They say you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.
He didn't know just who the hell theywere but, they weren't fooling anyone with that crock-of-shit proverb, least of all him.
It was human nature to look at something and either give a whole shit about it or pass it up with little to no consideration.
Although these days people liked to straddle the fence and pretend to be open-minded. And he gusssed...who could blame them? Everyone was so goddamn sensitive regarding personal preferences these days.
That must be where that stupid trope came from. One big proverbial bandage for the uglies of this world, to make things equal.
'You can be pretty on the inside, since your outsides look like it's been run through by a train comprised of grenades and aids.'
Internally he was smirking. He thought he'd look like an idiot smiling in front of the class for seemingly no reason.
He inhaled deeply.
A deep breath was all it took for him to adapt to almost any situation. The intake of breath felt as though he were giving birth to the new him or the him that he wanted to project most. He almost felt he was morphing into something less heavy of the burden he bared daily.
A metamorphosis was taking place, whether the people around him knew it or not.
He unclenched his teeth from impaling the inside of his cheek, the raw and coppery taste of blood excited his dullened taste buds.
"Yes sir, that's correct."
He stared blindly into the blurry mass of his classmates. What was this fuckin' class anyway? Anatomy or something? He didn't take enrolling seriously.
And from the looks of it, neither had anyone else, no one looked particularly stoked or attentive.
Continuing to play the part of expectations he rolled his shoulders back and stood with the perfect posture he almost never used when he was alone.
Being lazy had been his default mode but for the sake of appearances, he had to leave bad habits behind. Though there were some habits he just couldn't shake, his posture was easily the basic of the bunch. The more-- bestial habits simply wouldn't allow him to be cleansed of them. Some habits clung to every aspect of his life and wove themselves tirelessly through every joint in his body. But standing up straight, he could do.
"Mr. Uzumaki is joining us all the way from," the professor looked at the blonde student beside him in silent inquiry, a sheen on sweat over his brows. He was standing behind an official looking podium, reading over Naruto's tidy student file or the altered version of it anyway.
At this point, Naruto had already revealed this piece of information to professor Iruka more times than he had beat his meat just this very morning. However, he felt inclined to reiterate, if only to be over this whole ordeal and take his seat.
Being singled-out as the new student never made the tiniest bit of sense to him. It hadn't been desired by him nor his new classmates; who regarded him with seemingly thoughtless faces.
Who gave a fuck about some guy transferring in the middle of the semester anyway? Everyone would acquaint themselves with him eventually. Why did teachers want to make a spectacle of this particular event? Did it get them off?
He felt personally attacked and frankly, agitated that he had to repeat himself.
"Kyoto, Japan." He stated in a raspy baritone to his peers, his voice reached further than the first row of cluttered students. He could feel the deepness of his tone rumbling in his chest, almost like a growl trapped in his throat.
"Kyoto!" Professor Iruka sang abruptly, shadowing Naruto's words and in a horrifyingly toneless voice. The sound seemed responsible for why people often died without reason.
"Getting too old for this remembering-thing, sincerest apologies Mr.-Uh-hmph-Uzumaki." He babbled snapping his fingers, as though the light bulb in his head had finally decided to click on and return the memories of the last ten seconds when he had a similar conversation with Naruto.
The blonde offered thin grin and held the strap of his messenger bag securely.
This fuckin guy!
He couldn't help but to look at Iruka's unkempt appearance and believe the teacher had lived a desolate and god-awful-boring life, which had led him to his current career path. Around his late thirties, no wedding band, a horrible sense of fashion and easily forgetful.
Iruka was clearly someone who got in where they fit in and forgot to check-out, regrettably, it seems. He embodied nothing of what teachers were conditioned to look like, in fact, of all the faces that looked like they didn't want to be there-Irukas face was in the top five of those.
Judging from the emptiness of his beady eyes, Naruto could tell nothing-as of late- seemed to impress the guy.
It's like he's one bad day away from blowing his brains out on the chalkboard, after first flipping the class off and maybe fucking a few student. Maybe. Who knows how long it's been since the guy had ravaged someone's goods. If his looks were any indication, it's been centuries. Iruka needed pussy like, yesterday.
Hopefilly Naruto would still be attending the school to catch his untimely meltdown. It may very well be the most exciting thing Iruka has ever done with his life.
A hand suddenly clasped his shoulder faintly and Iruka came into view with what tried to be a smile but turned into something slightly mortifying.
Maybe a grimace? The face that came during a heart attack? He couldn't be sure.
"Welcome to Leafli University, we trust that you'll succeed in all your academics this year and," he droned in a practiced trans of some sort. "contribute to the livelihood of our vibrantly thriving community. This is our mission statement. That being said, I'll have you take a seat beside," he craned his small neck to squint into the masses before pointing a finger to the second row of three long desks. "the vivacious Rock Lee."
