Umbrella, a naruto fanfic

I promised her I'd protect her.

It was a promise made in his stead, not in mine.

The rain poured hard.

"No assignments today?"

A blonde head snapped up.

"Nope, nothing lined up. Take it as a day off."

He cocked his head to one side, surveying his teacher.

"…you okay there, Arashi-sensei?"

The blonde grinned and nodded, waving a free hand.

"Of course I am, Kakashi. Go rest up – I'm pretty sure we'll have one for you tomorrow."

Hatake Kakashi took this as a sign to leave. After nodding his head as a sign of respect, the tall silver-haired ANBU officer quietly walked out of his former teacher's office. As usual, it was littered with stacks of paper and emptied instant ramen packs – just a few days after being made Hokage and the Yellow Flash of Konoha already made the office one big mess.

He could just imagine his sensei's assistants grimacing at the idea of cleaning up.

"…and oh, Kakashi?"

He held the door open for just a sliver. The Fourth smiled a bittersweet smile.

"Cheer up, alright?"

He smiled politely through his mask.

"I'll try."

Blue eyes watched him close the door silently. With a sigh, the Fourth bit his lip and continued on to skim over the reports of the latest recon mission concerning the Kyuubi. Today was definitely not his day.

Then again, this particular date never became his day.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, lightly throwing the pen he was holding on the table and reclining back on his chair. And as he did, his eyes strayed over to a picture on his desk – right beside the picture of his (well, his somewhat 'goal) wife – and sighed again, closing his eyes.

"It's been three years, hasn't it…" he murmured, running a hand through his blonde hair.

The picture seemed to be staring at him, putting aside the fact that the four people on it indeed were.

He smiled his bittersweet smile again.

"…Obito."

It struck her hard.

"You heading out early today?"

She chewed on her lip.

"…hey, are…are you heading out early today?"

She blinked, and turned her head to see her colleague staring at her.

"Oh…umm, yeah, Shizune, I am."

The black-haired girl she was talking to nodded.

"Be careful out there, alright, Rin? It's really pouring out there."

Rin smiled and took her umbrella, which was resting against the counter of their corner of the hospital. Her umbrella, aside from her rich red-hued hair, stood out against the pale interior of the Konoha Hospital – it was a dark blue shield, patterned with bright orange marks. It seemed somewhat tattered and worn, but it was still useful – after all, she had been using it for three or four years now.

She could still imagine his smile as he handed the umbrella to her.

"Umm, Rin?"

She was already holding out the umbrella in front of her. Shizune put the file she was holding down the table, ignoring the latest person which popped up in front of their counter.

"Take it easy, okay?"

She grinned – a habit she got from him – and shook the orange-pattered umbrella.

"I will."

"Please go ahead to room 403. I will be with you shortly after."

The woman, who was probably the mother of that Shiranui Genma she just treated a while ago, scurried off to the left corridor. Shizune sighed as she took off a file from the counter and took off, bidding her fellow medic nin a temporary goodbye. It was going to be a pretty long day.

Shizune glanced at a calendar she passed by.

"That day again, huh…" she said to herself, "…she always went out early at this day…"

But then again, maybe if it was she who was teamed up with him, she'd act the same too.

And she'd understand why he always acted like how he did.

Shrugging her thoughts off, Shizune headed off to room 403, dreading the expression she'd see on Genma's mother.

"Damn him, he just got his finger broken. He just had to hurry on here."

She stared at his name.

Uchiha Obito, it read in bold characters, grooves being flooded by the numerous raindrops.

She watched the rain fall off from the edges of his name.

I hate you.

The words echoed inside her head. When they were small she never really thought about hating him, or him, for that matter. If she ever thought about him, it was about some trivial matter. Like…how come he always arrived late, his horrid color combination preferences, and his weird, dark, spiked-up hair. She never thought about him as a charming, dashing, yet brooding boy.

How dare you.

She could still remember that day – the day she was finally able to heal that stupid flopping fish. He had stood beside her as she made her hands hover over the fish, watching in amazement. His eyes were as wide as saucers, peering over her shoulder, watching the wound close through the help of her medical chakra.

She had been so happy that she jumped up and hit his chin with her shoulder. He had staggered backwards and tripped over a parcel that was clumsily wrapped, a parcel that he had planned on not showing to her until she was done.

'What's that?' she had asked, once seeing him sprawled on the floor, that long parcel he tripped over rolling to her feet.

'It's my congratulatory present for you,' he said, grinning as he readjusted his goggles, standing up. 'For healing that fish.'

It was when he said it that she realized what she was doing was pretty trivial. Nevertheless, she had watched him take the parcel and jump up on his feet, thrusting the package in front of her.

She had opened it, remembering she made a scrunched-up face as soon as she did.

'An umbrella?' she had asked, clueless.

'Yeah!'

She scrunched-up her nose and looked the umbrella over. It was dark blue, speckled with oranges.

He had quite the fashion sense.

'Why an umbrella?'

It seemed pretty stupid to her.

'So that whenever it rains, you would remember me!' he had said happily, jabbing his finger on the pattern. He then grinned again and pointed at his goggles and clothes, which was lined with orange and was dark blue, respectively.

She had snorted.

Little did he know that just a year later, she would remember him whenever it rained.

