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He was not 'Legendary'; far from it.

The callous assumption, made upon the basis, the foundations, of his successes, of the alleged 'special abilities' that he had had the distinct misfortune of procuring from birth—no, before even then.

Of the scale upon which his achievements could no longer be measured.

It was a far cry from the truth that made him, in all essence, who he was as a person.

They thought of him as a god; his precision scathingly accurate, with wits sharper than the finest blade, of kunai and katana alike.

They idolised him; placed him on a fragile glass pedestal upon which his lightweight frame, barely supported on the flimsy, delicate surface, resided, almost as if it could not shatter, as if he could not shatter.

They relied heavily upon him; his calculating meticulousness, his burning desire to protect the innocent, those deemed precious in his eyes, to him, from all plausible harm—his willingness to kill to survive.

They thrived whilst he suffered.

He thought nothing more of himself than that of the everyday civilian; he was simple, needed nothing but base necessities, and only indulged in small pleasures once in a full moon.

He was not exceptional, not as they believed, and he was not reliable; if he had been, then neither of his two rookies would have perished.

If he had been, his remaining student would not have gone 'rogue', even if it was only the typical six month assignment that all Jonins' were required to carry out; he was only fourteen, and yet, after their deaths, he closed off, even more so than before, his bitter indifference shattering the progression that he had made with him.

He was once so close, but now...

So very far away, in emotional, mental and bodily distance.

No longer could he breach his defences, his walls protecting him from the tangible reality that was his heartbreak.

He had been broken once before, fragmenting across the floor of his inner conscience until the shards were indistinguishable.

The very thing that returned his stability, his sanity, were the precious teammates that took the time to collect those 'irreparable' shards, and carefully piece them back together; they were the glue that held him in place, and now that that glue had absolved into nothingness...

Now that they were beyond salvation... he had nothing once again.

As his sensei, he should have been prepared; prepared to throw his own life before their enemies feet; prepared to sacrifice everything that allowed him to 'live' in order to salvage his beloved students; prepared to bet on the twisted game of his life as he knew it; prepared to pull the trigger in a final desperate attempt at futilely escaping the inevitable.

But roulette was no game, the stakes unbelievably high.

That much was proven when he could not save either of them when it truly counted.

Kakashi knew this.

He would never forgive him of his sins; this having been made explicitly clear by his all too obvious avoidance of him (and being as bloody stealthy as he was, he did it all too often for one's comfort).

The only right he had ever committed, the only thing that he could justify, was the birth of his son; this was where he was reliable, where he was exceptional.

Such a beautiful child.

His child.

Their child.

His and Kushina's.

For the briefest of moments, he was 'Legendary', he was talented, he was all-powerful; all because he was a father, and fathers can and must be everything for their sons, something for them to aspire to be like.

For his precious boy, he was the Legendary Hero that the villagers claimed him to be.

But even then, such a short moment of time could not last; not when his only option in the Third Great Ninja War was to sacrifice his wife and his child in order to succeed—to protect the Kings of his homeland.

It was Kushina's decision to forfeit her existence for their newborn, as she so adamantly made clear to him over and over and over; but it was his decision to allow her to do so, his decision to seal the monster that had been the cause of Konoha's grief inside of his son, turning him into the vessel that would be on the receiving end of much fear and resentment in future years yet to come.

It was his decision to condemn his own offspring to the tortures of a jinchuuriki host, and it was his decision to leave him an orphan in the wake of both of their demises.

It was all on him.

No, he was not 'Legendary'; such a title would only suffice to someone more deserving of it.

No, he was not 'Legendary'; he had failed his students, he had failed his wife and son, and he had failed to meet the expectations of his people.

No, he was not 'Legendary'; he was a failure, without question or doubt.


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a/n: Just a quick oneshot, to help in curing my inane writer's block. Please review. (:

And please do leave feedback on the new poll on my profile. Arigatō gozaimasu. *Bows*