A big thanks to my friend Lil-chan for looking this over in its early stage and providing some great suggestions and to DarkSacredJewelXoX for beta reading this for me, you are awesome. Reviews are welcome and encouraged - please read the author's note at the end. Thank you.

Title: Three Days of Rain
Rating/Warning(s): T -suicide, minor spoilers (on the assumption that we all know what has been revealed about Kakashi's past)

It was summer and the air was overbearingly humid. As Kakashi passed the Yamanaka Flower Shop, the varying scents of flowers clung heavily to his nose, throat, and lungs. Konoha was in desperate need of rain; the skies had been overcast since yesterday and everyone seemed to be waiting anxiously for the first clap of thunder and the refreshing drops of rain that would follow. Kakashi had never been partial to rain; he didn't care for any kind or precipitation actually. He liked having water to drink and bathe in and that was about it.

His face was currently buried in the pages of Jiraiya's latest (and last) book and the only thoughts of when his head was last buried between anything besides the inked pages came and went in a flash. It had been over a year. He paused and sighed, looking over the top of the book, and wondered when literature had become more thrilling than bedding a woman.

There was a soft pat-pat-pat and Kakashi blinked, looking down at his book and the three tiny splash marks that had darkened the paper. He bookmarked his page and snapped the book close, stowing it away. The next drop landed on his nose and he tilted his head back, glimpsing the small beads of rain before they gently splashed onto his face as a dam in the skies broke.

A group of boys ran past, shirts off, shouting in excitement. A dark charcoal gaze followed them intently, Kakashi wondered how something as simple as the rain could make them so happy.

After all, he had always hated the rain.

.oOo.

Kakashi knew the moment the grey sky welcomed him that morning, that something was different. He got ready for school in his usual manner and then went to the kitchen to join his father for breakfast. It was like any other morning, any other breakfast. There was miso soup, rice, fruit, and bread and a bento awaited him on the counter.

It was silent, but the silence itself felt strange. It sat heavily between father and son, not at all like the easy serenity that usually presided over their breakfasts. Kakashi had sneaked small glances at his father, trying to understand why the air around him felt so uncomfortable. His father appeared the same: same straight posture, same newspaper hiding tired eyes, same light hair sticking up unnaturally.

By the time he had finished his meal, his father had not spoken once or touched his food. Kakashi took his dishes and put them in the sink, grabbed his bento, and then moved to slip on his zori at the door. He glanced back down the short hallway when he heard the paper rustle. With a sigh he slid the door open.

"Do good at school today, son."

He smiled softly, although for some reason he didn't want to. "I will."

And he did. He always did. He was admired, respected, and resented for it. Some kids thought he was "so cool" while others thought he was merely showing off. What they thought didn't concern him. For a young boy, he handled the title of prodigy well.

Throughout the day, the sky gradually darkened and as it did, so did his mood and the atmosphere, yet to his bemusement, none of his classmates seemed to notice. The other kids continued to study and pass notes and the girls chatted and giggled, but Kakashi felt as if he was on edge.

An hour before the end of class, it started to rain.

Kakashi took his time gathering his belongings once they were dismissed. He didn't share the same enthusiasm some of the other students did. He hadn't brought an umbrella and was not looking forward to sloshing through the rain back home. With a heavy sigh, he set out, taking the plunge into the falling rain.

The rain wasn't horribly heavy, but it was steady and he was soaked within the first few blocks.

"Kakashi-kun! Come play with us!"

He shook his head and instead merely waved. Disappointed groans and sighs following him as he turned away and continued to walk home. He stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep them warm, his eyes darting around at the shops and the villagers huddled under the canopies and the scant few that dared the rain.

Just like himself, their eyes were darting around, but they all seemed to land on his small form. Some looks were filled with contempt, others with concern, and some others were filled with pity, oddly enough. He blinked and stared again. Pity? Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

Even at his young age, his hearing was sharp and he discovered very quickly that his early morning practices with his father had paid off as he easily caught onto all the snippets of conversation floating around him.

