I began to work on this story shortly after some readers said that they would like to see a continuation of the Feathered Mask's alternative ending, "Rest". I've been working on and off on this story since then; it was a welcome alternative when I was stuck on Feathered Mask.
I must confess that I have not written a single word of the next chapter of Feathered Mask. I do, however, have a good idea about its content. I will try my best to start working on it soon.
In the meantime, please enjoy Flight. It contains a bit more profanity than the average chapter of Feathered Mask, which I apologize for.
"I propose a toast!" Genma raised his glass, the senbon clamped between his teeth gleaming in the flickering light of the candles. "To the new couple!" The ocean of guests swayed in a murmuring, glittering ripple as people raised their glasses, echoing Genma's cry.
Sakura lifted her glass with delicate, manicured fingers, her flawless skin tinged a tawny, glowing amber. Her luminous, emerald eyes radiated warmth and love as she gently clinked her glass against mine.
"To my dear husband."
"To my beautiful wife." Returning her smile with an eye crease, I tilted my head back and swallowed a gulp of fizzy champagne and the bubble of grief swelling in my throat.
The one guest that I had desperately wished would be here today had not shown up. I knew that it was a far-fetched, unrealistic hope, but Karasu's presence at my wedding would have made the ceremony perfect. Even though she had made it clear that she did not support my relationship with Sakura, I didn't care. Even if she had shown up at the ceremony wearing a T-shirt, sweatpants, standard-issue sandals, and a dark scowl, I wouldn't have minded. I just wanted my dearest friend to be at my wedding to help me celebrate the momentous occasion.
I had delayed the ceremony for longer than half an hour, frantically scanning the sea of faces for one that was framed with dark bangs, risking the wrath of Tsunade's apprentice, but to no avail. Finally, the Hokage, her amber eyes mellow with sympathy, had approached me; her voice had been gentle as she had softly reminded me of the waiting guests. It had been with a heavy heart that I had agreed to start the ceremony. During the wedding, crinkled eyes had masked my deep, aching longing for the presence of my best friend.
"Kakashi." Gentle fingers wrapped around mine, snapping me out of my reverie. "I think it's time for us to change our clothes."
"You're right." Placing my hands against the edge of the table, I pushed my chair back and slowly stood up.
"We'll be right back, everyone!" Sakura beamed, her pale hand resting on the dark fabric of my tuxedo's sleeve as we weaved through the flickering sea of people toward the double doors at the end of the hall. Opening one door, I motioned for Sakura to go first; her pale form, swathed in ethereal layers of white, swept through the opening. I followed her, quietly closing the door behind me.
"Hatake-san!" The desperate cry was quickly muffled. Spinning, I felt my eye widen as I saw the brunette who struggled against the two men who had grabbed her arms and clapped a hand over her mouth.
"What are you doing to that poor woman? Can't you see that she's pregnant? Let her go!" Sakura demanded. The men quickly obeyed, releasing their grip on Atsui's arms and mouth.
"I'm sorry, Sakura-san! She ran in here ten minutes ago, demanding to see either the Hokage or your husband, but she wasn't on the guest list and you were in the middle of a toast. We asked her if we could take a message, but she said that she would talk only to Kakashi-san or to the Godaime."
"Then you should have just shown her in!" Huffing in exasperation, Sakura turned to the civilian mother, her eyes softening. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, t-thank you," Atsui panted, her shuddering frame doubled over as she clutched at her protruding stomach. "Hatake-san, I need to talk to you. Please, it's urgent!"
"What's wrong?" As her chocolate eyes locked onto mine, shock jolted through my body; her eyes roiled with dark, barely-suppressed terror. I rushed forward, gently resting my hand on her back. "Please, calm down. Your agitation is not good for your baby."
"I-it's Kuro –san." Eye widening, I felt my stomach drop into a black, cold abyss of dread. "Four hours ago, her crows came to my home and told me that she had left a package for me. I thanked them, and they left." Atsui paused, swallowing before she continued in a shaky voice. "I didn't get a chance to retrieve the package until about a half hour ago. Inside, there was a beautiful red furisode. When I unfolded it, this fell out." She thrust a crumpled sheet of paper into my hand. Straightening the document with trembling fingers, I frantically scanned the columns of gracefully flowing kanji.
