Yeah, I'm back.
Not permanently. But I'll keep working on my fics, because that's better than completely abandoning them. I do want to apologize for my lo—ong hiatus (or hibernation), but hey, it happens. All the more reason to marvel at the authors who do update regularly :D
Hopefully I'll be posting more stuff in the coming days, I just need to read them as a whole, see if they fit. Editing will come later. Like I say, the plot can temporarily compensate for the prose (because manuals are grammatically correct, but are boring ;3).
Despite that, I dedicate this chapter to E3-FantasyandReality and Twisted Sarcastic Play for being great PM buddies, especially E3 (sorry for not replying!), Boredom-Take Over for the faithful support (sorry for not updating as quickly as I promised!) and Idle Inkling, who stoked the fire in my writing groove. And of course, all my readers. You guys /tears up ;u;
As always,
Naruto ain't mine :3
Scarecrow In The Farmland
'... that's what he would want...'
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I felt dead.
I wasn't dead, though. I could hear myself breathing. I could hear this distant ringing noise in my ears. I could hear voices. When I opened my eyes, I saw a blurry Nohara-san.
"Kakashi?"
I couldn't speak. I grunted and lifted myself up, only to fall back to the bed with my body aching like crazy. Nohara-san ushered me to relax.
It took me a while to realize that I was in the clinic. How I got here was a mystery. I groaned, brushing a hand over my throbbing headache. Father must've brought me here. No one else could have. Briefly, I felt a sense of deja vu. Something like this happened a year ago—I let my temper loose on a bully from my school, and somehow I ended up fainting.
His name was Uchiha Obito. He wasn't like the other bullies. Whenever someone provoked him or made a dumb mistake in front of him, he would embarrass them in front of the other kids by hurting them using some ninja move. I would always avoid him, but one day my friend said that he would become Hokage when Obito suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
"What a silly dream. There's no way you'd ever achieve that. The Hokage is the most powerful shinobi in Konoha. How can a civilian like you become the Hokage when you won't even become a ninja?"
That was the first time I got angry in a long time. It wasn't just what he said, but how he'd said it. I talked back, and it earned me a shove. I fought back, but Obito wasn't from a clan for nothing. I'm pretty sure I landed a punch on him before I blacked out.
I woke up at the clinic afterwards with both my parents worried sick. They never told me why.
What was that again? Nohara-san was saying something. Wait, outside?
As if he understood me, Nohara-san gently smiled. "Your father is waiting outside, Kakashi. Don't worry, you aren't badly hurt."
"What happened to me?"
"Well, what do you remember?"
I tried to think of the moments before I fell unconscious, but my mind wasn't up for it. I shook my head. "Can't remember right now."
The doctor patted me on the head. "It's fine."
I weakly nodded. Instinctively, I peered from the covers and checked the door. No brown eyes.
"Do you want to see your father?"
Nohara-san's question remained unanswered until I got over the fact that Peeking Rin didn't attend to one of our rituals. Not that she had to. I blinked at him, pretending that I was tired to explain my delayed response. "Yes please."
Nohara-san nodded. "I have to warn you, though. Your father isn't in good shape right now."
He isn't? I tilted my head in confusion, but he didn't elaborate. Nohara-san disappeared behind the door.
With nothing to do, I tried to remember what happened. Images of an alley and two men came to mind, but I couldn't pinpoint just who the latter were. I remember falling. I remember shouting. I groaned from straining my mind too much, but I forced myself to think. And then an single image came to mind. It was the image of two evil grins.
I gasped. Of course. The two shinobi! I remembered everything—from the thief with the apple to his death—and instantly, the questions began pouring in. What happened to them? What did they do to me? Nohara-san said I wasn't badly hurt. Does that mean I was saved? But by who?
One word echoed in my mind.
"Shit!"
Father.
The same man was standing at the door. When I looked at him, I stiffened. My hand wound was nothing compared to his ones. He was covered in bandages, some of which were crimson. His silver hair was flecked with blood, and parts of his face were bruised purple. He looked defeated. But I knew he wasn't, because when he walked towards me, I could see the relieved glint in his eyes.
"Father," I said, ignoring the pathetic tone of my voice. He shushed me as he stood beside the bed, but I ignored him. "You—"
"It's fine," he assured. "I'm okay. How about you? Are you feeling any better?"
I should be asking you that. "Yeah," I said shortly, even though I wasn't.
"Good." He planted a kiss on my forehead, and that just broke me. Seeing him just made everything worse. It felt like guilt punched me in the face. If he hadn't saved me from those shinobi, I would've been dead.
So I said, "Thank you."
Father was surprised, but I didn't know if it was because I thanked him or because I was getting teary-eyed (which was also pathetic of me, but I didn't care). And he said, "You're welcome."
