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Sometimes, if you’re in the forest, and you stop and just listen for a moment, you’ll hear something. But, futilely, you’ll try to ignore the sounds of a tortured child.

Sometimes, you’ll be tempted to console the generator of the cries. But you never do, and you never will.

Sometimes, you’ll feel guilty for ignoring the staccato screams. But, you tell yourself, it’s none of your business, and you go on with your training.

And sometimes, those screams are those of fear and pain, and you take a step in that direction, you are a shinobi and your job is to protect your village, but then you recognize the voices.

“Demon spawn! Do you think you can get away from us? You will pay for killing our friends! Die, you dirty little b*****d!”

Sometimes, you draw a kunai and are tempted to put it through the nearest cold, sadistic heart. Then, of course, you remember that the nearest one happens to be yours and slowly you shove the weapon back into your pouch, memories clouding your vision. But, what is there to remember, except the memories of a bitter battle and forcing a demon into a baby boy?

Sometimes, if you concentrate, you can drown out the sounds of sobbing with sound of your mind. But you know what you’re mind is saying, and you ignore it for all you’re worth.

Sometimes, if you squint, you can just barely see the flash of retreating orange and, soon after, the chilling cries of deranged people trying to kill an innocent. But, you know what you do? You turn back to your target and beat the s**t out of it.

And sometimes, the boy comes up to you, smiling widely and asking for food. He needs to ask, for god’s sake! You crouch down and nod, trying not to let the guilt show on your face. But, you frown, and he warily takes a step back.

“S-sorry! I’m sorry, that was rude, just demanding something from you... you must hate me.”

Sometimes, you shout after him to stop as he runs away. But years of pain and fear have instilled speed in him, doubly fueled by confusion and hurt. He’s already out of earshot, out of anything, reduced to begging before he can even read.

You could chase him.

You could chase him, and try to explain. You could try to explain that you don’t hate him, that you’re actually very proud that he can hold a whole ******** demon in him.

But, everytime, you don’t, and something dies inside of you. So turn, and go back to your training, stab and hack at your target until you can’t take it anymore, then stumble home and curl up next to your warm fire, eat your hot food, and ignore the guilt screaming inside of you.

Because, even though you are a top ranked shinobi, even though you protect the village with your body and soul, you can’t muster up the courage to help a little boy.

And, sometimes, you realize that he’s the hero and you’re just a coward, trying to hide from the obvious. That’s when you ask yourself a question.

Do you hate yourself yet?