Dark Reminiscence

My soul lives in my body's house,

And you have both the house and her—

But sometimes she is less your own

Than a wild, gay adventurer;

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Chapter 3: Kernels of Doubt

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He wasn't what I expected.

I never saw a glimmer of the demon that I saw the night my parents died but that did not mean I trusted him.

Except that a shadow of doubt had wormed itself into his heart and he couldn't be as callous as before in the face of all that tarnished innocence.

He could see himself in the child, the lonely ostracized child, the child without any help from everyone.

The outcast.

Even today no one truly accepts him into the scions of Konoha. He wasn't a particularly great ninja nor was he very bad. He was just average, just regular, just overlooked.

That and he never had any interest to advance beyond chunin.

Jounin and Chunin had the exact same pay except the Jounins risked their lives more. If you made it to ANBU that was where your pay doubled but at the same time every mission carried the possibility of your death, and after you made it to ANBU you couldn't get out until you were to feeble or injured beyond repair.

Like Kakashi and Hayate.

Everyone who made it to ANBU were scarred beyond belief, and he wasn't talking about those ragged impressions left on the skin. If one wanted to most scars could be removed by the medic-nin.

He kept his scar even though it deformed his face to remember why he never wanted to rise above chunin, a constant reminder of how he almost died fighting an ANBU from Kumo.

It wasn't worth it.

He wasn't the most patriotic of persons and he wasn't willing to die for Konoha at the drop of a hat, his family hadn't dedicated itself to Konoha for years, and he wasn't a blind puppet to the Hokage.

He was just himself; a man without a mission and who was just letting life pass him by.

And now he had saddled himself with a child who would stare at him with the saddest most beautiful blue eyes that he had ever seen.

That was how it all started.

He'd let his dick think for him and had followed the smooth contours of Naruto's peachy skin, the dusky coral nipples, and slim curvy physique to speak for itself.

Now he didn't want to let him go.

It wasn't that he loved the child or even liked him but Naruto had somehow become his.

Somewhere in between making his coffee in the morning and taking care of his most base needs at night he had become attached to Naruto.

To the beautiful child that had such tragic eyes, eyes that spoke of misery and sadness.

To those bruised red lips that would swallow him whole, to those delicate fingers that would tread through his hair and tie it simply.

Suddenly it wasn't enough to have Naruto physically, he wanted to see Naruto smile for him, to see those eyes shimmer with joy.

To claim Naruto's soul as well, to make Naruto irrevocably his.

No, he never wanted to let Naruto go, not because of some trite emotion called love or whatever but because he was selfish.

Naruto was too experienced for him to have been his first, to blasé about sex for him to be even among his firsts, and it galled him to think that someone else had seen what he had- touched that impossibly soft skin, pressed kisses on those vulnerable plump lips that begged to be kissed.

Felt that deliciously hot, tight passage constrict on their cock.

No, he had adopted Naruto, and for now he didn't want to let him go. Naruto was like a beautiful doll around him; going through the motions but not really there.

For some reason he wanted those eyes to shine for him, he no longer wanted Naruto to bleed when he took him, no longer wanted to injure that soft peachy skin and leave it blotchy with bruises.

He wanted Naruto to be more than a beautiful doll; he wanted Naruto without his stupid mask, without that grotesque smile stretched across those curled lips, with blank dead eyes.

He wanted too much he knew, but maybe slowly he could make Naruto smile again, the way he smiled when a cat brushed against him, or when it rained outside.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

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He was just like I expected.

And yet, in some ways, not. I know, he's using me, but sometimes, I could catch him looking at me with a sort of need in his eyes. The first time, I thought it was lust, but when Iruka made no move to do anything sexual, I thought again. It was possessive, certainly, with a want and a sadness present as well.

It made him wonder.

Could humans be good? He wasn't certain. Maybe, just maybe…

But then Iruka would pull him into bed, make him bleed. He would hurt him for wearing that mask. He would call him a demon. And Naruto would remind himself of the Sandaime, of the false kindness and grandfatherly mask that had deceived him for so long.

And he'd tell himself that no one in the village could ever love him.

And he'd again look to the horizon and wish to escape.

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A restless and an eager wraith,

How can I tell what she will do—

Oh, I am sure of my body's faith,

But what if my soul broke faith with you?

 

Poem by Sara Teasdale