I, Kuro Karasu, being of sound and disposing mind and memory, do make, publish, and declare this to be my last will, hereby expressly revoking all wills and codicils previously made by me… to my dearest friend, Hatake Kakashi, and his family, I bequeath my entire collection of weapons, armor, and all other equipment that he determines as beneficial and valuable in the fulfillment of his profession as a ninja of Konoha… to my neighbor Akiyama Atsui and her family, I bequeath all tracts of land, residential buildings, and all other personal effects in the aforementioned property that have been registered under my name, excluding the property that I have assigned to Hatake Kakashi, for her own personal use… half of the funds that have been stored in the bank under my name are to be given to my paternal uncle and aunt, Kuro Kaede and Kuro Sango, for their own personal use. The other half is to be used and distributed according to the discretion of Senju Tsunade, the Godaime of Konoha… any ambiguities or issues concerning the distribution of my property that I have failed to define in this document are to be discussed and settled by the Council of Konoha... upon my death, my body is to be cremated, and the ashes are to be disposed of with no funeral or ceremony of commemoration. No marker or memorial bearing my name is to be constructed or displayed.
"It's a will." My voice, hollow and numb, abruptly broke the tense silence.
"What?" Sakura seized the paper, scanning the document with narrowed eyes of jade. "Why would she give you this? Didn't she already make a will?"
"I don't know." With such a high-risk profession, all ninjas were encouraged to create a will as soon as possible in order to spare the Council the long, tedious process of determining the rightful recipients of a killed ninja's property. Members of ANBU, in particular, were almost required to draw up a will and present it to the Hokage upon induction into the elite group.
"Tsunade-sama! Tsunade-sama!" The frantic cries grew louder as footsteps echoed against the hall. A kunoichi suddenly rounded the corner, her hair streaming behind her and her clothes askew as she dashed toward us. Coming to an abrupt stop, she doubled over, gasping as she struggled to catch her breath.
"What's wrong?"
"I need to see Tsunade-sama immediately!"
"Could one of you please go in and get the Hokage?" Sakura turned to the two men. Nodding, one of them pried the door open and slipped in. Thirty seconds later, he returned, shadowed by a frowning Godaime.
"What's going on?"
"Tsunade-sama, a massive crow just landed on Hokage Mountain." My sharp intake of air drew several questioning gazes, but the blood pounding in my ears drowned out all twinges of embarrassment. "It looked like it was carrying something. We tried communicating with it, but it won't let us near. It won't talk."
"What is it doing?"
"It's just… screeching. It sounds as if it's in pain, but we can't tell. As I said, it's impossible to approach. Some of us have already been wounded."
"What is it carrying?"
"The crow set it down on the ground as soon as it landed. With the dark night and the crow's attacks, it's difficult to tell…" The girl swallowed, her pupils dilated in fear. "But we think it's a body."
Before I knew it, my legs were pumping, carrying me at a lightning speed away from the cries of "Kakashi!" and "Wait!" As I burst out of the building, faint, high-pitched screams of pain and terror sliced through the icy air, slamming into my body and making it go numb. With a burst of chakra, I jumped onto the roof and began to leap from building to building; in my frenzied rush, I stumbled several times on the roof tiles and nearly fell.
The screams increased in volume as I began to scale the narrow steps that were carved into the side of Hokage Mountain. A loud screech, a gust of wind; I pressed myself to the cliff face as a jounin tumbled past me down the steps and into the darkness. When I finally fought my way to the top of the steps, my stomach lurched at the sight that met my eyes.
A ring of ninja loosely encircled a monstrous, shrieking shadow that had gouged deep furrows of earth and grass out of the ground. As I watched, one of the ninja threw what I recognized as a tranquilizer dart. Bringing her wings down in a powerful stroke and a whirl of feathers, An'ya deflected the dart and knocked several ninja to the ground in a burst of razor wind. Her beak and talons flashing in a glint of steel, Karasu's summons gave another blood-chilling cry of like fury and anguish.
It was the first time that I had ever seen such a full display of An'ya's strength and power and known that I was not the one she was protecting. This time, there would be no Karasu to prevent the bird from turning on me. Swallowing, I forced my feet to move towards the raging, screaming beast.
"An'ya-san!" My cry was lost in an explosion of wind. Bracing my arms in front of my face, I grunted as the icy gale slammed against me, nearly knocking me off the cliff face. When the last wisp of air died away, I cracked my eye open and forced myself to yell louder. "An'ya-san!"
The crow heard me. It snapped its head in my direction, its eye glinting with a feral light, its quivering wings flared in the attack position.
"What are you doing? Get away!" Someone screamed at me as I forced myself to walk slowly closer. I ignored the other ninja, keeping my gaze locked onto An'ya's.
