Cruelty

Might Guy walked through the quieter streets of Konoha, his green jumpsuit and gleaming teeth catching the light of the late afternoon sun. He was on his way to a training spot, driven by his unwavering dedication to be strong like his father.

Despite the lower activity of the area, the air buzzed with an undercurrent of mockery as a group of older Genin noticed him approaching. They appeared to be around 13-14 years old, maybe a year or two out of the academy.

"Hey, look who it is," one of them sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Isn't that Might Guy? The weirdo in green spandex?"

The others snickered, their eyes gleaming with malice. "Yeah, the guy who runs laps around the village and does push-ups in public. What's the matter, Guy? Training for a circus?"

Guy's determined expression faltered slightly, but he kept his head high. He tried to walk past them, but they blocked his path, circling him like vultures.

"Hold on, doesn't that mean he is Might Duy's son?" one of the Genin exclaimed, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "The eternal Genin who never passed the Chunin Exams? What a joke!"

Laughter erupted from the group, harsh and mocking. "Yeah, they say he's still a Genin at 25 years old! Must run in the family, huh? You're destined to be a loser too, Guy!"

Guy clenched his fists, the mockery of his father's name cutting deep into his heart. "Don't talk about my father like that," he said, his voice shaking with suppressed anger.

"Oh, look, he's trying to be tough," one of the Genin jeered, shoving Guy backwards. "What's the matter, Guy? Can't handle the truth? Your father's a failure, and so are you!"

The Genin's words hung in the air, sharp and venomous. Guy's muscles tensed, his jaw clenching as he fought to maintain his composure. The circle of tormentors tightened around him, their sneers growing wider with each passing moment.

"You know what?" Another Genin chimed in, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Maybe we should start calling him 'Might Not' instead of Might Guy. It's more fitting, don't you think?"

Raucous laughter erupted from the group, echoing off the nearby buildings. Guy's fists trembled at his sides, his knuckles turning white from the strain.

"Or how about 'Might Never'?" A particularly nasty-looking Genin suggested, elbowing his friend. "As in, might never become a Genin, might never amount to anything, might never escape his loser father's shadow!"

Guy's resolve wavered, the weight of their words threatening to crush his spirit. He took a deep breath, trying to center himself, but the onslaught continued.

"Hey, Guy," one of them called out, feigning curiosity. "Is it true that your dad wears that ridiculous green jumpsuit too? Or is that just your special brand of weird?"

Another Genin jumped in, his voice filled with mock concern. "Maybe it's a genetic defect."

The group howled with laughter, slapping each other on the back as if they'd just heard the funniest joke in the world. Guy's breathing became ragged, his chest heaving with the effort of restraining himself.

Guy's voice came out low and dangerous. "Stop it. You don't know anything about my father or me."

But his words only seemed to fuel their cruelty. The ringleader of the group stepped forward; his face twisted in a malicious grin. "Oh, but we do know, Guy. We know that you're both pathetic. Your father couldn't even pass a simple exam, and you? You're going to be following in his footsteps, aren't you?"

"Yeah," another chimed in. "I heard he spends more time doing handstands than actual ninja training. Is that how you plan to defend the village, Guy? By walking on your hands?"

Guy's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as he fought to maintain his composure. "You're wrong about us. My father is a great man, and I'll prove it to all of you."

A chorus of derisive laughter erupted from the group. One of the Genin wiped a mock tear from his face. "Oh, that's rich! The only thing your father's great at is being a laughingstock!"

"I bet he practices those ridiculous speeches in front of the mirror," another chimed in, puffing out his chest in an exaggerated impression. "'The power of youth!' What does that even mean?"

The group's laughter echoed through the street, drawing occasional curious glances from passersby. Guy's face burned with a mixture of shame and anger, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"You know what?" The ringleader said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I think I've figured out why Guy and his dad wear those green jumpsuits. They're trying to blend in with the vegetables at the market. It's the only way they can feel useful!"

Another Genin jumped in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, come on now. I'm sure they have other talents. Like... um... being excellent scarecrows? Those poses would definitely keep the birds away!"

Guy's voice came out as a low growl. "That's enough. You don't know what you're talking about."

The ringleader raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Oh? Did we hit a nerve, Guy? Or should I say, 'Might Never Amount to Anything'?"

One of the Genin nudged his friend, snickering. "Hey, maybe we should start a betting pool. How long do you think it'll take Duy to make Chunin or even for Guy to make Genin? I'll put my money on 'never'!"

"Nah, that's not fair," another replied with a grin. "We should at least give him a chance. How about... fifty years? That should be enough time for him to master the art of failure, just like his old man!"

Guy's chest heaved with barely contained rage, his nails digging into his palms. "My father is twice the shinobi you'll ever be. He may not have passed the exams, but he has a heart of gold and the strength of a thousand men!"

