Author's Note: Thanks for taking the time to read this, please please PLEASE review when you're through! The idea of this story is basically came flying at me when I was feeling bad for lil' Hayate and his mean ol' cough. So of course, because I'm not a fluff writer, it came out bloody and gory and wonderful what with the blood and organs and choking and smoking and dying and...yeah. R&R!
In Konoha, the people firmly believe in certain things. They believe that it is necessary to breathe, eat, and sleep. They believe that having nin trained in killing is necessary. Finally, they believe that if they look hard enough, and if they concentrate, they can find perfection.
Asuma waits.
Sitting in a tree, trembling with fear and cold, a ninja sits. He's quiet, the tiny motion only barely visible in the suffocating darkness. Watching the enemy groups pass under him, he awaits his signal. Seeing a glance focused at him, he instantly snaps to awareness. He's been spotted, and that sure as hell isn't his signal. Hearing the shout that is sure to alert the rest of the nin's party, he prepares himself to spring the traps he's set. Turning quickly, he forms seals with his shaking hands before the enemy can react. With a flash of weapons, blood spatters across the trees beneath him, painting them red with graffiti. Jumping out of his hiding spot and to the ground, the young killer turns out the corpses' pockets. Coming up with a fairly full pack of cigarettes, he steps back, using a fire jutsu to burn the bodies. Watching the skin scald and faces contort, he holds out a cigarette, lighting it over the deadly flames. Sitting down and taking a drag of his cigarette, he smiles to himself. He has a smoke, and his mission is finally complete. He can go home. 'This…This is perfection.'
Hayate fades.
When he was young, he wanted nothing more then to become the greatest ninja there ever was. It didn't seem like too much to ask, really. Then there was what he deemed "the accident." A flash of blood, and lightning fast jutsu, and he was on the ground retching up what they assumed to be his dinner at first, but was actually his lung. He'd trained long and hard, into the earliest hours of dawn, learning to dodge and thrust and slice with his shimmering blade, only to be laying on the stark white sheets in a hospital room, having his organs jammed back down his throat into their rightful places. Now, he just wants to live past the age of 20, and not have to fight for every breath. Now he's laying on the roof of a building, darkness ebbing away at the edges of his vision. He's watching the scene before him fade into nothingness. He's laying there dying, pain racking his body, but for the first time in years he doesn't feel the need to cough. 'This…This is perfection.'
Kakashi dreams.
He's laying on his bed, tossing and turning, trapped in a feverish sleep. He's hoping the poison will pass through his veins before it has a chance to kill him, and his immune system will do its thing and stop him from suffering so much. He's racking his mind for a memory that doesn't hurt, but he can't find one. He can remember Obito dying, in a terrible moment the boy he'd both hated and loved had passed, leaving him with a memory he didn't want and an eye he wished he didn't inherit. His father, laying in a crimson pool of his own blood, leaving his tiny son to pick up the broken pieces of his life. He left him a title he didn't want and a knife he wished he'd never have to use. Rin, Rin running into his tiny room, screaming bloody murder. Sensei was dead. The village was nearly destroyed. Rin's blood on the walls. Rin's blood on the floor. Rin's blood on his hands. Rin. The poison works it's way through just a little faster. His memory is clear for a moment, left in a blissful blankness. 'This…This is perfection.'
They're ninja of the Hidden Leaf, and contrary to popular belief…they've never actually believed in perfection.