Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto

Happiness

On a humid night of September, where black clouds bled profusely of rain, a new member of the Hatake clan was born at the expense of his mother's life. Sakumo had rushed past the gates that night with hopes of catching a glimpse of the delivery of his precious son. But, just as he'd expected, he was too late.

Judging by the expression cast on the nurse's pale face, the outcome wasn't exactly welcomed. One pair of onyx orbs traced back to the hospital bed, where his wife laid with a white cloth prominently placed on top of her face. His lips curled downcast into a rueful smile; he knew being dispatched to a mission so close to his wife's scheduled delivery would be risky, but he was a shinobi - he needed to ensure the safety of the village.

Softly he lifted the fabric from his wife's face and cupped her cheek as he glanced down at her. "You must have really tried to wait for me," he whispered, feeling the softness of her skin. "I'm sorry for letting you down. I-"

"Sakumo-san." The nurse quietly said, coming closer with a baby bundled with a white towel in her arms. "This is your son."

The White Fang choked back a sob at the sight of the white tussle of hair, and the two black eyes staring up to the ceiling. That was his son, he thought with joy breaking through his previous doleful expression. Carefully he took the baby from her arms and cradled him in his own. "I'm sorry, but can you get me a chair?" He asked softly.

She nodded and dragged a nearby wooden chair to his side before she paid her respects, and left the room to give them privacy. Sakumo sat down, eyes fully transfixed on his son's fathomless pair. "Let's start with hello, shall we?" He smiled, running his hand delicately on the small patch of his hair. "I'm your father: Sakumo."

He smiled when his own baby just continued to gawk at him. He scooped him closer to his body and stifled a cry when he heard his baby whimper and wail under his hold. "I would have liked to see your delivery and support your mother. She must have held on for so long, but I was too late. I'm sorry, son.

"I put the importance of the mission above you and your mother; I'm such a fool. But that's because I only know how to live as a shinobi." Sakumo closed his eyes tightly. "Do-Do you think a man like me can be a good father to you?"

He felt a faint touch of warmth press against his cheek and when he opened his eyes again, he saw his son's small hand cupping a small portion of his cheek, he smiled. "You're right, how can I say such things when I'm now a father?"

Sakumo extended his spare hand to touch his son's face but his finger was clutched by a significantly smaller hand, and the baby whimpered again. His tiny hand refused to release Sakumo's index finger from his clasp until his father finally produced a meek expression, genuinely. The elite shinobi laughed and kissed his son on the forehead. "You're much stronger than I thought."

So this is what precious is.

"What to name you, my dear son." The older man mused with a smile. "Well, your mother wanted to name you Kakashi. So in honor of her, my son, you shall be named Kakashi."

He held him closer as if he were some kind of precious jewel in his possession.

"Welcome to the world, Kakashi."

I thought "I'm glad you were born", and that I was going to protect those tiny hands... no matter what the cost.

~O~O~

At five months old, the name of Kakashi Hatake bellowed across the Fire country like wildfire. The renowned White Fang has a kin - a possible asset to Konoha's military power. The child was both loved and feared by fellow ninjas of the Leaf. Although Kakashi - a Hatake - was still a baby, his destiny as a shinobi was almost tangible.

"C'mon, let me hold him for a bit!" Jiraiya whined childishly at his silver-haired companion.

Sakumo cradled Kakashi in his arms protectively as his friends crowded around him with anxiousness and a hint of broodiness blooming in the atmosphere. He gave a faint smile, albeit it barely lasted two seconds, as he hushed his child down.

"You've already held him a hundred times - and I mean it literally - Jiraiya." Sakumo replied, voice languid as calm water.

"But he's just too cute!" The man protested. "Have you seen those chubby arms and big eyes of his?"

The White Fang ignored Jiraiya's feigned chagrin expression with a sigh. Delicately, he transferred his son to Tsunade's welcoming arms. Her features eased from its knitted expression of displeasure from Jiraiya's overwhelming obnoxiousness as she held Kakashi closely. Dan stood behind her, admiring both her and the baby earnestly.

"Maybe, soon, we'll have this kind of happiness." She whispered, looking up at her lover, startling him.

Dan slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to his body. With caution he stroked Kakashi's cheek with one index finger, and smirked. "Having a child in the near future would be nice," he softly agreed.

Jiraiya grimaced. "Geez, get a room, you two. Honestly, I can hear your libido running wild from here Tsunade!"

"You... perverted piece of shi-" begrudgingly she bit her tongue back, holding her anger in. Instead she settled with a menacing glare at Jiraiya laced daggers welling up in her pupils. If only looks could kill, she would have killed him a thousand times over.

Kakashi whimpered in Tsunade's arms as his legs began to kick up in the air. She panicked and squealed. "W-What, what did I do-?"

Dan instinctively took Kakashi in his hold and patted him softly on the back to burp him. "There, there."

Sakumo shook his head softly, chuckling quietly as he did so. "I think you'd both make great parents."

"Dan will make a great parent," Orochimaru corrected with a playful bite, lips edging into a slanted smirk. "Tsunade has a temper. Wouldn't that be dangerous for the child?"

"Hey!" Tsunade barked out.

Sakumo took Kakashi back into his arms and rocked him back and forth. "Do you want to hold him, Orochimaru?"

The snake snorted back in derision but his eyes said otherwise. As the golden orbs locked with the child's obsidian pair a feeling of fondness silently crept up behind him. However, he shoved back his urge to hold the child by stuffing his hands deep into the swells of his pockets.

"Babies are too fragile for my liking." He finally settled coldly.

"Is that so?"

Orochimaru huffed out a rugged sigh filled with exertion. He flipped his dark tresses back and slumped his shoulders forward. "I'm going to sleep - a virtue I bet you lack, Sakumo. Now that you have that brat."

