Summary: Because one day, Kakashi would go home and be greeted with a bloody corpse he used to call 'Father'. One – shot.
A/N: I am just a poor student who rely mostly on scholarship and parental supports, how on Earth can I own something as magnificent as Naruto?
Kakashi threw the paper door open with a force that a five – year – old could never possess and scrambled through the threshold frantically. His mask fell half way through his face and his feet kept clumsily stumbling on the floor like a toddler. The corridor leading to his father's room seemed like a never - ending road, thousand times longer than the path he took everyday from his house to the Academy.
Kakashi's small hands shakily reached the paper door of his father's room, unsure whether to open it or just leave it be. Centuries flew by and slowly, unsurely, Kakashi tapped on the door, asking, pleading for entrance.
No one answered.
Not a single sound was heard except for the small child's laboured breathing and his frantic heartbeat. But still he waited, straining his keen ears for his father's chuckle, bracing himself for the strong but ever so gentle arms to wrap around his chest as a welcome – home gesture. An eternal went by and nothing he expected happened.
"Ka..ka..shi. KAKASHI!"
The owner of the name jerked awake, his mind slowly registered the blond jounin's penetrating stare.
"You haven't been paying attention, have you?" Minato asked disapprovingly.
"No." Kakashi answered bluntly, not bothering attempting at formality, his mind still occupied elsewhere, his heart helplessly drowned in an overwhelming pool of unfathomable dread and fear.
Tousan. Tousan. Tousan. Tousan...
"I know that these days must be hard for the both of you. But you should focus on your training instead, Kakashi. This time of hardship will come to pass."
Somehow, his sensei's soothing didn't work as it always did. It sounded utterly hollow and just like the same old cliché 'everything will be alright' that he had come to harbour ill feelings supposedly comfortable words were more like a hidious monster that was waiting with impossibly quietness inside his closet to devour his heart and soul when he least expected it.
Tousan. Tounsan. Tousan. Tousan...
His heart kept calling for his dad. His mind kept screaming that something wasn't right. And all of a sudden, his body gave in to the magnetic pull of gravity and collapsed on the ground with a loud thud.
"Kakashi. What's wrong?" He vaguely heard Minato's worried voice but he couldn't quite pinpoint what was wrong with him. He couldn't say that he had a terrible premonition concerning his dad, could he? While facts and figures were usually of utmost reliability, belief in omens and portents was usually scowled upon. Logical as Minato was, he certainly wouldn't buy his words.
Tousan. Tousan. Tousan. Tousan...
He wriggled out of the blond's firm – yet – gentle grasp, stood straight up like a proud ninja and tried to look as calm as possible (which he suspected failed miserably).
"I don't really feel up to this. May I go home? I believe the trip can wait."
Tousan. Tousan. Tousan. Tousan...
Minato endeavored not to appear too suspicious about his student's sudden uncharacteristic behaviour. Kakashi, after all, was a hardworking, fastidious type of person that bordered on worrisome. Of course, the recent event must be taking its toll upon the child, leaving no small an impact on his mental and physical well-being. So Minato decided that a few days off wouldn't hurt.
"Shall I escort you home?"
"There's no need to." Kakashi answered in a dismissive tone of voice, indicating his need for personal space. "I can go by myself. Bye bye, sensei."
The Fourth – Hokage – to – be could barely blink before the boy completely disappear from sight, departing with such a speed that it could rival his own. Nothing could ever confirm the boy's previous presence and the jounin was left all for himself in the ominous quietness of the dark forest.
"Tousan?" Kakashi whimpered after an eternal silence. The premonition that he would never get to see his father again stabbed him in the heart with a force that could kill him a thousand times over. He knew with a nasty certainty that his beloved tousan was in the house, as the Konoha White Fang suddenly became so unreliable that even a lowly C – ranked mission couldn't be trusted in his hands. The truth was, Sakumo didn't get any mission ever since the incident. The once legendary man now stayed in his house – now his own prison, no longer bothered to go out to fetch his son home or to buy daily necessities. Kakashi understood, and he tried to help with the boring, boring housework he usually despised, bringing home food and household goods. He even stopped asking his father to walk him home after his daily training because 'he was a big boy and no longer needed adult supervision.'
The house was empty, filled with an eerie silence. The only room remained unchecked was the Konoha White Fang's. Not in the least did Kakashi wish to open the door, he desperately wanted to run away and left the mystery unsolved. But he opened it anyway and took a hesitant step into the room, which was cold not unlike a December night.
"Tousan."
Sakumo cast his bloodshot eyes to his son's masked face. He noted with displeasure that his son flinched at his glance. He tiredly shifted his focus back on the neglected bowl of rice (that Kakashi had meticulously prepared) and heaved a heavy sigh.