"An'ya-san, it's me. Hatake Kakashi. Karasu's friend." At the sound of her mistress' name, the crow uttered another ear-splitting cry. I flinched but continued to approach the massive bird.
"Please, An'ya-san, calm down. Please." An'ya lowered her wings slightly, the bulging muscles of her neck shifting under its glossy covering. "That's it. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to do anything. Just please let me get closer and see what's wrong."
Emboldened by my success, several ninja inched forward; An'ya's venomous, rattling hiss froze them in their tracks. Careful to keep my voice quiet and light, I slowly raised my hands above my head; one enormous, darkly gleaming eye followed the movement. "Please stay back, and don't make any sudden movements."
Halting when I was two yards away from the massive creature, I quickly flicked my eyes toward the razor-sharp, shifting talons. A crumpled object, swathed in what appeared to be coarse fabric, rested between the huge claws; An'ya was hunched over it protectively, coating it with thick, inky shadows. A quick scan with the Sharingan showed that it contained no chakra.
"An'ya-san," I asked quietly, my gut wrenching in apprehension, "could you please tell me what is wrong?"
"Hatake-san…" The bird croaked; the feral light in its eye was gone, replaced by deep, roiling grief and pain. Slowly, it folded its wings.
"Yes, it's me. What is it that you are guarding?" Shivering, An'ya shook her head slowly and stepped back once, twice, three times, the ground shuddering with each step, until the object was no longer shrouded in her shielding shadow. I stepped forward with equal deliberateness, keeping my eye locked on the bird until I was right in front of the object.
Then, filled with cold, nauseating dread, I looked down.
The world spun in a dizzying rush around me as I saw the bony face, the inky hair, the milky white skin, and the thin, scarred fingers that poked out from beneath the folds of the ANBU cloak. Collapsing onto my knees next to the frozen, crumpled body, I pressed my fingers against her throat, her wrists, her chest, frantically searching for the small throb that meant life.
Nothing.
"No," I mumbled brokenly, numbly refusing to accept what my Sharingan had already told me. Rolling Karasu onto her back, I tore down my mask and took a gulp of air before bending over to press my mouth against Karasu's. Her lips were cold and hard, their warmth torn away by the icy November wind. Pinching her nose, I forced two puffs of air into her mouth before straightening and placing my hands against her chest.
"Come on. Breathe," I growled hoarsely, counting the number of times I pushed against her sternum. The bone underneath my hands gave a sickening crack that drew stifled gasps from the observers in the clearing; I ignored them. When I reached fifteen, I bent over her motionless form and exhaled twice into her mouth. I repeated the cycle over and over again, listening for the weakest rattling breath, feeling for the faintest twitch of blood, looking for the slightest flutter of an eyelid.
Nothing.
"Please, Karasu, wake up. Please. Don't do this to me. Wake up!" I commanded, my voice and hands trembling violently. The darkness was a thick, inky blur; I blinked hard as my lips curled in a vicious snarl of anguish and helplessness.
Kuro Karasu, don't you dare pull this shit on me. Breathe, damn it! You can't leave me. Not here. Not now. Not this way. Not before I've apologized. Not before I've made things right. Wake up! You've got to breathe! Please…
I paused with my lips brushing against hers, my ragged pants echoing in my ears as I pressed my trembling fingers against her throat.
Nothing.
I had been desperately administering emergency resuscitation treatment to a body that had been lifeless for several hours.
I slowly turned until the side of my head rested on her shoulder. Squeezing my eyes shut, I felt the thin barrier holding back the raging storm of hot tears shatter; my fists dug into the thick folds of Karasu's ANBU cloak as my throat burned with a low, thick, guttural groan.
The small, burning hope that I had been nursing for two long years flickered and died, evaporating in a coil of ash and smoke.
An icy gust sliced through clearing, tugging at my black funeral clothes and An'ya's feathers. Ignoring the strands of hair that whipped against my face, I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets.
The last six days had merged into one surreal, hazy blur. Shortly after Tsunade had arrived on Hokage Mountain, Karasu's body had been transported to the hospital for an autopsy. The procedure revealed that Karasu had died from a drug overdose; in other words, she had killed herself.
It was as if my father had committed seppuku a second time. News of the nature of my best friend's death had spread through the village like wildfire. Once again, I was surrounded by the whispers behind cupped hands, the troubled glances, the rumors that multiplied like numerous, smoldering flames. A thick, heavy gloom hung over the village, replacing what should have been a festive celebration of the union of two powerful shinobi. The "scandal" was carefully buried under layers of uneasy chatter, pushed aside as the village's inhabitants continued their daily ritual of living.
