The Reason for Tools of War

By: Azure Orbis

Summary: During times of war, orders are given and obeyed. Even the youngest of children can be used as weapons to fight. One stops to think about his actions, searching for his reason to continue. After all, one way to grow up is to find logic in all the chaos called life.

A/N: I never remember this and probably no one cares, so no I don't own them, except for my story and the process that got me here. Oh, some spoilers of the gaiden(side story) from the manga, so if you haven't read the manga and don't want to know what has/will happen, you've been warned.

They charge at each other, a ball of bright blue charka blazing in his hand and a sharp gleaming curved sword in his opponent's, preparing for the last struggle. He evades the sharp blade and plunges his right hand in. A great welling of sadness sweeps across his heart, even as he deals the final blow.

Time stops as his opponent draws in his last breath, a look of shock graces his face before he slumps like a sack of flour against the one still standing. The other withdraws his arm and the enemy crumples to the ground, a visible gaping hole smoldering in his chest cavity. The young soldier stands and wonders, who determines who is enemy and who is friend? In a different time, a different place, they would have passed each other on the street and not even blink. Now one is dead and the other is barely living; his young soul stained with the unrelenting sin of committing bloodshed. In a different situation, they might even be friends. But this is not the case. War had thrust them together and placed before them the classic "kill or be killed" situation. The enemy, his enemy is dead.

He takes the briefest of moments to study the body. He studies all of his kills now when he has the time. Maybe he does it as a last tribute to the dead or some kind of silent apology. He doesn't know why exactly, but still continues to examine them. He was a young boy like him, maybe even younger. Playing ninja and getting killed for it. This person before him had comrades too, people who would mourn his passing. He was someone's precious son, someone's favorite playmate and now he was Kakashi's latest victim. The boy turns to leave, the war is still ongoing and he does not have the leisure to stop fighting.

On the surface, he is uninjured as he walks away from the corpse to his next fight. The blood that covers his armor liberally is not his own. However, deep down, his young heart aches with every life he takes. He tries to reason out that he kills because it is wartime and that if he does not kill, his own life will be forfeit. He repeats the logic to himself until it becomes ingrained in his mind. Somehow, it does not help him when he cannot sleep at night nor does it make the killing any easier. He would cry if he was a weaker soldier, or if he remembers how to, but crying is for the weak and he knows he is not. There will be no tears on his pillow this night, should he chance to return to his tent.

He glances at his hand; it is drenched in a familiar warm, sticky sensation. He does not bother washing it off because he knows it will be done in vain. He will engage in combat soon, so why bother wasting time cleaning something that soon will be dirty again? What he really wants is to cleanse his mind of all of his victims who like to haunt his sleep. It is an endless parade of faces disrupting his dreams until someday, he becomes someone's victim and he will haunt their sleep instead. It is a fitting punishment he supposes.

He doesn't understand this war or any war. After dragging on for years, it seems like only an excuse for senseless destruction of homes and wanton taking of life. It makes no sense and yet he keeps fighting and he keeps on killing, because in the end, that is all he is good for. A shinobi is merely a tool and tools don't stop working because of their feelings, even if he is just a boy.

A thought occurs to him as he trudges on exhausted, What am I still fighting for? What are any of us fighting for?

He has already lost two teammates, first the Uchiha and then the medic girl soon after. No, their names were Obito and Rin and they were his friends. Were, as in past tense. The look on his teacher's face was probably as grim as that of his own. But there was no time to mourn for them, not even time to properly prepare their bodies or to say one last good-bye. No, all they would get would be a name chiseled on a stone, a name hastily written on a scroll and a mass funeral for all the other brave soldiers who died that week. Young, they were all so young. Barely children out of their cradles, carrying unsharpened weapons and sent off to the front to fight. To fight, to die and for what?

He asks his sensei that question while they watch impassively as beige blurs chart off Rin's body. His sensei stalls before facing him, the eternal cheeky smile of his long faded. Konoha's famous Yellow Flash looks like he is about to delivered the patented speech about duty to one's country and that in war, shinobis must do as they are told. Instead he sighs heavily; his hands massage his temples to relieve an oncoming headache.

"Kakashi-kun," he intones, "sometimes things don't make any sense at all. War is one of them and yet we must keep on fighting." He pauses, searching for the right words to come and when they don't he continues haltingly, "Sometimes it is hard to find a reason for such senseless things. It's especially hard when one is as young as you are and yet, you have done things that children in other countries would not even dream of in their darkest nightmare."

"Are you going somewhere with this, sensei?" The gray-haired child asks gravely. His teacher looks slightly miffed at being interrupted, but turns around and jokes, "Good question." There is no change in the expression on his young charge. His teacher's face becomes serious again. "Everyone fights for a reason; some fight for small things, others fight for larger ones. Whatever it may be, when we find that reason, we hold onto it as hard as we can. My own reason for fighting is for the future. Perhaps someday there will be no need for hidden villages or shinobi," he adds wistfully.

"The future?" The child asks. Although his tone is completely flat, he is curious at the simple answer. "Not for the future of Konoha? Just for 'the future'?"

"Yes, Kakashi, for the future of everyone, not just those who reside Konoha." His gaze becomes distant, as he thinks over his answer.

The short gray-haired jounin mulls over the answer. "The future…That answer's a little vague and unspecific…" he mumbles to himself. His teacher is about to interject a comment when the boy speaks first, "I like it."

His teacher is in shock, "What? You like it?"

His young charge nods, "Yes, I like it. For the future, we fight." His teacher smiles at that, taking the moment to ruffle his last student's hair, a gesture that is familiar to them both. Kakashi tries to dodge, but is not fast enough. He frowns at his mussed hair, but secretly he smiles. All seems right in the world again. And so, the next time he slits someone's throat, he thanks him silently. Thank you for dying. Thank you for your death and mine too, when it comes. For then, the world will be bathed in our blood and be renewed. Perhaps then, the children to come will not have to follow in our footsteps. I'm still not quite sure why we must fight, but for the chance at a peaceful future, I am willing to continue on fighting. And perhaps, tonight I will find peace in my heart and in my sleep. Once more, thank you.

A/N: When I first started typing this, I realized that this fiction could literally be about anyone in the series, but since it was set during wartime, it narrowed the possibilities down considerably. I thought about making it about Tsunade, but decided against it. I'm not sure I'm up to that yet and there's been lots of help with all the Kakashi-avid fans out there and the great stories about Yondaime and his team. There need to be more of those! Thing about the timeline, it gets a little fuzzy in this fic, so think of this way, it starts in the present, flashes to the past and then back to the present. Oh and if you see any mistakes, feel free to tell me and as always, criticism is more than welcomed! It truly helps the writing process.