"Naruto-kun." The serious toned voice was obscured by whom spoke it, though he could not bid surprise; the memorial service had only just ended. All around were walking away with either high held heads in a rather corrupted depiction of determination and false bravery. Others were slouched low and speaking only to their loved ones beside or the ground as it listened without judgement. There were mixes of the two, attempts made then failed, tears wiped and a lift of the chin, to fall quickly, a showcasement of inner strength waning fast only for tears to flow and a quake of the limbs for grief beginning. The man in front of him was under the last category though he was standing without bowed posture at present.Gazing upon him with a mixed express that could not be defined properly- though with the grieving of the moment, Naruto knew he had no true wish to- because within all the eyes around, he could only see inside them a reflection of blame; whether that was in truth or merely the cruel vision he saw himself in reckoning. Lee's himself did appear torn, perhaps in withholding his own wish to cast emotion, perhaps for not knowing how to express it; and wasn't such a thing a worse effect of war's bitter touch? Lee, not showcasing his true emotions.

Naruto forced himself to remain still and not contemplate the thought, it would dive him further down into whatever spiral he had begun for himself. "I cannot blame you for this. I cannot." The blond could not find the tears within to cry for the statement, his mind could not fathom the words- their impact for unto his ears he heard only falsity; not from the taijutsu expert before him, it was false because his head only spoke it was untrue. A comforting lie, because in fact, in all logic, it was him who was to blame. Perhaps that was why his body shook instead, and his eyes found only the colour of black on his former comrade's mofuku to stare at. Knowing how wrong it appeared, yet had nothing to say for it. There were many persons he had no want to meet during or after, and Lee was high upon that list. Facing the man after what had occurred just recently, clenched at him, bit vile words into his mind so corrupted to think them as a shinobi was shamed. Hearing console from one whom had lost so tragically because of him was hardly bearable, it punched hard.

"You cannot either Naruto-kun." Lee was simply too nice a person, and the Uzumaki did not believe his words, it was kindness that flowed. There could be no candour. His eyes were not gazing at the man, only the bleak black on his person, he did not notice when it came close- he did not feel the warm press of a hand on his shoulder for a moment neither. Yet whence he did, for all his experience as a shinobi, for all his knowledge of reflexes and perception; the hand on his shoulder jolted him fast. It was not on his mind to scream for the contact, he did, he screamed out- perhaps only briefly, but it still did occur. It occurred as he slapped the hand off fast and fell onto the ground, painful with the dirt digging and scraping at his legs and rear just outside his too thin, cheap bought, mofuku. Such dark midnight irises only managing to stare up at the other for fear, recognition plain, but it was not his friend he saw. His clothes were black- obscure, his eyes were black, his hair was black- ruffled, disorginized, and not quite right, but too similar. It blurred evermore as his head became fuzzed, his chest rising and falling too quickly for any shinobi to not comprehend the reason.

"Naruto-kun!" The shout was fogged by the ring in his hearing, but he knew it occurred as the other man dropped infront of him, panicked gaze more clear then anything else in his vision. He choked on his own saliva and clasped his eyes shut against the worry he saw within coal irises, that which he did not want to see. "You must-" The vague voice was rapid, uncertain and mumbling to itself hurried questions. "-please, please calm down Naruto-kun, please- I know- I know-" rushed out in a scare. Then, Naruto found himself incased in a gentle warmth, so carefully placed, an embrace where each touch was light. It shocked him enough for his breath to return to him, body quaking, and eyes blurred for lack of oxygen. Understanding did not come as easily; he was being held, Lee was hugging him as if he were about to break for touch. This is what he knew, though it was wrong to his mind, he took the offer- for once, and pleaded for forgiveness as he clutched fast onto the man. The muscles prominent underneath the layers of fabric, shifting as he held tighter, just as Naruto did. Scared for a sudden retaliation, but wanton for the comfort, he could not bid himself to losen his grip. Every limb, everything that he was, trembled, and he could not get his body to corporate.

.o0o.

It was only now that he knew he had a panic attack. Though that was for not of ignorance of their feeling, in his life he had experienced them too many times to properly count, but he had always thought them normal. Even after the academy, his two year training, all, he had considered them a common facet. It was, to those shinobi suffering from too much trauma; that was an understanding that all from the academy and above were taught in no uncertain terms, that they might have to kill enemies, that death was to be expected in all quarters and such reactions would happen upon occasion. Thinking upon the mourning day in hindsight, he was not embarrassed for his reaction, in the mindset he had been in then, he knew where he had been- and those shamed thoughts were so close to coming into fruition, if he had not broken down only to cry into his friends arms; it was entirely possible they would have. Still, darkly thought, it weren't as if there would be anyone to harbour the sting of his dishonour. Never had there been.

