I rose to his feet. Missions always had a price, be it money or life, but war. War just had the price of lives. The stone was just a painful reminder of the lost family, friends, and lovers that the village took. Yet, that was the life of the shinobi.
A silent tear fell down my cheek as I traced the recent names on the black stone. Some of them had just graduated the academy, just made it into the life of a ninja, only to have it ripped right out of there hands. My hands stopped and re traced the name last name over and over. They never recovered the body, I never got to say good-bye.
I hold my breath, and chat over and over to myself what I have since the day the War ended.
"A shinobi must never cry, must never show weakness"
I couldn't hold it anymore, it hurt so much. Everyone had at least one person that returned to them, but not me. Every friend I had. Every person I loved. There name is on the fucking stone, and it just hurts to be alone, again.
I try to stop my tears, but I can't. I can't even balance myself to stand. I just cry like I'm a child again. Why? Why was he always left alone?
I bite my lip until I bleed, and I feel the coppery taste in my mouth. I feel so helpless, and I didn't even have anyone to turn too, and I freeze as I feel a hand on my shoulder. I wonder how long they saw me in my helpless state, how weak I looked to them.
"You know...," he squeezes my shoulder, "You don't have to hold back , you are human."
I freeze, and turn slowly. His name was on the stone, he was suppose to be dead, and yet here he was smiling at him.
"Kakashi...", the name sounded strange on my lips.
"Yes, Iruka?", his voice so soft.
I stood, uneasy legs to hold me. I touch his face to make sure he was alive, he was warm. The heat reaching into my fingers, and I truly smile for the first time in weeks. My legs give out, and I fall right into his arms. I feel his hands going through hair, words lost in everything. He was alive, he was here with me and that was all that mattered.