It was these moments which I cherished, the moments where my father would show his gentle side. The tough life of a farmer hardened him up, so it was rare for him to be sincere. I smiled, wiping away my tears with the blanket. "How did you find me?"
"Wasn't easy," he said. "When I didn't find you at the wagon, I panicked." I shot him an apologetic look, but he only shrugged. "I figured you had a reason for deserting me."
He then told me how a customer pointed out the direction which I ran. Father came into the alley I'd went into and ended up at the two junctions. He was about to take the left one when he heard a commotion from the right.
"I heard shouting from around the corner. At first, I thought it was just a fight—I was about to walk away, since I didn't want to be involved in somebody else's business. That was until I heard your name."
"What did you do?"
"I listened, of course. I came upon the corner, just out of sight. I took a quick peek and I saw you hiding from them. I panicked, especially when they found you."
"And then what did you do?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
Father smirked. "I kicked their asses and drove them away."
I chuckled. "I bet you were proud of yourself."
"Not at the time. I was busy worrying about you."
I was glad. Glad that he came for me. Glad that I was still alive. But then I thought of the two foreign shinobi. They were still out there. They intruded Konoha. Did the Hokage need to know? Would he care if two enemy-nin came into the village just for a farmer's son? But why? Why did they want me?
Now that I thought about it, the smile on Father's face was slightly forced. Was he thinking the same thing I was?
"Come on, Kakashi. Your mother is waiting for us, along with a pot of stew."
I couldn't ask him, not without spoiling his good mood. I nodded with a forced smile of my own.
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The horses clipped-clopped on the musty ground as we left Konoha's gates. The sun shone down upon us as we rode back home, and I recalled the days where Father and I would till the ground and harvest the crops under that giant ball of heat. Our hair would be matted and slick with sweat, though it did give them this glow, like real silver.
I sat beside Father on the wagon. We sat in comfortable silence, the both of us just taking in the scenery. Although, it got boring since the scenery was just grass and trees. I spoke up.
"Father?"
"Yes?"
I glanced to the crate of vegetables, remembering my carrot-kunai. "Why didn't you become a ninja?"
He raised a brow. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to change the topic, but I guess he realized that I wasn't going to back down. With a sigh, he replied, "I suppose I haven't told you, huh. But to be honest, you were the reason why I didn't become a ninja, Kakashi."
I licked my lips, which had gone dry. "What do you mean?"
"When I was eight, my parents told me that I was going to be a shinobi for Konoha. I didn't mind. After all, I had the aptitude for it. It was strange since my mother and father weren't shinobi. Nevertheless, I learned what I had to learn so I could enroll into the Academy. I did, and I graduated. That happened to be the time where I met your mother."
"Did you two fall in love?"
Father chuckled. "Not at first. It took me a while, but fourteen years later, I was married to the most beautiful woman in the world." I laughed. "My parents were apprehensive at first—they wanted me to marry a clan's daughter, and your mother was from a civilian family—but they knew that my mind was made up. It was a small ceremony, but it was one of the best days of my life."
"And then I was born."
"And then you were born," he repeated.
"Was that a great day too?" From his words, it seemed like I was a burden. I fiddled with the hem of my shirt.
Father didn't reply straightaway. It seemed that he was done beating around the bush. The sounds of clip clop clip clop could only be heard, until he turned away and sighed.
"You were sick."
I blinked. He continued.
"We didn't know what it was. It wasn't like the flu or food poisoning. Karitoru and I rushed you to Konoha's hospital, but we didn't have clearance since we weren't Konoha civilians. If it hadn't been for Iyasu, you would've..." He paused before saying one more sentence. "It wasn't curable."
His words shocked me. The questions started pouring in. "Is that why I have to go to him every month?"
Father nodded. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you. We... we didn't know how you would react."
The memory of the school bully flashed in my mind, and I shook my head. "I'm not the same kid I used to be."
"I know," was all Father said before we lapsed into silence once more. Of course, I just had to break it.
"Why do you think those shinobi wanted me?"
He tensed, but other than that, I received no reply. I didn't prod.
We arrived ten minutes later. The farm looked peaceful in the afternoon, and as we rode past the fields guarded by wooden fences, I caught sight of Kakashi #2.
When I looked closer, I saw a kunai firmly embedded into his head.
"Father."
I pointed to Kakashi #2 before he could say anything. And before I could panic, the wagon lurched forward as the horses broke into a gallop. Father was shaking the reins, shouting at them to go faster and faster, while I mourned for the scarecrow that was once my friend. Suddenly, I hoped that I didn't have to mourn for her.
We stopped just a few meters away from the house, probably so the shinobi didn't hear us coming. If they were still inside. Father wasted no time in hopping off. "Give me the bag," he ordered, and I did as he said. He pulled out the knife case and I blanched when he took the Silent Lady's knife in his hand. "Stay in the wagon."