"Did you hear about what the White Fang did?"

"I don't believe it."

"I feel bad for his kid."

"The men he saved are just ungrateful. What happened to respecting your elders?"

"What happened to following orders?"

"He's the reason all those people died."

Avoiding their gazes, he picked up his step. The sooner he got out of the rain, the better.

He slid the main door open, slipping his zori off. There was a towel waiting for him. He quickly undressed and wrapped it around himself and began to dry off. A bit more warm and thankfully not wet anymore, he walked further into the house, his feet echoing softly in the silence.

As he walked down the hallway, he heard a light pat-pat-pat and looking up, he quickly located the source: an old discolored tile. Sensing someone's presence, he turned around to discover his father there, eyes fixed on the tile.

There was a moment of silence before Kakashi spoke, "We have a leak."

"It appears so."

"Do you want me to fix it?"

His father sighed. "No, I'll take care of it."

"What's going on, Father?"

A tense silence settled between them and a brief flash of something sparked in his father's eyes. Perhaps he wasn't as good with reading people's expressions as he had thought.

"Nothing you should worry about," he replied.

"I've heard people talking. I've seen the looks. Give me some credit, I am your son after all."

His eyes hardened. "This is no business of a child."

Child. It bristled him and so he lashed out, "I'm a ninja, not a child! Normal children don't go to the Academy, learn jutsu, about survival ... they don't practice killing people. I'm anything but a child!" Yet the boyish whine in his voice was proof that he still had years to go before he could call himself a man.

"Get dressed," Sakumo stated softly, but firmly, "do your homework and then I want two hours of uninterrupted training from you. Understand?"

Kakashi stared him down for a moment, but then conceded. "Fine."

Sakumo sighed as Kakashi stomped away and slammed the door behind him. He then turned his eyes back up to the leak in the ceiling, his hand clutching the paper and the headline that announced the news that dozens of men had died.

Kakashi, although thoroughly irritated, did not disobey his father. After two hours of practice, he was summoned for yet another silent dinner. Kakashi's questioning gaze was answered with his father's stern one. He knew this was a lost battle. After dinner, Kakashi retired to his room, passing the bucket that served to collect the still dripping water.

It rained all night.

When he woke in the morning, the first thing he was aware of was that it was still raining. It hit the window in a raging whisper. Following his normal routine, he dressed and went to sit for breakfast. Everything was the same. Same dishes, same food, same bento waiting for him on the counter, same bucket catching the water.

Only today, his father was not at the table. He ate alone, put the dishes in the sink, and grabbed his bento. When he went to put on his zori, he found an umbrella waiting there for him as well. He slid open the door.

"Do good at school today, son," his father called out.

This time he didn't smile. "I will."

The umbrella was useful in not just shielding him from the rain, but it helped in hiding his face. But just because he couldn't see the gazes, didn't mean he couldn't feel them.

When Kakashi entered the Academy, he realized that he wasn't safe from the stares. He learned very quickly that day that kids had even looser tongues than their parents and although all the seats around him were empty today, he was still able to pick up on bits and pieces of conversation happening in whispers.

"My dad said all those people died because of him."

"Yeah he disobeyed his orders, good ninja aren't supposed to do that."

"My dad said that he was never going to work with him again. He called him irresponsible."

"Mom said I can't play with Kakashi-kun anymore because of it."

"Mine said that too!"

"It's not fair, Kakashi's still nice."

Yet at lunch that day, he sat by himself, staring blankly at the onigiri – his only company.

When school was dismissed, the rain was still falling steadily. Today, he didn't linger. He was the first one out the door.

When he arrived home, the faint pat-pat-pat of dripping water greeted him once more, but now, there was a table-side lamp next to the bucket, illuminating the right side of the room in a dull yellow light.

"Father?"

