A Subtle Shift

8| Ball of Torture

Naruto has always been alone.

From day 1 up until three days ago on his 16th birthday. It wasn't particularly something he enjoyed, rather, something he preferred. Why, you may be wondering. Well, to Naruto, people only ever meant troubles and sorrows. At the end of the day, it was his own village that shunned him the most, and he'd come to terms with that.

People only held him back, which is what Kurama kept nailing into his head, and to be honest, waking up everyday in the state he was in was a daily reminder of that.

He held no one dear to him, not until the events that occurred in the span of three days.

And now—now that he had a taste of what it felt like to love somebody... that'd be his gravest mistake, for it was that very love he was deprived of that would hit him the hardest.

The scream Akira had let out—one of tremendous pain, fear, and sadness all mingled together in a gut-wrenching melody. It was one that would haunt Naruto for years to come.

The tiny redhead coughed up handfuls of blood, falling to her knees as Daichi finally let her go, ripping out the kunai and inflicting more damage while he was at it.

Control was no longer something Naruto had. He exploded into his chakra cloak, his pupils slitting into those of a fox as he flickered behind Daichi, landing a devastating blow to the back of his head. The man's body was flung far, but before he could crash into the ground, Naruto flickered once again in front of him, shoving his fist into the man's face.

The Rasengan erupted into a ball of haste in Naruto's right hand and he plunged it for Daichi's stomach, landing the assault. Daichi was sent flying, destroying trees as he flew through them, coughing out blood. He crashed into the soil, nearly creating enough energy to completely dig a hole from where he landed.

Naruto's mind had been consumed by nothing but rage and fury. Kakashi's words about staying level-headed was completely out the window, the words of wisdom shattered by Naruto's wrath. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his arms flexed harder. This overwhelming anger—it was too much. Too much to handle that at one point, Naruto didn't feel like himself. But it wasn't even Kurama's anger—it was his own.

She needed me, and I wasn't there. She's going to die all because of my wishful thinking. This is my fault, my fault.

Naruto flickered in front of Daichi. He already had a black eye forming and both his cheeks were bruised as he laid submerged in dirt. It was clear he was flickering in and out of consciousness, but Naruto didn't care—he was nowhere near finished.

With ridiculous amount of chakra levels surging through every vein in his body, Naruto grabbed Daichi by his collar, gripping it to the point where it was difficult for the man to breathe. He choked out, clawing at Naruto's wrist, but the Jinchuriki had no intention of loosening his grip.

"Die," Naruto sneered, and with that he slammed the barely-conscious body into the dirt—not once, not twice, but thrice. Each time, Daichi was raised up and looked worse. Naruto threw him into the ground, releasing him of Naruto's throat-crushing grip. He raised his right hand, another Rasengan glowing brightly in his palm, but there was something different that time. Wind spirals were added to it, almost in a shape of a shuriken.

Naruto plunged it for Daichi's heart, crying out in anger as Akira's painful scream echoed in his mind. The only thing he could think of was killing this man.

He didn't care of the consequences.

Before Naruto could even land the finishing blow, strong wood that seemed to come at him from all angles encircled him over and over again as if knowing a simple binding just wasn't going to cut it. Naruto fought against the wood viscously, his attacks relentless and never ending, but so was the wood, and eventually, Naruto was stuck in a massive sphere with him at its center.