Well, this was just... unexpected. So very, unbelievably, unexpected. His parent's old house was being torn down, and a whole bunch of shit he'd never wanted to see again had been unceremoniously dumped at his apartment. He'd never claimed anything from the house when his father died; he didn't want anything that he didn't already have, so coming home from the market to that mess on his doorstep was... unpleasant. Still, he figured he might be able to find some shit worth a few coin to pawn off at a local consignment shop; his mother had always lived well outside of their means, even if it meant he went hungry and cold and dirty a fair bit of the time; so he could probably make a pretty penny off some of it. Enough to pay a bill or two, anyway. He lived as frugally as possible; he'd long since mastered the arts of not eating for days on end, he didn't have a tv or anything superfluous electronics wise; his only splurge was on books, he had piles and piles of them lining the walls, most of which were second hand from a little shop up the road that traded secondhand; he'd routinely trade in hundreds of them at a time, and still be back a week later for more. Books were his escape from the shit that his life was, and he had his ways of keeping himself well stocked in new worlds to lose himself in.

Still, he genuinely wasn't expecting to come across anything related to him in the mess of boxes; however buried deep inside a box of his mother's clothing was a little lock box, the ind you keep important paperwork in; but it was a civilian model, so nothing to the deft hands of a ninja, especially one that self-trained in lockpicking. So it was, he was sitting on the futon pad he called a bed, staring at records of his life that he never thought existed.

His birth certificate. His medical records. Those exploded his mind, he couldn't remember ever seeing a doctor in his life, but here they were, records up through about three years old; were they suddenly just stopped after a major hospitalization that he'd never been told about.

But the next bit explained that.

Adoption papers.

He was adopted.

A metric fuckton of things suddenly made way to much sense. Just.... so many things, so much sense.

Especially after his recent... discovery. Sure, he'd always been good with water chakra, and showed some proficiency for earth chakra, but he was suddenly able to innately use Wood Release.

He new he had Senju family; but this was ridiculous. There was no reason he should have been able to use Wood Release, his Senju family wasn't direct blood relations; mostly cousins and such that weren't in his direct lineage. Or so he'd been told his entire life.

His parents... his real parents.

His real parents were Senju.

His real parents were his aunt and uncle that he'd never met. Not that he could remember. The aunt and uncle that his parents had hated for reasons they'd never told him; that the rest of his family loved so much but always seemed to hate him and he didn't know why. Why did his family hate him so much?

Now it made sense.

They loved his parents, but his parents had died and he'd lived, and everyone hated him for it.

Hell, he hated himself for it; now that he knew the truth.

He was just a useless waste of humanity, yet he'd survived while his (talented, perfect, powerful, useful loved, they'd been so loved but he wasn't) parents had died, and his mother's step-sister had taken him in; but why? Why did they do it? Why take in a child you hate?

More records, more information...

Inheritance paperwork. Legal documents. All nearly above his comprehension, but he was able to get enough from them.

His mother had stolen his inheritance. His birth parents had left him a small fortune, and his adopted parents had squandered it before he was five years old. Enough money for him to live comfortably for his entire life.... gone in less than two years. He couldn't even be angry about it, he didn't remember the money or the good times, and it was long gone by now; there wasn't even a legal recourse to get it back, his adopted parents were dead and had been for years.

No, his anger was in that no one had ever told him. Not one. He'd spent his entire life hated and hurting and alone and no one told him why. No one told him the truth. He could confront them now, and they'd lie to his face, he was sure of it. There was no reason to lie anymore, but at the same time... to tell him the truth would be a kindness, and kindness wasn't for him, not for him; not for the waste of life that took their beloved sister and brother and cousin and family away; not for the monster that was left behind. No, suffering. That was what he deserved, to suffer and rot and die alone and hated and cold and angry and hurting.

Justice was a cold, cruel thing for people like him.

He needed air.

He needed to get out his tiny, cramped apartment full of his sorrows and all of this knowledge he didn't want; it almost hurt more to know the truth than to not. Almost. He'd always been of the camp that believed that knowledge was sacred and should be shared whenever possible; but he was slowly coming to terms with the concept of how badly that sharing could hurt when it finally happened. Not a concept he'd wanted to understand, ever. It was easier to believe that knowledge was good and cleansing and a happy thing; to have it tainted like this... unfortunate, but it had to happen eventually. Everything happened eventually.

He packed away the documents carefully; he'd need them when he went down to change his information with the ninja registry; he'd have to now that he knew the truth, it'd be too much of a hassle otherwise if he was going to explore his new found reality and abilities at all. His backpack was left behind, he wasn't going to be gone for too long, or so he planned, anyway; he just needed a walk about the village. Just... air. Some air. That's all. A little air.

Time to think.

Yeah.

-EXIT-

WC: 1145

750/750 E0-D0 PER
225/225 E0-E2 STR
75/75 E0-E1 END

95 remaining