The only voice he heard was an echo of his own. On the table was a note instructing him to do his homework, then train for three hours and that only when he was done could he come to dinner. He tossed the note into the trash and then headed to his room to do his homework. Afterward, he practiced for three hours, bathed and when he emerged from the shower, he found his place at the table had been set.

There was another note telling him to eat well, and get some sleep, and that the leak would be fixed soon.

Dinner alone was strange and uncomfortable and it made him feel uneasy. In that uneasiness, a fright was beginning to build, but he knew it was irrational. He was a ninja, he knew better; besides, emotions were a weakness. He had been taught that early on.

He cleared the dishes and, out of boredom, washed them as well. With that done, he checked his bento for the next day. Onigiri. Again. He had taken the same thing for a week straight now. His father usually took care to provide with a variety of foods and there was just no way he was going to eat the same lunch again. So, he took it upon himself to prepare his lunch. He hadn't cooked once his six years of life. But he could read and he knew how to follow directions. He was so engrossed in his task that he didn't notice a familiar presence or that said presence was watching him with a satisfied smile.

Again that night, it was raining as he went to bed.

Tonight, sleep was elusive and the rain was not a comfort. It pounded heavily against the roof and the wind whistled through the tiny gap in the far window of his room. Tonight, the rain felt ominous and when sleep finally did come, it was not restful.

Kakashi woke with a start, his forehead covered in a sheen of sweat, his heart pounding andhis eyes darting wildly around the dark stillness of his room. He sighed when thunder grumbled in the distance.

Still raining? He hoped the citizens of Konoha knew how to swim.

He rubbed at his eyes and tossed the blankets back. He washed his face, got ready for the day, and then bounded down the hall to the kitchen. He paused as he entered, the hopeful smiled slipping from his face.

This morning there was no breakfast prepared.

This morning, Kakashi poured himself a glass of milk and settled for a piece of fruit and a slice of bread. He washed out his cup, grabbed his bento and then headed to the front door – passing the same bucket.

He fastened his zori, took up the umbrella, and slid the door open. He waited and listened. No parting words, only silence and the faint pat-pat-pat to see him off.

School went by as it had been ever since it started to rain. Kakashi felt isolated, a bit anxious even, feelings that he knew early on that he didn't like. Even worse, he was feeling slightly paranoid. The way the teachers and students looked at him, how could he not be?

At lunch that day, one girl tried to speak with him but he brushed her off and her friends called her back to them, all the while sending wary glances his way. Kakashi was disappointed in the quality of the food; it wasn't as if it wasn't good but it was missing… something. Half of his lunch went to waste, uneaten.

By the end of the day, he wasn't even paying attention; rather, his eyes were focused on the dark threatening clouds that loomed over Konoha … over him. Already, the street lamps were on. A streak of lightning raced across the sky, illuminating everything for a split second before a crack of thunder shattered the sky. The students and even the teacher jumped.

Kakashi did not.

There was a knock at the door and the teacher opened it. There was a short, quiet exchanging of words and then the instructor nodded. The door was softly closed back and then the teacher took the floor.

"We're letting you kids out early today," he announced over the cheers and premature celebration. Waiting for the class to quiet down, the teacher continued, saying, "There's a bad storm heading this way so no lollygagging! Everyone is to report home immediately! Your parents are expecting you."

The entire class erupted into groans and whines. Kakashi, though, didn't care. He had been ready to leave the moment he had arrived that morning. He gathered his belongings and, ignoring the eyes on his back, he walked out.

Unlike the first day, all the shops were closing down. No one was trying to brave the storm now. There were no hushed conversations, but the eyes … they seemed ever present.

His house came into view, but he didn't feel relieved. He couldn't place why he felt that way. It was strange and a bit disheartening, but he knew that inside it was warm, dry, and familiar. So he raced to the door, shook out his umbrella and slid the door open.

Again, there was only one light on. Again, the gentle pat-pat-pat greeted him home. He kicked off his zori, grumbling.

"I thought you were going to fix the leak?" he spoke as he walked further inside.

