Like you
I want to be just like you, Father. But I will live.
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I hold his blade under the moonlight. I've unsheathed it, because in the darkness no one else can see it glint so. I never unsheathe it after dawn or before dusk. The blade's light isn't pure silver like the moon. It radiates a sick brown colour, as I refuse to wash the blood away. His blood.
My father was a good man. He had honour and loved his wife to no end. He always taught me things I needed to know, and had an air of solemn power to himself. He commanded respect, and they were always quick to indulge him. I wanted to be like him so much. The villagers could only see him as a tool- THEIR tool. He kept them safe in their beds, and they thought nothing of it. They saw only what they wanted to see, and let him do the dirty work. Only mom and I could ever see his faults. And I still wanted to be just like him.
He was a pervert, I knew, because he hung around with Jiraiya so damn much. And he couldn't sing worth his life. He didn't have a clean sense of humour, so mom always scolded him for his crude remarks.
Personally, I thought they were funny.
Everyone saw him as a hero, until he made one mistake.
Then everyone hated him, and wanted him dead. One mistake in the life of a shinobi, and no one can ever look at you the same way again. You're a problem after your first mistake, and everyone knows it.
Father made one mistake, and my last name became a bad word.
He suffered for it. He couldn't go out anymore, and he didn't eat. We could only ever get him to choke down some form of sustenance when I begged him, and even then he never ate or drank it all.
He stopped leaving his room soon, and Mom left. She couldn't handle it anymore. I was alone.
Dad died finally. Well, he actually committed suicide. Ritual seppuku with his blade in the dojo.
Poor dad, however, had no second (1).
He had to stab himself over and over.
Poor, poor dad.
No one remembers him for the great mad he was. They only remember Konoha's White Fang, Hatake Sakumo.
I want to be a legend like him, too. He was the best of the best. No one doubted his skills before the incident. He had power, respect, and honour. I try to fill those places too. I've even got a little nickname going for me, too. I've heard many altercations of it. Copy-nin Kakashi, Sharingan no Kakashi, and the copycat Nin. I don't like that nickname, but it makes me a little more like him everyday. That nickname is a blessing and a curse. I didn't get the sharingan fairly. I didn't earn the title. But if it makes me a little more like dad, what the heck. I'm even got a little bit of a reputation as a pervert, dad. I'm getting a little more like you everyday.
I want to be just like you dad. I always have and I always will. I'll always keep this rusting bloodied blade around until I'm strong enough to use it.
I want to be just like you dad. But I won't die.
I want to be just like you, Father. But I will live.
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A/N: I got bitten by plot bunnies. Here's a sad little blurb about Hatake Sakumo.
(1): In seppuku (ritual Japanese suicide) men stab their own stomachs. They're supposed to enlist the help of a second for this. Seconds are people who stand poised to cut off their heads with long swords if they don't die form the first stab. If they don't have a second, there's a high chance there'll be more than one plunge. Ick….