Ramblings on life and death as a shinobi. Inspired by the song Turning from Les Miserables. Headers also from said song.
Did you see them, going off to fight? Children of the barricade who didn't last the night?
Today the news that they feared comes.
Their son has died defending the walls of Konoha. They are civilians, their son the first ninja in the family for three generations. They do not know how he died, or where or even how long ago.
His comrades bring them his hitai-ate and return to the front lines. The Kyuubi is coming closer to the village every hour now, and they cannot even stay long enough to offer their condolences.
His mother does not cry. She knows that she has no time for that yet. This area is being evacuated today, and her young daughter is sick, and her son would not have wanted her to break down and jeopardise the chance of all of them getting to safety.
His father doesn't cry either. The moisture in his eyes (he pretends) is from the smoke in the air, the dust from the destroyed buildings. He carries his daughter when they leave, clutching her tight against the danger that killed her brother.
The little girl is asleep when they bring the news, and does not wake up until later, but when she hears the news she does not cry either. She does not yet fully understand what death is.
But the genin squad that guards their escape in the evacuation that rapidly turns into a rout understand. And they are no older than she is.
Did you see them, lying where they died? Someone used to cradle them and kiss them when they cried.
'No matter what you do, you must never think of your enemy as a faceless evil. Every person you will fight and kill was once a child, was once innocent, once had dreams of the future, just like you.' The three children's new sensei met each of their eyes in turn. 'Do not forget. They are people, not monsters. If you forget this, you will be the one who is a monster.'
They do not forget.
Who will wake them?
No-one ever will. No-one ever told them that a summer day could kill.
'She looks like she's sleeping, doesn't she?' The two men look at the dead woman dispassionately. She did look peaceful, until you looked down at her mangled lower body.
'She would have gone quickly. Probably passed out from the pain first.'
'I wonder what her name was...'
Their tense, pale faces give lie to their casual words. They have not become so hardened that they can look at a scene like this and smile.
Not yet, anyway.
'Why are we fighting?' The taller of the two asks eventually.
The other shrugs. 'So we don't end up like that poor girl.'
'I suppose,' the first says uncertainly.
...fighting for a new world that would rise up like the sun.
Where's that new world now the fighting's done?
'Why are we fighting?' Obito asked.
Kakashi looked up from the knife he was sharpening and snorted. 'Why do you think we're fighting, moron? To stay alive.'
'No, not that, idiot. I meant why is Konoha fighting this war?'
Kakashi snorted again, but didn't answer. He put his knife back in his weapons pouch and stood up. 'Shinobi don't question orders.'
'He has a point, Kakashi,' said their teacher. 'And that's not always true. Unless you question orders you cannot fully understand the purpose of those orders, and therefore can't obey them properly.'
'But why is Konoha fighting?' Rin said. 'I know now it's to stay alive, but what started it?'
'No matter how it started, we've still got to fight it, don't we?' Kakashi said, walking away. 'It doesn't-' step- 'matter-' step- 'anymore.' The next step was more of a stamp. 'So long as we survive, it doesn't matter why it started.'
Konoha's Yellow Flash sighed. 'Not true, Kakashi. The start of a thing is just as important as seeing it through to the end.'
Nothing changes. Nothing ever will.
When the Sound ninja invade Konoha at the Chuunin exam, Kakashi feels like he's been transported back in time. He's fighting a war again. It's what he knows how to do. Nothing's changed, he thinks stupidly. But then he is moving, fighting, running, and he knows everything has changed. This time, he has the power and skill he lacked before. This time, he can protect.
But he still cannot save everyone, and when the fight ends with the death of the Hokage he promises himself once again: I will not let them die.
Nothing has changed, after all.
Same old story. What's the use of tears?
When the Kyuubi is defeated no-one celebrates. The victory has come at too great a cost, and the village is still reeling and disorganised. Families are separated, people are dead, the village is barely standing anymore. No-one celebrates. They allow themselves only a little time to mourn.
Instead, they begin to rebuild the village. In a month, there is new brick and mortar, new wood everywhere.
In a year even the worst of the wounds are beginning to fade.
In ten even the scars are all but gone.
The village is ready for the next disaster.
What's the use in praying if there's nobody who hears?
The memorial stone is cold in the dimness that comes before dawn. There are two new names on it since yesterday.
The boy standing in front of it shivers as a gust of wind hits him. He crouches down, using the stone as a shelter. He touches the names, first one, then the other. 'I'm sorry,' he whispers. 'I'm sorry.'
He places two hitai-ate in front of the stone, hands shaking slightly, and places the flowers he brought beside them. He doesn't pray.
His teacher arrives at sunrise. The white haired man looks at his one remaining student for a long time. It was only yesterday they had arrived back from the C-class mission that had gone so badly wrong. They were only eleven, he thinks. Too young to die.
'I want to get stronger,' the boy says suddenly. 'I don't want this to happen again.'
'Kid,' says his teacher, 'it always happens again. All you can do is keep it from happening to the people you can protect.'
'Then I'll become strong enough to protect everyone. I'll become Hokage and protect this entire village.'
His ferocity startles the man for a moment. He smiles slightly, sadly. 'Then I'll train you.'
The boy turns away from the memorial stone. 'Jiraiya-sensei,' he says. 'Let's go.'
This boy will be a great one, Jiraiya knows. He isn't strong - not yet - but he is determined, and he will fight.
The boy only knows what he must do. He must protect. If there's no god who will, he will.
And he does not believe in gods any more.
Turning, turning, turning, turning, turning through the years.
History repeats. It may not be the same, but some things hold true every time.
In Konoha, in each of the past three generations, there has been a team that could have surpassed all others.
Each of these teams, someway, somehow, has broken. Some of the breaks are simple, some complicated beyond measure.
(you can't get a more simple break than death. But for complicated, you can hardly beat the first team. Their mistakes are the greatest, because they gave up, and forgot why they were fighting, and forgot who they wanted to protect.)
In the current generation, too, there is a team. And there, too, they are breaking. But there, the break is not complete. There, there is still hope that the break will never be completed.
Because they have not given up. And they will not give up while they are still breathing.
Perhaps, here and now, history will fail. Perhaps, here and now, they can break the cycle.
Perhaps, here and now, they can mend themselves.
Turning, turning, turning through the years. Minutes into hours and the hours into years.
Nothing changes. Nothing ever can. Round about the roundabout and back where you began.
A ninja knows what death is, but they do not understand it. Perhaps no-one can truly understand death, because how can you know what a thing is unless you have experienced it?
And then again, some have. But they aren't telling.
A ninja's job is death, is dealing it out and avoiding it. They kill people, they are killed. It is very rare that a ninja will die peacefully in bed.
And yet people still become them, knowing they will kill, knowing they will die.
That at least, has not changed.
Round and round and back where you began...
Two boys, one looking down, one up.
Two girls, one looking left, one right.
Two children, one facing the sunrise, one facing the setting moon.
Two adults, one watching the children leave, one watching them brought back injured and barely alive.
Some things stay the same. The woman who watched her lover leave for battle, wondering if he'll come back in one piece. The mother who watched her daughter hitting the target dead centre every time, and wondering if it will be enough. The child who watches his father leave home, not understanding why his mother is crying.
The lover. The daughter. The father.
Some things are timeless. Death. Love. Hope. Pain. Madness and Despair. They do not change.
And some things are always different.
History does not repeat. Mistakes made in the past can never be fixed.
But mistakes in the future can be avoided.
And this time around they will not be repeated.
END