Since Karasu had not technically died while fighting for Konoha, her name had not been carved in the Memorial Stone. Instead, Karasu's body had been cremated in a quietly-conducted, quietly-finished one-man memorial service. I had not been able to bring myself to watch the flames consume my best friend. Instead, I had stared at the ground, blinking furiously as my eye had burned with smoke, tears, and anger. So what if Karasu killed herself? Does that mean that Konoha will just go on and ignore the fact that one of its most dedicated fighters is gone forever? Does that mean that it will just write off her death as a… a disgrace and try to cover it up? Isn't it going to do anything to honor her memory?
I had been battered by wave upon wave of intense grief, fury, guilt, and confusion. Sakura had tried her best to comfort me, but she'd gradually given up and let me mourn and rage by myself. The other jounins- Genma, Kurenai, Asuma, Anko, Yamato, Gai- had been able to do little to alleviate my agony; all of us were still too stunned by Karasu's sudden death to do any good. Now, six days later, I had managed to seal the storm of emotions raging inside my heart within a thick, frozen shield of numbness.
"Hane and Tsume, please leave this area until I call you back. I wish to talk to Hatake-san alone." Nodding, the two crows glanced at me before following their mother's orders; their sleek forms quickly melted into the forest surrounding the base of Hokage Mountain.
"Hatake-san, I sincerely apologize for my… my uncivilized behavior the other night."
"You were understandably distraught. No one blames you."
"Thank you." An'ya paused for several long minutes before opening her beak again. "I also want to apologize for being unable to stop my mistress from killing herself."
"What?"
"If… If I had been more observant, I probably would have noticed that something was amiss. She was too quiet, too nervous. I thought that it was due to a fear of being recognized by others. If I had been quicker-"
"Please, stop it!" An'ya broke off, her dark eye widening in surprise. "Don't blame yourself, An'ya-san. No one expected this to happen. In your wildest dreams, you couldn't have even imagined that she was planning to kill herself. Besides," I swallowed, my throat tightening, "I know how good Karasu is at hiding her feelings. If she didn't want you to know what her intentions were, there's no way you would have been able to find out. It's not your fault." It's mine.
"T-thank you, Hatake-san."
"There is nothing to thank me for," I said bitterly. I'm the one to blame for her death.
"Before my mistress died, she gave me a message that I believe was intended for you."
"W-what did she say?" I bit my lip, tightening the fists in my pockets as a bittersweet, coppery tang seeped into my mouth. I hope that she cursed me. I hope that she called me the pathetic, useless trash that I am. I deserve nothing better than that.
"She said that she was sorry. She wished you the best in life and said that she would always be watching out for you." Hesitating, An'ya bent until her beak brushed against my shoulder. "Hatake-san, please believe me when I tell you this: she was never the same after she left you. She loved you very much, and I believe she died without a trace of hatred towards you. I ask you to please forgive my mistress for whatever she did to wrong you."
"There's nothing to forgive." My voice cracking, I swallowed and continued in a low rasp. "She did nothing wrong."
"Additionally, for both my sake and for my mistress's sake, I beg you to also accept the fact that none of this was your fault. Please. It will be easier for me to return to my aerie if you promise me that you will no longer blame yourself."
"I will try. That's all I can promise you."
"Very well." Straightening, An'ya gave a deep, booming call that echoed through the sea of bare branches below. Two small black dots materialized and quickly swelled into smaller versions of their mother.
"Are you ready to leave, okaasan?"
"Yes. Say good-bye to Hatake-san." Landing in front of me, Hane and Tsume swept into low bows that I returned.
"Good-bye, Hane-san, Tsume-san."
"Farewell, Hatake-san."
"Good-bye, Hatake-san." The second crow paused before whirling around to face his mother. "Mom, are we ever going to see Hatake-san again?"
"I do not know, Tsume."
"An'ya-san, do you ever plan to create another summoning contract?"
"I most likely will. But first, I would like some time to… to…" Gulping, An'ya trailed off, her composure cracking.
"To recover," I supplied quietly.
"Yes."
"Then I pray that the next time we meet, we will not be fighting against each other."
"No." Her voice grew heated, bolder. "Never. My allegiance lies with Konoha. I will not do anything to endanger the country that my mistress spent her life protecting."
"I'm glad to hear that." An'ya returned my faint eye crinkle before bending to pick up the small cloth bag that rested next to her talons.
"Wait. Please." She paused with the tip of her beak poking through the bag's strap. "Could I please… see her one last time?"