"What is it, Kakashi?"
His prized son averted his eyes elsewhere, cheek flushed red, which usually resulted from either anger or embarrassment. Sakumo suspected the former.
"I'm going to the training trip today. It will probably take a few days. I hope that you will be able to take care of yourself in these few days... I... I have already prepared some food for you, it will last for almost a week so you will be fine, really. And.."
"I understand." Sakumo curtly interrupted. 'I understand that you probably hate me so much that you can't stand seeing me anymore, hence your supposed 'training trip'. I understand that you despise me for my decisions. I understand, son. The villagers are harsh on you as they are on me.'
Truth was, Kakashi wanted to tell his father that he was proud of him no matter what. Even though the child believed that the mission should always went first, he would never look down on his father for his own decisions. The young prodigy longed to assure Sakumo that he would be beside him no matter what, and damn the villagers. But in the end, Kakashi kept silence, he was never the one to excel at expressing his feelings so he turned on his heels and walked away.
"I'm going, Tousan. See you later."
'Let's pray that that later won't come for at least another few decades.' Sakumo bitterly thought. The man had been harbouring the intention to put an end his life for a while, knowing that his name would never be restored and he would always be the village's shame. His skills were going downhill and before he became a pathetic excuse of a human being, Sakumo'd rather that he die. Little Kakashi would be left alone, yes, but he would grow strong, he would have the aide of his sensei, the Third Hokage and the perverted Jiraiya. Genius as he was, Kakashi would make a name for himself, he didn't need to live in the shadow of a pathetic man like Sakumo.
After the event, Kakashi had ceased to ask Sakumo to walk him home after training. The boy never so much as asked him to spend time with him or train him like he always did in the past. And Sakumo understood. He knew that Kakashi, being young and impressionable, couldn't bear the pressure coming from Konoha's inhabitants. He knew, and he stayed out of the way, letting Kakashi did everything in the house even though it burnt his heart to ashes as he witnessed how much burden his son had to bear.
"Kakashi." The owner of the name turned around, raising a questioning eyebrow.
Sakumo heaved forwards, almost losing his balance along the way and embraced his son in one last hug. It took him all his might to not break down and cry in front of the boy. He ruffled Kakashi's already messy hair lovingly, knowing that this would be their last time together. He inhaled his baby boy's scent, trying to carve every small bits of details about his son into his brain.
"Kakashi, Tousan's proud of you. Tousan will always love you no matter what."
"Why does this sound like a farewell to me?" He felt his son's embrace tighten around his waist trembly, much like how his heart was now being squashed like a lowly bug, and he couldn't bring himself to admit that that was indeed their last goodbye. Staring into Kakashi's pair of innocent eyes, brimmed with life and energy, Sakumo felt like he was committing the worst possible crime ever.
"Why would you think that, baka." He pinched Kakashi's cheek affectionately in a futile attempt to pull his emotions under a semblance of control. "Be careful on your trip. However long, I will be waiting for you. Remember to take care of yourself, alright?". (He almost choked on the last few words)
"Alright. Goodbye, Tousan." Kakashi ran for the door before halting to a stop. He tilted his head to lock eyes with Sakumo and whispered.
"I love you too, Tousan."
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Sakumo was supposed to be waiting for him to come home with his warm smile and playful chuckle, not lying on the blood – soaked floor motionlessly. Kakashi was supposed to be greeted home by his father's embrace, not an empty house with a bloody corpse.
Everything was wrong, dreadfully wrong. The world suddenly crashed down on him like a tsunami wiping away the whole village, leaving only destruction in its wake. Despite his current situation, Kakashi could distinctly hear the twittering sound of the birds, always so carefree, unbounded by limits and rules. He could feel the heat radiating from the high above sun, the happy chattering of people passing by. And he was utterly embittered how perfectly normal everything was as if his only world wasn't crumbling, falling apart right before him.
His father was dead, dead, dead.
Blood soaked through the tatami floor and through his white socks. The man's death tainted his once innocent soul like how his blood transformed his pure white socks into a crimson red color.
"You promised." Kakashi accused, tears threatened to fill his eyes but he refused to let them out. "You promised you would wait for me." He waited for an answer, but none come.
He stood there for a few hours, unmoving, motionlessly like a statue. Hell, he even felt like one, heart stopped aching and mind stopped working. Kakashi didn't bother to cry, because he knew that crying wouldn't bring his father back. His endless stream of tears could never wash away the blood that tainted the floor and his clothes, his weeping wouldn't wake up the man because the dead couldn't hear, couldn't comfort him after horrid nightmares any further.
