He liked to say he's always been a loner. But really, it's never been like that. He needs people.
At first he had his father, his father with his weary smile and twinkling eyes. His father who became the man with a scowl and eyes always set in a hard glare. His story ended with a tanto in his gut, cutting through his shame, but never the memory.
He though he was alone, but he wasn't really. He still had the team Minato-sensei built.
Then he had Obito, Obito with the bright eyes and the comical smirk. Obito who became the boy with blood red eyes and a pain induced grimace. His story ended with a boulder crushing his body, but never his spirit.
He had thought he was alone, but he still wasn't. Even if his sensei became hokage and had the village to look after, He still had Rin.
Rin with the humble smile and innocent eyes. Rin who became the girl with sleepy bloodshot gaze and a stressed smile. Her story ended with a chakra drained soul. Depleted of life, but her heart lives on within him.
He had thought he was alone, but he still wasn't. Even if he came home to an empty apartment every night, and now carries the knowledge along with the guilt. His sensei was still looking out for him. Even if it didn't seem like it. He liked to think he could still count on Minato.
Minato with the grin that could light up a room and striking azure eyes. With hair bright like a beacon and always full of energy. Minato who became known as Yondaime Hokage, with the dull eyes, and the forced smile, desperately trying to reassure when it was obvious there was no hope left.
Who fought with all he was worth to keep The Leaf from falling apart. His story ended with a Demon fox, howling ringing sour in the air like the devil. Giving life to his son and a future under the shadow of the hokage's fate.
He should have known he couldn't count on anyone. Not even himself.
All through it he grew, He was Kakashi, Kakashi with the lonely black eyes and concealed frown who became the Kakashi with the cold dark eyes and a tired sigh weighed down with experience. There was no smile for him. There never will be. He's seen too much to smile through it.
His eyes don't count. His eyes are smiling when his heart was crying.
The Kakashi who's still living through the grief even though he wants nothing more to drag a tanto through his gut, like his father before him. But now there's no one left to remember him, the real him.
The Kakashi who's still living, because his soul purpose in life is to wait for the right moment to through his life on the line for someone he cares about. But now there's no one left that he truly cares about, only comrades, nothing more, nothing less.
The Kakashi who's still living with a broken heart that aches more every day, and sometimes he wonders why he still going on when there's clearly no one who cares, and there's no one who would stop him. No one cares enough for a simple being like himself.
The Kakashi who lives alone in the world because he took for granted everything and everyone who was given to him. People come into your life to teach you lessons, and they leave you better and worse in some ways, more or less.
They are all a part of him. They live in him, and he will keep their memories alive.
His life was no fairy tale, all he ever did was put himself together just to watch him fall apart. And eventually, he just stopped trying.
He said he'll never back down but living life wears you down. He used to stand so tall, but now he's crumbled. He used to have it all, or so he thought.
But now he has nothing and he wants it back. He wants it so badly he can taste it. But life is cruel in that way. You'll never be satasied. It's never fair. If only he knew then what he knew now.
Maybe he wouldn't be the terribly lonely man today.
He does need people in his life. A lifetime of loss has taught him that. But he has always been a loner. A lifetime of solitude has taught him that.
The scarecrow lives on, ripped and torn and spirits in tatters, but it hangs on. That's all it was made to do. It was it's job.
The scarecrow must survive. Alone in a spacious and confusing feild, it's name is all it has left.
The scarecrow has it's job to do, and though its hard, he does it for their memory.
So the scarecrow hangs on, until it can retire from it's post and be laid to rest, forgotten and gathering dust.
But it will not mind, it can finally be at peace.
No one will remember the man of straw.
He was alone in the end.
There was no one left.
That is the path he has chosen.
But really, there never was a choice.
Destiny can be cruel like that.
He knows better than anyone.