A/N: Let's see how much better I've gotten. Hope this turns out better than the first one. It's all told from Kakashi's POV, by the way. I'm writing this more for fun(fanserivce for me, teh womenz(and ga(u)yz who know Kakashi is awesome) too) really. It will be serious, but I won't update as much due to HGN taking priority.

Still unsure of what I want the book universe to be. From the filler part of the first Shippuden ep, I think that it looks like a more modern Narutoverse. However, having it be too similar to the Real World would be boring, so I'm making some adjustments. Kinda want to go for a cyberpunk feel with guns and some advanced tech, not too much, and with samurai. Think like Samurai Champloo or something, that's really the only example I know. Kakashi is projecting himself into the main character's shoes, imagining himself in situations from the book to explain the premise a bit better. But still, I would appreciate it if you do take my warnings to heart with at least a grain of salt. And don't worry, no other author's note of mine will be this big ever again

... ... ...

Real World

I thought I had heard a knock, the claps of thunder outside my small apartment resounding against the thin walls. No wonder I've been hearing things; this place is getting slightly old, though I have taken care of it the best I could since I bought it during my years in Anbu. That was a long time ago, however, slightly over six years. My index finger glides over the calendar in-between the kitchen and the living room, finally stopping on today's date. I sigh both inwardly and outwardly, closing my one visible eye as I lean against the wall.

"My birthday again, huh? Wonder what scheme those idiots will cook up for my 'surprise' party...Better not be anything like last year's, or I swear..."

I say into the empty hallway, my gaze turning towards the doors at the end, right and left, leading to the bedroom and bathroom. I feel my face heat up slightly as I recall the disastrous events from last year's party, my twenty-first. All of my friends, that is, most of the male Jounin and a couple Anbu that still had a sense of humor, thought it would be hilarious to get me so drunk that I started seeing double and paid a 'female-escort' to bring me home along with a couple of the other guys. At the time I was pretty pissed, and a little even now, but looking back at it, I understand that this was their way of trying to get me to loosen up a little. To them stuff like that was a way to cool off and relieve stress, not that I condone them for it or anything; it's just picking up some whore off the street and paying her to have some fun together just wasn't my idea of a good time. Drinking a little and goofing around every now and then with buddies was fun, though it did get boring after a while.

Well, I guess it was an important year, being the age where one can legally drink and all along with being considered an 'adult' in the civilian community at least. Ninjas are a bit different as they consider one an adult as soon as you don the headband, though drinking is still illegal until twenty-one. I grimly smile as I remember the day I graduated from the ninja academy, watching as all the other children were picked up by their parents while I, only five years old that day, had to walk home alone. It wasn't as if I hated my father for doing what he did, I just never could, and still can't, understand why. I didn't mind that he was busy with missions and couldn't spend time with me; he made up for that in other ways. I didn't care that he couldn't play with me like a normal parent with a child could; even then I understood what it meant to be a ninja and what one had to give up. He was doing all these things for not just me, but for everyone in our small village, down to the people he didn't even know.

I may have been young, but I wasn't so selfish as to keep him away from his duty, and I knew that he'd find other ways to make it up like he always promised. I loved him for that, the self-sacrifices he forced onto himself in order to keep everybody safe and happy. Still, I won't ever forget the day he left for that mission, even now I still remember as if it was yesterday. I look down to see my right hand involuntarily shaking slightly, and calm it by grabbing a hold of it with my left hand. After a couple seconds, I let go of my hand, feeling that the shaking has stopped. It still gets me so worked up, every time I think about that day...or any of the rest after. I think, closing my eye as I take a deep breath. My ears pick up the sound of the rain slapping against the window panes, the thunder rumbling and lightning flashing outside. I turn towards the living room, my bare feet making small thumps as they land on the wooden floor. I have been forced to take a short break from missions by the Hokage, the Lord Third saying that too many solo missions will take a toll on my health.

