Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. It is the property of Masashi Kishimoto.

If you see any grammar mistakes or anything resembling to syntax or else, please feel free to tell me; English is not my first language.

Author's note: I've finally been able to pull something off from my computer that seemed reasonable enough to put up here. I do not use much of Japanese in this fiction, since I clearly do not know Japanese. I only use titles, such as sensei, sama, etc. Words like san or chan will almost not be seen here because I clearly feel not at ease about using them, even if I have looked them up.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

The morning was rising quietly, the wind chilling him a little. Even if the hot season was still starting, the weather was unusually cold at this time of the year. Crossing his arms on his chest, Kakashi made a mental note to bring something warmer than just his green jacket next time.

Adjusting his stance to be a little more comfortable, he was not sure if his friends and sensei would have been happy with him testing his chance to catch a cold in order to pay them a visit. Rin would have lectured him, that was for sure; Obito and Minato-sensei would have thought he was too stubborn. There was no reason for him anyway to move from his spot between the field of memorial stones around him.

He had some time off, his last mission had been completed without too much risk, a few bruises and shallow cuts, added to an headache from some concussion. He sigh, ruffling his silver hair. He hated being off duty. Too much time to ponder things and life, and way too much free time. He had already read repeatedly the latest edition of Icha Icha, gave his pack of dogs and himself a lot of long trainings, and he had done enough of challenges with Gai for a while, if not for a lifetime.

Sandaime was up to something, again. As much as he respected the old man, Sarutobi had his way around some concern of Kakashi's personal life that was not his. As if getting Sharingan no Kakashi out of the ANBU squadron and give him genins to train would help him live better. The copynin frowned. Genins. He was going to get another genin team in some days. Again. He mentally smacked himself for this. He was not his sensei, and he was not good with kids. So much trouble.

He looked at Minato's memorial. How Yondaime had been able to teach a young shinobi who had a hard time thinking about the safety of their comrades? It was not something Kakashi wanted to try off, not after Obito and Rin. There was no point in training kids who did not understand teamwork.

"Have I told you that one, sensei?" he said out loud at the stones, silence listening. "They tried to get the bell by..." he trailed off, hearing footsteps.

His eyes perked up as the two men were approaching him. He raised from his crouched stance, hands hiding in his pockets. Two chuunins. Weird. ANBU were usually the ones looking for him. He looked away when he saw that, no, they were not coming for him ; they had stopped a few steps away in front of one the many memorial stones that were gathered.

But in his glance he had understood that it was a mission that had gone bad. The battered pulp that was one of the chuunin told everything. Paying no more attention, he made his leave. If he could have privacy for a such a while, they could too.

"Later," he muttered to his sensei, making a note to tell him the story the next time he would visit.

Iruka sat back on the chair, let the people take care of his injuries, nodded and shook his head at questions that did not need him to speak. He left the other questions with no answers, even if the glare that the medic-nin was throwing could have kill him. He stared blankly at the wall beside him and was not moved by the sighs he could hear and the pleading the medic team said to gain insight of his state.

Everything was in a haze, everything blurred together, and the young chuunin could not hold any conversation, and he did not want to. He felt empty of everything, any emotion or thoughts. He was not able to say a thing, his tongue felt like lead; each actions that asked his brain to stir from this numb state was too painful.

Izumo and Kotetsu knew it would take time, and did not resent him. For the last few days they had taken care of him : gave him baths, made him eat what they could or he would not do it by himself. They did not dare say it, but when each lover looked at each other, they knew deeply inside of them that no one would get away from this with no scars.

Iruka had lost weight through the last weeks, partly due to his mission, partly due to his denial of life. They hold each other hands when a grey haired medic-nin came to them, never gazing away from the shinobi sitting in the white room very still, never moving, while they were explained the state of shock their friend was currently in, despite being healing well physically. He was broken.

It was still very cold the next day Kakashi sat at the cemetery, even with his long sleeve jacket he had brought with him. Stupid weather. He looked at the sky, grumbling to himself how it could be so cold by this time of the year. It was the beginning of the hot season, was not it ?

"Yeah sure, Obito, keep laughing," he grumbled. "So, sensei, about the genins I was talking about the other day. Humph, the new ones were even more worse than the last ones. They almost got each other poisoned by throwing kunais without even trying to see where each kid were." He kept silent, and the leaves were rustled by the wind. "I know, Rin. Where did they even get that poison?"

He sighed. So much for teamwork nowadays. Were every genins set for doom lately?

He turned his head at the footsteps his was getting used to lately. Since two weeks now, chuunins were coming to the tombstone everyday, one of them always the same, and two chuunins were exchanging the companionship from time to time. He seemed to have good friends.

The first times, Kakashi would leave as soon as they arrived, leaving them alone to give their respect and grieve. But then, since maybe two more weeks, the chuunin kept coming alone very early in the morning. The boy – well, maybe a little older than a teen, if Kakashi was fair – was standing in front of the memorial stone even before his arrival. Which was usually very, very soon in those chilly mornings of this weird hot season.

His first reaction was to turn around and come back later. It worked. When he would come back, the chuunin had left, leaving him in his private time with his long lost friends. It did not last long. After a few days, the ponytail haired shinobi started to stay longer. Kakashi had no other choice than to accommodate himself with someone who seemed grieving as much as he had at the beginning.

Well, the place was not his actually, and when he tried to have is grieving time in the afternoon instead of the morning, there was much more people than in the early hours. So, he began coming at the same hour as he used too, even if the chuunin was there. Anyway, it was not as if he would even talk to him.

The sick looking shinobi always stared at the memorial stone, never moved, never made a sound. His friends were not there, assuredly on mission; they seemed to care for their friend deeply, Hatake could not think that they would leave him there all alone in this state. Even he had someone back in the days, if he could say that the Hokage and ANBU troops were family.

The silver haired shinobi had not decided to do something for him; a grieving shinobi could still take care of himself. Well, if he could, this one could too. That was until he came one morning and found him slouched against the tombstones. Slouched, or asleep, or fainted maybe. Kakashi was not sure of the state the boy was in, and reached for his neck to check for a pulse.

If he had not good reflexes, or was not jounin for that matter, he sure would have died at this moment. He could feel the cold metal of the sharp blade against his cheek. He had merely stop it, deviating it in the mere blink of an eye. There was no blood, only a slight red mark.

The chuunin looked at him with wide brown eyes, lost brown eyes, afraid of something that Kakashi knew he was not. He did not release the wrist holding the kunai from his irongrip until he saw recollection hit the scarred shinobi.

"I- I'm sorry, jounin-san," he mumbled, looking away. The kunai fell on the ground as he tried to stop his body from shaking.

Kakashi could not believe this. That was the only reaction the boy had. A mumbling, as if he was not even there, and had not realized he almost had kill someone. "I don't remember chuunins being this efficient," he said flatly.

But there was no reaction. It did not even stir anything, no look. No shouting back he was used to when he tried to shake some sense into that kind of people.

"Kunais are no toys, you know?" No answers, the chuunin did not seem to even hear a thing. He sat there, in the dirt, looking at nothing. Kakashi sighed. He made himself a mental note to keep a close look on that one.

As he made his way back to his memorial stones, a trembling voice made itself heard, "I... know." So, the chuunin could speak.

When the jounin turned around, one of the boy's friend was beside him, the one with his right eye hidden behind dark hair. "Are you alright?" he asked with worries, a hand on his left shoulder. The chuunin said nothing, instead nodding to the question.

Kakashi nodded to himself. Yeah, he was going to be alright, because he had someone who knew what he was going through. He would have to remember to give the Hokage a visit. He suddenly needed a mission break for a little while.