Hands of Red, a naruto fanfic - FanFiction.Net
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6554276/1/Hands_of_Red
Prologue: Memories of Yesteryear
Bad intentions always seemed to make those around it succumb all the easier to it than trying a little harder to help those with good intent to triumph. It was as if all the darkness that had surrounded him for so long had consumed his heart leaving nothing but a trail of words with the intent to hurt and actions with the need to see the red flow of blood. It was an overwhelming feeling that consumed whole and asphyxiated the mind so that comprehension was not possible beyond what was already implanted there. So thorough had the decimation of self thought been encompassed into him that even the notion of killing another human being seemed like a plausible solution to a problem now. Tarnishing your innocence with a sinful act of treason to mankind was all nothing but a simple action with a purpose in mind. He had become the very evil that others had uttered about when speaking of him in hushed tones with people as he passed by. He became the very thing his father was and embodied the entire foul image that everyone dreaded of him when they saw his presence.
To think that he could break such a cycle was like telling a schizophrenic he had nothing to fear of the voices in their mind. It was now a mental disorder of his own that ate away at the restraints of his actions and thoughts. Hurting others was now second nature to him just as breathing and blinking was; a subconscious action fueled by the thoughts in the background of his mind he didnt realize existed. Just as his brain whispered to his heart to beat and his lungs to breath; it whispered for him to cause pain and agony to others. Those who had been close to him at one time spoke of guilt that should be consuming his dreams of the ones he had robbed the life from. All humans have a conscious and with that consciousness we choose the actions we commit to others therefore we choose to kill and we choose to be that way. Those were the words that were last uttered to him by what had been his truest friend in one point.
Perhaps at one point he did consciously choose to commit the heinous crimes that were a common occurrence for his life now. When that time had occurred it was but a distant memory now that was pushed away to the recesses of his mind for he cared not for them. Those memories were reminders of the life that pushed him to the place he was now, alone in a darkened room with no care for the world around him. A time that even when surrounded by people he could still not bare to show a smile of happiness to someone, a smile of weakness of the faults within his heart. Even in the arms of the ones he felt he trusted even a miniscule bit he could not let go of the constant voice in the back of his mind to keep his guard up. At one point he could recall someone trying to label the anomaly that was his demeanor by telling his father that he was afflicted with schizophrenia and that only time would change what he was. What a foolish person they had been and if only they could see how much more prevalent those manners became.
No, a schizophrenic was far from what he truly was and even once he wished that he was so that he could feel he could assimilate with those around home. As time wore on with each passing of his birthday he began to see that never he was intended to be like others. Never intended to be others, that notion had struck him when he realized that since birth he had but one purpose in life. He never knew if he had specifically been procreated for the profession that had awaited him or if it had been a haste choice in a time of need, despite what the answer to that could be it meant the same in the end. He was what he was and there was nothing that could change that.
Mercenary, it was what was whispered behind his back so that he could not see the face of those who uttered it. The fear that seeped in their voice was evidence that they did not doubt for a moment what he was or if it could be a mistake that someone like him was one. Reserved and withheld was what many thought of him at first glance but as glimpses of his life surface through the words that flowed through the air passed along long gone that assumption went. His home was perhaps the most lavish in the dilapidated building he resided in and all knew of the fact for they could see in plain view when he came in with the boxes of items he purchased. All knew what was in his home but none dared to come near the door with the intent to take not even the worst delinquents that roamed the neighborhood. A momentary gain was not worth the permanent loss of their lives.
Constant fear and solitude, he often questioned if that is what he wanted for eternity even in death when his soul wandered the bowels of hell. He had long distanced himself from any sort of connection for foolish would be the man that did so with his profession. Yes, being a mercenary meant that killing was what you were most proficient at but that did not stop someone from being better than you were. There was always that possibility that others within the same field began to fear just how good of a heartless killer you were and when that occurred not even your own shadow could be trusted.
Those he had called his friends he left behind without any goodbyes and without any mention as to where he was going with is life. Distance they had already began to see in his eyes and actions as they attempted to lure him in the sense of security among them. Smile he did not, laugh he did not, and in the end care he did not do. Letting go of this chains upon his heart was the last goal to becoming the perfect machine that he was now. No ties did he have and no feelings did he harbor that would hinder his mind of them being turned against him. It was an action he knew all too well as he had used that method to lure people, taking a persons family and loved ones was no greater way to show that your intentions were of no humor.