I do appreciate his concern, but I think I understand my body well enough that I know I can keep serving the village. This two week break was not needed; I would have gladly been out on a mission or two already if I could do something about it. The Third's orders are absolute, and I shouldn't question his authority even if I think I know better. His actions remind me of the Fourth, who did the same thing when I was a Jounin; He seemed to think a week off from being a ninja would lessen the stress a little. Back then, so close after Obito's death I had been pushing myself as well; the more missions I could do, the better. Sitting down on the couch, I close my eyes and try to relax just a little. It has only been the second day of my 'vacation', so I have been trying to avoid doing much in order to calm down. This doesn't mean I don't go to the Memorial Stone in the early mornings or train during the day or afternoon, however. Taking a break is one thing, falling into a pattern of laziness is another.

I have already done both of those today; I had to stop my training midway because of the approaching storm. Ninja do fight in dangerous conditions every so often, be it rain, snow or sleet (though the Fire Country never sees snow) but fighting with metal during a thunderstorm is asking to be hit by lightning. Even with my Double-Handed Lighting-Blade, which can cut through lightning like bread, this is still no reason to be stupid. So here I am now, wearing my Jounin pants with the bandages and shirtless a towel draped around my neck slightly soaked due to the rain arriving a little faster than I anticipated. Taking the towel in my hands, I bend my neck just a little so I can make sure I can reach it, while rustling my silver hair with my hands. Feeling that it is sufficiently dry, I take the towel and hang it over the side of the couch, pushing my bangs out of my face so I can see. Grabbing the small book by my table I quickly flip to the page I have left off, and soon fall into a lull, captivated by Jiraiya's prose and plight of the two main characters.

And by prose I do not mean the romantic scenes or the smut...though they are written pretty well, not that I would know. Now I'm not trying to say that most of this isn't shameless smut scene after smut scene, which it is, and I wholly understand if people are turned off by that. Mind you, the Make Out series is not the only literature I've read; it's just what I am currently obsessed over. I have read plenty of regular books as well, from fantasy to any given genre, I just prefer a mixture of that and romance(or smut). What I'm talking about is the way he writes the world and the characters that inhabit it. It's easy to see the work he puts into making each character, from their backstories (if somewhat cliche) to their deaths. Every time a character dies, or at least most of the time, you will feel something for them; whether it be for their unfulfilled ambitions, or for the loved ones they will leave behind. The world they inhabit is just as dynamic and expands with each and every few chapters; alliances are forged, promises are broken, people are betrayed and every time it happens it will feel as shocking as the first.

Every time...even though I know what happens already, it still shocks me to the core. I think, my eyes widening as they read the fateful sentence. In this particular passage, the main hero has been forced to kill his comrade, his once faithful teammate having switched over to the supposedly 'evil' side. It kind of strikes a chord with me, as being a ninja, your alliances may change often. What you thought was good could turn out to actually be evil, or the lesser evil may be taking a couple hundred lives in order to save thousands. Those kinds of choices are hard to make, no matter who you are, and the consequences can deeply impact you for the rest of your life. Like my old man...he himself decided that the lesser evil was to give up on his mission and save his comrades. The village saw it the other way; and so did the people he saved, who shunned him. Dad eventually took his own life as the consequence, leaving me alone at the age of seven...

"Tch. Why the hell am I thinking about him now, of all times!"

I grumble, the tranquil feeling I had gone almost in an instant. I close the orange book I was reading, being sure to remember what page I was on, before putting it back on the table. I get off the couch, not bothering about the small towel laying across the side, and head into my bedroom. Clicking on the small ceiling light, I go over to my bedside, my eye resting on the picture frames near the windowsill. Something in my stomach churns and feels like dead weight inside me as I take a hold of the oldest photo in the bunch. My late mother is in the photo, along with my father and what is probably me as an infant. I focus on her first, her simple brown locks out of place and otherworldly next to me and my father with our stark silver-white hair. It flows past her shoulders all the way down to her hips, swaying gently in the breeze along with the simple kimono she is wearing.

Her face is beaming, my mother's two hazel eyes staring directly at my infant self who is cuddled in her arms. My late mother has a small nose, slightly pointed and curved at the bridge, which contrasts with her large pink lips. Her skin is slightly grey in tone, making me wince as I remembered our short childhood together. She was always somewhat frail and sickly before my birth, though that seemed to make her even more fragile. Sometimes I do wonder if she would have lived longer had I not been born, but I am glad she did choose to have me, even if she knew it would shorten her life by a few years. My memories of her are somewhat hazy, as I was only three years old when she died, though I little I can recollect is precious all the same. My mother would play with me when Dad was busy with missions or clean the house, as she was a civilian and felt it was best she stay home to make sure I was well looked after.

