These R the Thoughts

Summary: Kakashi leaves Konoha for Tobi. (He's got CANDY!) (just kidding… :)
Spoilers: I have no idea. (Oh…vol. 37 and what will be vol.42 hintings…I think…)
Author's Note: 'These R the Thoughts' is a song by one of my favorite music artists, Alanis Morissette. (Lyrics don't fit 100 percent, but the spirit I find is the same.) I would dedicate this to her if she loved Naruto—but, alas, I dunno, so, uh…whatever. (And if you know some of her music, you'll note the chapters are other fitting song titles by her.) This is speculative (for right now, lol)—I'm not sure why I started writing it, and until Tahle helped me, it was a goner. Lool. So…please enjoy (3 whole chapters of crap, lol) until Kishimoto-sensei enlightens us with his master plot, no doubt currently in the works.
Big Big Hugs and Thankies: To…Tahle for previewing most of this…and giving me the inspiration and reason to finish it. (Hopefully with a bang! Lol)
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. (sigh)
Genre: Oh jeez…Angst? Humor? No clue…

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Chapter One: Everything (And You're Still Here)


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It used to be a white line feathering at the edges for the grace of one man. The blade took order from no other bloodline, under no further subject than Poe's diction as Jiraiya made a nice use of imagery from it once. It was all so simple. But then one day you went and broke it, didn't you? Was it under the weight of your mistakes, your failures—or did the man's flesh turn to steel? It wouldn't be the first time, just like the choice you're making right now. At least or so he told himself. He was right and the world was wrong. Perhaps that was the guiding insanity. Others were welcome to define him by that stubbornness, but no one had ever called him on it until now. He knew it had to be the same person who called him on it all those years ago. There was nothing to dissuade him now but perhaps the blade, such a small broken reminder. All those mistakes, all his fantastic failings were right there in the dulled white reflection. Jiraiya really did have it perfect. It was right before the chapter Naruto grieved for a lost friend.

But Kakashi took the blade with him not knowing why—probably because there were too many reasons.

It was the same thing when he stopped at Jiraiya's monument stone—the one on the very order of a lip-stick wearing hokagé. So this is what his tax dollars were doing. It was all under the watchful stare of two ANBU black opps teams also under given order by Tsunadé. He could not stay long. It used to be he was alone in places like this most of the time. A long time ago it used to be you come here, have a revelation, and then go home. Well revelations always came too late for him anyway so there's not much point—especially considering who he's standing before. Jiraiya knew the story well; he knew he'd be damned if he ever offered advice to you anyway. At that moment Kakashi missed Jiraiya-sama. He was paranoid about not wanting to seem like spiting the ero-sennin's memory or anything equally conspiratorial, so he left—the two teams following in a distance. It used to be he was on a team like that.

But Kakashi was right and the world was wrong.

It's dark outside; the moon is high, and…he smells like his closet.

He hadn't worn the vest in quite some time. It used to be his father's. Sakumo liked the weight of it, and it carried the blade well. The metal now though was marked by etched scars but…by a peculiar meticulous habit, it breathed in the moonlight reflecting a shine unseen for so many years. Still keeping track of the distance in his mind, he slowed purposefully. He wasn't concerned, in effect, that the metal was a flashing beacon of 'here I am here I am,' but knew if he did not send this meaningless message, the boy might be that much more inclined to start a meaningless search. He'd wrapped the paper around the tsuka of a kunai he imagined Naruto would treasure forever. There always seemed to be that small feeling of sentimentality in his thinking as he's about to do something unnecessarily stupid. Perhaps it was the hundred-moves-ahead side of him. Perhaps it was merely his guilt about to catch up with him, he wasn't sure. Kakashi wasn't coming back, so he wasn't sure it even mattered. This was only where it got fun.

