A/N: It's been a while since I've considered writing for Naruto but since the series is now over, I feel as if I have the information I need to start. Plus, there aren't many Kakashi fics out there. This is NOT a self insert character and I promise I'll do my best to stay away from Mary Sueisim.

Still, this is kind of tester chapter. We'll see how well-received this is, I'm mostly curious.

It was raining at his fathers' funeral.

Rain seemed so cliché. He tried not to focus on the fact that his father, the Legendary White Fang, was dead and instead thought about the rain. It was cold and windy, the rain coming down in sheets. The kind of rain that felt like ice but trickled into every crevice with reaching fingers. The chill bit at his arms and legs, which had long since gone numb, kneeling at the side of the freshly buried grave. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting here, only that everyone had left long ago. He vaguely remembered their offers of places to stay and whatever comfort, and pity, they had offered.

He didn't want any of that. He didn't want their pity, the way they looked at him – like he was broken.

His father had committed suicide. He was weak, Kakashi tried to tell himself, tried to be angry because that way it wouldn't hurt so much. But it still did and his own weakness infuriated him. So consumed by his conflict, Kakashi failed to notice the soft steps of someone approaching until a bouquet of hydrangeas filled his vision. Reacting on instinct and surprise, Kakashi swung a kunai in the person's direction. He fully intended to stop before connecting but the person caught his arm easily. Astonished, Kakashi looked into the face of a young girl, perhaps his age. Her eyes were blue-gray, steely and light and the lower half of her face was covered in a mask similar to his own. Her clothes were non-descript but looked worn and well-made, though she was well bundled up. A young kunoichi?

She said nothing and neither did he once he saw the flowers in her hands. He turned away, expecting her to place them on his fathers' grave. There were a few bouquets there, their petals being destroyed by the rain. They wouldn't last long. He glanced up when he felt eyes on him and he realized the girl was staring at him, her brow furrowed. When Kakashi met her eyes, irritated by the scrutiny, she tossed the flowers at him. Catching them out of habit, he frowned.

"Why are you giving them to me?" His voice came out more bitter than he intended. The girl looked unfazed and only gestured to the gravestone.

"The White Fang had his share. I think these ones should go to you." Her voice was very soft, unemotional. With the tension and high emotions of the previous few days, the tone was almost refreshing. He'd had enough of crying and well-wishers. He quietly nodded and she dipped her head in goodbye. When she glanced at the grave, he caught the smallest hint of her face turning contemplative before she turned and trotted away. He could only watch as her deep blue hair and black clothing merged with the rain and disappeared altogether.

Who was that? He wondered, bemused. He'd never seen her before but then again, his father had been very well-known yet it was surprising to see someone so young. As he glanced down at the flowers, a flash of white caught his eye. Tucked amongst the blue blooms, was a letter. Kakashi pulled it out and flipped it over. It was unmarked, save for his name written in neat lettering across the top. He didn't recognize the handwriting. Struck with simple curiosity, the first real thing he'd felt for what seemed like forever, he opened it. A single page fell into his lap, the water droplets staining the whiteness of the paper. Kakashi did his best to shelter it as he read.

You do not know me but I have to tell you what your father did was wrong. But it was what he chose to do. His actions have no bearing on you, Hatake. You are not him. You can choose to be whatever you like.

But I would ask that you don't completely throw your father out of your life either. For all he did, I know he was proud of you and what you accomplished. And above all, he knew how strong you would become.

Just don't become strong in a bad way.

A friend

-N

After he had finished, Kakashi couldn't decide whether he was touched, appalled or furious. He settled on a bit of all three. He had no clue who 'N' was but they had to have known his father. It couldn't have been that girl because he'd never seen her before. How had they gotten so much information on him and his father?! But as he sat, staring at the muddy earth under his feet, the blue petals of the hydrangeas melting into the muck, he realized he was grateful.

Everyone compared him to Sakumo. They looked alike, they acted alike. When he was much younger, Kakashi had appreciated the attention until he was old enough to realize he was living in the very large shadow of his fathers' reputation. All of his achievements were somehow linked to his father, as if Kakashi was just a part of Sakumo. Even now, he couldn't stand their pity or the fact that just because his father chose the cowards way out, he might do the same. But whomever N was, they obviously felt differently. They wrote to him, as Kakashi – a person with his own way of life, not one defined by his fathers' actions. And they were right. What he chose to do now was entirely up to him.

Folding the letter carefully and tucking it into his pocket, Kakashi gave his fathers' grave on last look. Sakumo was a disgrace to the code and Kakashi was determined not to be the same. Feeling more reassured by his resolve, Kakashi rested the flowers over his shoulder and made his way back to the village. It was time to move on and hopefully, find an apartment of his own.

It would be quite some time before he ever learned whom the note came from.