The teacher smelled like he ate the coffee grounds right out of the bag and washed it down with its liquid form. It was so potent it nearly gave him a migraine standing this close to the guy.
Caffeine had no effects on his dull personality what-so-ever.
Finally, he shuts the hell up.
With a noncommittal grunt, Naruto sauntered forward having no idea what the fuck a Rock Lee was, even less of what it looked like.
He peered towards the faces that examined him with either boredom, unfiltered curiosity or immediate regret for having looked at him too closely.
Girls shied away from his icy blue eyes, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He flashed his most debonair smile and climbed the elongated steps at the side of the classroom. He navigated towards the second row and stood conflicted for a moment or two.
He could hear Iruka already giving instructions about completing something in a workbook, his voice still monotone though it managed to raise an octave to override a few whispers that began to disperse.
"Hey new guy, Psst!" Someone hissed in a whisper. Naruto's eyes flickered towards frantic hands waving over someone's head. They were located in the middle table of the second row.
By the look of excitement displayed on the guy's unearthly face, he could tell this was what a Rock Lee looked like and boy was it a treat.
No part of it good either.
Holy fuckin-fuck. Are those eyebrows or the world's deadliest caterpillars?
It took several seconds for his legs to function. So, not only had he been put on the spot but he also had to sit next to a potential faggot with a bizarre haircut and some sort of green spandex turtleneck. The guys eyes were as big as saucers for fucks sake.
Fuck you Iruka.
Rock Lee rose out of his seat noisily, beckoning the befuddled blonde with the sweep of a gloved hand. Naruto moved with an urgency just so everyone wouldn't be looking at them and drawing conclusions like; they knew each other, fucked each other or shared brow grooming tips with each other.
He didn't associate with people like faggot brows and he had no intentions of starting. It wasn't that he was homophobic or anything, he just steered cleared of flamboyant types in general.
He always had a blatant way of expressing himself that some found sickening. The truth never seemed a valuable concept in a world full of people who wanted their feelings to be spared.
Everyone seemed to be a victim of something, one way or the other.
An arm suddenly lashed out to prevent him from reaching faggot brows.
He paused and examined the shiny red coat on someone's fingernails, it reminded him of the bloodied talons of a hawk.
His eyes swept over a girl with pink tresses of hair cascading over one of her eyes. A visible emerald orb pierced him intently before a smile touched the swell of her plump glossy lips.
If the class resembled book covers (for the sake of this whole, judging books by covers segment), she would be the book embellished with silky ivory feathers with the words, 'It's free, come hither' bedazzled on the front.
She looked like a grinning cliché as she chewed around a pen cap.
He could see the word, short and straight to the point.
It flashed welcomingly over her head like some type of marquee in front of a cheap theater. A faint smile etched itself over his lips.
"No need to go any further, there's a perfectly hot seat right here. Lee won't miss you and there's a reason he's in that desk alone soooo you can just thank me later." She stated flirtatiously, skootching towards a person who refused to accommodate their unsanctioned pairing.
Oh, is that right?
"Hinata, move over," The pink haired girl uttered viciously under her breath when it became clear the girl beside her wouldn't budge. The figure beside her was so small that he didn't understand how the pink haired girl's hefty ass hadn't knocked her over.
Her emerald eyes were sharper than daggers as they turned on the smaller girl beside her.
Even he knew the desks weren't designed for three people to cram into one booth, so he could understand why the smaller girl hadn't been in a hurry to comply to the scowling girl beside her.
The smaller girl, he decided he would call her, The Hoodie.
The Hoodie's wispy bangs obscured most of her face, she was hunched forward over an open workbook not saying a word and possibly tuning the girl beside her out.
That seemed to peeve the whore even more.
"Are you freakin kidding me right now? Just go sit with Lee," She pressed to the girl beside her, the sneer on her lips made her look rabid, "don't make a scene Hinata, you'll regret it."
Surrounding eyes began to dart towards the conflict. The chatting escalated.
Great. Now I've got to defuse this.
He really didn't need the hassle. This situation was more trouble than it was worth and on his first day.
Although he wouldn't mind it if shit got sour. It could be the highlight of his first day. A real milk fight.
He mentally chastised himself for what he was about to do because he did enjoy catty fights. Maybe someone's tit got misplaced in the brawl, maybe hoodie girl could be packing a thicc body underneath her heaps of hood.
"Hey, thats alright, she can keep the seat. I'm a big boy I can take care of myself sweetheart and besides, I wont be too far away, if that's what concerns you." He teased in his most velvety voice.
The pink haired girl snapped her neck towards him like she would protest but then resignation dawned on her face. Her brows unfurled but he could tell she was still slightly miffed about the stunt the hoodie girl had pulled.
"Mmmhm, you're funny! How about I make it up to you after class?" She suggested.
You'll do more than make it up to me, you just don't know. You shameless, shameless whore.
