I tried to hold off as much as possible, wait it out and see what happened. But it just got worse, or maybe it was just me that got worse. I became entranced by the thought of my own death that I couldn't see anything else. Planning it out, months in advance. Every detail crudely constructed and intertwined. My best work. I made sure everything came full circle; spinning over and over again. Mine and my son's own circle of life.
Days passed. Then it rained. And god cried. It was time.
The execution, my suicide, was easy. Time and place wasn't too hard. And getting a hold of a weapon was as easy as reaching into my kunai pouch. I chose the training hall. No material for my blood to stain. Hard wood floors my essence would easily wipe off of if I was found quick enough. I knew Kakashi would find me, but I didn't mind. When your young you forget things quickly. Like how you felt at a certain point in time. But visuals, they seem to last forever. I wanted him to remember my smiling face.
Kakashi might forget me. That's always a possibility. He might forget my voice, my scent, my warmth he felt whenever I cradled his body against me. But my face; my beautiful face. Only wonderful because he looks just like me. He will never forget. Whenever he peers in a mirror he will think of me and I will know. Because I am always watching.
The Flash, as The Fourth was called, knew. That was why he treated Kakashi as his son. Because I asked him to, begged him. He agreed, of course. I told him it was practice for when he had his own child. I don't think he truly understood me. He smiled till the day he died, gave my son affection and pure love. But he didn't get it. He never learned what I was trying to teach until the last few seconds of life.
That even when you have a child you love more than life itself; when you don't want to hurt them. Sacrifices must be made. Death is inevitable. You can't not hurt them.
I hurt him and I knew I would. But even so, there was no doubt in my mind I wouldn't do what I did. Kakashi had to get use to pain, I was making him stronger. So much stronger than me. A better ninja than I would have ever been. One who could balance friends and duty, love and loyalty, want and need.
He wavered and I cried. He obsessed and I screamed. He wept and I wept with him. And then I smiled. Thanked the child that taught my child then cried some more. If I had stayed alive a little bit longer and learned what my son had learned then maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have been the one that hurt my son. But it was well worth it. I think. He came out perfect. Just perfect.
And thanks to a friend; I'm his hero now. Suicide didn't cleanse me. The children did.
Authors Note:
Another challenge from a thread off NarutoFan's forum. This one was a one-shot about Kakashi's father. I don't think there was a decided plot to it. Hmmm….. I forgot. Oh well. I rather like this one. smiles Criticism is welcome.