A Father's Love, a naruto fanfic

IDIL's Note: Against my will, this turned into a Sakumo/Kakashi father-son fic, but I'm really happy with it. :) It was meant to be more Sakumo and his wife centered, but alas, not everything can go as planned in life. It's angsty, so please enjoy! ;D Reviews are much appreciated!

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

"Just because somebody doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean they don't love you with everything they got"

- Anonymous

Everyone had been wrong. Hatake Sakumo hadn't died of shame. Hatake Sakumo had died of a broken heart.

He had been weakened and in pain, for sure, by the village's dishonouring and disapproval. It seemed almost surreal. After all, he had respect on the same level as the legendary Sannin. He was heralded a genius. It was strange to for once be placed in the spotlight as a negative example. It was shameful to be called a disgrace, to be shunned by all your friends and comrades.

But although the shame had weakened his mind a little, Sakumo still believed that what he had done was the right thing, even before he made up his mind to do it, during the time he was busy saving his comrades, and even after they called out reinforcements.

The only time his certainty began to waver was when there surfaced a rumour that his wife's ANBU team was to be sent out next. Now, despite the fact that his wife was an excellent shinobi, he still worried for her safety as she had been spending less and less time honing her skills, and more and more time proudly raising their son, Kakashi. So when the rumour turned out to be true, Hatake Sakumo swallowed his pride for the umpteenth time and went to the Sandaime to quite literally beg for his wife to not be put into the line of fire. The Sandaime showed little sympathy, but understood Sakumo's concerns and told the man that he would try, but that there was little chance of success. Sakumo then proceeded to thank his Hokage, and assured him that he would take any and all of the blow, of the repercussions on himself without any hesitation.

However, the time for his wife to leave came, and it seemed as though nothing had been done to get her to stay. Despite his pleas, she had gone to the frontlines, kissing him chastely on the lips as his hands frantically tried to hold her in place.

When the time of her shift came to an end and she was due back home, he placed Kakashi in the care of his sensei – though he was sure his boy could take care of himself just fine - and headed out to Konoha's gates. He waited impatiently, looking completely delusional and dishevelled as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, his usual proud and erect posture completely forgotten. Teams passed by him like blurs, and he could barely make out their faces as they retreated wearily back into their save haven of Konoha. He was forced to focus in on one of the faces as it held his wife's ANBU mask in his (or maybe hers, Sakumo wasn't entirely sure) hands. He bolted like a bullet to the man (or woman) and began interrogating him (or her). The operative looked sullenly down at the floor, and in that moment Sakumo knew what had happened. He didn't even need to hear it; he just knew.

A few days later he had gone to her funeral, and grieved properly with Kakashi, before taking his young son – who, by this time, looked frighteningly more mature – by the hand and walking home with him. At home, Kakashi had awkwardly patted his father's back, quite uncomfortable at the sight of his strong father's break down, as Sakumo continued to cry silently into his son's shirt. And all of a sudden it hit Sakumo; this scene was so wrong. He was the grown-up, while Kakashi was the child. A child who had lost his mother. He should be comforting him right now, not the other way around. What kind of parent was he? So with an even steadier stream of tears falling down his face, he placed an arm around Kakashi's shoulders and pulled the boy against his chest. Eventually, Kakashi broke down as well, and Sakumo was mildly satisfied knowing that his son's tears were how a young boy's should be – loud, wailing, and quickly ending. After that, he made it a point to be around his son as much as possible, to ensure that Kakashi understood what was right from wrong, to ensure that the boy understood that there were tough decisions to be made, and one had to face the repercussions with dignity and acceptance.

He stayed up that night, rocking Kakashi back and forth as the still small boy slept for the first time since he was a baby in his father's arms. At some point in the night, Sakumo had fallen asleep as well, and when he woke up, Kakashi was no longer there.

He found the boy in the kitchen, staring blankly at a bowl of cold cereal, as though deciding what to do with it. Sakumo was about to walk in to the kitchen and prepare some real breakfast and then sit down to have a talk with Kakashi – the way they had comforted each other, as though they were really acting as people who were a family, people who loved each other; it had already made him feel exponentially better. Just then, he was surprised by a knock on the door, and he saw Kakashi hop off his seat and walk to his room. Sakumo walked to the front door of their household and swung it open.

Sakumo stared at the door, wide-eyed. "What are you doing here?"

A barely adult Minato grinned sheepishly, straightening his backpack. "Eh, I'm here to take Kakashi on a mission."

At that instance, Kakashi appeared in the doorway, his own smaller backpack visible. Sakumo turned his stare onto him. "So," he bit his lip, "you're really going?"

Kakashi found he had a hard time swallowing as he answered. "Yeah…I have to."

