Disclaimer: Naruto and its characters are the property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto and Shonen Jump. The author claims no ownership of Naruto or its characters. In other words, this is just a work of fanfiction. I own nothing.

Title: The Road That Takes Me Home
Theme: Feb. 15 candles for the dead
Fandom: Naruto
Characters: It would ruin the story if I listed them.
Author's Note: Just something I've always wanted to write. Written for 31_days at the beginning of 2007. Implied SasuSaku.
***

If there was one thing she had learned in her short career as a kunoichi was it's a very bad thing when you suddenly find yourself all alone.

The problem was the fog. It was as thick as pea soup out here, and down inside of a dried up river bed, screened in by stone on all sides, was just the icing on top of the cake. She could only see about a foot in every direction.

They were out of my sight for one minute! Not even half a minute! Every fiber of her being insisted she had not fallen far behind, that her teammates were probably just a few feet away, and all she had to do was jog those few more feet and she would catch up with them. Well, here she was, six hours later, and she was still jogging. That in her personal book on life was indeed a very bad thing.

She called out the boys' names a few times, her sensei's name, until her throat was hoarse. Finally her tired legs could take no more of the endless wandering around. It was pointless: she was blind out here! This was where knowing any kind of water jutsu would really come in handy, she thought. I am such an idiot. In despair, her entire body throbbing from exhaustion, worry and anxiety, she plopped down on a rock. Her elbows dangled over her knees, her pink hair a curtain around her face.

This wasn't fair. She bit her bottom lip to contain the sob threatening to rise in her tightening throat. Why did these things always have to happen to her? It seemed like every move she made, every idea she had, was the wrong choice, it was always her who had to be corrected and lectured. You stupid, empty-headed girl, can't you do anything right? The path was right there all along, we were right in front of you the whole time. What kind of ninja are you, wake up, this isn't a training exercise!

I could die out here. The thought entered her mind, sending shivers down her bare arms. Oh there's a nice self-motivating positive train of thought, way to go, girl! She thought sarcastically to herself. You should be the leader of a squad you're such a great decision-maker! You're earning your mission pay now aren't you?

…Right.

Why isn't anyone trying to find me? They know I've never been outside of the village before, heck, up until I graduated my mother never even let me go to the market by myself! "I'm here," she murmured out loud to the uncaring shroud of water droplets surrounding her. "I'm here!" she shouted loudly, hearing the bounce and echo of her voice. "Come on you guys. Please find me, I'm really scared! I'll let you make fun of me for this, just please find me already!" Her voice broke at the end of her shout and she hnned, biting her lip.

Don't cry, ninja aren't supposed to cry. This isn't even that bad a situation. You're just lost, that's all. Only lost. Remember what your grandmother told you, stay put and make yourself conspicuous, and you will be found.

Yeah, but this place… this was the place no one had ever come out alive from! Too many shinobi had lost their way in this canyon and had never come home. She was no fool, she knew the stories and, though debatable on how each person had disappeared had managed to do it, the fact was they DID disappear. None of them were ever found again. Not even their remains.

Her knees pressed together and her head bowed down. "Please… I don't want to die," she cried softly to herself. "Not out here, not today." So pathetic, maybe I should die. Be God's way of making room for all those really strong ninja who deserve to live and weeding out those who don't measure up.

In the middle of her sobbing, she sensed a presence. Hopeful, she looked up and waited, setting all of her senses on the tingle. Her fingers twitched for the knife in her belt, just in case. She tensed, ready to move quickly to defend herself.

A small figure emerged from the fog. Startled, she blinked rapidly several times to make sure she wasn't seeing things. It was a little boy. He might have been about nine years old. Palming at her damp, tear streaked cheek she sniffed a few times before rising to her feet to greet him. The closer she drew to him, the more of him she could make out. He was adorable, with dark eyes and scruffy, spiky hair. He was wearing white shorts and a modest soot gray shirt. There was a kind of aura to him, something that made him feel cold to her despite the warmth in his cherubic, angelic face. When he gazed up at her with a small smile, her heart melted.

"Hi," she murmured, once she had ascertained he wasn't a genjutsu. "Where did you come from?"

He didn't speak.

Okay, forget about that one. "Can you help me?"

Nod. Another smile.

Her hands drew together and her heart lifted. "Oh thank you! Please, I've been lost out here for hours. If you could help me, I'd really love you."

He gave her a kind of smirk, the sort that told her she was probably being over dramatic. But even so, she meant it. Anyone who could help her get out of here was the most beautiful person in the world in her eyes. However he didn't seem to take much offense. He inclined with his neck that she follow him and that's exactly what she did. She had no idea how he'd gotten there or any idea of why he was there or even how the heck he knew where he was going. At the moment, she was too relieved to care. The only important thing right now was he was here and that he knew the way out. Any other questions she had could wait until later.

Fifteen minutes later, quite suddenly, they emerged at the edge of a wooded area, up and out of the fog. Recognizing the terrain, she gave a glad cry.

"I can't believe this, you're amazing. Thank you so much!" she gushed, her eyes bright and stinging from the joy flowing from within. "What can I do to repay you?"

The boy merely smiled and held up his hand, looking a little imperious for such a young thing. But the message was clear: no payment was necessary. Then he took two steps back and disappeared into the mist. The young girl gasped and ran forward, "Wait, don't -!" She stopped, lowering her outstretched hand. "Go," she murmured absently. He was gone. It was as if he'd never existed at all.