The one thing I have never forgotten is her love for me; even when she could go gossip with the other women around the village or go shopping on her own, she chose not to or brought me along with her. If I try really hard I can remember the feeling of her hand in my small one, her skin rough from the years as a child spent working in the fields. Interestingly enough, the clan on my mother's side was one of the few to actually live in the village when it was founded. My father's clan immigrated sometime after the First Ninja World War, seeing that they could get well paid jobs as mercenaries in Leaf than elsewhere. They were born with completely white hair back then, something seen as strange even in the Five Nations, along with a chakra that rivaled the Uzumaki. Unlike the Uzumaki, the Hatake clan did not promote inbreeding with family members, not caring about power or status, and the genes eventually thinned out. Our hair became grey, and we could no longer understand the secrets behind our chakra abilities. This happened around my great-grandfather's time, at the middle of the Second War. It doesn't really bother me how powerful our clan was back then, as it was common with many others during the times as well. This was apparently how both the Hyuuga, Uchiha and Senju were made as well, which is more interesting. If they were so powerful then, what were they before? I doubt I'll ever get answers to those questions, though it is fun to speculate.

I put the frame back down, having finished looking at it, and hold the one next to it. My eye slowly travel over my master's face, his features reminding me of Naruto's. I still missed him, as he was like a father figure to me after my Dad died, and I feel the weight in my stomach dropping deeper as I remember his little boy. To be honest, I didn't know what to think of the kid; he looked so much like my master but had all the spirit and fire of Kushina. Seems he also inherited her love of ramen too. Teuchi talked about him fondly the last time I was there...I think, smiling a little as I move my eye towards my other teammate. He is smiling in the photo, just like before he died, although his expression isn't pained here. I still blame myself for Obito's death; he's one of the reasons I still go to the memorial stone even though it's been almost nine years since that mission. I also go for Rin too, even though i wasn't directly involved with her death; she died while on a mission to a neighboring country. I'm pretty sure she was going to treat injured and sick villagers near Rice country. I could have done something, and I made a promise to protect her.

"Well, I may have failed on my promise but at least the of them two are together up there, right?"

I comment, this bleak hope about the only thing comforting me. I may be a great ninja, but I'm still human. I've made lots of mistakes, and caused myself and many others grief. If I could go back in time to fix my mistakes with the knowledge I've gained now...Of course, that kind of thing is impossible, so I need to use the power I have now to prevent myself from making any more mistakes. This is depressing...I should stop thinking about this. I remind myself, knowing that brooding never gets anything done. I was like this after Obito's death too, and just moped around and sulked for the longest time.

"Even though I don't like it, I'm on vacation. I should try and enjoy myself a little..."

I mutter, my one eye moving away from the picture frame to the window outside. The clouds were grey and black, the flashes of lightning stinging my eye due to the brightness. Every so often thunder roared outside, contrasting with the tiny pit-pats of the rain as they dropped onto the window. I put the frame back down, sitting on my bed and clasping both my hands together. What could I do to relax? The whole purpose of this mandatory vacation was to get my mind off of ninja duties and relieve stress. I've already read most of the books in my closet, besides being too obsessed with the Make Out series right now to read anything else. I would go see what the other Jounin were doing, but most likely they were on missions, and I could not go with them. I really had no acquaintances in the civilian populace, besides the bookstore owner and Teuchi at the ramen shop, since I was a regular at both places. Racking my brain for solutions provided nothing useful, and I was hoping to find something to do today. Going outside and continuing my training was a no-go, as it seemed this storm would last for a while. Playing with my ninken, though they were dogs used for combat and tracking missions, was out of the question due to the bad weather as well. They really enjoyed spending time with me too, but I did not like summoning them indoors since they make my apartment a big mess. Not to say they aren't trained not to do that stuff, but I have about ten of them, and it's a hassle to keep track of so many even in this small apartment. They wouldn't be able to go outside to do their business either, and I do not feel like picking up after ten dogs.