He always told himself it was for the best but on the occasional times he remembered that golden hair that seemed to want to rival the rays of the sun above them he could feel himself have the most miniscule sense of regret. They had been alike so much at one point as they found themselves discovering that those around them had pushed to cause them pain. They had willingly wished to cause children pain and turmoil so that the insignificant lives they lived meant a little something for a moment. They had found in one another the friendship that children cherished so much so that loneliness did not consume their hearts. It had been along the others side that he had first laughed and smiled without it being forced or untrue. Alongside them he had learned to live without so much fear and to enjoy just the simple moment in life. Alongside them he had learned that all connections were your greatest weakness in life that must be demolished.
Some days he could remember glimpses of the tears that streamed down the slightly tanned face of the one he cared about once most. The ocean blue eyes that stared into his empty ones spoke volumes of the pain and betrayal they felt. The others eyes were always the opposite of his; where his we empty shells that bared nothing to the world around him, the captivating blue always seemed like a doorway right into their heart. He always knew when the other was lying to him though for trivial things it was to preserve his feelings not being affected, he always knew. That stormy day they bared pain as tear after tear fell from them not understanding his words. The words he had uttered where intended to hurt for that was the last bond before he could disappear.
He broke the bonds of friendship that day. He broke the one thing that still made him feel a little human and not like the demon he was now. There in the simple conversations he would hold with the other he felt as if the deeds he did at night never existed despite the fact that both knew what he had done. Time would go by when neither ever mentioned the killings that would come up on the news or the days the other would wash his clothes seeped in blood. He felt that he lead two lives until the days that the other grew more concerned over him. The more scars that appeared on his body and the more sleepless nights he went through, the more pleading the other made for him to stop. The pleading to stop killing, to stop destroying himself, and to stop hurting the ones around him; they all went unheard.
More nights he spent on jobs that arrived to him and less were the days he spent along his friends. Scarce was the time any could say they had seen more than just a glimpse of him or an exchanging of more than just good morning. Distance so great between them he had created that it seemed like a permanent fissure had been made in their friendships that could never be repaired or filled again. He had achieved what he had wanted most, for no one to care for him any longer. It has been five years since that day where he ended their friendship and then disappeared but to his displeasure that face never left his thoughts. All he could be thankful for was that none could ever decipher who was in his thoughts more often than not or others. That face that he always tried to push to the back of his mind always somehow resurfaced in ways he did not expect. Now here as he stared down at the beige manila folder in front of him fate laughed at him once more. There in the small black ink read the name he had thought he had long forgotten; Uzamaki Naruto. It seemed fate would taunt him once more for enjoyment to see just how far indeed had he severed his ties long ago.
Prologue: Memories of Yesteryear
Bad intentions always seemed to make those around it succumb all the easier to it than trying a little harder to help those with good intent to triumph. It was as if all the darkness that had surrounded him for so long had consumed his heart leaving nothing but a trail of words with the intent to hurt and actions with the need to see the red flow of blood. It was an overwhelming feeling that consumed whole and asphyxiated the mind so that comprehension was not possible beyond what was already implanted there. So thorough had the decimation of self thought been encompassed into him that even the notion of killing another human being seemed like a plausible solution to a problem now. Tarnishing your innocence with a sinful act of treason to mankind was all nothing but a simple action with a purpose in mind. He had become the very evil that others had uttered about when speaking of him in hushed tones with people as he passed by. He became the very thing his father was and embodied the entire foul image that everyone dreaded of him when they saw his presence.
To think that he could break such a cycle was like telling a schizophrenic he had nothing to fear of the voices in their mind. It was now a mental disorder of his own that ate away at the restraints of his actions and thoughts. Hurting others was now second nature to him just as breathing and blinking was; a subconscious action fueled by the thoughts in the background of his mind he didnt realize existed. Just as his brain whispered to his heart to beat and his lungs to breath; it whispered for him to cause pain and agony to others. Those who had been close to him at one time spoke of guilt that should be consuming his dreams of the ones he had robbed the life from. All humans have a conscious and with that consciousness we choose the actions we commit to others therefore we choose to kill and we choose to be that way. Those were the words that were last uttered to him by what had been his truest friend in one point.
Perhaps at one point he did consciously choose to commit the heinous crimes that were a common occurrence for his life now. When that time had occurred it was but a distant memory now that was pushed away to the recesses of his mind for he cared not for them. Those memories were reminders of the life that pushed him to the place he was now, alone in a darkened room with no care for the world around him. A time that even when surrounded by people he could still not bare to show a smile of happiness to someone, a smile of weakness of the faults within his heart. Even in the arms of the ones he felt he trusted even a miniscule bit he could not let go of the constant voice in the back of his mind to keep his guard up. At one point he could recall someone trying to label the anomaly that was his demeanor by telling his father that he was afflicted with schizophrenia and that only time would change what he was. What a foolish person they had been and if only they could see how much more prevalent those manners became.
