234 Fanfic #234 Monsters are made (Not Born).by hatredwithpassion(NarutoXAttackOnTitan)

This fanfic is a crossover between Naruto and Attack on Titan following Erin reborn as Naruto. I really like this fic because it has interesting perspectives on Konoha and it really develops it's own story elements.

Synopsis: "There is no freedom in being a shinobi!" The boy spat, his cerulean gaze enraged as he glared ahead. "I am no different than cattle, following orders, forced to serve, tethered to this village I despise. Tell me, how is this freedom?" - "The Child Who is Not Embraced by the Village Will Burn it Down to Feel its Warmth". Eren Yeager thought his journey ended in the final battle, that he could finally find peace in his death. But he traded one cage for another, finding himself reincarnated in an unfamiliar world. Reborn again, this time as an outcast, an orphan, an unloved child hated by everyone around him. His new name is Uzumaki Naruto.

Rated: M

words: 102k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32192446/chapters/79769983

Here's the first chapter:

The man felt like he was floating, his body felt weightless and detached. An innumerable amount of memories were flying by him. The memories created a cacophony of noise and there was a distant sound of crying echoing around him. The images continued to flash by. They were overlapping one another, they were becoming more distorted and the sounds growing more incoherent. The sounds of terrified screams, cries of pain, rumbling and explosions permeated through the dark space. The dissonance of sounds echoed from the memories. He heard a name being spoken again and again, sometimes in a fond tone, other times in an exasperated intonation. The images shifted and the name was followed by screams and finally anger and heightened grief.

Eren Eren Eren.

He gazed upon the vague memories and saw a young child with eyes like glittering emeralds and thick sandy hair; a young boy who woke up alarmed crying from a nightmare, his sister, a young girl with hair as dark as the night and overly mature eyes peered down at him in concern. He tried to reach forward to the memory to grasp it but it slipped away like streaming water. The sounds of the girl's voice was drifting away. He held onto her name desperately.

Mikasa.

He watched solemnly, feeling torn as the memories began shifting more rapidly, memories of who he was drifting by him. He knew deep down that those memories belonged to him. He saw himself as a young boy, standing in the cold, outside an old rundown cottage. His small form was bloodied and he was glaring angrily at his father as the man stared back at him with wide eyes, eyes that conveyed concern and held an inkling of fear. He heard the distorted sound of his own voice, rebuking his father's claims that he had killed men.

I disposed of some dangerous beasts. Mere animals that just happened to resemble humans.

The memory slipped away before he could grasp it. The image of his father disappeared like quicksand. He did not get his name...What was his father's name? He felt sick with loss. He did not get to say goodbye; he never got to thank him for raising him. Everything around him grew darker. The small fractions of light was omitting from the shifting images that flew by. The memories moved at a quicker speed, the years passing away in a flurry of unclear scenes as he watched himself grow older, always accompanied by his sister and a friend. More memories became imbedded into his mind. He saw a young boy with inquisitive eyes like the calm seas and hair like the shining sun.

Armin.

He held onto the name tightly as his heart clenched in pain and longing.

Armin, Armin, Armin.

He watched as the years passed by and he grew older, faced many terrors and became hardened by an ugly and cruel world. He watched as he grew into something hated, something vile that invoked fear in those around him. A monster, a demon, a titan. He watched the memories of people running in fear, of him being chained and shackled, of his humanity being questioned.

What are you?

I'm human!

He watched his two companions change, hardened through battle, grief and loss. He watched them turn from young children to hardened soldiers, their gazes growing dark and weary from long long battles.

A person who cannot sacrifice everything, cannot change anything.

More names became clear to him. More memories sped by him.

Jean, Sasha, Connie, Hanji, Levi.

Comrades of a life lost to him.

The voices became more and more unclear and the images grew more distorted, fragmented into small pieces as everything came to a close. His life slipped away and everything descended into darkness. He felt himself falling and falling into the darkness. He closed his eyes in acceptance, accepting his death, accepting that his life had ended. He did everything he could. The rest was up to them. His fight was over.

The sounds of the distant cries became louder and louder, more forefront and he frowned to himself, searching the darkness for the cause of the distressed sounds. The infantile cries continued around him, becoming more shrill and anxious as the moments passed. He frowned to himself, the sound was very grating to his dulled senses. The loud cries continued, coming from everywhere in the dark vicinity. The sound grew tiresome and irritating very quickly. He wanted the noise to stop, feeling it grating on his peaceful state. Wasn't death supposed to be peaceful? Quiet? Silent?

Death was the absence of life and yet...he was surrounded by the sound of the living. The cries of a newborn. He looked around him in alarm, trying to pinpoint the sound. Everything was dark. The darkness seemed to stretch on and on. He was suspended in a space with no end or beginning. He frowned heavily to himself as the cries grew louder and louder, drawing closer and closer to him. The cries were desperately trying to reach out to him, latching onto his suspended airy form and taking a tight hold of him.

Where was the noise coming from? He thought in distress and annoyance. He couldn't see a damn thing. Everything was dark and he began feeling unbearably hot. His entire body was burning and he could not move his limbs.