He passed by the academy.

He passed by the bridge.

He passed by the book store.

Each landmark causing a flinch to splinter sensation physically and mentally. The sun shining too bright on his skin once more. Though his eyes strayed to the playground, rather lax in their want to see; and quickly turning back to the road in seeing the coil of smoke spiraling up from the steps. A year having passed, it did not matter, there were people he still dare not confront directly. His lip faced abuse as his nipped at it with nerves, in silent hope he had not been noticed. Really the list of those he had no want to face any longer was too long to properly consider; yet all the names -of those he knew- continuously flashed before his eyes in red blurs tainted by blood. Those dead for his name, those dead for the protection of a man that no citizen within their cherished village wished alive, his value was not so high that the death toll should reach numbers far further then his life expectancy. So many friends- former friends, had lost for him, people, things, their own lives, their loss charring all those remaining. Shikamaru, sitting in silence with a cigarette limp hung from his lips and a slouched posture, elbows on his knees; he was one he could not bare to face. His teacher, his friend, gone for his sake. The man had been a precious friend to him once, one who never bore a grudge or hatred towards him, and now Naruto could not muster courage enough to face his regard.

He wasn't noticed. The relief therein brought, to a proper man, should not have been so great.

In reaching his apartment, he stepped careful up the stairs, all too aware of the weakened wood remaining. The rail was still crooked. Upon entering he closed the door with sensitivity, before cautiously trying to straighten it slightly on the hinges as it listed to one side. The metal was of no strong make and there a welded area in the upper clasp. No doubt from the heat; not aided to grasp by the hole in the wood just next to it, there was another one at the bottom, and he had been reluctant to make a new door- buying a new hinge would be too expensive, nye impossible in Konoha's market. He put his bag on the counter without bothering to put anything in place, all of his cabinets were burned as it was. He no longer had a table, so he sat on the floor- his mattress was gone anyhow, he needed a moment to contemplate, come up with a type of plan for the rest of the month. The food he'd gotten was minimal, even spreading it out to one meal every other day it would last only two weeks. It was only mid September, his chance of gaining another mission were so menial he held no particular hope for the prospect. In considerance he had pondered the abstract thought of aiding Ino in the flower shop, he did love flowers and gardening, he would not be unsuited. Yet he would, for his presence would due harm unto her business, and that understanding had him forgo the entire idea. Ino would be licencing the store to another within a month or so regardless, while she trained and became integrated as a member of the Intelligence & Interrogation unit, he would not be accepted by anyone but her running the establishment, asked- fired immediately.

There was ash covering the orange of his pants, blackening the colour of his jacket where leant against the wall, a spot where it had been partially burnt. Still he leant back against it and made no care as to the state his clothes were coming to- staring blurrily at the other corner of the room, and not truly paying attention to his own thoughts. Just, allowing himself the soothing pleasure of not acknowledging anything. Though rather pathetic for the circumstance of a shinobi, there was a betterment in merely laying still and allowing things to blur around, it was a good escape he'd found.

Sitting still, within himself, was not a peace he could uphold for long, least death follow swift. In standing he made no attempt to brush at the fabric, no attempt to shake or brush the ash away it'd stick to his fingers in a darkened char far too telling; he'd be laying to sleep in the substance as it was. He stood, coughing from the powder lingering in the air when he accidentally elbowed the wall. It had only been a day since it had been burned, there was a strand of shock for the fact, covered grievously by the simple comprehension that he was not- it had been planned for awhile. Coming back to the ashes of his home after he had been told by a sympathetic jounin that his house was on fire, had been no pleasant experience. Yet, he had mellowed himself from reaction, had he worn a rather vacant expression? Perhaps. Had he gotten angry or cried? No. He'd looked to the ground, pulled his shoulders taut and walked up the stairs without glancing at the smug faces he knew were near.

Macabre as it were, when he had been to young for the academy, but old enough to live alone, there had been a similar circumstance; it was difficult to recall. He had panicked grievously, hit his head when he tried to run out, his limbs had been far too clumsy to properly propel him then. In truth, he had only come to the memories recently, in young age possibly having been repressed. Oh, but they came so bitter, not merely for the knowledge that it had occurred; but for the fact he remembered whom his rescuer had been, one who had fretted for his wellbeing afterwards, pet his his hair and held him when he had been in hysterics; crying, panicking, shaking, scared. He could remember newly, the man pulling away slightly and tending to his own rather bad burns, but not once scowling. Naruto could recall shaking and crying more for the sight of the reddened skin he sported, feeling responsible, and probably a little afraid the man would retaliate. Yet, seeing this he had been cast the warmest smile he knew he had ever gotten back then- and for years afterwards.