I sigh, cupping one of my hands on my chin, something shiny catching my eye. I see my reflection in the dresser across my bed, my face tired and slightly haggard looking. I really don't look so good; no wonder the Third wanted me to take off... I contemplate this, while tugging at the small bags forming under my eyelids. My face is gaunt, the skin pale and thinned out in places due to the small rations I eat while on missions. Taking soldier pills is also another reason for my shrunken and sallow cheekbones, the chemicals in the pills combined with the fact that they help burn calories causes the fat to disappear and the melange to turn from tan to a greyish color. In order to cope with the fact that I have chakra drainage when using the Sharingan, I need to sometimes take two or three pills during a single mission. It's not often that I use the Sharingan, so I don't need to use the pills as a supplement all the time, but it is detrimental as compared to replenishing chakra normally by eating or resting.

I pull on the skin around my face, watching as it deforms to show the indents of the bones around my nose, the pointed tips showing clearly. Wow, I need to stop taking these pills...it could end up injuring me in the long run. Still, I get tired if I don't take them and that effect has been getting slightly worse for a while. Have I become addicted to these things? I doubt it, as I don't consume too many of them in a regular fashion; I hardly have more than four during a two month period, so it can't be that. Even for a ninja though, taking that many soldier pills is bound to lead to negative health consequences... I reason, my hands moving away from my face to go back onto my lap. I get off of the bed, not wanting to look at myself any longer and go back into the living room. Hoping to finish the next couple chapters of my book, I lay down on the couch, my back resting against the arm of the couch as the book is in my hand. My eyes start to glaze over as I continue reading, a yawn coming out of my mouth, but continue on as I am determined to finish the book. I nod off every so often, my eyes slowly closing shut only for them to snap open, my head leaning forward into the pages of the book. It isn't long before I start nodding off completely, the book in my hand dropping down to my stomach and my arm hanging limply off the side of the couch.

... ... ..

Inside the Book

I stare at the blood dripping down my arm, the pain from the wound sharply spreading down to the tips of my fingers. The hole was small. only about a couple inches or so wide, but my left arm felt numb; trying to command it to move was useless. Pain shot through my right shoulder once more, making me wince and cough up blood, adding to the already large puddle on the tatami mat below my feet. I narrow my eyes, my silver bangs hiding the raw and fresh cut on my forehead, slightly turning my face towards the door I had only come through fifteen minutes before. The grip I have on my katana tightens as I see the two dead bodies piled up in the doorway; one sliced through the abdomen with its entrails leaking out onto the floor, and the other shot in numerous places; their torso, the left side of the face, and through the left thigh just above the kneecap. The smell was nauseating, but it wasn't the first time I had seen such a gruesome sight; it was common happenings all over the town, seeing as it was run by crooked politicians and figureheads who had all the authority of a puppet.

I have gotten used to the lawlessness and depravity that ran these streets; most people had to, or else you'd wind up dead in an alley after being mugged for a loaf of bread. You either went with the gangs who recruited fighters and whores, or the police force which was basically the same thing but backed by the government. Either way, you had to be tough to do so or you'd end up dead. Now that I think about it, it's kinda sad that the only choices you can get are turning to a life of violence and crime or having no life at all. I wonder if all places throughout Japan are like this; I wouldn't be surprised, seeing as how the economy is in a current slump and the era of daimyo who actually gave a shit about the people they ruled under instead of the cash that lined their already bursting treasury was coming to an end. Same with samurai and ninjas; they either turned into hit-men, hired assassins for the government, ran local gangs in towns or the occasional red light district. That was a long time ago when the change started, back during my grandfathers years, the decline had really started by the time I was five years old.

Now, the cities are polluted and streets filled with crime; muggings are commonplace where I live and it doesn't hurt to carry a knife or two around. Murders do occasionally happen, though most of them are covered up due to the efficiency of the gang system that rules this section of town. Hell, the fact that you actually saw a murder on the local news was probably because of the gangs, seeing as some of them do promote anarchism and often kill lower ranking politicians to send a message. Any good politician would have at least some kind of protection from those types of gangs, whether it was another, rival gang or just some mercenaries for hire. Not to say that only politicians were murdered; it could happen to anyone, but the chances were higher if you were affiliated with a gang or just the 'darker' parts of this section in general. I can't tell how many drug cartel members, brothel owners, or even casino owners I've seen killed, or killed myself, in the span of a couple years. People die often in this harsh world, and that's just a fact of life. It's better not to be attached to anything or anyone, lest it eventually kill you in the end. Well, that's how I see things and I doubt anyone else living here would disagree.

