Naruto: Prodigy (Hiatus)

It was a hot afternoon, the sun blazing down on the cracked pavement of the neighborhood. The streets were buzzing with their usual life, loud music, trash-talk, and people up to no good. In the middle of it all walked Darius, a lean-built 6'1" dude with a quiet air about him. He had his Dragon Ball Sparkling Zero tucked in a GameStop bag, fresh from the store, and a box of fried chicken in his hand. Nothing better than some crispy wings after grinding through life.

Darius wasn't like the others around here. He wasn't about that hood life, even though he was surrounded by it. Sure, he'd been through some stuff, but he stayed in his lane, focused on training, reading, and his anime. Some people thought he was soft 'cause of it, but they didn't know. Darius wasn't no pushover. He kept to himself, and that was good enough for him.

As he strolled down the block, munching on a drumstick, he noticed a group of dudes off to the side. They were eyeing him, and he could already feel their energy. The type that always came with trouble. There were five of them, dressed in oversized hoodies and sagging pants, bandanas on their heads. One of them, a stocky dude with gold grills in his mouth, stepped forward.

"Yo, yo, yo! Whatchu got there, big man?" Gold Grills hollered, motioning toward the bag and chicken.

Darius paused, mid-bite, eyes narrowing slightly. He had no patience for this, but he wasn't in the mood to start something either.

"Mindin' my business, that's what," Darius replied, casually taking another bite of his chicken.

Gold Grills and his crew spread out, circling him. They weren't subtle. Darius could see the greed in their eyes, like vultures waiting to swoop down on a fresh kill. Another one of them, tall and lanky with a thick chain around his neck, sneered.

"Man, you ain't tryin' to share that food? Or that bag? What you got in there, huh? That GameStop bag lookin' real nice right now."

Darius clenched his jaw. He could feel the tension rising, but he wasn't backing down, not over some damn chicken. One of the shorter thugs, with his hand already twitching near his waistband, eyed the box in Darius's hand.

"Hey, hey, let me hold that chicken real quick," the short dude said, licking his lips like a hyena smelling fresh meat.

Darius glanced at the dude, then back at his chicken, then took another slow, deliberate bite, chewing with his eyes locked on the guy's.

"Nahh. Fuck that!" Darius finally spoke, his tone low but clear. "Look, I woulda let it slide if y'all was just tryna snatch the game CD. Whatever. But my chicken? Man, y'all got me fucked up."

The crew blinked in surprise. Gold Grills looked back at his boys, confused for a second, then started laughing.

"Ay, you serious, man? You ready to die over some damn chicken? You gotta be kiddin' me!"

Darius shook his head, unfazed, his expression flat. He wiped his mouth and tossed the chicken bone aside. "You think it's funny, huh? You out here lookin' like a broke-ass rapper reject, stealin' fried chicken. Man, y'all need to step your game up. Your fit ain't even tight, my guy. You out here rockin' a hoodie that look like you ain't washed it in months, smellin' like poverty."

The short dude stepped forward, pissed now. "Man, fuck you! You tryna clown us? You think you somethin' special out here, just 'cause you don't run with the gang? You 'bout to learn today!"

Gold Grills pulled out a Glock, waving it around, trying to scare Darius. "Yo, imma turn you into Swiss cheese if you don't hand that shit over, real talk. Ain't nobody gonna miss yo' ass."

The others chuckled, each of them now reaching into their jackets or pants for something, a knife, a gun. Darius sighed, shaking his head slowly.

"You know what?" Darius said, his voice calm. "I wasn't even tryna go here. But y'all leave me no choice."

Before they could blink, Darius moved. His right hand shot out, grabbing the short thug by the throat, crushing his windpipe with a swift squeeze. The dude's eyes went wide, choking, before Darius ripped the gun from his hand and fired off two quick shots into the lanky dude's chest. He dropped instantly.

"Shit! This nigga wildin'!" Gold Grills yelled, ducking behind a car as Darius fired off more rounds. The rest scattered, diving for cover. But Darius wasn't stopping. He moved like a shadow, smooth, calculated. His left hand gripped the gun while his right still held onto his box of chicken. He wasn't about to let go of that.

He kept firing, sending bullets at anyone stupid enough to poke their head out. Two more fell, one clutching his side, another dropping his knife as he crumpled to the pavement. The smell of gunpowder filled the air, mixing with the scent of fried chicken. Darius kept moving, unbothered, taking a bite every now and then in between shots.

More gunfire echoed from down the block as the rest of the gang rushed in. It was chaos now, at least thirty of them, all coming for him. They saw their boys on the ground, bleeding out, and their eyes blazed with fury.

"Yo! This nigga killin' our boys! Light his ass up!" someone shouted, and then the street exploded into a full-blown firefight.

Darius ducked and dodged, sliding behind a car, but he was still calm. He'd been training for this, mentally and physically. This wasn't new to him. He emptied the clip of the gun, then tossed it aside, charging forward with a raw energy. They didn't expect that.

He closed the distance between them fast, too fast for them to react. His fist connected with one guy's jaw, snapping his head back with a sickening crack. Another thug came at him with a knife, but Darius sidestepped and delivered a crushing elbow to the dude's temple, knocking him out cold.

He snatched up another gun from a fallen thug, holding it in his left hand, while his right stayed committed to the chicken. He didn't stop moving, didn't stop fighting, mowing down whoever stood in his way. They came at him in waves, but each one fell harder than the last.

Amid the chaos, one of them managed to get a lucky kick in, knocking the chicken box out of Darius's hand. It hit the ground, spilling onto the dirty pavement. Darius froze, staring down at his beloved chicken, now smeared in the grime of the street.

"Nahhh..." Darius whispered, his voice breaking as if he'd lost a loved one.

Then another thug stepped forward, crunching the chicken beneath his boot, and that was it. Something snapped in Darius. His bloodshot eyes went wide as rage boiled over.

"NOOOOO! MY CHICKEN!" he screamed, dropping to his knees, fists clenched. The sound of his yell echoed through the streets, making even the thugs pause in confusion for a second.

But that hesitation cost them everything.

Darius rose slowly, blood tears mixing with the sweat and dirt on his face. He turned to face them, eyes wild, like a man who had nothing left to lose. The thugs, sensing something was very wrong, backed up slightly.

"You done fucked up now," Darius growled, his voice low and deadly.

The next few minutes were a blur of violence. Darius charged at them like a demon unleashed. He grabbed one by the throat, twisting it with a sickening snap. Another one swung a bat at him, but he blocked it, yanking the bat from his hands and smashing it across the guy's face, sending teeth flying.

One by one, they fell. Bones snapped, limbs twisted at impossible angles, blood splattering across the pavement. Darius moved like a force of nature, untouchable, unstoppable. The remaining thugs fired their guns, but they couldn't get a clear shot, too afraid to hit their own boys.

It didn't matter. Darius didn't stop, didn't slow down, even as bullets grazed his arms, his side. His vision was tunneled, focused solely on the destruction in front of him.

By the time it was over, the street was littered with bodies. Darius stood alone, breathing heavily, his body riddled with wounds, but he didn't care. He looked down at the fallen gang members, eyes cold, as the adrenaline slowly drained from his system.

He took one step forward, then another, before his body gave out. His vision blurred, darkening around the edges. As he fell, the last thing he saw was his broken GameStop bag and the dirty remnants of his chicken.

"Not... the chicken..." he whispered, before everything went black.

----

Dying for some fried chicken before GTA6 it's crazy.

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