Untitled

By Imafish

A Naruto fanfiction

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first long fanfiction ever, so please bear with me! Just a couple things to say. First, I am a serious Kakashi fan. I was looking for stories and I couldn't find any long ones about Kakashi's father. I immediately had to solve this problem! As you can tell, my story is currently unnamed. I'm at a loss. I have no idea what to name it, and I would really appreciate suggestions. As many as you can think of, seriously! I will dedicate this story to whoever gives me the winning name, so get thinking! So, reviews and name suggestions will be greatly appreciated. I appreciate reviews that tell me what you like, don't like, spelling errors, suggestions for later on, or possible improvements. If you're flaming my story just for the heck of it, you're only making my story seem more popular, retard. I will try my very hardest to see this story through to the end.

Disclaimer: No. Disclaimers are pointless. This is fan fiction, people.

Without further delays:

Prologue:

Funny things, candles. They seem to be the opposite of everything. Humans start out small and get bigger as they grow older. Candles, they start out tall and proud, until you light them on fire. Then they burn down, becoming a little less of what they once were with each passing second. And in the end, there's only a wisp of smoke, like a soul, finally free, and headed for a better place.

Sometimes, a merciful gust of wind, or a sympathetic sigh can lengthen their lives. But these are rare in the world we live in. There is no mercy among killers. There is no sympathy among betrayers.

I think Providence hated my family. It could have done anything to us, like poison us, or make us ill. Let us die easily. No, it's too cunning for that. The best way to make us suffer-exactly what happened to us-would have been to show us what life could have been like. And then, snatch it away. Then, it threw the war at us.

That war tore us apart. The Third Shinobi War, it's called. Don't give it a name, I protested. That makes it more real. But they did, and it was real, and it killed my teammates, disgraced my father, orphaned my siblings, and then… It left. It vanished, and left us to bear the wound of wars. At least we had each other. Being together helped, even if it made it more painful when we began to die.

There were almost no chances to look out for each other, but still, we tried. One of my brothers tried to save our sister. He was the first to die. Seventeen years old, forcing his brother's hand to wield the knife in order to save her. He loved her. We all knew it, and he knew it as well. That was his downfall. I was two years younger at the time, and I never even learned that I had a brother, let alone two brothers and a sister until I was in my late twenties, early thirties. And I didn't really meet them in favorable circumstances.

But I'm being unfair. I'm telling the story without starting at the beginning. Maybe that's because I just want to get this over with and go out there and die.

I'll start with the mission.

I was six years old. A chunin.

A lit match hovered over my father's candle.

Have you heard this story before? You probably have. The White Fang of Konoha was famous, once. I'll tell you about it quickly, because we don't have much time.

It was the very beginning of the war. You know, the one that Providence sent to spite us. My father was sent into enemy territory on a crucial mission. There, he was forced to choose between the lives of his teammates, and the completion of the mission. He chose to do the brave thing.

He abandoned the mission, and decided to live with the consequences of his actions. But he didn't know that the village he loved would turn on him like a pack of dogs fighting over a bone. He didn't know that the comrades he treasured would forget what he'd done for them, and blame him in their grief that they were going back to war.

No one realized that he was going off the deep end. Not me. Not Jiraiya. Hell, even old man Sarutobi didn't pick up on it.

And then, after the most crucial battles were over, the council dropped the bombshell. We have no need for a traitor in our village, they said. The Hokage was given the final decision. Exile or death. Old Sarutobi, he believed in second chances. He chose exile. Looking back on it, I really wish he'd had my father killed.

Nine years is a long time.

Even longer when you have nowhere to go.

Hatake Sakumo brushed his wet silver bangs out of his sun burnt face and gazed with contempt at the impoverished village before him. It was a mark of the village's weakness that no one was posted at the gate, but all the better for him. Staying under the radar keeps you a step ahead of the bounty hunters.