I shrug, trying to get my thoughts together, and watch the sole man in front of me as he waits. My opponent only stares at me with contempt in his eyes, the grip on the handle of his katana tightening as he begins to charge. The pistol he used to hinder my sword fighting ability had been thrown away, laying a few feet away from his side, the gunpowder and one bullet laying near the barrel. You bastard...How could you do this? Why? They are only using you, you know. Once they don't need you any longer, you'll be cut down. I think, my resolve crumbling as I can see the hesitant expression in his eyes.

Of course he'd hesitate a little; we'd known each other for about two years. I wouldn't call us friends, as we never really got to know one another, but we did have some sort of camaraderie from our time in Xiao's gang. That didn't mean I'd let him off easy, I'd kill him as soon as I'd kill any rival gang member, and rules are rules. Once you have joined up with a gang, you stay there until your death or the gang's disbandment, which never really happened since the leader would usually appoint a right hand man who would take over in case he died. That was just part of the hierarchy; no one really disputed it, it was what it was. No exceptions were made even for the higher ups, and the penalty for breaking that rule, which was one of the higher ranked on our code of conduct, was death by a fellow member. This was why I had come here, to this shitty little apartment in the suburbs, where he was last seen. I was ordered to kill him along with a few others, since we were some of the few who had known him the longest and thus understood his fighting style. The assault had not gone as easily as we had planned, as our rivals had been waiting to ambush us in the shadows.

They had used him as bait, knowing we would try and go after him so he could not give out our secrets, and we fell for it. Maybe 'fell for it' wasn't the right expression, as we knew they'd try something like this, we just weren't sure how they would do it. Still, to take out six of our men...they have some skill. We should not have underestimated them because they were only ranked 215, numbers mean little here in this living hell. Out of all the six sectors in our small town, the small slice they occupy is known for producing 'members' of an above average quality. Maybe leader was too rash in his decision to send us after this guy. This loss in manpower will weaken us, something we can ill afford if we are preparing for conflict with others. Besides, leader would need this information anyway since we have little on this gang's strengths as is. Now that we know their preferred method of attack and understand how they train their recruits, it would be good to get this back to one of our own bases; provided we have some in this sector of the city. I must make it back alive! I steel myself, meeting his charge head on, my heels digging into the woven fabric of the tatami mat. With my weaker grip and damaged shoulder, I am not able to parry his attack, my arms unable to push against his blade as effectively as before. He easily slices the right side of my face, leaving a deep gash from ear to cheek, before he backs away to prepare another strike.

I grit my teeth, the pain only slight compared to the nauseating feeling coming from the wound on my shoulder. There's no way I can beat him like this; my small cuts and bruises. along with the fatigue from fighting and dodging so many attacks from both the raid on this apartment and my duel with him and several others have tired me to the point where the only chance I have to win is to kill him along with myself. That would not be the best option, even though the leader did say to bring him back. Despite the priority that no information gets out about our forces, it would be better for me to stay alive and report this failure and let him escape if need be. The decrepit apartment has no easy way out, the window next to my opponent seems to be too high a drop with the injuries I have. I could try escaping into one of the rooms behind me, but I have a feeling that none of them will lead to any escape routes; I had already scanned a couple of them thoroughly while taking out some of the enemy's men. Still, there were a few rooms I had not checked and being in an apartment of this size, no matter how dingy it was for a base, there had to be a secret way out.

Taking a deep breath, I reach into my back pocket and produce a couple knives, the blades shine alerting my opponent I was going to attack. He did not see what I was holding since the small ceiling lamp had broken during the ambush, leaving the room we were in darkened almost completely aside from the small corner where the light from the outside window illuminated his figure. I throw the knives and turn to run towards the right most door in the room. Barreling through it with my shoulder, the hinges easily fall apart and knock the door down, my body rolling across the bloody floor which was littered with pieces of dead bodies. Geez, talk about thorough...They really got us good, damn it! I think as I scan the room, seeing the torn and ripped bodies of my comrades on the stained wood floor as I try and look for an exit. Swallowing the bile that was making its way into my esophagus, I see that there is another window to the left of my position, this one leading to a metal grating that went both up and down. Seeing as it was my only chance, the only other option being a doorway that led into the master bedroom, I dashed over to the open windowsill and vaulted over the edge, deftly landing on the metal with a small thunk.