But it wasn't because of the umbrella.

"Stupid," she murmured, tightly clutching the faded orange handle. She used her other hand to wipe the tears away.

It was somewhat a habit of hers. To remember that particular incident of his stupidity and cry as she hovered over his name. She had done it for the past three years; as time passed, though, she gradually toned down. During the first year, she had cried far worse than what she was doing now.

She calmed herself down and sat on her heels, gently placing a mix of flowers down the memorial stone. She never was sure what his favorite flower was (like he'd ever admit he had one – he pressed on the importance of manliness), so she got one of each and just placed the mixed bouquet there every year. She was sure, though, that even if he got indignant on the idea of proving his manliness, he still would have had a flower he fancied.

'Silly Rin! You'd know my answer to that – it'd be you!'

A sob threatened to run through her.

The idea proved to be so real that she could feel her heart withering.

Why did you have to be like that, you stupid boy…

She sank to her knees. It was as if she could hear his cheerful voice, see his smiling eyes and his sparkling grin. Along with that 'nice-guy' pose he got from that bug-eyed kid he was friends with in their batch.

It was killing her, that it was very much like him to say those words with such a happy tone. It was excruciating to think that she had ignored him back then when he stood by her side through the times. It was numbing to think that she merely passed him over when he never focused on anything else but her.

It was also killing her, that she would never hear his voice again.

…never to see his eyes shine with mirth again, never to see him smile like an idiot, never to see the great achievements he would have done.

It was excruciating to think that she would never see him again.

He would smile, and gently pat the top of her head, slightly ruffling her red hair.

'Silly Rin…' he would say.

She cried harder.

You're making missing you much harder than I thought it would.

He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You're here early."

She didn't turn her head; she already knew who he was.

"No I'm not, you just came here late."

The mud squished under his shoes as he approached her, stopping beside her crouched form to join her in staring at his name. He didn't have to search for it – as it nearly drowned amidst the names engraved in the stone – he already memorized where it was placed. Every morning he stopped over the stone, the name would just pop out at him and he would stare at it incessantly. It was habitual.

He tried to ignore the orange-speckled umbrella she was holding over her head.

"The usual, I see," he commented, taking the bouquet and making it a topic of conversation. "Always the colorful bunch."

"He was colorful anyway." Rin replied quietly, still kneeling in front of the memorial stone. It was also habitual for them to meet like this every year. He would stand there beside her and stare at his name with her. No questions asked.

…what I am now…

He blinked, staring down at the top of the orange-speckled umbrella. He could hardly see his former teammate's form under it (the umbrella was quite large in scope), but he really didn't need to anyway. He could tell that she had cried herself a river hours before he came. Her voice was raspy and her breathing was ragged; also, she was already slumped before the stone.

It was somewhat wrong of him, but to know that someone shared an inkling of the guilt he had was a bit comforting.

He tore his gaze away from the umbrella. To not see her cry (or hear her cry, as he had for the past three years) was somewhat…relieving. It wasn't as if he was irritated of her bawling in front of the stone – it was because the burden he carried on his shoulders was somehow taken off. It was selfish, he knew, but it was true – it was a promise he made in his stead and not his.

'I'll protect you with my life,' he remembered himself saying, 'because Obito told me to take care of you.'

But as time grew he found that it was no longer Obito's cause which made him protect her. Alongside it was his own want for them to be at peace and cherish Obito's memory. After all, death is something which comes ordinarily to shinobi – the greatest should be able to deal with it.

Obito was great himself, after all – his death wasn't exactly normal to begin with.

But then, so was every shinobi's.

Rin also needed to have some weight taken off her shoulders. And as a friend, all he could offer was protection, and do justice to what the Uchiha did for sacrifice.

He was to protect her and live out his life for him.

But to see her cry made him feel like he was failing both himself and Obito.

…is all because of you.

"Are you going to stay until evening?"

"I'm not sure," came his response. His chronic lateness, his absentmindedness, his lame remarks for excuses…he really didn't know if it was brought about by himself or by his desire to realize Obito's wish. "I guess I will. Have the Uchihas come by already?"

"They have." Rin replied quietly. "I saw his mother leave with his goggles a few minutes before I planted myself here. His father was with her."

His parents weren't really that fond of Kakashi.

"I see."

"Is Arashi-sensei coming?"

"I think not. He's partly buried in paperwork and trash."

Silence passed between them as the rain continued to pour against their form. After a while, as the rainfall got harder, Rin stood up and slightly raised her arm, making it so that the umbrella covered the both of them.

"I…I'll be going now, Kakashi." She said, slightly glancing at him. He never changed. He was still silver-haired, still masked...his left eye was still blood-red, as red as she last saw it in Obito.

"Alright." He replied. He looked at her and gave her a small nod, ignoring the drops of water that was running down his face.

"Take care of yourself."

He watched her turn around.

"You too, Rin."

And she clutched the handle and walked away, leaving Kakashi under the rain.

He didn't mind, though. He had always wanted it to be that way ever since, anyway.

He smiled a pained smile as he stared at the stone again, with faint sounds of Rin's squishy footsteps reverberating in his ears.

I'll live my life for the both of us.

Even though he couldn't see, he was sure she was crying again.