He didn't miss the way her tongue subtly swirled over the chewed-in pen cap. It sent a jolt of tremendous pleasure to his groin and he couldn't pass up this opportunity of communicating that with a single longing stare.
He felt his tongue rolling against the swell of his inner cheek deliciously, he could still taste his blood.
She stared right back at him, her lips quirked up with unsaid determination.
"Sounds like a plan beautiful," he says knocking his knuckles against her desk to demonstrate his enthusiasm of the idea. "See you then."
I'm going to skull fuck those tonsils out of that filthy mouth and after that, who knows.
Way too easy, he was almost disappointed. To some degree he knew it would go that smoothly. This was to be expected from girls like her, they fed on attention and admiration.
He had an eye for these types of women, there was nothing particularly compelling about them, except their expertise in giving damn-good sloppy head and things similar to that nature.
In some ways, he supposed that was the talent he valued in them.
Everyone could be useful in some way.
He hadn't had any fun in two weeks and for him, that was a record; one he didn't wish to advance any further in.
Though, advance he must-as far as penetrating goes.
He had rarely sullied his cock on strangers who right away wanted to give it up to him. It just seemed like it held no challenge to him-even though getting head from said stranger was arguably the same concept.
He thought sex was too good a fate for the stuck-up bitch in front of him, he was certain she'd crave more after he force fed her his pulsing cock. He wanted to play the long game so he'd have something to occupy his time while he settled into his scheming lifestyle.
It wouldn't hurt to know at least one person.
She'll have to suffice, for now.
He continued sidestepping towards his seat. Lee was peering down the aisle mouthing a question he couldn't make sense of, he wouldn't try to either. He intended to approach Lee like someone would an estranged cousin they had no intentions of knowing.
"You do that again, I'll slit your throat you dirty bitch." He could hear the pink haired girls voice threaten lowly, her tone darker than the bellish one she attempted to enchant him with before. He knew she had been talking to the hoodie girl. She said it so matter-of-factly that he knew it definitely hadn't been the first time she threatened the girl.
It never surprised him, the lengths most girls would go through for the attention he just provided to her. It hadn't even been long but it was enough for her to realize she wanted it. She wanted him.
Nothing was ever complicated about that type of girl, they only flaunted their tits and financial superiority over everyone else. From what he could see, she didn't have tits to flaunt but her hips were bountiful.
He could work with that.
He desperately needed to indulge in something sexual before he lost his fuckin' mind or whatever was left of it.
Just this once.
He just hoped she wasn't the type to downplay her experience or else things would get sickening fast.
If he had a dime for how often someone sucked his dick and begun with, "I don't normally- ", he would be leaving campus on his personal jet.
He slid into the booth with Lee and began to unload a composition notebook; the only thing he remembered to pack after arising from a deathlike stupor this morning.
"Hey man. I'm Lee, Rock Lee."
"So I've heard."
He sounds too proud to be the owner of such a shitty name.
"You know Sakura, Sakura Haruno?"
The voice was uneven, like the guy had just begun the early stages of puberty and his tones hadn't synced. Naruto didn't turn to address him; he shook his head and idly drummed his own against the table.
"Should I know them?" he asked irritably.
"Pink hair, really nice dsl's." Lee described with several concerning breaths. Naruto scoffed out a chuckle .
Maybe he isn't a faggot after all.
"The girl over there, what about her?"
"She talks a good game but she'll paint your balls blue all night long. She's a tease, man, like it's a hobby."
"Is she?" he asked feigning disinterest, he blandly stared at the chalk board that Iruka approached scrawling almost dramatically over its surface as though he were hashing lines in a jail cell.
"Mhm. Just thought I'd give you the heads-up buddy. Bros before hoes, right." Rock Lee commented in too expressive of a whisper. The guy could have just as well been talking normally.
It was clear to him that this faggot Lee (he had already gotten used to calling him a faggot) had been rejected by the obnoxious whore Sakura. Sakura? That was her name, for real? She even had a cute-whore name to go along with her future profession. Four years from now, provided she hadn't perished at the hands of himself or someone else, he'd be sure to visit the local strip club and pay his respects.
"Thanks bud, I uh-appreciate the tip."
He said back to Lee, hearing the humor in his own voice. It was evident Lee couldn't distinguish the tone, his face lit up in an outrageously smug grin, he even held up a thumb proudly like he had just done Naruto a solid. Like he had just dutifully told his best friend his wife was fucking the mailman.
Naruto felt his brows raised involuntarily, caught off guard by the dramatic reaction. He returned the thumb salute, hoping the freak would go back to normal. When Lee finally got back to work he noted to himself to never praise the guy again. Genuine or not.
A guy like Lee to a girl like Sakura had probably been about as desirable as gizzards were to most people; you looked at gizzards, you take a whiff of them and then you realized you shouldn't have to tolerate this type of food.
There must be something more out there...