"Of course." Clamping down on the thin string, the immense crow carefully picked up the container and placed it on my outstretched palms. Squeezing my eye shut, I pressed the bag against my chest, feeling the way the contents of the cloth bag shifted as my hands trembled.
I'm sorry, Karasu. I'm sorry that I never got to make things right. I'm sorry that I hurt you so much that day. I'm sorry that you died without knowing that I always have and always will love you as my closest and dearest companion; you are… you were much more than a simple friend to me. Please, rest in peace.
"We will scatter her ashes on the winds that surround the aerie. She always wanted to fly."
Nodding mutely, I slowly opened my eye and reluctantly extended my arms. With equal care and reverence, Karasu's summons hooked the tip of her lower beak through the looped handle, pausing as I hesitantly rested my fingers on the tip of her beak.
"An'ya-san, domoarigatougozaimashita."
"There is nothing to thank me for." Nudging me gently, An'ya straightened. The bag looked so fragile and small as it dangled from the razor beak, a minute smudge against the pearly grey sky. With a final nod and bow, the three birds vanished in an explosion of smoke.
Long after the last curling grey tendril was whipped away by a bitter winter gale, I turned and limped down the stairs etched into the side of Hokage Mountain. The few people that I met as I weaved through the desolate streets of Konoha quickly turned away from me, carefully averting their eyes as they bowed their heads against the wind. My lips curved in a bitter smile.
I halted in front of a boarded-up, traditional-styled home, my frozen fingers clumsily fumbling with the key in my pocket as I unlocked the door and stepped inside the genkan. As the door quietly clicked shut behind me, I collapsed against it, my back molded to its cool surface as I pulled down my mask and slid slowly to the floor, my eyes closed as I listened to the eerie dirge of the wailing wind.
In her heavily pregnant condition, Atsui was finding it almost impossible to take care of her own family while maintaining her deceased neighbor's property, which included both Karasu's parents' home and Karasu's traditional-styled house. When she'd apologetically informed me of her decision to sell all of Karasu's land for money that would be desperately needed at the arrival of her third child, I'd asked for a chance to stay overnight in Karasu's home before it was put on the market. Atsui had been only too glad to give me permission, adding that I was welcome to take whatever I wanted.
It made no difference when I wearily cracked my eye open; I was still surrounded by an ocean of silent, inky darkness. The wooden boards that covered the shouji, protecting them from the elements, blocked out all light from the setting sun. I didn't care. I wanted it to be dark.
Peeling off my sandals, I slowly stood, leaning against the wall for support as my head spun; it belatedly occurred to me that the only sustenance I'd had all day was a single bowl of soup that Sakura had practically forced down my throat for breakfast. I ignored my grumbling stomach as I limped to Karasu's study, my hand resting on the wall. Karasu had silently endured much greater pain when she had taken care of me. I needed to suffer. I needed to punish myself for being unable to take care of my best friend. I needed to pay for grotesquely misusing Obito's gift and letting the victim die before I'd apologized.
I opened the bamboo blinds that shielded the window in the study room before kneeling to carefully scan the dust-coated spines of the books that neatly lined Karasu's bookshelves. Amber light filtered in from the window, illuminating the untouched contents of the numerous polished glass cases that gleamed faintly in the darkening room. I hadn't yet been able to bring myself to organize and bring back home Karasu's last presents to me; it was too hard to touch the numerous weapons that Karasu's hands had diligently polished and maintained.
Spotting several thick, leather-bound tomes, I pulled them from the shelf and wiped the covers with a gloved hand, stifling a cough at the thick plumes of dust that curled through the air. Setting the pile down on the desk, I selected the top book and, after a long pause, cracked open the cover.
Although Karasu had absolutely detested having her picture taken, she had been more than glad to fill several photo albums with photographs that she had taken herself. As I flipped through the photo album, I caught glimpses of undulating clouds, of thick forests, of rippling water, of fluttering leaves. The focus of her snapshots all seemed to be simple and mundane, everyday objects that others passed by without a second glance. But Karasu had always been different; underneath her hardened, battle-scarred exterior, she had always had an innocent, child-like fascination of the world around her. Studying her pictures, I could almost begin to feel her simple wonder, her sense of amazement at the small miracles that occurred in the unfurling of a flower, the wind-worn surface of a rock.
