Disclimer: I don not own Naruto or anything it is associated with. I write for pleasure, not for profit.

Author's Notes: Hello all, welcome to the workings of my mind. Sorry that it's a bit stuffy in here. Though this is my first ever work of expressed rational thought, some of you may know me as 'That annoying chick who leaves endless reviews'/ 'That annoying chick who put me on her alert list and never bothered leaving a review'. My appologies to all I have offended. I have read every completed story of every rating in the Kaka/Iru community here on and have enjoyed most of them. However, I am and always will be against taking up someone's time to leave a one sentence review declaring how much I love your story and demanding that you update it. Kudos to all do that, but I never leave a superficial response. On another note, there are many stories that I'm currently reading that will recive a lenghty review once the story is completed . My props go out the the authors of "Underneath the Scars", "The Little Things", "Training Kakashi", "Teach Me To Live", "The Heart of a Shinobi" , "The Space Between" "Falling Leaves" and many others that I can't think of off the top of my head. If you are an author I have mentioned, or an author of a Kaka/Iru story that you desperately need reviewed, feel free to yell at me and get my butt in gear.

Please Read!

Now that I have settled that matter, I present the prologue of "Seeing Forever". It is set in a slightly AU version of the Naruverse and any inconsistencies with the cannon will be explained as the story progresses. This is a yaoi story involving Iruka and Kakashi. If you have issues with the pairing or the content, please keep them to yourself. I am not intrested in hearing about how disgusting I am for writing about gay people, nor do I want to read a "Kaka/Iru is such a crack pairing" rant. There are no warnings, as of yet ,but the story is rated M for a reason. Anything that might put some people at unease will be properly labled as the story goes on. This story is unbetaed, and I am awful with grammar. If anyone would like to volunteer to fix my unconventional slaughter of the English language, please let me know. Now that I have taken up more time with my author's notes then it will likely take to read the story, I'm going to shut up and pray that my work speaks for itself.

It is a rare thing, in life, to ever have a moment of true clarity. All my life people have been calling me a genius, yet I've been walking through life day by day never quite able to break through that intangible film blocking off the fine line between knowing and truly understanding.

It was clear that day. The lazy fog that often swirled across my vision, keeping everything just out of my reach had faded and for the first time, I was able to accurately use the term 'beautiful'. I learned that day that salvation not only had a face and a name, but a color as well. The color of my salvation was brown.

I have never fancied the color brown. It was the color of filth and waste, of unforgiving ground, tiny dogs that don't know when to shut their mouths, and of blood that has dried to peeling. It would figure that brown was also the color of the most expressive pair of eyes I had ever seen and at the moment that gaze locked with my own, brown had wiggled its way into my mind and had begun associating itself with the most pleasant of my memories.

There is a saying that on a clear day, you can see forever. Never in my life did I think that this was possible, not only because of my ambiguous sense of clarity, but because 'forever' was an inconsequential term in the life a shinobi. There can be no such thing as 'forever' when you don't belong to yourself and exist in a constant wheel of life threatening situations.

At the risk of sounding corny, I saw forever in his eyes that day.

The moment his big doe eyes locked with mine, I saw everything. Everything I could be, everything I ever wanted. My forever was locked inside his eyes. When he passed out seconds later, I remember wishing that forever wasn't quite so fickle. This day, that wish stands even firmer.

More often than not these days, when my thought process wanders back into what was, it can't help but take a turn into what might have been. I find myself bitterly wishing that I had been looking away when those eyes sought comfort, that he had been killed on spot when he transcended the boundaries of our village, that he had stayed put and never come back here. I often break out in tears moments later.

I can never find it in me to believe myself when I say that I wish I had never met him.

I'm sure the same statement goes for the entire village. How can anyone find it in themselves to hate the man who stumbled into our primitive little patch of grey existence and turned it into the vibrant metropolis I am now able to watch from the rooftops? They don't. They carved his face next to the ones of our village's leaders, letting the scar across his nose forever mar the left side of the great monument. They built buildings, formed alliances and held festivals in his name. All for him, all for the man who created a future by demolishing the past and unintentionally immortalizing himself in our history books.

Yet I can never bring myself to happy about having once known him.

I avoid his buildings, glare at his alliances and stay inside for his festival. I much prefer to stare at a stone with a vision that is now crystal clear and lament to myself over the price I had paid to get it. Wallowing in self-pity always has been one of my most practiced hobbies.

Now I stand alone, fixated on the solid jade stone in front of me, recalling with infallible memory the silky locks of hair, the warm tone of voice, the reformation executed with a never ending smile and the name that tingled the tongue and caressed the breeze.

Iruka

My Iruka

Well, there you have it. Now I'm off to pat myself on the back for finally sitting down and writing something. Feel free to drop me a line and tell me what you think, though no one is obligated, seeing as I often don't extend the same courtesy to the writers who are much better than I am. On another note, I am sorry for shortness of the chapter/ confusion that it might have caused. I hope to clear things up in later chapters along with extending the length. Thanks go out to the readers who have taken time to read this mess and I do hope that I have hooked you in for later chapters.

Until next time,

Your Friendly Neighborhood Psycho