He stopped, there was no bucket. He looked up, the discolored tile was gone and in its place was a new one that off set the others. It looked too new and even in the dim light he could tell the ones surrounding it were much older.

Pat-pat-pat

He turned around, attempting to peer into the darkness. Then he smelt it. It was something he smelt when he scraped his knees or tripped over something and the skin broke or when he accidentally cut himself with a kunai.

It was the faint coppery scent of blood.

"Father?"

He walked further into the room, his senses on alert, his eyes focused and a kunai drawn and ready. He slowly edged toward the lamp and the light switch just beyond it. Almost there.

There was a light 'splash' as he took the next step. Whatever it was, it was slightly warm. He hesitated, taking a deep breath, and with his feet firmly rooted to the ground he leaned over and hit the switch.

He looked down and stumbled backward, kunai clanging on the floor. He tripped over his own feet and fell hard onto his butt. Small dark eyes froze wide. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't real. A genjutsu. It had to be.

A flash of lightning lit up the entire room and Kakashi only allowed himself to see for that one tiny moment. Crumpled forward, was his father, his eyes glassy and lifeless. Blood pooled around him and ran off the side of the table, dripping onto the floor. Pat-pat-pat

"Father!!"

His heart was racing, it was suddenly too hard to breathe. He clutched at his head. What was that noise?!

Kakashi was too shocked to realize that he was crying and that the noise was his own strangled voice.

When Minato found him that night, he was sitting by his father with his knees drawn in, his arms wrapped protectively around himself. He was silent, his head bowed. He glanced at Sakumo, the infamous White Fang, and the morbid picture his blood painted. He tore his eyes away, more concerned for the little boy.

"Kakashi?"

He slowly raised his head, looking up, a too-big mask covering the lower half of his face, "Sensei."

He knelt beside him, tentatively raising a hand to put on his small shoulder. "Come on."

Kakashi didn't argue, didn't ask where they were going. He stood, shakily, and allowed Minato to lead him out. ANBU operatives were waiting just outside of the room. As they left, a small group of them entered.

"Are you hurt?" a masked figure asked.

Define 'hurt'.

Kakashi shook his head, "No," he glanced at his sensei. "How did you know?"

"A neighbor called. She said she heard some screaming and crying," Minato softly stated as his sad gaze fell onto the distraught boy.

There was so much he wanted to tell him, to talk to him about and try to explain, but talking would come later. He squeezed his shoulder and then led him out of the house.

As they made their way toward the Hokage tower, away from the death, away from the curious eyes watching from the windows, the rain slowly let up until it stopped all together.

-End

A/N: I'm going to keep these notes to a minimum, but there are a couple things I wanted to address.

I wrote it like this for a few reasons. In Kakashi Gaiden, Obito learned the truth about Kakashi's father so it lead me to believe that his team knew nothing of the matter. So young Kakashi was already a bit "stiff" when he was in his team with Rin and Obito. Minato knew the whole ordeal and he seemed a bit more ... in touch with Kakashi. We don't know how it all went down or when, there's no time line of how old Kakashi was when his father killed himself. And yes, I know he graduated from the academy at the age of 5, so he wouldn't be there at the age of 6 - so please don't leave messages telling me I'm wrong. Even if he was chunin at that age, perhaps they kept him at the academy to continue learning or until he could be placed on a team. We don't know for certain - and this is fiction and I'm trying to keep it within canon, and keep characters in character.

That in mind, please let me know if you feel he (or any other character) is OOC - but do so in a respectful manner. I have yet run into this problem on FF, and my reviewers so far have been great! (seriously, you all rock!)

It's challenging to do something like this because I believe we all have our own ideas as to how Kakashi was raised, or how he grew up and what not - and maybe my idea clashes with your own. That's fine, but don't flame me for it.

Constructive criticism is welcome, after all I'm here to improve ... and provide a little entertainment at the same time.
I'm happy to have finally gotten this out. Updates may be irregular - inspiration comes and goes for this series. I hope you stick with me.
Thank you for reading!
-Deni