Carefully setting aside the book, I picked up another and opened it; a slight burst of shock jolted through my body as I saw a slender, black-haired woman in a scarlet kimono. As I peered closely at the picture, I gradually recognized the features that distinguished Kuro Junsui from her second daughter: a narrow, aquiline nose; a rounded jawline; a softer, rounder mouth. I dimly remembered a much larger version of this portrait hanging on the wall of ojisan and obasan's home. The picture must have been taken before obasan had married ojisan; only single women could wear the distinctive furisode with ankle-length sleeves. With a white mask covering the upper half of her face, obasan shared an uncanny resemblance with Karasu.
The next picture showed obasan in a traditional white shiromuku and ojisan in a black montsuki, the traditional article of clothing that a man wore at his wedding. Their smiles were strained, tired; despite careful arrangement of obasan's obi, her stomach still protruded noticeably. When Karasu had been six years old, she'd asked why her maternal grandparents had never come to visit on Grandparents' Day; obasan had turned away with a tight smile. Later that evening, Karasu had told me about how her maternal grandparents had kicked her unwed mother out of the house when they'd discovered that she was pregnant with Shinju.
"Why did they do that?" she'd asked me. "Everyone in my class talks about how their grandparents love them so much. Why didn't Mama's parents want Shinju? Why weren't they happy? Didn't they love her? Didn't they want her? Does that mean that they don't want me either?" I hadn't known how to explain.
The next several pages contained photographs of a young Shinju and her parents; it wasn't until I was halfway through the album that the first picture of Karasu appeared. She looked so small, so delicate as she was cradled in her father's muscular arms; despite myself, I felt my lips curl in a small grin at the way Karasu's short, dark locks seemed to defy gravity in a way that was reminiscent of my own hair. I flipped through the pictures slowly, absently turning on the desk lamp as the light streaming in from the window faded away.
As I turned a page, one particular image caught my eye; I carefully pulled it out from behind its protective plastic cover with trembling fingers, turning it to better catch the light.
It was a picture from Karasu's Shichi-Go-San ceremony. I was carrying a seven-year-old Karasu on my back, my arms wrapped securely around the short, bruise-spotted legs that peeked out from the folds of Karasu's scarlet kimono. Karasu's mouth was curved in mid-giggle, the skin of her left cheek marked with a dark dimple. Her round face was illuminated by an innocent bliss that I'd forgotten she'd been capable of experiencing, and, surprisingly, so was mine.
Fighting down a lump in my throat, I quickly stuffed the photo back into the album, pushed it aside, and picked up a different book, intent only on putting more distance between myself and the painful evidence of the friendship I'd once shared with Karasu. I picked a page at random; the album opened to a rare photo of an adult Karasu.
The cheerful, rosy-cheeked kindergartener that had fallen into my lap twenty-five years ago had quickly changed into a serious, withdrawn fully-fledged ninja. Karasu's self-consciousness and timidity had developed to such a great extent that by the time she had turned eleven, she had flinched at the thought of having her picture taken; she had often masked her face with her sleeve at the sight of a camera lens. As a result, I'd never bothered to try to take her picture; she had always respected my privacy and the boundaries that my mask established, and I'd always tried to return the favor. The only depiction that I could recall of an adult Karasu was her unsmiling photograph in the files that contained basic information on all ANBU members.
This photo, in stark comparison, reminded me eerily of the one taken on my best friend's Shichi-Go-San. Clinging onto Karasu's back, a giggling, brunette toddler tried to fend off the black-haired boy that was tugging on her leg. I dimly recalled Karasu's slender, scarred finger tracing the picture as its owner told me about how the two toddlers had really wanted to meet me; if I remembered correctly, they were Atsui's children. Karasu's eyes were creased in laughter, her lips curled in a rare, genuine smile as her ponytail fell over her shoulder. She looked healthy, strong; it was hard to believe that this same person would succumb to a mysterious bout of deep depression, lose a dangerous amount of weight, develop alcoholism, and eventually commit suicide.
A drop of water fell onto the photo. Hurriedly wiping it away with my hand, I felt another tear slide down my cheek and drop off my chin. I bit my lip, clamping down hard on the storm of emotions roiling inside my chest, struggling to keep my heart from splitting along the wound that was just beginning to scar over. I can't cry. I can't show weakness. I can't break down. I have to stay strong.
You're strong, Kakashi, but no one is strong enough to cope with something like this by themselves without comfort from others. No one's telling you to be strong now. You need to drop that thick, unfeeling façade and learn that it isn't weak to show your emotions and lean on someone for help and support.
No. I couldn't. I was a weak, worthless piece of scum, a complete low-life who had no right to mourn, no right to express any pain.