I could already hear the footsteps of the other man on my trail, and I began to panic. Fighting the desperation that was in my heart, I sped for the stairs leading downward, leaping over them and clearing the three meter obstacle with ease. My shoulder sent out a wave of sharp pain, causing me to stumble and nearly topple over the railing into darkness of the alley below. I righted myself using my hand, and quickly spun around to find the other set of stairs leading down. Every breath I took was heavy and I could feel the metallic taste of blood coating the back of my throat; My body was getting fatigued from the strain, but there was nothing I could do about it now. It was either get out of here alive, or end up another casualty. Steeling myself I began to take the stairs two at a time, seeing as jumping down them wasn't such a smart idea.

I just made it to the bottom of the landing when something sharp grazes my right hand, leaving a small gasp across my palm, making me drop my katana with a loud clatter. Wincing in pain I look up to see his face glaring down at me, his eyes hard and cold as his mouth curls into a grimace. I sneer back, the dripping trail of blood from his earlier attack already dry due to the chill of the air, sticking to my face and giving me a scary look when coupled with the shadows. He only scoffs, swirling his sword from side to side in a rhythmic pattern meant to display his skill with the blade. I snort, not impressed with his overly-zealous display, and move to pick up my katana with my right hand.

I grab the handle and manage to roll out of the way as he leaps toward me, his katana stabbing out in an attempt to skewer me. I grunt as my back slams against the metal railing and start to right myself, but a slash from his katana cuts my stomach from the ribcage, despite the thin lining of chain mail I'm wearing beneath my shirt. His blade is still lodged in my left side, and he thrusts it even deeper until I can feel the metal wiggling around inside my body, trying to cut veins and organs. I wheeze, kicking out with my foot in order to trip him. He topples backwards slightly, giving me time to dislodge the katana in my ribcage and lash out with a short horizontal chop. He screams out in pain, two of the toes on his left foot along with the top of his black sneaker go flying away to land on the already bloodied metal, the middle toe's top section cleaved partway.

"AAAaaaarrrrggh! You...I'll end you...former comrade or not...!"

He shouts, reaching into the back pocket of his navy blue jeans. He has another gun, I bet. Well, let's see how good his aim is after this! Determined not to be killed so easily, I half-crawl, half-limp towards him, even though he now has the gun partly out of his pocket. He turns it on me in the next couple seconds, but I am able to swing the katana before it fires, missing slightly in my panic to hit him before the gun went off. Said bullet shot past me, and made a small hole in the brick wall behind where I was before, leaving a small mark a couple centimeters wide. I smirk at seeing his look of surprise, noticing that my strike had cut a mark in the side of said pistol, and quickly use this chance to slice once again at his outstretched arm. He screams out once more, but I quickly silence him by slitting his throat, the spray of blood painting my face and neck crimson along with parts of my hair.

"Sorry...but rules are rules. Now to get out of here before people start getting too curious for their own good..."

I mutter, groaning slightly as I try to stand up, the pain in my body coupled with the fatigue making me shudder. My injuries weren't as bad as I had initially thought; the only one of pressing concern was the bullet lodged in my shoulder and stab wound in my side. It luckily hadn't penetrated anything vital, so I only had to worry about the blood loss from the deep gash. Thank the Gods we had a couple places near here that were used for surveillance and spying on enemy territory; though it would be a hike with my wounds. Pain shot throughout my body, droplets of blood leaking out of the corner of my mouth as I panted.

It really didn't matter which safe-house I went to; both were managed twenty-four hours a day by our operatives, in case of emergencies. Feeling slightly woozy, I decide to go to the one that is closer to this apartment, even though that would mean I'd have to risk being connected with this incident. The city, or should I say this gang, isn't going to keep quiet about having some of its members dispatched. They'd try to target me now; even if I'm not on official business for the gang, but I am prepared to deal with that. They can hound me all they want; it's not like I've got anything to lose besides my pathetic life.