It was so sour; to realize he recognized the swift long black hair, the sweetened, smooth baritone was one he knew. "Are you alright Naruto-chan?" He wanted to cry for the memory alone, be angry at it for coming far to late; perhaps if it had come sooner so much would have been better. He would not have been able to see the man in the same way as he had been gulled to, he would have questioned things. Made an effort to find the lie, the reasoning behind deception, because maybe then, so much would be so much better. He hardly knew the man, but by all, he wished Uchiha Itachi still lived. Though it was intentioned, though he couldn't have known, the guilt weighed on him with an intensity, it was on occasion a struggle to merely gasp for air with all the names flowing through his head. Despite his own ignorance and near no memories of Sasuke's brother, the effect of his death held high in his regrets. Of all, he would be more then capable of bringing forth change; and if he'd paid attention, if he'd remembered, maybe he could have been saved.

Ready to take his food and simply go to sleep, his fingers had barely touched at the paper bag before his mind shifted. He pressed his lips thin, almost painful as his hand fell to his side. It was slow, creeping, but his hand drew up his leg- it was a tease more unto himself then any other could understand. Was it a joke unto his own mentality, grimly, yes, he could laugh but he felt no want to. His fingers tickled at his thigh as they hardly made enough friction on the fabric to create sensation, he reached back, rather desturbed that his hand was not shaking for thought. Pulling gently, there was a click from behind him sounding loud in the silent chamber. Hesitating, momentarily for comfort or respect, he unzipped his jacket with his left hand, his right resolutely staying at his back- somewhat for the small fear he might change his mind should he actually move it. Drawing his hand down was difficult when the zip kept sticking in place, it irked at his mind, seemingly drawing everything out far to long. Then he had it done and the fabric pooled around his elbows as he shrugged it off his shoulders. His hesitance was from trepidation, and he swallowed hard with frayed nerves, allowing himself the luxury of one long inhale.

Then gripped tight, a punishing grip not allowing the cold to faze him, before he swiftly sped and jammed the metal into his chest. With sharpened pain, he near let the kunai clatter to the ground, instead however, despite his body screaming, he pushed deeper in. Wincing heavily, such that he could feel the tension lines within his face with an annoying vigilance he did not want. There was blood sticking the fishnet he wore, in breathing it became more struggled to take in breath- regardless of his lacking desire to do so, instinct was to prominent for him to deny. Kyuubi's chakra was not surrounding him, was not purposefully activated nor accidentally, and it should not be inclined to heal his severe wounds to his minimal understanding, he hoped. He pushed further, almost wishing to hear the small taring of his flesh as he proceeded. He winced with ever motion, of himself, of the blade, so attuned to his surroundings that he could hear the very slight sound of blood dripping slowly to the ground. Still, he cursed himself, his hand, his survival instinct had slowed his motion, he hadn't gone clean through quickly as intended. Ire burning under his skin for his own weakness, the entire motion was supposed to be hurried, unbothering. His aim had been for his throat.

Reluctant, he dropped the blade. There was scarce a sound as it fell to the burned flooring, his eyes, cobalt under the darkness of his room- watched it, and just as swiftly, he felt the familiar prickling sensation of his flesh returning to normal.

.o0o.

"Uzumaki." There had never been an honourific attached upon his name when in crossed paths with the council- yet he held the small inclination in selfish want, that there should be- if only the most simple. He gave no smile whence turning to face their pinched expressions, still, he knew better then to allow anything but pleasentry slip upon his face. Why they come to him was a mystery, in commonality he would be summoned unto them; then facing the ill-used halls with wandering ANBU and the continuous prickle along his neck from the scrutinizing stares from mask hidden eyes. Were it any other, he might be inclined to assume they were bestoying upon him a kindness- however, it was the Council, they were not gracious people. Waiting for them to speak was best, should he do so himself it would be contrived as insult, as he had discovered just after having been put into team seven. "We have been informed that you have been speaking with Yamanaka Ino." He paused his decorous expression, pinching lines coming into his brow, of all things he had expected them to mention; his companionship with Ino had not been one of them. Moreof, they're interest painted a jarring portrait.

Lying however, would prove monotonous, his word held no true weight against those of their ANBU informants. "Yup!" The strain within his voice may have made itself pronounced; better however, then allowing them to fully see the dour expression he so wanted to betray. There were none worse to confront directly then those whom controlled the propaganda and viewpoints of the village, one misplaced express, tainted mannerism, and it would become well known that he had been disrespectful unto the high-held elders. The air shifted slightly with his honesty, not by much but the lines surrounding their faces creased downwards, evidence enough, and Naruto knew that he would be affected by their reaction.

