Atelophobia (n.)

2

[Not Edited]
[Iruka's Point of View]

They Called "It" An Orphanage

As if the child weren't problematic enough.

Having a scarred face, untamable dirty blond locks of hair, and a loud mouth, could sometimes bring people to misjudge you quickly. Actually, it could sometimes bring people to judge you perfectly, quickly. Sometimes the kid who looks bad, is bad. Simple as that. Not every kid is misjudged, some are who they are, -- troublemakers. This is simply because they were born to be this way, and unfortunately, I was born to deal with them.

"Naruto, Naruto!" I exclaimed angrily. I took the blond boy's small hand, and yanked him away from the large vanilla flavored cake. Using an unnecessary amount of force, and shocking myself.

The small blond gave me scared blue eyes, surprised by the amount of force used as well, a small bruise forming of the child's thin wrist. "Iwuka! I jus' wanted to stare at the pretty cake! Why did ya hur' me like tha'?" Mumbled the hurt five-year-old. He rubbed his small bruise, making the incident seem much more dramatic than it actually was. I still felt a tinge of guilt, but brushed it off quickly.

"You've tried hundreds of times to eat some of that cake, Naruto. The kids worked hard to make it for our guests. Why can't you get it through that thick little head of yours, huh?" I scolded the child, gently taking grip of his wrist and inspecting the injury. The bruise was barely noticeable, but still existent, and it made me feel guiltier than it should. I was supposed to help these imperfect children, not hurt them.

I bent down to open the lower cabinet, pulling out a large first-aid-kit. The children would always tease me for having such a huge one, but when they got a "boo-boo", I didn't hear anyone laughing. I took out some healing ointment, and softly rubbed it onto the injured wrist, hoping to at least ease some of the dramatic child's pain. The child seemed too engrossed in looking at the cake to notice what I was doing.

His small blue orbs were wide with admiration, looking at the sweet as if it were some hopeful deity that would grant his wishes. A small frown was held on his features, making him look awfully sad. Naruto hadn't gotten the chance to help make the cake, since the kids voted him off the cake-making-committee, and instead insisted he be placed in the cleaning-committee. Naruto did as told, and spent the day cleaning instead of baking, but he occasionally walked by the kitchen and stared at the children who were laughing and covered in flour.

I wanted him to have fun too, but he had to earn it, and lately he's been acting out more than usual. When parents would come for an open house, he would be on his worst behavior. Parents wouldn't even spare him a glance, and he'd throw the biggest fits -- he'd pull on his hair, yell, cry, scream, anything to get their attention. Some of the parents would ask if he had some sort of mental illness, or if the imperfect child was simply stupid. The comments they made would enrage me, but I knew it was Naruto's fault for acting insane.

Now that I looked at the poor boy, staring at the cake as if it were his mother, I grew hopeful. If he were to behave today - on our biggest open house yet, - he'd have a home in no time! He wouldn't have to be on any "committees", and definitely wouldn't have to deal with any other children bullying him. All he had to do was behave. Perfect parents tend to overlook imperfect children if they show some sort of potential, so if Naruto would just behave for once in his small life, he'd have a home.

"Kib said I wasn't s'pose to even look at the cake. Ain't that mean, Iwuka?" Naruto complained lamely. His little arm reached to touch the cake, but was gently pulled away by me. I looked him in the eyes, and smiled warmly, hoping to change his focus on me instead of the cake. "Forget about what Kiba said, we'll kick him off the cake-making-committee next time, then you'll make it instead, hm?" I bargained playfully, earning a grin from the child.