Sakumo then fell onto his knees and wrapped Kakashi in a bear hug. Kakashi shot a furtive glance towards Minato, who promptly departed for the gate, and that allowed Kakashi a few more seconds to wrap his smaller arms around his father's much larger neck. "It's ok dad…I'll be back in a week. I promise."

Sakumo sniffed, and Kakashi found it even harder – if that was possible – to swallow knowing that he was leaving his father when he was this upset. "Yeah," Sakumo forced a smile, ruffling Kakashi's hair, "sure you will kiddo. Remember to keep safe. And Kakashi?"

The boy turned back to face his father, one foot already out the door, a soft look in his eyes. "Yeah dad?"

Sakumo smiled and pulled him back in for a few moments, placing his hands upon Kakashi's shoulders, and looking him square in the eyes. "I love you son. I hope you know that. I hope you don't forget it."

Beneath his mask, Kakashi bit his lip, and he averted his eyes downward. "I…" Don't cry. Don't cry damn it. "I…I know. But I have to get going now," he winced at how cold the words sounded, even to him. He didn't want to leave his dad, especially not now. But Sakumo released him, and Kakashi sped away to the gates, feeling both guilty that he left, and relieved that he didn't have to see his father's sad eyes for an entire week.

During the week that Kakashi was gone, Sakumo spent the first few days going out and getting things ready for his son's arrival. He decided that he would cook his son as good and as big a meal as he could upon his arrival, and he would spend some time cleaning to make everything look clean, make everything look right again.

It was when he was in the market buying groceries that he overheard a rumour, a vicious one that would eventually cause him to revaluate his perspective on life, spiral uncontrollably into a pit of depression, and finally decide to take his own life. The rumour itself had been stupid; one that suggested Sakumo was responsible for the death of his wife. It had been rumoured that, until Sakumo had decided to save his comrades and sacrifice the mission, resulting in a major problem for Konoha, his wife's team had not been scheduled to go out and fight. Their displacement had been the direct consequence of Sakumo's actions.

Perturbed by this, Sakumo bolted from the marketplace and headed home, trying to get the rumour out of his mind. Up until this point, he had never even considered himself to be the reason for his wife's death. It just hadn't struck him as possible. She had gone out on a mission, been killed by the enemy, and never returned. That's just the way it was. The enemy had killed her, not him. No, definitely not him. It wasn't possible. He loved his wife. Almost more than anything. Perhaps only his love for Kakashi surpassed his love for her.

He tried to brush the idea from his thoughts. He knew that thinking about her death like that would only cause him harm. But after a couple of days, the idea started to seem less and less farfetched. By the end of the week, his heart was heavy with the burden of his mind, and it seemed as though it would crack any moment. Lately, he had been frequently fingering his kanto blade, debating whether or not he should kill himself. Part of him wanted to remain alive, if only for Kakashi, yet the other part of him knew that a disgrace such as himself, a murderer such as himself needed to be killed – after all, it was only just – and this pain, the one in his heart, he wanted to let it go; he wanted out.

His mind was made up only hours before Kakashi was due home. He had been cooking, and had gotten his shirt stained. Weak with grief he stumbled to his room, wanting to change, but tripped on the family photo he had left on the floor, hearing the glass of the frame shatter as he landed unceremoniously on the ground. Sakumo looked behind him at the photo, horrified to see the little shards of glass scattered everywhere, the picture now bent. He beat his fists against the hardwood flooring in frustration, in anger and self-loathing. He knew now what was the only fitting end for scum like him. It was clear. He had to feel pain, feel it so that he could feel what Kakashi and his wife had felt as he ruined their lives single-handedly. Who was he to play god with their lives, toy with their hearts like that? Only a sick bastard like himself could do it without feeling remorse for the longest time. He looked up from the ground at the kanto atop his vanity desk.

Lifting himself off the ground, Sakumo stalked over to the table, pausing as he saw his reflection in the mirror. This man…this man staring back at him so loathingly, so murderously…who was this man? This was the man who ruined his life! The man who ruined his family's lives! This was the man he hated more than anyone in the world! The man he had to kill! Only then could he avenge his wife and Kakashi's lives! Only then could he make this man feel the same heart-wrenching pain his family had felt! Only then…!

Without hesitation, he grabbed the knife and stabbed it into the man's stomach. Hard. The man bit back a scream, and Sakumo looked down at his stomach in morbid satisfaction. He pushed the kanto further in, pulling it in a jagged line against his stomach. He fell to the floor, smiling, a pool of blood forming around him. Everything would be ok now, because he had defeated the evil man, and his family would no longer have to suffer. Everything would be ok. He turned his eyes towards the door, startled as he heard the sound of two sets of footsteps.