No, a schizophrenic was far from what he truly was and even once he wished that he was so that he could feel he could assimilate with those around home. As time wore on with each passing of his birthday he began to see that never he was intended to be like others. Never intended to be others, that notion had struck him when he realized that since birth he had but one purpose in life. He never knew if he had specifically been procreated for the profession that had awaited him or if it had been a haste choice in a time of need, despite what the answer to that could be it meant the same in the end. He was what he was and there was nothing that could change that.
Mercenary, it was what was whispered behind his back so that he could not see the face of those who uttered it. The fear that seeped in their voice was evidence that they did not doubt for a moment what he was or if it could be a mistake that someone like him was one. Reserved and withheld was what many thought of him at first glance but as glimpses of his life surface through the words that flowed through the air passed along long gone that assumption went. His home was perhaps the most lavish in the dilapidated building he resided in and all knew of the fact for they could see in plain view when he came in with the boxes of items he purchased. All knew what was in his home but none dared to come near the door with the intent to take not even the worst delinquents that roamed the neighborhood. A momentary gain was not worth the permanent loss of their lives.
Constant fear and solitude, he often questioned if that is what he wanted for eternity even in death when his soul wandered the bowels of hell. He had long distanced himself from any sort of connection for foolish would be the man that did so with his profession. Yes, being a mercenary meant that killing was what you were most proficient at but that did not stop someone from being better than you were. There was always that possibility that others within the same field began to fear just how good of a heartless killer you were and when that occurred not even your own shadow could be trusted.
Those he had called his friends he left behind without any goodbyes and without any mention as to where he was going with is life. Distance they had already began to see in his eyes and actions as they attempted to lure him in the sense of security among them. Smile he did not, laugh he did not, and in the end care he did not do. Letting go of this chains upon his heart was the last goal to becoming the perfect machine that he was now. No ties did he have and no feelings did he harbor that would hinder his mind of them being turned against him. It was an action he knew all too well as he had used that method to lure people, taking a persons family and loved ones was no greater way to show that your intentions were of no humor.
He always told himself it was for the best but on the occasional times he remembered that golden hair that seemed to want to rival the rays of the sun above them he could feel himself have the most miniscule sense of regret. They had been alike so much at one point as they found themselves discovering that those around them had pushed to cause them pain. They had willingly wished to cause children pain and turmoil so that the insignificant lives they lived meant a little something for a moment. They had found in one another the friendship that children cherished so much so that loneliness did not consume their hearts. It had been along the others side that he had first laughed and smiled without it being forced or untrue. Alongside them he had learned to live without so much fear and to enjoy just the simple moment in life. Alongside them he had learned that all connections were your greatest weakness in life that must be demolished.
Some days he could remember glimpses of the tears that streamed down the slightly tanned face of the one he cared about once most. The ocean blue eyes that stared into his empty ones spoke volumes of the pain and betrayal they felt. The others eyes were always the opposite of his; where his we empty shells that bared nothing to the world around him, the captivating blue always seemed like a doorway right into their heart. He always knew when the other was lying to him though for trivial things it was to preserve his feelings not being affected, he always knew. That stormy day they bared pain as tear after tear fell from them not understanding his words. The words he had uttered where intended to hurt for that was the last bond before he could disappear.
He broke the bonds of friendship that day. He broke the one thing that still made him feel a little human and not like the demon he was now. There in the simple conversations he would hold with the other he felt as if the deeds he did at night never existed despite the fact that both knew what he had done. Time would go by when neither ever mentioned the killings that would come up on the news or the days the other would wash his clothes seeped in blood. He felt that he lead two lives until the days that the other grew more concerned over him. The more scars that appeared on his body and the more sleepless nights he went through, the more pleading the other made for him to stop. The pleading to stop killing, to stop destroying himself, and to stop hurting the ones around him; they all went unheard.
More nights he spent on jobs that arrived to him and less were the days he spent along his friends. Scarce was the time any could say they had seen more than just a glimpse of him or an exchanging of more than just good morning. Distance so great between them he had created that it seemed like a permanent fissure had been made in their friendships that could never be repaired or filled again. He had achieved what he had wanted most, for no one to care for him any longer. It has been five years since that day where he ended their friendship and then disappeared but to his displeasure that face never left his thoughts. All he could be thankful for was that none could ever decipher who was in his thoughts more often than not or others. That face that he always tried to push to the back of his mind always somehow resurfaced in ways he did not expect. Now here as he stared down at the beige manila folder in front of him fate laughed at him once more. There in the small black ink read the name he had thought he had long forgotten; Uzamaki Naruto. It seemed fate would taunt him once more for enjoyment to see just how far indeed had he severed his ties long ago.