The man made his way to the gates, his lean form blending in perfectly with the dark wood. He wore loose black clothing in a style worn by shinobi all over the world. It was faded by the sun, as he'd made his way here from Sunagakure. His long silver hair was dulled from dust and travel, and hung in a scraggly, unwashed ponytail. Wary black eyes peered from a thin, sharp face. His headband was tied firmly around his head, the clear, uncut surface an act of defiance. Most missing-nin would have slashed through it, but the former White Fang was not a missing-nin by choice. And there would be no cut through his forehead protector until the day that he truly left the village behind.

Once again, he found helplessness and despair pressing down onto him, until he was almost drowning beneath the weight of so many painful memories. No, he told himself firmly. Don't think about Konoha. Don't think about what you had to leave behind. Most of all, don't think about your son…

Sakumo shoved the lingering memories out of his mind and found himself walking down a practically deserted street. There were only a few people about, huddled under umbrellas. They were either tending to the small stalls, or trying to steal from them.

Again, Sakumo found himself full of contempt for the miserable village and the starving people.

" Where's the fight?" he murmured aloud to himself, dark eyes glaring with distaste at his pitiful surroundings. "If you don't want to live, why don't you just lie down and die?" His lips creased into a thoughtful frown. "But then again," he mused, "Maybe this is their act of defiance. Living. Surviving as the remnants of the past that Hanzo so desperately wants to destroy."

Had any villager been close enough to hear, they would have found the one-sided conversation quite strange, but to Sakumo it was as natural as breathing.

It had been nine years since Konoha had exiled him for a crime that in his grief he had convinced himself he had not committed. For nine years he had wandered the lands, without purpose, without direction, without a reason to live. And he had nearly ended his life many times over the years, but to die would be cowardly, and Hatake Sakumo had never taken the coward's way out.

But purpose was on its way, and it would come to him in the shape of three lost children.

Early nightfall found Sakumo still wandering the dreary village. It had been raining since mid-morning and he was by now thoroughly soaked, miserable, and no closer to finding anywhere to spend the night.

Finally, he gave up and sat down in a dirty alley, wrapping his dark cloak around himself. He huddled behind a pile of debris, making sure to have a good view of the entrance to the alley. But sleep caught up to him, and he was out in minutes, his tanto clutched in his big hands like a child's toy.

Unbeknownst to Sakumo, further down the same alley were three sleeping forms, hidden by an overflowing dumpster. All three were swathed in black cloaks with high collars, and sported battle hardened armor, topped by Amegakure headbands. A worn katana lay at the feet of the man in the middle, but he could scarcely be called a man. All three were young, far too young to be leading a rebellion against one of the strongest ninjas alive.

They were dozing lightly, heads resting on each other's bony shoulders with a deep exhaustion that screamed of days on the run and barely enough food to survive. The same sadness was present on all of their faces even in sleep, the pain of a broken childhood and the harsh realities of war.

And yet, at least they had each other. For now.

With a start, the girl on the end woke. Her head lifted gently from her friend's shoulder and rain dripped from her spiky hair, which was a startling shade of blue. Her sapphire, heavily lidded eyes surveyed her two friends before she stepped cautiously around the dumpster. The girl's black cloak helped her blend easily into the shadows and she moved with a grace that screamed 'ninja'. Her breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of a dark form huddled against the wall near the alley's entrance.

She moved back to her friends and crouched in front of one of them. Placing a thin hand over the nearest one's mouth, she shook him awake. The boy woke silently, and his eyes narrowed in puzzlement at the girl. Waving for him to follow, she pointed out the man asleep farther down the alley. The boy's eyes widened when he saw the fearsome sword that the figure was holding. The boy hastily reached down and grabbed his own katana, buckling it onto his belt under his cloak, which was identical to the girl's. He had spiky, gravity-defying orange hair and bright eyes that seemed to sparkle even in the darkness surrounding them. He stood protectively by his friends while the blue-haired girl went to shake the last member of their trio awake. He woke just as quickly as his friends, and quickly leapt to his feet upon seeing their serious expressions. He was of moderate height, with red hair a couple shades darker than his friends, and strange eyes. They were bright crimson, containing a series of rings, like ripples on a pond.

The boy with the katana motioned for them to follow and crept down the alley towards the sleeping man.