Then a familiar voice called her name and suddenly she was smiling and running toward the figure emerging from the woods. It was one of her teammates.

"Where were you?" he burst out anxiously. "We looked everywhere! Did you get lost down there?"

"Yeah." Their sensei and other teammate appeared as she replied. "But this little boy appeared and led me out."

"Little boy?" repeated her other teammate, clearly perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"Just some kid, the cutest little thing you ever saw. He left soon after so I never learned his name or even how he'd gotten down there." Pause. "Strange," she murmured, gazing off into the distance distractedly.

Some silence passed. Their sensei interrupted it, thankfully. "Well, the important thing is that you're safe. Let this be a lesson to you: never get separated from your teammates. You were fortunate this time but don't expect someone to find you every time you're foolish enough to get lost."

She nodded. The lecture, as expected. Somehow she couldn't muster the strength to get annoyed by it this time.

It was a week later, during the spring cleaning, when she was going through her grandmother's things with her mother when she discovered a whole box of photo albums. She picked up one picture and froze, clutching the frame so hard it protested against her grip. Nestled in the frame was an old photo that had to have been taken decades ago. In the picture there was a one eyed Jounin, a blue eyed boy who frowned, and a beaming girl with a bright smile with tresses not unlike her own.

What drew her eye, though, was the fourth person in the picture, the boy with the sour expression and dark spiked hair. She had to give herself a mental shake to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. But she knew there was no mistaking it: she was very good with faces so she knew she couldn't be wrong. The face was older, maybe about four years older. She could have sworn this was the same boy who had led her out of the misty canyon a week ago.

"Mama?" she asked standing and going over to where the other woman was rummaging through a cedar chest. "What's this?"

Her equally rosy haired mother straightened up and took the proffered photo. She laughed. "Oh my, I haven't seen this photograph since I was a little girl." Thoughtful silence. "Wow," she murmured, looking from her daughter to the photo again, sounding slightly awed. "You look just like she did – minus the green highlights and hair beads of course. Well, you know what they always say about grandchildren."

She was taken aback. "The girl in the picture is Grandma?"

"Mmm-hmm. That was taken on the first day she became a Genin. New teams always had group pictures taken back then. I remember mine…!" Her mother fluttered her eyelashes, causing her daughter to grunt in exasperation. "Okay, I'll save the nostalgia for another time. That frowning blonde there, that was the Hokage when he was twelve years old. Handsome devil, wasn't he?"

"Heh, he was sure was. And the other boy?" she asked tensely. "What about him?" It can't be true, it's impossible, I only saw him last week, how can this be? Her brain was screaming.

Her mother sighed. "That young man," she began quietly, "was the love of your grandmother's life." A sorrowful smile tugged at her mother's lips. "I remember the one time I asked her about him. It was the only time I ever saw my mother with tears in her eyes. For a woman who hadn't even shed a tear when my father had died, it frightened me." Sigh. "I never asked about him again. I couldn't bear to see her like that."

"Oh." She absorbed her mother's words before daring to ask: "What happened to him?"

Her mother exhaled. "He defected from the village about a year after that photo was taken. Your grandmother and her friend tried for so many years to bring him home again. But from what she told me, the more they chased him, the more he seemed to slip between their fingers. Then one day," her mother closed her eyes, "an ANBU team discovered a body in a dried up river canyon three miles from Konoha…"

Her heart began to pound. "It was…"

Her mother nodded, wiping at her eyes the tissues her daughter had fetched. "My mother later told me he had died of his wounds and on top of that he had also been completely blinded from a previous battle. But somehow he had managed to make it this close before he collapsed. He was only nineteen years old."

"Poor guy," she murmured. "Is his name on the memorial?" She unhooked the back of the frame and slid the photo out. Turned it over and read the names.

"No. The Rokudaime tried to have it put on there but the Council stubbornly refused to allow it because of his missing nin status. He's buried with his family out in the old Uchiha family plot."

The photo was back in its frame and absently placed on a nightstand nearby. The girl got to her feet after a moment of debate. "I'm going out for bit," she announced. "That all right? I'll finish organizing the photo albums when I get back."

Her mother nodded again and returned to rummaging through the chest, though not before taking another tissue out of the box.

His grave was easy to locate. It was one of the newer ones with the most recent date and year of death on it. Standing before the small stone, she read his name aloud, liking the way it sounded in her ears. Kneeling before the marker, she placed a flower on the ground, erected the single candle she'd brought and lit it with a lighter. When she finished, she stepped back a respectable distance, watching the flame dance in the dim light of evening shadows.

There was no question in her mind now. Sure, she had never really given much thought to it but she wasn't one to entirely dismiss anything outright. Her heart told her and she believed what it told her: that this doomed young man, for whatever reason she had yet to fathom, had heard her cry for help. He had come from the beyond to lead her to safety. Why he would do that for her what had never been done for anyone else, she could endlessly debate. But she had a feeling she had a pretty good idea. It brought a smile to her face.

Before leaving, she cast one more glance at the candle flickering in the wind, highlighting the crevices in the etched grave marker. One candle for one soul. She liked to think that its light somehow, somewhere, was helping a young boy find his way back home.