Fray

by FieryHorizon

Kakashi has a new-found obsession with bloodshed, for good reasons. However, this obsession may cause the edges of reality to fray. What happens when you trample on his loved ones? What exactly is this secret that he harbors for a certain pink-haired woman? Eventual KakaSaku, rated M for violence as of right now.

1. Prologue

Hey Guys, I know it's been a while but I'm really trying to get this out in some way shape or form. This is the prologue, so tell me what you think.

"I came out of the darkness, with a bullet in my hand."

xx

The snow melted under the crimson liquid, causing a soft hissing sound that only trained ears could pick up. A soft smile made its way to his covered lips as the man's face twisted into one of pure horror. His eyes widened as the echo of a frequently asked question bounced within them, why? Why me? Kakashi let him slip from his thin arms to the snowy ground. Snowflakes melted as they met the puddle of blood that fanned out around the man's head.

He would never admit it out loud, but as of late this was his favorite part of his job. At what point did blood stop causing a squeamish reaction? Which mission had he gone on that he realized his sick addiction? What mission would it be on that everybody else realized that he no longer killed the assassination targets out of obligation, but of joy? As the blood pooled beneath his feet as well, he gave a dry laugh at his own inner musings. It wasn't rocket science as to when the change began…it was not the act of killing that had him obsessed with the crimson liquid, not at all. It was the reason he was spilling it. It was no longer a necessity for his village, it was no longer the paycheck, it was a simmering anger that radiated from his core for the particular targets he was given. He had been sworn to secrecy by her, never to utter the wrong-doings done to her. The only way he could justify his role in somebody's life cycle was the idea that those he was sent to kill were perpetrators of the very same crime committed against her. Every sliced throat, he imagined it being him, the coward that fled the village after returning just to break their hearts again. He broke much more than that, even if he was not allowed to say it, he knew it. No, it was not a sick addiction at all. It was a sick joy of causing pain to those who dared to trample on the people he swore to protect.

A pale white porcelain mask with a lone blood red stripe down its middle slipped over the silver haired ANBU's face, shading his eyes from the rest of the world. A soft whoosh was heard as he faded into the background, heading towards the only home he'd ever known.

Let me know what you think!

-Fiery