There was a certain irony in Naruto 's soul mark that he resented as a young boy trying hard to win the approval of others. Day after day he fought and struggled for validation only to be rejected so easily with no explanation yet each time he pulled up the leg of his secondhand pants there they were, carefully printed letters in dark brown ink.

What a smart kid.

It burned in Naruto 's tiny heart that somewhere out there was another child praised so often the words were imprinted on to his skin. It burned to imagine what terrible phrases might be written about him, just the thought of them keeping him up at night sometimes as he lay alone in the dark apartment no one ever visited. Well, the old man came over sometimes but he only ever stayed long enough to give Naruto his living money for the month and then he was gone again so he didn 't really count. That wasn 't a visit; that was an obligation. Even at a young age Naruto understood

that

big word.