Lines of Legacy
By: Little Sharingan
Disclaimer: Clearly, Naruto is not mine. That concludes this public service announcement. Please resume your previous activity.Author's Note: As usual, this is Kakashi-centric fic. It was written awhile ago, but I never had the chance to post it. Hope you enjoy it!
It was smooth to the touch, as soft as stone could be, weathered by tears and rain, by hands of remembrance, and whispers of goodbye. It glimmered a stoic slate in daylight, and when night fell, it slid easily into darkness, just like the shinobi whose names were etched into its surface.
It was memory.
And honor.
And pain.
When he was young, he had fancied that the voices of the dead might speak to him from the silence of the grave. That perhaps he might hear the farewell he'd never had the chance to give to those who'd been wrenched from life. His life. Their own lives.
But he never did. And as his imagination and hope and youth faded away, he realized that it was he, not the ghosts of lost shinobi, that visited this memorial. That it was for the living that the rock stood, solemn and permanent.
And for a long while, a bitter despair had consumed him. The dead were gone, and all that remained of their former lives, whether grand or inconsequential, were lines carved in stone. And like lines drawn in sand, they, too, would fade. Meaningless. All of it.
Yet as time passed and he continued to visit the monument each dawn, another truth revealed itself to him. He began to see more lines, lines of legacy connecting those who had been touched by the dead. They drew the village together, wove invisible ties to bind them, to give them strength and wisdom and love.
Lives were gained and lives were lost. This was a part of living in a shinobi village. This was a part of living. And as he stared at the stone, mismatched eyes tracing each familiar line, he understood in his heart exactly what the memorial was.
It was memory.
And honor.
And love.