No, Kakashi, no, you're not weak. You're not stupid.
Then what was I? What was I supposed to do?
Just hit me, cry, scream, do whatever you need to do in order to let it out.
But I can't… it's not-
We're in my house, Kakashi, don't worry.
I could almost feel her hand cup my cheek, could almost feel her roughened fingertips brush against my ear. Gritting my teeth, I shook my head violently, tears streaming down my cheeks against my will, trying to mount a last, desperate defense against my heart.
Please. Do it for my sake.
The shell of ice that been barely been holding my heart together shattered and dissolved; unspeakable agony burned through my chest as the storm of roiling emotions that I had been so desperately trying to hold back for the past seven days finally burst through. I crumpled against the desk, my hands digging into my hair as I vocalized my anger, my pain, my confusion, my guilt, my agony and my grief in one long scream. When all the air escaped from my lungs, I took a shuddering breath that collapsed into deep, wracking sobs.
Why? Why did you do it, Karasu? You said you that loved me, but you lied; if you'd really loved me, you wouldn't have killed yourself! You wouldn't have chosen the path that my father chose so many years ago. You wouldn't have made me deal with the agony of finding you as a frozen corpse on the night of my wedding! Didn't I already tell you how much it hurt when I found my father in a pool of blood with a sword in his stomach and his intestines on the ground? Did you hate me so much that you wanted me to go through all that pain once again?
Didn't you know that I still need you, that I'll always need you? How am I supposed to go on without you by my side? You were one of the last few precious people that I had left, Karasu! And I couldn't protect you because I was so fucking blind and stupid! By the time I finally realized something was wrong, it was too late; you were already so weak and sick. Why couldn't you tell me what was wrong? Why wouldn't you let me help you? Why wouldn't you let me hold you and cry for you like you've done for me so many times before? Weren't we supposed to be the closest of friends, able to tell anything to each other without the slightest bit of hesitation? Didn't you know that I would have done everything within my power to help you? Didn't you trust me anymore?
And why… why did you call me your "dearest friend" in your will? Didn't you already know that I'd betrayed your trust? Didn't you remember that I'd used Obito's gift, the one thing that I'd promised to protect all my cherished people with, against my closest friend? Didn't you remember how my anger, my pain, my frustration, and my fear completely overpowered me and made me lose control? Why did you still give me your prized weapon collection? Why did you tell An'ya to tell me such unbearably painful words of kindness instead of the curses I deserve?
And now… now I don't even know if you're at peace. Even though An'ya said she would scatter your ashes so that they would be free in the wind, your soul will always be trapped in the limbo that all people who commit suicide are condemned to stay in for all eternity. You were always terrified of the dark; how are you going to endure the unrelenting darkness and the unending loneliness? The bright-eyed, giggling five year-old I met so many years ago will always be crouched in the corner, shuddering in terror as she unsuccessfully tries to fend off the unremitting darkness. You'll never have peace until whatever drove you to commit suicide is resolved. And since no one knows why you did it, no one knows how to help you. You'll be trapped there forever; you'll never escape.
And it's all my fault. I was so desperate for your approval of my relationship with Sakura that I wouldn't listen to your criticism. I wanted your support so badly that I wouldn't shut up and accept your advice. I used my Sharingan on you. I chased you out of Konoha. I forced you to die all alone, in the cold, with no one whom you could cling to for comfort…
The tidal wave of emotions gradually petered out, leaving behind an empty, crumpled shell and a deep, overwhelming desire for sleep that I couldn't fulfill without Karasu. I needed her gentle, soothing touch to lead me past the flood of images and memories that my insomnia brought every night. I needed her rough, low voice to drown out the countless screams that echoed from battles of years past. I needed her presence more than ever.
Wearily cracking open one swollen eye, I slowly stood up, my body shuddering as I leaned against the wall and limped to Karasu's bedroom. Opening her closet, I dragged out her futon; after placing it on the floor, I pulled her neatly-folded blanket from the closet, staggered to the futon, and collapsed onto the soft mattress, clumsily pulling the downy blanket over my shoulders. As I lay there, surrounded by the fragrance of bird oil, I felt my hiccupping gasps gradually slow into deep, even breaths; it was almost as if she was brushing a lock of hair from my forehead once more. My eyes drifting shut, I did not resist as the inexplicably soft embrace of her scent gently led me into the welcome, numbing emptiness of slumber.
