AN: Hello all. This is my first Naruto fic so hopefully I get this very complex universe right. This is going to be a Kakashi centered fiction without too much of the other characters. It's rated T for now but might go to M later, but I will leave that somewhat up to the readers if they feel strongly one way or the other.
As always, I will state the obvious that I don't own Naruto, its characters, or world and I write purely for enjoyment. Also, like all writers, I live for reviews so even if you hate it I want to hear from you :) Otherwise I hope you enjoy what's to come. Chapters will be longer than the prologue. Cheers!
Prologue
He shouldn't be watching her. It was pointless and did nothing but make the attraction he felt for her burn stronger. Yet he couldn't stay away. No matter what vows he swore to himself that he would avoid the street that was home to her flower stall, his feet always seemed to carry him that way. It was as if he was addicted to way the sun made her long black hair shine, or the delicate grace in which she moved. He yearned to see her dark eyes light up with a smile to a customer or watch her create one of her masterpieces as one of the greatest practitioners of ikebana he had ever seen.
Still, it was wrong. Hatake Kakashi knew that his little infatuation could never be anything more, no matter how much he wanted it. He was a shinobi warrior while she was a civilian. His was a life of danger, violence, and death while her noble art was one of harmony, beauty, and creation. They were living in worlds so completely different that even if there was a chance he could be with her he doubted that she would even be interested.
Bringing his hand to his neck, he let out a soft sigh as he rose from the little table at the teahouse that gave him a perfect view of her stall. Her stunning flowers were nothing but a cruel reminder that her world was full of art and beauty while his was nothing but sacrifice and betrayal. Like oil and water, they were just too different and it was foolish to think otherwise.
Hayashi Yukiko closed her shop just as the sun set, her pale silk komon shining in the scarlets of dusk. The stall was a far cry from the beautiful store her family use to own, but that, along with many things of the past, was something that had been lost forever.
Looking out over the busy street of Konoha, she couldn't help but feel the bitterness and anger that came with survival. The war that had swept through the land like a flame in a field of grass destroyed the legacy her ancestors had left her. This was after the death and destruction that was wrought by the monster known as Pain, making her loses even harder to bear.
The wide streets of Konoha did little to cheer her as she made her way to her empty home. There would be no one waiting for her there with a warm meal and chatter about their day. There would be no proud smiles over her success or the endearing nagging about finding a husband. Those days were gone, just as the people who had made her life happy.
Switching on the light of the bare room that made up the majority of her home, Yukiko felt her stinging bitterness simmering into the anger that she tried to suppress. She was angry that her family had been stolen from her by a pointless shinobi power struggle. She was angry that the warriors who were supposed to protect them had drawn death and destruction coming to their lands. Who cared that no raiders or bandits dared come to their gates when the mere presence of the Hidden Leaf shinobi was enough to attract even more dangerous people? At least bandits would leave if given money and goods, but an enemy shinobi seemed to lack any of these more human traits. They flocked to power and secrets like ants to sugar, destroying all that stood in their path without a thought of the peaceful people that were in their way.
"Stop," she ordered herself as her thoughts began to move into the darker world of hate. "Don't let them destroy you too."
The words sounded hollow to her, but it was enough to at least bite back the curse that fought to escape from her lips. She would not shame her family's honor by succumbing to the dark and twisted feelings that had destroyed more clans than history cared to remember. As the last proud Hayashi, she would continue her family's legacy of flower arranging despite being seen as little more than just another a refuge in the large village. Even if the shinobi-infested city had no interest or knowledge in her ancient art, she would work to make her name known once more. It was all she had left of her old life and she refused to let the world wipe out the memory of her ancestors without a fight.
Reviews are greatly welcomed!