Things happened, things happened, things happened.

Though with him they seemed to happen more often than not. Because Naruto was Naruto, and he had a way of evoking responses even from the most vicious materials and souls. And now he was on the ground, dying.

Dead.

Because Naruto was Naruto and would never back down when there was people to be saved and hearts that could still be rendered useful if they were patched up right. And that's why he was on the ground, lying down and not living, because he'd lived for the sake of helping, beneath that torn orange jumpsuit was a beating heart that always fought and always helped, except for the sake of itself. Except for helping itself.

Naruto was there, and Naruto was dying, if not dead already, and it wasn't fair, and Kakashi had never agreed to this at all. He wondered how many deities he would have to drag down from the heavens until he got his way.

He had told Naruto, the younger generation will always surpass the previous one. That was life and that was order. So why was he there, with a nonexistent heartbeat, when Kakashi was breathing fine.

He laid upon the dusty ground, petulant eyes closed, oh-so reluctantly, he knew.

Naruto.

A sunshine and a storm and tiny skies crammed in his hazy laugh but he was quiet now.

Kakashi turned his head away, since all his eyes had searched for was lying on the ground.

Kakashi turned around, he turned his head, he turned his back on coming home. He was murderous. He would pick apart, and he would slaughter. Everything had been taken from him- all that mattered and made his shoulders heavy had been lifted and yet he longed for the weight.

With a grim look he headed out for a short debacle in a new world, and if he didn't exist in it for long then that was fine.

I wasn't meant to outlive you, he thought gently, to the one on the ground, unresponsive and expressionless.

If they try to create a world without you in it, I will tear it down. Brick by brick, with my own hands.

Until I find you smiling.