Giving the shining marble a final wipe, I stuffed the wet cloth into the pocket of my jounin vest, placed my hands on my knees, and slowly pushed myself into a standing position. After offering a silent prayer to my teacher, his wife, my former lover, my parents, and my first best friend, I knelt to pick up the bundle of flowers I had set on the ground and carefully tucked it under my arm as I began to walk away from the Memorial Stone.
As I approached the painted gate of the cemetery, I spotted several people dotting the normally monotonous, lifeless landscape. There were families kneeling around particular gravestones, talking quietly as they carefully wiped the small, flat stones that were embedded in the ground. Some people were weeping openly, their hands shaking as they buried their faces in a small rag. Others stood quietly with their heads bowed, their motionless forms contrasting with the grass rippling in the light breeze; Asuma was one such mourner. Catching his eye, I exchanged nods with him as I made my way to the very back of the cemetery, slowing as I pushed aside scraggly bushes to reveal four small markers arranged in a semicircle. I knelt, pulled out the rag from my pocket, and carefully wiped the first three gravestones. When I turned to wipe the fourth gravestone, however, I found that my hand wouldn't move. Throat tightening, I swallowed and opened my mouth several times before successfully forcing out a hoarse whisper.
"Hey, Karasu."
Several months after Karasu's death, I had approached the Hokage and asked for permission to buy a small plot of land in the farthest corner of the cemetery. I'd told her that I'd wanted a place to put the markers bearing the names of Karasu's family; Tsunade had readily conceded. What I hadn't told Tsunade, however, was that I also planned to place a marker bearing Karasu's name.
I simply couldn't honor Karasu's wish to have no tombstone or funeral. I couldn't understand why one of Konoha's most dedicated ninja wanted to die unremembered. I didn't want Konoha to allow all memory of Kuro Karasu to fade quietly into oblivion over time.
And so, in defiance of Karasu's last will, I had paid a sculptor to engrave a small, rough piece of granite with the five kana that spelled out Kuro Karasu's name.
My hand trembled as I gently cleaned the engraved characters; the rough granite was already starting to acquire a smooth surface from the polishing tide of time. When I finished, I stuffed the cloth into my vest and carefully set the bouquet of flowers in front of the stone.
"I'm sorry I missed your birthday last week." I cleared my throat, struggling to make it more audible. "I was on a mission and didn't get back until yesterday night."
"On the way back from the mission, I stopped by your parents' house. It's still in decent shape, but it's still on the market. No one wants to buy it since your parents died there and you committed suicide there; I think they're afraid of your ghost. But, personally, I don't think they have anything to be scared of." In all honesty, if Karasu's ghost was haunting the place, I wanted to meet it. I wanted to know where she was in the afterlife. I had so many questions to ask her, so many things I wanted to know, so many things I wanted to tell her. If nothing else, I just wanted to see her for one last time.
"Some person bought your house almost right away, though. I think it's a civilian family. They're already good friends with Atsui and her family; Tsuki and Hisui like to show the other kids their baby sister." The only response I received was the light dance of the flower petals in the wind.
"I'm thinking of retiring from ANBU." I paused for several seconds, struggling to come up with an explanation. "Sakura will need me around more often once the baby comes. And if I die on an ANBU mission, the child will grow up without a father. I don't want that. I don't… I don't want to be like my father and make my child suffer the kind of pain I suffered."
"Besides," I swallowed, my throat tightening, "squad sixteen hasn't been the same since you left." I turned so that I could sit next to Karasu's marker, my gaze locked on the clouds that drifted overhead.
"I miss you a lot, Karasu." My voice cracked; the clouds overhead blurred into indistinct blobs of white. "Sometimes… sometimes, it's really hard. Sometimes, I wake up and I forget that you don't live next to Atsui-san anymore. But I think… I think the pain's getting a little more bearable each day."
"Don't get me wrong," I added hastily, "I'm not saying that it doesn't hurt to think about your death. It's still just as painful as it was the night you died. Sometimes, it hurts so badly that it's all I can do to not break down. It's just… that pain has become part of me. It's part of who I am now. It's easier for me to accept it because I've got so many people who are still with me. I have a beautiful wife, and I'm going to be a dad in a couple months. I still have so many friends and people who care for me."
"I'm not really making sense, am I?" Laughing softly after a long pause, I closed my eyes. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… I just want to let you know that I'm doing okay. That's all. And I hope you're doing okay, too."
The breeze picked up, caressing my forehead and playing with loose strands of hair that tickled my eye; the rustling of the leaves and grass sounded like echoes of melodic laughter. The faint caw of a crow sounded from far overhead.
Opening my eyes, I caught sight of the sleek outline of a bird in flight.
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