Sakumo woke with a blade under his chin. Anyone else might have panicked, but Sakumo was in this situation commonly enough and he merely lifted his eyes to his opponent's face, noting the disappearance of his tanto. They'd managed to remove it from his grasp without waking him. Impressive.

The boy standing over him could not have been any older than eighteen. He had bright outlandish hair that would scream 'kill me' on a battlefield, but then again, silver hair was sort of out there as well. Two children who were around the same age flanked him, and Sakumo noted that bright hair colors appeared to be the trend in their little gang. He raised an eyebrow silently.

"Who are you?" the boy with the sword demanded roughly. "Do you work for Hanzo?"

Rather than answer, Sakumo chose to shove the blade away from him and leap to his feet. The boy recovered quickly and swung his sword, but the former White Fang protected his throat at the cost of a cut to his arm. Meanwhile, the others were already moving. The other boy wielded Sakumo's tanto with ease, moving in from the other side. Sakumo deflected the sword with a kunai, and kicked out hard at the boy in front of him. The boy managed to jar his leg, but was still thrown violently into the alley wall. He parried another blow from the sword, but where was the girl?

He got his answer a minute later, as he was engulfed in a hailstorm of- is that paper? The cuts from the paper stung, and more began to wrap itself around his arms in an attempt to hold him still. He dodged, throwing a vicious punch at the boy with his sword, still looking around for the girl.

" You're pretty good, kids," he commented, ducking a blow that would have severed his head, and rolling away from the storm of paper. "Out of curiosity, who are you?"

"The ones who are going to free this country," the boy who was obviously the leader shot back at him. "And we're going to kill anyone who sides with the bastard ruling it now."

Sakumo tutted sarcastically. "No one likes a potty-mouth, kid."

He regretted it a moment later, when a fist collided with his ribcage.

For a moment, they all stood back and assessed one another, breathing heavily. Sakumo glanced at the entrance to the alley, hoping that the noises wouldn't attract any more attention. He knew he had to finish this quickly. It didn't matter that they were only children, that they stood no chance. That they might even be the same age as Kakashi…

"You're from Konoha." the boy holding Sakumo's tanto spoke for the first time. "Why are you here?'

"I'm not from Konoha anymore," Sakumo retorted. "Look, kids, give that back and I'm willing to let you live." He gestured angrily at his sword.

"Has Hanzo called in reinforcements from other villages?" the girl asked suddenly, her head and torso suddenly floating in the air behind the boys. Sakumo stared at her in surprise.

"Look, I don't know. I don't care about Hanzo and I'm being hunted so I'd appreciate it if I could get my sword back. And why the hell would he call in reinforcements? He already rules the freaking village! And you're a little young to be talking about 'freeing the village' It's probably past your bedtime, kid, so run back home before your parents get worried."

The boy with the lighter hair assessed him coldly. "If the adults are too afraid to revolt, we will. And I'm an orphan. We all are. You are an outsider, no one expects you to know about this sort of thing. Nagato, give him the sword."

Nagato tossed the sword to Sakumo, who caught it neatly. The other redhead turned to go. The paper formed the girl's legs and cloak and she landed lightly on the grimy floor. Sakumo watched them go, wondering inwardly if he should say something.

"Are you forming a rebellion? Just the three of you?" He threw the question at their retreating backs.

"No, there's more of us," the girl answered warily, as all three turned back to face him.

"And you plan on liberating this country? Overthrowing Hanzo?"

"Yes". Was the sharp reply.

"Well," Sakumo took a step closer. "If you plan on defeating Hanzo, it seems like you need some help from someone on a closer level to Hanzo."

The boy was evidently losing patience. "Who are you?'

Sakumo swung his tanto into a salute, the blade glowing eerily with the infamous white chakra. "Hatake Sakumo, the former White Fang of Konoha at your service. I'm interested in joining your little rebellion."

"Why?" the boy asked bluntly.

"I've traveled for nine years. I've been a missing-in for all that time, without a purpose. This could be my purpose. I want a cause to support again. I want a reason to fight."

The boy moved closer. "The White Fang of Konoha, you say?" One corner of his lips curled upward slightly. "You're in."