The group fell silent for a moment before bursting into even louder laughter. "Heart of gold?" One of them wheezed between guffaws. "More like a heart of lead! Weighing him down, keeping him from ever advancing!"

"And strength of a thousand men?" Another added, wiping tears of mirth from his face. "The only thing he's strong at is being a constant disappointment!"

The ringleader stepped closer to Guy, his voice dropping to a mock whisper. "Face it, Guy. You're living in a fantasy world. Your father is a joke, and you're the punchline. The sooner you accept that, the better off you'll be."

Guy's body trembled with suppressed emotion, his voice coming out strained. "You're wrong. I'll show you all. I'll become the greatest shinobi this village has ever seen!"

Desperation surged through Guy. His mind raced, and without thinking, he turned on his heel, attempting to sprint away from the cruel circle. But the Genin were quicker. They blocked his path, pushing him back into the center of their ring.

"Where do you think you're going, loser?" another one jeered, shoving Guy hard enough to make him stumble. "You can't just run away from the truth."

Before Guy could respond, another Genin grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around and delivering a swift punch to his gut. Guy doubled over, gasping for air. The pain was sharp and immediate, but the insults hurt even more.

"You're nothing but a joke, Guy," another voice chimed in, this one dripping with disdain. "You and your dad are both destined to be losers. Why don't you just give up now?"

Guy struggled to catch his breath, the edges of his vision blurring with tears he refused to let fall. "I'll never give up," he whispered, but the words felt hollow even to him.

Another Genin stepped closer, his voice low and menacing. "Listen here, you little freak. No amount of 'hard work' is going to change the fact that you're a talentless loser. Just like your old man."

The mocking words echoed in Guy's mind, and he could no longer contain his rage. "Take that back!" he shouted, lunging at the nearest Genin with a punch. But his inexperience and youthful anger betrayed him.

The older Genin retaliated swiftly. One grabbed Guy by the arm and twisted it behind his back, while another landed a hard punch to his stomach. Guy gasped, doubling over again in pain. The others joined in, their kicks and punches raining down on him with brutal efficiency. The beating lasted minutes and was relentless, and Guy was seen on the ground both unconscious and bleeding.

"Pathetic," one of the Genin spat, kicking Guy's limp body one last time before they walked away, their laughter fading into the distance.

Several minutes passed, and the quiet street remained undisturbed. It wasn't until a passing villager spotted Guy lying motionless on the ground that help finally arrived. The villager's eyes widened in horror as they saw the extent of Guy's injuries. "Help! Someone, help!" they shouted, their voice ringing through the air.

A pair of Uchiha police officers, patrolling nearby, heard the cries and rushed to the scene. Their eyes, instinctively sharp and scanning the surroundings for any further threats, took in the sight of Guy's battered form. One officer knelt beside Guy, assessing his condition with a practiced eye. Blood trickled from multiple wounds, and his limbs appeared twisted in unnatural angles, clear signs of severe trauma.

"We need to get him to the hospital immediately," one of the officers said, his voice tense with urgency.

The other officer activated his Sharingan, the three tomoe spinning rapidly as he scanned the area for any hidden dangers or lingering attackers. "I'll ensure our path is clear," he said, his voice steady despite the tension.

With careful, yet swift movements, they lifted Guy, supporting his broken body with practiced ease. The officer with the Sharingan took the lead, his heightened perception guiding them through the streets. The normally bustling village seemed to blur around them as they focused solely on getting Guy the help he desperately needed.

As they moved, the Sharingan-activated officer constantly scanned their surroundings, his vision picking up even the slightest movement. His partner, carrying the brunt of Guy's weight, moved with determination, his thoughts solely on the injured boy in his arms.

"We're almost there," the lead officer said, his Sharingan catching the glint of the hospital's lights in the distance. They pushed on, their pace quick but controlled, ensuring Guy's injuries were not exacerbated by their haste.

Upon reaching the hospital, they were met by a team of medical personnel, already alerted by the officers' radio communication. One of the senior physicians, a stern-looking man with a reassuring presence, took one look at Guy and barked orders to his team. "Get him into the ER, stat! Prepare for emergency surgery and notify the trauma unit."

The officers gently placed Guy onto the stretcher, their eyes meeting the physician's with a silent plea for him to save the boy. "He's in your hands now," one of the officers said, his Sharingan slowly deactivating as the immediate danger seemed to pass.

The medical team quickly wheeled Guy into the emergency room, the doors swinging shut behind them. The Uchiha officers stood in the hallway, their hearts heavy with the sight they had just witnessed. Despite the grim nature of a shinobi, seeing someone so young and full of potential in such a state always struck a deep chord.

After transferring Guy to the ER, the physician quickly assessed Guy's condition in greater depth, his face immediately turning grim afterwards.