"No!"
"Kakashi—"
"They nearly killed you!"
"I don't want that to happen to you," he countered. "Kakashi, stay in the wagon."
"No!" I cried. "It's my responsibility! They came looking for me; it's only right if I try to help! I didn't have to bring you or Mother into this—!"
Rough hands gripped my shoulders. Cold steel pressed against my cheek. I looked at Father's reflection on the blade and saw his pleading face. "Kakashi," he urged. "Please."
I pushed him away. "I'm not the same kid I used to be."
I'm not the rage-filled child you had to care for back then.
As if hearing that unspoken sentence, Father let go of me. "Fine," he said, voice cracking. "But you stay behind me at all times. If you see you mother, you two will get out of there as soon as possible. Got it?"
"Got it."
We moved hastily towards the house. Father signaled me to take a spade from the shed as a weapon. When I went to pick it up, I couldn't help but notice that the shed was ransacked.
Th-thump.
"No," I whispered, clutching my chest. "Not now."
I caught up with Father. We arrived at the front of the house, and Father peered through the window. "Clear," he said before slipping inside the open door. I followed suit. We advanced in a dimly lit corridor. The floorboards groaned under our feet. Dust swirled in the rays of sunlight which streamed from the windows in the rooms—when I peeked inside, I saw that drawers were pulled open and bedsheets were upturned.
"They'll be able to sense us," whispered Father, "so be prepared."
We tiptoed silently through the house. It was an unbearable feeling, to venture in your own home, something meant to be safe, and fear what was lurking inside. I looked at Father. His steps were quiet, his breathing was even and his whole demeanor was absolutely calm. Just like a real shinobi.
And then the tension in the air was sliced by a careening kunai.
I screamed.
The shinobi reached out to grab me.
"Kakashi!"
Father pushed him back to the wall. I stood there watching as he punched the man twice, no, three times, before he threw the shinobi to the ground. Then a kunai flew towards him, and I screamed.
"No!"
But to my relief, Father had deflected the kunai with the Silent Lady's knife. Yet something was different. The knife's blade wasn't black anymore. It was glowing. In fact, Father's hand was crackling silver. Like lightning.
"Run," he shouted to me, "run, Kakashi! Find your mother!"
"But—!"
The shinobi charged at him, and Father struggled to block the kunai attack. "Go!" he ordered.
I was torn. Torn between helping my father and looking for my mother. How was I supposed to decide? Then it hit me: Father was still alive. But Mother...
... I needed to make sure.
I scrambled away from the fight. During my escape, I passed the kitchen. Bits of stew sizzled on the floor. They must have found Mother there, before she ran away. But to where?
I went further into the corridor until I reached the very back of our house. There was a hatch that led to the wine cellar. I found it open, inviting me into the darkness inside. This must be where she hid! I immediately clambered down the slanting ladder and took a torch from a pile. I lit it up by stirring it in the hot embers beside the pile. Someone was here recently, and I thought of Mother.
When the flame appeared, I walked forwards, clutching the spade from the shed with a trembly grip. My other hand ached as I held the torch.
Tall shelves that towered above me like trees. Some of them were filled with rows and rows of wine; others were bare and accumulating dust. I shined the light towards them, and I found finger marks in the dust. Was it Mother? From the long marks, it seemed she'd been walking in the pitch dark.
I continued my search, step by step, breath by breath, blink by blink.
Then came a horrifying shriek.
A cry.
A roar.
I sank to my knees and covered my ears. Bottles were shattering. They only added to the agonizing roar, where every syllable was like a needle. Even when the noise finally died down, my ears still rang. I had a giant headache that made me keel over. Faintly, I could hear footsteps. "Mother?"
"Did you like the symphony?"
It was not her. Aargh! I should've known—there'd been two of them before.
I couldn't answer. He didn't wait for one. "I'm lucky that I'm not facing against the Black Fang. Instead I have the li'l pup. Don't worry, I won't kill you. Master needs you alive."
I quickly looked for my spade, but I must've have thrown it away in a frenzy. I then noticed the blood on the shinobi's hands. My heart stopped. "W-What did you do to her?" I asked.
He cocked his head with false innocence. "Your mother? It should be obvious, shouldn't it?
Th-thump.
"I found her hiding under the bed, and I chased her 'round the house. She went inside the wine cellar. Bad move on her part.
Th-thump. Th-thump. Th-thump.
"She tried to fight," the shinobi continued, strutting towards me. "But she was out with one hit! Pathetic. I expected more from the Black Fang's wife. I didn't expect a frail—
Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump.
"—weak—
Th-thumpth-thumpth-thump.