The last thing he remembered was closing his eyes as he accepted the final blow that ended his life. Did he live through it? He felt sick to his stomach. The heat was familiar; his entire body was burning. It felt like he was back in his titan form. The heat was searing and oppressive, surrounding him from all sides. He felt his awareness slowly coming back to him, his senses growing sharper and more alert as his body grew heavier and heavier. The darkness began to recede and he saw the rays of light break through the vast, empty space.

The infant blinked his eyes open tiredly. His eyelids felt so heavy and he whined in discomfort, slipping his eyes shut as they were assaulted by the sharpness of the bright lights.

He tried again, opening his eyes more slowly and carefully, looking away from the bright lights on the ceiling. He blinked at his surroundings, confusion filling him as he attempted to move his body.

He was alive.

Why was he alive? He was supposed to be dead...

He felt a sense of dread fill him at the possibility that he somehow had survived... How? It was all supposed to end with him. The shrill crying continued and he tilted his head to the side in confusion, looking around for the source of the noise. He blinked slowly, avoiding the bright lights on the ceiling, as he titled his head away from the lights. His head felt heavy. Wait...why was his head intact?! The cries stopped abruptly and he felt his heart rate pick up as he looked around him.

There was no one.

He was alone.

The cries...They came from him.

He moved his head to the side, a strange sound omitting from his mouth. It sounded infantile. He found that he couldn't move around much. He could only tilt his head from side to side very slowly. Where did his motor skills go? He frowned heavily to himself and tried to move his limbs. It took a while before he was able to clumsily move his arms. He moved his tiny arms upward in a slow, careful motion and blinked at the small limbs in confusion. He gazed at his clenched fists with a confused gaze. He felt his stomach drop at the sight of the tiny, pale, pudgy hands that were held in front of his face. He blinked at the sight, trying to flex the tiny fingers but was unable to move them. They were clenched tightly but he felt the muscles of the tiny fingers shake in response as he tried to will them to move. His eyes widened...they were his hands.

He was an infant again.

He blinked slowly at the realization, lowering his hands to his sides and looked around. His head felt quite heavy and he moved so slowly, tilting his head to the side warily. The room was entirely bare. He was in a wooden crib with nothing on him, not even a baby blanket to cover his tiny body. He frowned to himself, letting out another infantile sound of distress.

Why wasn't anyone coming? Where was his mother?

Did he have a mother? He vaguely remembered a kind woman with warm eyes who pulled on his ears when he was a young boy. She wouldn't leave him wailing for a long time...the cries from earlier had been from him. He had been crying and no one had come. Why? He frowned heavily to himself. His body felt so hot, feverish and he could begin feeling the pangs of hunger he did not notice earlier.

He was hungry. He had been crying earlier in distress because he was hungry. He closed his eyes tightly. Nothing made sense. Where was his mother? Where was his father? Where was his sister? Where was his best friend? Did he go back in time? He felt his heart clench in longing. Would he see them again?

He made another sound of distress, it sounded like a small whine. Why wasn't anyone coming? He opened his eyes and wiggled in his wooden cot, looking in between the tiny bars towards the closed door. He stared at the door unblinkingly for a long moment. He gazed back around the room, frowning heavily at the bareness of it. Where were the toys? The room felt so terribly impersonal and...so desolate. It was so unfitting for a growing infant. The walls were peeling, old and there was a heavy case of mold growing on the ceiling. He titled his head to the side, gazing at the open window. He couldn't make out much from the current view. Clear blue skies greeted him and he could hear the faint sound of children screaming and playing in the background. There was a hot breeze coming through the window. It was summer.

He gazed up at the blue skies in contemplative silence. He waited and waited in distress and hunger. His infantile whines were ignored as the door to his room remained sealed shut. As the bright skies began darkening, he felt a feeling of trepidation settle in his stomach. He could hear movements, murmurs and shuffling outside his room throughout the day. There were people nearby but he was being ignored. He had been crying and whining for the better part of the day but he had been ignored. He was being neglected for reasons unknown to him. The sun was beginning to set and the infant closed his eyes tightly, the pangs of hunger were unbearable but there was nothing he could do.

He ceased his whining as he watched the sun begin to sink into the horizon. If they ignored his shrill wails earlier, his tiny whines would not make any difference. Nothing was making sense to him. He was not back in his home, all his memories were vague and he felt an anger begin to build inside him as the night grew closer. The anger felt familiar and it offered him a small semblance of comfort. He felt unsettled by the bare and decrepit room that was unfamiliar. His parents were not around. His mother would have never ignored the cries of an infant. He remembered a loving and kind woman. His father...he couldn't remember much... but from the memories he gleamed he knew that the man genuinely cared for him.

He needed answers. Where was he? Who was he? Did he have a name here? Why was he left alone? The skies began darkening and he felt his eyelids grow heavy in fatigue. He pressed his tiny curled hands against his stomach, scowling to himself darkly, refusing to whine against the pangs of hunger. He was being ignored, he was being neglected, he was being starved. Something was seriously wrong. He felt his anger spike at the people outside his door, the people willfully ignoring him, ignoring a tiny infant who needed care and love.

He cursed them in his head, his eyes darkening in a hot, simmering rage.