SUMMARY: Uzumaki Naruto was born blind, but he's always had a relatively easy life. His parents made sure he always had the necessities, but they constantly worried about him. Being blind, he faced challenges that children with sight didn't, and his over-protective parents didn't want him to have a difficult life. After some harsh words are exchanged one night, Naruto goes up to his room with his two dogs – Kurama, a certified seeing-eye dog; and Kyuubi, Kurama's twin that Naruto's mother couldn't seem to part with, despite the obvious fact that the reddish dog was head-over-heels for Naruto. When Naruto wakes up in the hospital, he is told that a fire killed his parents. Though he has no other family, he tells the hospital staff that he does and will be able to contact them when he leaves. Believing that life on the city streets of Tokyo is easy, Naruto is soon in for a terrible reality check. Once again knocking on Death's door, he's resigned to thinking that perhaps life isn't for him, until he meets a strange man that promises him something that he always thought was unattainable for him.
Author's Notes: The computer that I was writing I'm Broken When I'm Lonesome on has broken. I wasn't going to post this story until I was at least halfway through the other, but I figured I should probably give you guys something. This story has been on my mind for ages, so here it is. The beginning is quite deep, and yes, it will be rather depressing(probably not as depressing as IBWIL, but still not happy). This is just the prologue; just to get you into the feel of it, I guess. This WILL be a boy's love (Naruto and Sasuke) story, but the main focus is on Naruto's struggles, not the love part. There will not be any sex scenes of any type; only very heavy (but very infrequent) kissing. Really, the only reason it's marked 'Romance' is so no one who doesn't want to read even minor boy x boy will stumble upon it.
DISCLAIMER: NO characters are mine. All characters in this story belong to Masashi Kishimoto unless stated otherwise.
"Remember that you have only one soul; that you have only one death to die; that you have only one life... If you do this, there will many things about which you care nothing."
Isn't it amazing how little we appreciate things? No one ever stops to think, "I love the way the sun looks today." No one ever thanks their neighbor for never throwing that cigarette butt in the lawn and causing a fire. No one ever looks at their mother or father and question how life might be without them. Everything is taken for granted. Hell, even we poor bastards take our own families for granted. Our parents always die at a ripe, pleasant old age. They'll be there for our high school graduation and our wedding. They'll sit outside in the hospital lobby while our child is being born, then spoil it with expensive gifts and tell it stories. Our father will recount tales of how he heroically "walked uphill both ways, in three-foot snow, to school," and our child will look up with amazement, completely fooled.
We never stop and think that these fairytale lives might not come true. We don't appreciate our life, or the lives of those we treasure.
We don't think about the fight we had last night about something so insignificant, you can't even recall the fight the next day.
We don't think about the off-chance that, before you can apologize for screaming how much you hate your parents in their faces, something horrible can happen.
We don't think that we'll be fifteen; standing over their gravesite as they are lowered six feet under the stars, but you can't even see them; not that you ever could, of course, because light has been void of your life since you were born.
We don't consider that our two dogs – who got out unscathed – will have to be watched over by one person who can't even provide a stable income.
We don't ever toy with the idea that we'll be homeless, trying to feed three mouths, trying to keep three bodies warm and satisfied… without being able to see anything.
We don't ever think of these things, because they can't possibly happen to us.
Because, after all, "It will never happen to me," always works.