Ah…Kakashi's due back home today…and just in time, he's safe now. This evil man who has been ruining his life…he's dying now…he won't be able to hurt Kakashi anymore.

"Dad?!" He heard Kakashi's familiar voice pour into the room, the young boy horrified and frightened at the scene of his father's barely live body. "DAD!"

"It's ok Kakashi," Sakumo wheezed, smiling as he slicked back the boy's hair. "Everything's going to be just ok."

Kakashi continued to stare wide-eyed at his father's form, tears falling periodically. "Why dad?! Why'd you do it?!"

Sakumo reached up and weakly placed a hand on Kakashi's cheek, "It's ok son…there was a man…and he hurt your mother, and he was trying to hurt you…but I wouldn't let him…wouldn't let him hurt my precious Kakashi…so I killed the man…I made him feel as much pain as he caused the both of you. I had to protect you…you understand…don't you?"

Kakashi shook his head. "What man, Dad?! There was no one here but you! And you're the only one I see…d-dy-…dying!" His voice broke as he screamed the word into an empty silence.

It took Sakumo a few seconds to connect the dots, but he finally realized that the man in the mirror…the man he had taken for an intruder…the man who had caused his family to hurt…it was him. And now, he was the only one dying. The only person Kakashi had left…and he had just killed him. He had just killed himself. All at once, the delusion passed and he was left gasping on the floor, convulsing from all the blood loss, and choking on the remaining blood that was trying to make its way up and out his throat. He thought he felt his heart shatter at the sight of Kakashi crying, panicking as he tried to save him. It was only when he pulled up the snippet of conversation he had had with Kakashi before the boy had taken off for the mission, that he realized his heart was indeed broken.

"I love you son. I hope you know that. I hope you don't forget it."

"I…I know."

I…I know. That meant that Kakashi couldn't say it back, that he might not mean it. To Sakumo, it meant that he was to be heartbroken, meant to live and die knowing that his son couldn't, didn't love him. With that, all his resolve to try and stay alive for the boy – although, regardless, the resolve was futile now – dissipated, causing his eyes to droop and breath to falter. This was it. Three…Two…One.

Dead.

"DAD!" Kakashi screamed painfully, realizing what had just happened. No. This can't be happening. He shook. No. He can't be dead. "NO!"

Alerted by Kakashi's screams, Minato, the other person who had entered the house, came rushing in to the room, stopping cold at the sight of Sakumo's lifeless body. "Kakashi…what happened?"

Kakashi dusted himself off and stood up with a hard gaze in his eye, lower lip visibly trembling. "He…he's dead," he replied, surprised at his calm, toneless voice. "He killed himself." He stared blankly at his father's body. "Do we get medics to take him out or do we burn the body ourselves?"

Minato turned to stare at Kakashi with horrification. "Kakashi! What are you saying?!"

"You're right," Kakashi replied, misinterpreting his sensei, unable to feel any grief for the moment, "we should just burn the body ourselves. He doesn't deserve to have everyone see him like this."

Kakashi went into the kitchen to get a rag towel with which to begin cleaning up the blood. Upon entering, he stared at how the newly clean tiles gleamed up at him, at how the freshly cooked food was laid out neatly on the table, and he knew then that he could never guess at what caused his father's suicide. Perhaps it was a psychotic break, or it had been the result of an accident, or something equally as possible. The kitchen was so different from his father's room. It was white, clean, homey and cheerful. So different from the dirty, ugly, messy sight of his father's blood on the floor. He shrugged the thought out of his mind, traumatized by his own ideas, but not yet ready to give in to the trauma, and went back to help Minato clean up the scene.

Even though they had done everything themselves, including cleaning up the bloody mess his father had left, somehow civilians still seemed to know about what happened to his father. Some offered their condolences, while others passed him on the street, whispering to their comrades, "Hey, you see that kid? He's the White Fang's son. You know, the one who killed himself," this part they would always whisper sensitively, no matter how much they disagreed with the White Fang's actions, "because he was disgraced."

Kakashi snorted indignantly. Everyone who believed that was wrong. He had figured out the real reason behind his father's actions long ago. Hatake Sakumo had not died out of shame at having been disgraced. Hatake Sakumo had died from a broken heart.

And Kakashi? Kakashi tried to pick up the dead pieces, never forgiving himself for letting it break.

He stood at his father's grave, tracing first his name on the tombstone, and then patting the ground under which his urn was buried. All courtesy of Minato. He placed a flower atop the soil, sitting behind it sadly.

He turned his head back to the tombstone. "I love you too dad. I hope you know that. Don't ever forget it, ok?"