Homora's brow creased, not quite in a glare as he licked his lips with an almost nervous edge. "We would ask you to cease." His opinion upon their 'request' was no doubt shown as he could feel his glower manifest- he was staring them down quite visibly. For it was truth; the council did not ask for anything, they ordered and they demanded; and there was no demand of theirs that was not obeyed. Indeed, despite what many commonplace villagers assumed in their meandering lives, within the shinobi hierarchy it was an unspoken knowledge that the council held the most power. The only one who could refuse was the Hokage; and such a circumstance was fair more rare then it ought, because angering them was typically not worth the risk intertwined. Most shinobi held high regard for the elders, being as they were former students of the Nidame. Indeed the late Danzo had his own organization- by theory, they could form a coup without any consequential resistance. Naruto, was the person of the least influence within Konohagakure, for him to reject their order would be scurrilious unto him. Retaliation would be done in force, with no cojetation, pointed to slander his name ever further. That understanding had him pause briefly, even as his teeth grit painfully, and his brows pinched so far they twitched.

He breathed in deep then, his inhale sharp with breath that could cut. "No." Despite his ardent want to yell forth the words, spike them enough so that the entire village would comprehend his indignation; he spoke so with an average tone and voice, not daring to chance his fate supplementary, nonetheless denying them of their brazen rule- to the extent it pertained unto him. Even so, a hesitation came to him with his denial, he knew his situation plainly, and comprehending that, did slow his ardiancy. Lips feeling dry and rock wedging into his esophagus, it was an effort not to shift his gaze. "Why?" He had spoken in the wrong order he knew. What earned for his questioning were glares, rather then the simply air hung disgust surrounding their feeble bodies when confronting him.

However, just as Koharu's indignance began to overcast her previous indifferent expression. Homora lifted a simple hand within her direction in pacification; and Naruto breathed a slight sigh for relief, he had always been the smallest bit more rational then his counterparts. Regardless of his own obvious opinionation that the council should be obeyed, he did typically provide an explaination for their actions. "Yamanaka-san will shortly begin full training for the II unit, it would be...inappropriate for her to fraternize with you." The reasoning should not have jolted him, yet it did, it effected him, it piqued him.

"What?! Do you really think she'll tell me any info she gets there?!" His rationality had slipped minorly, and while he did not shout he was no doubt loud. Eager to speak her part, Koharu stepped forward with a smug tilt to her chin and a arrogant posture that displayed her opinion without a need for words.

"Not willingly." During the war, he had been faced terror. Hearing the thrashing sound of the air in a tunnel above them, breath sucked from his lungs. Sweat thick and potent on his suddenly frigid skin as it dripped down his face- down his neck, uncomfortable under his collar. Trembling in shock and fear, choking on his own gasping inhales. Not able to blink, staring at the sky. Watching a meteorite falling from above, posed to cursh them all, snuff out their lives with a quick crunch of bones and the popping sound of their organs bursting free, becoming unidentifiable mush within the sand. Witnessing that, the experience was similar enough with the dread clawing into his mind presently, an invisible wire pulling his air away as it incircled his lungs- his chest to the point of cutting, unable to properly breathe.

"You think that- that I would- that I would blackmail her to tell me your stupid secrets?!" He forced himself to shout, the wire sinking deeper into his organs. He was hardly breathing, only through stuttered gasps, his body was shaking for it. Waiting for response, but he was given none, merely hardened stares, so plain in their disdain. "I've fought for the village my entire life! You seriously think I would try to- to-" a growl escaped him. A crunch in his mind with the probing instinct throwing fresh unto him, speaking to attack. Burning and familiar enough to recognize the pit of his anger and Kyuubi's inevitable response therein. Blockaded by action however, an abrupt, firm, grasp upon his body, four hands pulling back his shoulders, while two more gripped his arms and yanked them behind his back in an unsympathetic motion. Aching for the action, he made the attempt to shift, throw them off with a sudden more powerful movement, but the sting of metal on his wrists had him exhausted and it jarred all his struggle. Chakra binding shackles. To look, there were two ANBU shinobi poised in front of the council members, defensive and through the small slice at the eyeline of their masks it was impossible to tell when they blinked- if. Three were around him, his strength having been minimalized, though not foregone and his legs attempted to counteract their forceful pull.

"Such a brazenly threatening action against citizens is illegal, you will be brought to the Shi no Machiaishitsu for a few days to calm down, then you will be punished appropriately for your attempt to use the Kyuubi within the village walls." There was no emotion present in their voice, and Naruto opposed that with an snarl of spleen.

"Oh yeah! You sure weren't complaining about my 'display' when I saved the village from Pein!" A sensation crunched within his abdomen, a terrible pressure, caving in as earth on a faultline.

"There weren't walls then." A mockery so blatant, that Naruto found his jaw snapping shut for the cruel humour.