"Sleep's for the dead." He squarely replied through his dark-circled eyes that expressed his fatigue.

"Well, I feel dead." Orochimaru reasoned flatly, stepping away from the group. Inevitably, he felt too tired to even try and recount the steps he had taken from his apartment, so he used his body flicker to escape from the scene.

"Have you decided yet?" Jiraiya asked casually, raising a curious brow.

"Decided what?"

"If Kakashi is going to be a ninja or not."

"I'll let him decide for himself."

"But he's your only kin - a lot is expected from him as a ninja!" Tsunade interjected.

Sakumo's meek tone shattered to something more forlorn, bitter. "I don't want a set of rules to bind my son. And I couldn't care less about what others expect from him."

He hugged Kakashi closer to his chest, the lightness in his eyes dimmed.

"All I want for him is to be happy."

... I don't want him to be like me.

~O~O~

At the age of five Kakashi was a skilled, well-endowed ninja whose existence triumphed across the village as a prodigy. He possessed great knowledge in many aspects in the Shinobi World, but very little in the real world. Although he was very content with his life and what was given to him, the feeling of happiness remained an enigma in his eyes.

On one brisk afternoon, after the usual vigorous training up in the hills, Kakashi confronted his father. He kicked off the sandals from his feet and entered their compound, barefooted. When he entered the living room, he saw his father wielding his vest and the infamous saber that bestowed him the name, White Fang. Before he could even suspect that his father was aware of his presence, Sakumo had already turned around with a smile on his face. "What is it, Kakashi?"

"Otou-san," the masked boy glanced up. "What is happiness?"

The White Fang cocked his head to the side and placed one hand on his hip, smiling faintly. "What's with the sudden curiosity?"

"It's just... I don't know if I'm happy."

His father crouched on the floor and gestured for him to come closer, to which the child complied. Sakumo ruffled his son's hair with a grin. "Do you like it here? With me and your friends in the Academy?"

Kakashi nodded.

"That's happiness, Kakashi. It's about being satisfied with what you have." Sakumo swept his son off the ground and into his arms, holding him close.

Kakashi gazed up at him with curiosity. To the eyes of the five year old, his father was the epitome of what a ninja should be: fast; strong; calculating; shrewd; respected. He possessed all the aspects of the perfect ninja, yet he's never seen his father smile genuinely when it came to his job. "What about you, Otou-san?" He asked. "Are you happy?"

Sakumo laughed faintly, mussing up Kakashi's hair in the process. "Of course I am, child. I have you, don't I?"

"But you don't have Mother." The innocent boy pointed out flatly.

"Yes, that is true." He noted, an apologetic expression surfaced quickly as it disappeared. "But having you is enough for me. I am content with I have, and I shan't ask for more."

Kakashi smiled underneath his mask as his eyes arched upwards.

When my son asked me about happiness, I didn't know what to say. Was I truly happy in this world? I was skeptical at first, but upon seeing his innocent face light up, I couldn't possibly destroy that.

Sakumo placed his son back down on the ground and rested his hand on his head gently. "Remember this, Kakashi - your father loves you very much."

I knew then what I had to do as a father, and that was to ensure his happiness in life.

~O~O~

Kakashi was nearly six when he first saw a corpse at his feet - it was his father's. He stared in horror at the blade that protruded out from Sakumo's back which broke through tissue, muscles, bones and skin, inevitably taking his life. A pool of blood spewed all over the wooden floor and hugged his bare feet, coldly. His hand balled into a fist with rage trembling forth from his muscles. He gritted his teeth to subdue the overwhelming ache he felt in his heart.

Even if the world were to turn against me...

The once innocent child fell onto his knees with silver linings of tears meandering down on his bare face. He stared with teary eyes. Sakumo had been long gone by the time he saw him - no vestige of life present, presence of chakra already dissipated into nothingness. Kakashi buried his face in the palm of his hands before he wailed out hoarsely, chokes and tears occurred in the middle.

...until then, at least, no even after that...

Kakashi desperately reached out to his father's corpse. He held his father's bloodied hand as if he expected him to clutch his hand back and reassure him everything was going to be okay, but he never did. He held nothing but a frail limb. Kakashi shattered completely at the sight of his father's own corpse. He curled up next to his deceased father, drowned and marred with blood and tears.

...even after all the trials, I wish you happiness, Kakashi.

~O~O~

Kakashi was twenty years old when he questioned his happiness in life once more. He had lost everything at that age - his friends, sensei and father. What could he possibly possess that would serve as his happiness? He had nothing but his job as an assassin in the dark. The job was an obligation not satisfaction. It made Kakashi's heart colder, like fullmetal. It was not malleable, not something anyone can pry into. His heart had longed died along with his comrades.

He became his own counterpart, and served the village in the shadows. He was as infamous as his father - a legend - but also a phantom who lurked in the shadows. The sheer abundance of lives which he took with his very own hand became an unfathomable amount that he could no longer comprehend the meaning of his job.

He was the Grim Reaper of the ANBU. He served on the behalf of the Hokage in hopes he would make a difference in the world. But he couldn't find anything past the same crimson blood which traumatized him at the age of five. How could these aspects possibly be happiness?

Kakashi loomed in front of his father's grave after fourteen years of denying him. He stood resolute, eyes cast down with apathy, hands in the swells of his pockets. His scarlet eye gleamed through the darkness of the night as rain showered over him.

"Tell me, Otou-san, is this the happiness you wanted me to have?"

A/N: Angst, angst everywhere! Anyway, just decided to quickly whip this up, because I struck by the idea when I was eating this morning. XD Hope you guys liked it!

(This was meant to be published ages ago, in respect to Kakashi's birthday. But the bitch that is RL got in the way. XD)

Till I write again,

Exciled3