Uzumaki Naruto opens his eyes groggily and looks out the window. It is, as usual, a perfect day. It rarely rains here- when it does, only at night.
It’s Sunday. No academy. Go out and find something to do, annoy everyone, be ignored and sleep the rest of the day. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing unlike every other day of his life since he can remember- the difference being that on weekdays he only annoys his teachers and classmates. On Sunday he can make a fool of himself for everyone else as well.
He stares at his hand and winces; something cut his hand during the night. Not that it matters much. He’s always had the ability to heal quickly, before he goes out he’ll be fine.
Naruto shoves himself out of bed and to his table. He takes out a cereal box of indeterminate origin, slops some into a bowl, and begins to eat mechanically. The cereal he either stole or did an odd job to buy. He can’t remember which- he’s done both for everything else he owns.
The people outside are happy and together and noisy. He’s never quite figured out why he can’t seem to fit into the crowds on the street and he’s gotten too used to it to question. If he were a more poetic person he would compare himself to oil in water, but he’s not so he doesn’t.
He dresses- quickly, because he’s fully awake now- and looks out the window again to feel a familiar pang of jealousy. Some people don’t even know how lucky they are to have anyone who really cares.
When Naruto was younger he didn’t get it- was somewhat quiet and just didn’t understand why nobody wanted to play. He had cried a lot back then. He doesn’t cry now because it doesn’t get you anywhere and anyway there’s a lump in his throat that stops him when he wants to.
People don’t like him because he isn’t strong enough. He has to be a shinobi so that people will acknowledge him- that’s at least what half of him thinks. The other half just laughs and mutters that it doesn’t matter; people are going to hate him no matter what and he’s failed academy once already and he might as well give up…
Naruto shoves his unused goggles over his head and walks to the door. He stops short of opening- he’s forgotten his most important duty in the morning. He runs back and digs into a dresser drawer.
The mirror is old and unframed- really just a shard of reflective glass, something that becomes streaked with dust no matter how often he uses it because he’s gotten into the habit of shoving it beneath everything else.
He looks critically over his reflection, just once. Blue eyes and hair that’s not blonde so much as yellow. Whisker like birthmarks on both cheeks that make his face look clownish. Face staring out from somewhere like a cry for help.
Naruto shakes his head vigourously and turns to adjust his facial features, the same way he has every day of his life. He beams animal-like into the mirror and, making sure it looks decent, runs out the door to look for… something.
Fox smile- A smile that conceals both your eyes and your feelings. A smile to hide what really goes on in your mind.