This is my first fic so please review!




Chapter One

Eyes always stared from everyone, from everyplace. They are always there you see; even when you try to run they follow. It's because they're afraid, afraid of me. Uzumaki Narue, Container for Kyuubi no yokoi. The thing is they can't understand the CONTAINER part. So everyday I'm in pain. Everyday I wait for someone to save me, to notice what is happening. Nobody does, no matter how hard I try to get them to notice, they do not. It's all because of the Jinchuuriki name; I was a Human Sacrifice, nothing more. At least not until that day, that day that it all changed.

'I wonder what Ojii-san wants.' Narue thought as she wandered down the middle of the street towards the towering pillar that is the Hokage tower. Avoiding all the people easily, the 6 year old child sped up at the thought of seeing her favorite person. She did notice though, all the glares and growls she had always gotten were becoming more venomous and hated.

The villagers were pausing in the street watching her walk, like vultures on the prowl. Becoming slightly apprehensive, Narue quickened to a jog and then a full blown out run. The villagers threw all things they could get their hands on; a broken bottle nipped the young girl's cheek, leaving a faint red line.

Tears were streaming as shouts and cries came from behind her, following in anger and hatred. Taking a wrong turn, the girl ended in an alley, blocking her from the street was a wall of angry villagers and shinobi, armed and dangerous to a 6 year old child. Tears blurred her vision of the mob,making them seem like they were underwater, and frightened breathing ripped into and out her chest.

One man started it all, walking forward with a block of wood in his hand, his face split in a cruel smile, revealing his crooked teeth. "Time to play demon brat!" He ran forward, and the screams of the small girl went unheeded by the Anbu squad sent to watch her. They watched from the roof above the alleyway, making to move to do their job.

Walking down the street, the white haired old man whistled a merry tune. Just recently he had caught a peeping masterpiece in one of the village's onsens. A group of young, beautiful women decided to go to the hot springs all together at once.

Jiraiya's pen had gone on a rampage in his research notebook, and many of the women confessed to hearing strange, girl-like giggling on the other side of the onsen wall.

Catching sight of a gathering crowd around a rather random alley opening, he grew curious and started toward it. It did not take too long before the Sannin was in hearing range, and what he heard made his brow furrow in confusion and apprehension.

"Die you demon!"

"Go back to hell where you belong!"

"This is for taking my father's life!"

Such yells and worse were thrown into the sky, yelled in anger and hate. Roughly pushing his way to the front, Jiraiya nearly gagged at the sight before him.

A girl no less that 7 was laying in the middle of the mob, arms trying to feebly cover her head. Two large men were holding her torso down as another knelt over her. The others around them were throwing many different objects, all of which were sharp and all of which hit their destination, the girl.

Blood seeped from wounds all over her body, bruises, welts, slices and other such things made her face unrecognizable. Her limbs were mangled and seemed broken in many places. Her hair had either been chopped off or pulled out, for it was matted with blood and uneven in length. Her life-fluid poured over the dirt of the road, it sickened him to no end, and he had never seen so much blood coming from one person.

The thing that shook Jiraiya the most was that her eyes were open and alert. She had been awake through this torture and now was watching behind tears, as a stranger, whose face showed her only anger, hate and sadistic happiness at her suffering, raped her, and spit curses into her face.

Jiraiya felt his insides curl and cringe at every new injury the girl sustained; at every bloodcurdling scream that erupted from her mouth. A feeling that Jiraiya had not felt since the Kyuubi attack began to swell and grow inside his chest. Blue chakra could be seen swirling around him, and his long white hair bristled with the energy.

Appearing beside the men holding her down, he only allowed them to see his raging face before they never saw again. The crowd slowly quieted as they noticed the old man crouching over the girl, tenderly picking her up in his arms, and holding her still against his chest. He was turned away from the mob, and his shoulders shook.

A few of the shinobi in the crowd recognized him and in hushed whispers informed the rest. Standing, Jiraiya tried to control his shaking body. He resisted the urge to turn around and decapitate all of their ugly heads. It would not bode well for him if he started killing the villagers, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Jiraiya-sama! Have you come to kill the demon?" an anonymous voice called out from within the crowd. Apparently that's what made him break. Letting all his chakra reserves go, Jiraiya allowed his chakra to go AWOL on the mob. It flattened them all onto their backs, causing most to soil themselves at the pure level of killer intent and anger embedded in it.

Panting slightly when it had died down, Jiraiya quickly hopped to the rooftops, making his way to the hospital in angry sannin fashion. As in he blasted any barriers in his way, such as fences, clothes lines, walls, and leaving craters where he sets his feet down.

I'm sure you can gather at least one bit of info from that, basically:

…Jiraiya was pissed.


Thank you for reading this, and I promise it gets better.