Just a little idea that popped into my mind while thinking about Kakashi. Like I don't do that enough already.

Smiling Face

It was a day when it seemed like the rain would never end. A day in which the sun refused to shine and even the birds knew better than to chirp. It felt as though the very air was trying to crush me and I felt as though I might as well have stopped breathing.

"This is something I have to do, son…I'm sorry… Take care of your mother for me ..." he had said to me. Then he walked out the door and out of my life.

I was seven years old at the time.

I didn't understand why he had left. I didn't understand why people kept whispering 'traitor's son' every time I went out and I especially didn't understand why, 3 days later, I was standing in the doorway of my father's study watching him kill himself.

I thought that we had suffered enough. I thought then, It's bad now, but at least it can't get any worse... And perhaps it hadn't. Perhaps I was just being selfish, as usual, for wanting that which I don't deserve. But I didn't ask for much; I didn't believe that I asked for too much.

And I wondered what Mother was thinking, as she sat beside me, her eyes set on a distant answer, an answer which may or may not have existed. I wondered what she was thinking, and I wondered if it would be too rude to ask, so I sat in the silence and waited for her to break it.

Mother... Her brow was sternly folded, her mouth turned slightly downward. Her forehead creased as she sighed heavily. Her hand still clutching father's bloodied hitai-ate. I remember it all as though it happened in slow motion. I looked away at once. She wore that expression so often; it was perfectly engraved in my mind, but it still re-carved itself each time I had to see it.

"Kakashi..." she spoke then. The suddenness of it had caused my heart to jump, somehow.

"Yes?" I had replied quickly. I didn't look at her.

"Do you... hate me?" she questioned. And with this, my heart sank.

"Of course not, Kaa-san ... Why would you ask that?" At this time, I forced myself to look again into her glazed eyes. She simply shrugged. At this gesture, I knew I would not hear any more words from her, unless I was to prompt them first, and a response, even then, was not guaranteed. Why? Why would she ask that? I wondered. The words that I had desperately wanted to say, needed to say, but that were caught in my throat by the cowardice that held my heart in its icy grip.

A long time passed before either of us said anything. I became deafened by the silence before I spoke again. "Do you hate me? For making him…?" I asked with my eyes closed both wanting and fearing the answer to the question I couldn't even finish.

"No, I could never hate my little boy" was all she said, but in it I could feel her forgiving me almost as clearly as if she had said it. I could feel her pulling the blame away from me. Comforting me, as she had always done. She smiled at me and stood up and walked to the door. Though she turned her head to hide it, just before she left my sight, I saw a tear slide down her cheek, and then she was gone.

She may have forgiven me, but I will never forgive myself. Not until the day that I can wipe away that tear and see her smiling face again.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N- uh… not much to say about this one. Just hope you liked it and please read and review because you know I love it!