indignantly in respose, how dare this puny little wench laugh at him?

Cocking his head to the side, the blonde watched as his doctor’s eyes bulged, his face becoming red and blotchy. “I came here to warn you, but seeing as how you think I’m only jesting, I’m going to have you sent to the incurable section. The conditions there are. . . . Well, I’ll just say that it’s not exactly the life of luxury, Naruto-kun.” The honorific was said forcefully, with malice, and the blonde grimaced at the amount of spittle that landed on his cheek as a result.

‘It’s not like it could get any worse than what I’m used to.’ He rolled his cerulean eyes at the elder man, as Orochimaru stormed off dramatically. Naruto could hear him hollering orders at the nurses, telling them ‘to bring his sorry ass back inside.’ The woman who came to get him had a spark of pity in her hazel eyes. He recognized her as the only nurse who was ever really nice to him, Tsunade. “Well, I hope you’re happy, Naruto. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a nice cellmate. . .”

‘. . . Cellmate?’ Okay, so things could get worse.

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[1] Electro convulsion therapy wasn’t actually used until the 1930’s, but for the sake of the story, I’m bending history.

[2] Bethlehem Asylum is in England. Anyone who isn’t Japanese will address the characters as “Mr, Miss, Mrs,” etc;