The nine tailed god:A Naruto fanfiction

In Konoha, renowned as one of the five great ninja villages, a tragic scene was unfolding. In a dimly lit alleyway, the cruel laughter of the crowd echoed through the narrow space, a harsh soundtrack to the village's darkest moment.

The once-proud symbol of peace and hope now felt as though it had been cursed by fate itself.

The air was thick with tension, and the onlookers—many of whom had once called this village home—stood with faces twisted by a mix of fear and grim satisfaction.

They watched eagerly, as if witnessing the final chapter of a long, painful story, eager to rid themselves of the nightmare they believed had haunted them for years.

"Finally, we can be rid of the demon that killed so many people. It has been seven years since I've waited for this day. We should finish this up quickly.I don't want the ninjas to interfere," shouted the leader of the mob, his voice echoing with venom as he advanced toward the crawling figure, desperately hoping for a way out.

The figure, no more than five or six years old, had a large tuft of blonde hair, with three whisker-like marks on each cheek—marks that branded him as the demon. This was Naruto.

As Naruto gazed up at the approaching man, a thought crossed his mind—not for the first time: Am I truly alone, hated by everyone in this world?

Even at seven years old, Naruto was unusually perceptive and intelligent. He couldn't ignore the fact that he was different from the other children in the orphanage. While they were given warm meals and kind smiles, Naruto was met with cold glares and neglect. He was treated differently—locked away for days, left to go hungry.

He told himself it was because of his strange features: the three whisker-like marks on each cheek and his bright, untamed blond hair. Or maybe it was because of the strange way his body healed from cuts and bruises so quickly, almost as if the wounds had never existed.

The villagers avoided him as though he carried some kind of disease. They whispered behind his back in hushed tones, their voices dripping with fear and malice.

"That boy is cursed."

"Don't let your children near him."

"The demon brat shouldn't even be alive."

Naruto didn't understand what he had done to deserve their hatred. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the loneliness gnawed at him. Why did they look at him like that? Why did they hate him so much?

No one would answer him. So, he endured. He endured the pain, the whispers, and the crushing weight of isolation. Always staying behind the mask he had cnstructed acting like a cheerful child, never letting the tears fall where others could see.Because no one cared enough to wipe them away.

Naruto was lost in his thoughts, staring at the dirt beneath his feet, when the shouting broke through his haze.

"Kill him already!" one villager roared, their voice harsh and filled with malice.

Others joined in, their cries blending into a hateful cacophony. Naruto didn't flinch at the words. He had heard them all before—heard them in whispers on the streets, in the sharp gazes of passersby, and in the venomous curses that followed him everywhere. But this time was different.

This time, they were coming for him.

He glanced up to see a crowd advancing, their faces twisted with anger and fear. They carried torches, farming tools, and whatever they could grab as makeshift weapons. Naruto's legs felt heavy, as if the earth itself was holding him in place.

He took a shaky breath, his small hands trembling. "Why?" he whispered, though he knew no answer would come.

The crowd closed in, and Naruto's instincts screamed at him to run, but his body refused to move. Panic welled up inside him, and he clenched his eyes shut, bracing for the blows that would end it all.

And then, everything changed.

A strange hum filled the air, faint at first, like a distant vibration. It grew louder, a deep thrumming that resonated through the ground. The mob hesitated, their steps faltering. Naruto felt a warmth rise from deep within him, spreading outward like a protective shield.

When he opened his eyes, he saw them—thin, glowing orange chains erupting from the air around him. They shimmered with an otherworldly light, stretching toward the crowd. The villagers froze, their expressions shifting from rage to confusion, and then to fear.

"What… what is this?" one of them stammered, his voice trembling.

The chains moved with purpose, coiling and striking in swift, precise motions. Naruto couldn't fully comprehend what was happening. All he knew was that the chains were protecting him, creating an impenetrable barrier between him and those who wished him harm.

The mob began to retreat, but it was too late. The chains moved faster than they could react. One by one, the villagers fell. The sounds of their cries were brief, quickly swallowed by the unnatural stillness that followed.

Naruto stood there, frozen, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He couldn't bring himself to look at what was left behind. All he could see was the faint glow of the chains as they hovered in the air for a moment longer before dissolving into glowing embers.

The street was silent now, the oppressive energy that had filled the air dissipating as quickly as it had appeared.

Naruto stared at his trembling hands, his mind racing. "What… what did I do?" he whispered.

Deep inside, a voice spoke, calm yet commanding.

"They sought to harm you. I stopped them."

Naruto's eyes widened, and he spun around, but no one was there. The voice wasn't coming from outside. It was coming from within.

The weight of what had just happened pressed down on him, and his knees buckled. He sank to the ground, staring at the empty street. The mob, the hatred—they were gone, wiped away as if they had never existed.

For the first time in his life, Naruto wasn't sure whether he should feel relief or terror. He was alive, yes, but at what cost? The chains had saved him, but they had also destroyed.

The voice echoed again, softer this time, almost gentle.

"You are not alone."

Naruto sat there, the faint warmth of the chains lingering in the air around him, his mind filled with questions. Who—or what—had come to his defense? And why?

Whatever the answer, he knew one thing for certain: his life would never be the same

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