He traveled like the buildings were naturally slowing himself down. Naruto's window frame was higher than he hoped, but he stayed a distance from it, a nonchalantal thing considering his own personae. Finally, he passed it; out a good twenty meters he made the switch. The copied copy-ninja continued the trek. As far as the transition aesthetic, it was flawless. Even with jounin at his level there can always be a split-second movement like a glitch, but smooth ones like this earned a gold star. He kept on waiting before he dared move again. Often there'd be a ninth shinobi behind squads of that size to defend the others in the event of an enemy assault; however, the lady hokagé must not have seen the need as yet still he sensed nothing from the shadows. Still, he was only one man. How much harm could he possibly do to Konohagakuré's finest?

He's gonna find out.

Finally, he takes the kunai and gauges from the light of the moon how he needed to aim it without causing too much of a shadow. It wasn't in the plan that he should have an enraged former student on his trail, let alone someone such as Naruto. He especially wouldn't want to bother Yamato if Naruto moved beyond one-tail form. Kakashi's just considerate that way. So finally he moves from the shadow and angles acute in another perfect maneuver. He moved on instantly, avoiding any kind of vicarious occasion with a dot on an outside wall. The blade had been enough to send him in Jiraiya-sama's visiting hours. Maybe it was an Hataké thing—he'd figure it out later; once the canopy of leaves hid him, once he could keep running—straight no chaser. He vowed not to bring his dogs into this; he'd already made Pakkun get his…well, paws dirty. If he couldn't do this as a ninja then he hadn't been much of a shinobi. Then again, he was never that much of a shinobi when he broke the blade. So he keeps distance with the ANBU shinobi, watching out for anything else that could hinder his departure. He would only use the sharingan when need be—God forbid Obito should witness any of this—probably because there were too many reasons.

Kare wa otoko to kamen desu.

It used to be he was Konoha's copy ninja. Somewhere in his prime, the latter years at ANBU he gained the title he disregarded. Honestly, in that time frame and up through his twenties he would have liked nothing more than to be remembered as the man who would unabashedly fuck with the chief counselors old man Homura and mistress Koharu. Kakashi figured he honored his father the best that way. The son was only sorry he would not be back to dust off the Hatake household or let the grey schitz run in the wheat field. It used to be so simple.

But Kakashi was right and the world was wrong.

The moon had risen higher to be a perfect circle stone of quartz in the sky. Finally, he wondered if she was in one of the teams…damn sentimentality—even though it was a legitimate possibility. He slowed without making a sound; it would be a real fine mess if he attracted any further attention. He stopped and watched as the clone did so. The path leading out of Konohagakuré never looked straighter. This was how it must have looked to Sasuké. The trees beyond never once beckoned him this much before. He wondered. The two squads descended and surrounded what they thought was the flesh and blood. Kakashi watched from the shadow of a side alley drawing on nothing but an ANBU mindset with this many shinobi. The kunai with him would be of little use to him. At least…or so he told himself. Other than the fact that they might spontaneously shatter in mid-air, he just didn't want to kill anybody. (Again, consideration.) It used to be he used these weapons against an enemy. He killed men. It went with the job. But a rogue with this level of consideration? Perhaps he didn't want to be court-martialed that badly—the same part of him that would find himself in a grand mess if he ever came back to this place.

'Cuz Kakashi was right and the world was wrong.

He still didn't know the whole story. But he was called. The crazy feeling of knowing you're still here. He's still here. And you are still here. It fit together like the two pieces that made one whole puzzle. Why the hell had it taken this long? It was simple. It was more than that—it's true he's naturally crazy, and perhaps his madness was inherent, but the look was the same. Dammit Tsunadé—the feeling never decays. Her covin was what made her indifferent; oh yes indeed she doubted they would ever speak again. He never seemed to take orders very well anyway. Especially as of late. Like, about, right now…or whatever. It used to be much the same. He'd piss off every squad leader he had at one point or another. Perhaps Tobi did the same. He was gonna find out.

"Kakashi, you bastard!"

He watched as one of the ANBU black opps shifted—a white cloak and a smiling mask.

Well what a friendly way to start a conversation.

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You see everything, you see every part

You see all my light and you love my dark

You dig everything of which I'm ashamed

There's not anything to which you can't relate

And you're still here

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