If only...
If only he hadn't left for the stupid training trip that morning.
If only he had come home sooner.
If only he had comforted his father.
If only the villagers hadn't turned on his father.
If only his father had followed the ninja's codes.
Kakashi stared at the dead body he used to call "Tousan" and for the first time, he realized that he was now all alone in this whole wide world, with no one to turn to or to rely on. No one would want to take in a five – year – old, prodigy or not, let alone the son of the man Konoha now looked down on. The darkness lurking in the room was encasing his heart and soul, the monster hiding in it kept urging him to go forwards, to take the bloody kunai in his father's hand and plunge it in his own stomach.
'What's the point to live anyway?' Kakashi idly wondered. His only source of joy now dead, his only support now no longer walk on the surface of the Earth and he was all alone with only Solitude as an ever so loyal companion. Going on with life now was nothing more than a meaningless endeavour that wasn't worth wasting efforts for ('o so meaningless that Kakashi desperately yearned to fall straight into the warm, waiting embrace of Death).
As a child, Kakashi never really knew his mother. The woman had died in a mission, abandoned by her own comrades for the sake of the mission, sacrificed by everyone and remembered by no one. Having lost her at too young an age, Kakashi could barely remember her. His world revolved around his father, who had always been by his side ever since he became aware of his surrounding. Kakashi loved his father with all the love that he could ever muster, he admired Sakumo, he worshiped the ground that Sakumo walked on, he couldn't imagine a world without him.
"Tousan, where's Kaasan?"
Sakumo stiffened at the question that his two – year – old son had posed. After all, death would always be a strange, alien concept to innocent children like Kakashi.
"She's in a better place now, Kakashi."
Kakashi tilted his head, his droppy eyes narrowed (much like an adult) and he said in an accusing tone.
"People often say that when they refer to the dead."
Sakumo felt as if he had been stabbed right in the heart. Kakashi wasn't supposed to know about something such as death.
"I have to admit, boy, you are too sharp for your own good." He pinched Kakashi's cheek lovingly. "Kaasan is not here anymore, it will be a very long time before we meet her again. But..." He pinched Kakashi's other cheek. "Tousan will always be here for you, taking care of you, annoying the hell out of you and reminding you everyday that even though the whole world may hate you, there will always be one person that loves you with all his heart."
At this, Kakashi's eyes widened, cheeks flushed red from embarrassment.
"Promise?" He nervously inquired in his childish, adorable tone that Sakumo's heart sang with joy every single time he heard it.
Sakumo chuckled.
"Honor promise."
And he sealed his promise with a tight embrace.
Minato was more than relieved when he got there in time, narrowly prevent another suicide that would surely put an end to the Hatake's clan. For a five – year – old, Kakashi was too smart, too strong and way too stubborn. It took all the jounin's strength to snatch the kunai from Kakashi's bloodstained (yet so small) hands. The child fought tooth and nail against Minato, eyes impossibly wide and bloodshot, reminding Minato of a wild, desperate animal fighting for away to escape. It took forever to calm the child down and make him see to reasons. Minato couldn't help but vehemently abhor the fact that now Kakashi was damaged, tainted by the blood of his own father, his innocence forever lost by the death of his most beloved one.
Kakashi sat in a corner, clothes wrinkled and drenched with blood – he had been hugging, holding onto Sakumo for too long, too tight. Kakashi tried to shed the tears that he had been putting too much efforts in holding back, but none came. The child was unsure whether he should feel proud – that he had sucessfully locked away his feelings or be ashamed – that he couldn't even drop a tear for his late father. In the end, only numbness that flooded over him, his limbs refused to obey, his mind shut down from thoughts and his heart ignored the past events. ' . .
Not the gentle hug that Minato was offering him.
Not the comfortable words that the jounin was whispering in his ears.
Not the horrid smell of blood.
Not the temperature that was flaring, taking away every last ounce of his strength.
Nothing.
Suddenly, it became all too much to bear and Kakashi got the urge that he needed to, had to escape from this reality.
So he ran. He ran and ignored Minato's yells. He headed for the spot his father had always waited for him by every evening to finish his training.
He ran and ran and ran.
He could hear his father's enthusiastic yell, calling for his name.
"Kakashi, over here!"
He could smell the familiar scent of his father.
He could almost, almost see his father from afar.
"Oi. C'mere, Kakashi, I've been waiting for you the whole time. Where'd you go?"
But all that greeted him at their usual meeting place was an empty spot and the melancholic howl of the wandering wind.
THE END
A/N: Review are more than welcomed. Let me know what you think, leave some feedback. :)