ChainedHs2rt '10
Damned Saint
A damned saint, an honourable villain.
Ch1; Of Prayers and Regrets
She didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Didn't even react to the crimson drops that dotted her cheek as her kunai embed its sharp blade deep into her victim's gut. She didn't twitch a muscle when a pair of eyes settled on her masked face, the pupils dilating with shock; and it was only when the lids fluttered close and as the body rolled lifeless to the side did she realise she was holding her breath. Retracting her hand from the body she removed her porcelain mask, letting it fall from her grasp with an echoing clank.
The curtains fluttered as the ghostly sigh of wind came in through the open window, and the moon was reflected in those rich, onyx eyes. Despite the nonchalant look displayed on her face, her eyes were far from expressionless; they seemed almost melancholic, weary by the red stains that smudged against her light skin and cloth. Moonlight splashed against her alabaster skin smeared with dried brown blood; and stray white locks framed her face as they slipped from under the black hood that hid her hair.
In truth, her victim would have died anyway late next day, if not then early day after. He was in possession of a scroll - however what the scroll was and its content she had no knowledge nor interest in. All that she did know was that this scroll was forbidden; anyone caught and found with it in possession was dispatched on sight. Thus, he was a common target for many S-rank criminals such as the young assassin herself, and it was only fortunate that she had gotten to him first. And there were others dangerously close by.
The tension in her limbs seemed to ease as she released a long, shaky breath. It wasn't like she was determined to wage a war with a certain country and whatnot, but simply because she was offered a high price to retrieve the scroll. The black markets were always high in demand, and as a missing-nin (an S-rank one, at that) it was piss-easy money made, despite the risks involved in the job. With a quick glance at the crumpled heap on the floor she felt her chest ache, as if a rope had fastened a knot inside her upper torso.
He would have died anyway.
Her hand tightened over the scroll in her grasp. It wasn't her first kill, yet every time she took a life she felt a part of herself die. She was no sadist, and definitely found no pleasure in killing another, be it a job or self-defence. She crouched down next to the body and with a mighty pull, the kunai was free of its bloody sheath with a gut-wrenching squelch.
He would have died anyway.
Her aim had been resolute and flawless. Her kunai had pierced a vital organ (the heart) and due to the shock of sudden blood lost in the body he was granted with the blessing of an almost instantaneous death. Blood continued to puddle as it oozed through the open wound, its mirror-like surface gleamed with silver as it bathed in the moonlight that filtered through the window.
He would have died anyway.
It might not have been the most painless method, but his sufferings were cut short, and she was merciful for that. If he had met others besides her, he wouldn't have been so lucky. And if she were to let him live...well...others would have killed him tortuously out of sheer pleasure for bloodlust.
He died... because of me.
She clasped her hands together in form of a prayer, eyelids fluttered close. Let your soul be free of this world.
It took a good minute or two to regain her composure. Adjusting the mask on her face as she pocketed the scroll in the pouch that was secured tightly at her hip, she made a dash for it through the open window. The air rushed by her like a breeze as she kicked off the window pane to propel herself forward, and she was but a silent spectre in the night.
Contrary to popular belief, Hatake Kakashi was not always the cool, calm and collected man everyone thought he was.
With his legs crossed as he sat upright on his single bed, Kakashi often found himself staring at the old pictures that stood on his bedside table. There were photos of his Team 7; which consisted of himself and his three adorable pupils. The two boys stood on either side of a cherry pink-haired girl, glaring at each other over her head as the girl smiled cheerfully at the camera. It was uncanny how their personalities were slightly similar to him and his team mates when he was their age, and was placed in a three-man-team. Although Sakura was too hot-headed and a tad bit too violent, her constant concern and care for her team mates greatly resembled Rin. Obnoxious and loud as he was, Naruto bore a striking resemblance to Obito; an idiotic fool, but an honourable fool.
However, it didn't seem Sasuke had followed his footsteps.
The young Uchiha was too ambitious in his revenge, to the point where it became an obsession. It was understandable, for he had to witness the massacre of his entire clan with young tender eyes; his brother, Uchiha Itachi, being the culprit no less.
But to turn his back on his companions and use that power against them was despicable. Despicable, yet as the Hokage had said, 'no matter how far he fell, I still loved him.' Kakashi rubbed his forehead.
"What the hell do you know?" Twelve-year-old Sasuke yelled at him, his dark eyes glared at him as the corners of his mouth twitched at his barely contained anger. The silver haired Jounin didn't flinch.
"What if I were to kill the one you loved most?" His student said with smirk. "How far would you stray from what you just said? I can make you feel true pain!"
Kakashi's eyes narrowed. He wasn't in the least angered or disturbed by the words that rolled off Sasuke's tongue. No, not at all.
"Well, I guess that'd work. However, unfortunately for me and you, I have no such person." Sasuke glowered at him with disbelief. Kakashi gave him a sad smile.
"They have already been killed."
Obito and Rin. His teacher Namikaze Minato. Dark, weary eyes flickered to each of their faces respectively, until his gaze met the picture that stood the furthest back.
It was a year before his father comitted suicide. Hatake Sakumo grinned sheepishly at the camera, crouched low to throw one arm around a nine-year-old Kakashi, and the other around a young girl, who Kakashi remembered at the time, was four. She had the same inherited traits as he did from their father; deep onyx eyes and the Hatake's signature white hair, although her's were a more snowy white compared to his slightly grey.
His family.
"Kumi, please let go."
"NOOOO!" the little seven-year-old whined as she clung onto his leg like a koala, her grip tightening as he struggled to pry her fingers off. She had a death grip, this one. Her eyes were wide and bright like that of a sad puppy, and he could only stare at her with a guilt-ridden face. "Stay with me Kakashiiiiii-nii."
Kakashi could feel Minato, Rin and Obito gazing sympathetically at the siblings. After all, his baby sister was, as Rin described her, 'adorable.' "I've got to go, Kumiko. It's a mission."
"You'll be back right?" Round onyx eyes shone expectantly. Whoever said no to those eyes would be like kicking a baby in the face; you'll feel the guilt immediately afterwards. Kakashi ruffled the snowy locks, a warm smile tugged at the corners of lips from under the mask.
"Of course Kumi. Always for you. Who's going to protect you if I don't?"
Her arms unlatched itself from his leg, and as she stood back she extended a pinky. Pure innocence in her eyes.
"Pinky promise?"
Kakashi looped his own pinky with hers, and bumped their thumbs. Kumiko hurled herself at his stomach in a rib-cracking hug. Where she got her strength from, he had no idea.
That was the last time Kakashi saw her. By the time he came back from his mission a day and a half later he was greeted by an empty house; the caretaker a horrendous charred log on the floor, her face was a demented skull thinly covered by the black charcoal skin. And Kumiko...
All he found left of her was the blood splattered on her sheets.
Kakashi swallowed the lump in his throat at the memory. The pinky promise was more to him than just a child's silly game. She was someone who he always returned to, the innocence of her youth soothed his battle-worn mind. She was someone that gave the term 'family' an actual meaning in his life; someone who was dependant on him, trusted him, loved him for who he was simply because he was her brother. Whether or not he was a mass murderer he was still her brother. Even if he did plan to leave a team mate behind to die (which we all know he didn't) he was still her brother.
And because he was her brother, Kumiko never doubted him.
Even when he never returned to her.
Even when he couldn't protect her.
Even when he broke the promise he made to her
Kakashi buried his face into the crook of his arm.
It was all my fault.
This story occurs some time during the first season/series (that is, before the 2 year shippuden time skip)