"—ugly piece of shi—"
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Can you hear me, pup?
Can you feel my rage?
Your rage is mine, and my rage is yours.
You need to unleash it.
Will you let me help you?
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It's time, pup.
Unleash your rage—
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Instinctively, I slashed the shinobi's chest. Once. Twice. A dozen times. I slashed until the shinobi fell in a bloodied heap. RAGE RAGE RAGE were my only thoughts, KILL KILL KILL as my response.
I panted, staring at his body, before staring at my reflection on a bottle.
My fingers were replaced with long, black claws; my teeth with fangs; my eyes with bloodshot orbs. My body emanated black wisps of smoke that gave me the form of a shadowy wolf. When my fury faded away, the voice returned:
Until next time, pup.
What?
The claws and the fangs and the smoke were gone. When I stared at the bottle again, I was myself again.
What just happened? I calmed myself. Think! I passed out. A voice told me to... unleash my rage? Then before I knew it, I—I killed the shinobi! Horrified, I backed away from the corpse until I bumped into a shelf.
I flinched when I stepped onto my spade. It's clang echoed like a bell toll.
There was a whimper. "Ka... kashi?"
I turned around, instantly recognizing that voice. She was kneeling and draped in a blanket, crouched at the corner of the cellar, her figure barely visible in the shadows. "Mother?" I squeaked. When I came closer, I gasped. "Mother!" I cried as I went to hug her. "I thought you were dead!"
Something was wrong. She coughed violently and held up a hand, as if to say that I should stay away from her. Worried, I brushed a hand to her forehead. She was burning up!
Suddenly, I realized that her droopiness from earlier was worse than I thought.
"Don't worry, we'll get out of here." I slung her arm around my shoulder and heaved her up. Mother nodded weakly and made an effort to walk. Then her eyes widened, and she pointed to something bright before us.
It was the burning corpse of the shinobi.
I was puzzled. Did he fall beside the torch? But that didn't make sense. Looking closer, I saw that a broken bottle was next to the corpse, wine spilled out.
Oh, no. "We need to go!" I said, helping Mother to hastily make our escape. I told her to climb up the ladder first with me encouraging from below. We made it outside just in time. As I shut the hatch, I glanced one more time at the inferno that swept across the cellar.
We staggered in the corridors. Mother coughed from all the smoke, and I was no exception, but it made me more determined to leave. But every step we took grew heavier and heavier. Before I knew it, Mother and I were on the floor. The air was cleaner, but our wounds...
Th-thump.
"Kakashi?"
"Father!"
He bounded to us in no time, sporting a bloody lip and bruises. He held Mother with a firm but gentle grip, forcing her face to meet his. "Toru," he breathed. I watched as his face turned angry to sad before turning to me. "We're leaving," he said, "We're leaving, we're leaving, it's okay..."
Father heaved us up. He supported Mother while I stumbled ahead, ready to open the door that led outside, to escape from this nightmare—
White blinded me. I screamed as pain shot up my jaw, worser than the wound on my hand. With great effort, I rolled out of the bed of flames and felt tears slide down my cheeks. Vaguely, I could make out Father fighting something amidst the haze... something bright and crackling flying in the air... and an echo...
"Kakashi, get out of here! Get out!"
I found Mother unconscious and heaved her up, like Father did. She was like a rag doll. I forced my feet to take steps—one after the other—never looking back—always forwards—towards that scorching door—
Once we burst outside, we only had one second to relieve our lungs before the fire surged. "Mother, let's go!" I cried, leading her away from small fireballs spitting from what used to be our home.
I hurried her onto the wagon and was about to hop on when she spluttered; "Sakumo—?"
I gasped. I'd forgotten about him! But I couldn't go back, not when Mother was sick! "Father!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.
No answer.
"Father!"
Burning debris answered me, toppling over each other as the fire consumed all.
Father...
I wished my tears could extinguish the flames.
"Kakashi..." I turned back to Mother, whose worried eyes bore into mine, the eyes that flickered faintly of life.
Earlier, I was torn. Torn between helping my father and looking for my mother. Now it was the reverse. How was I supposed to decide?
Then I knew. I had to get Mother to safety. I mean, that's what he would want... right?
Right?
Everything was gone.
Fire consumed all, rampaging our fields and turning everything red. Flames and smoke tails licked the sky. The air was thick with devastation. There was no home for us to go back to. In one day, our lives were turned upside down.
"Why do you think those shinobi wanted me?"
I didn't look back as we rode from our farm. The wheels rattled with the horses' gallops. All I saw in that moment of escape was red, as horrifying as the color of that apple, of that thief's blood.
Kakashi #2 was gone, too. Burning like that shinobi's corpse.
"No!" I cried. "It's my responsibility! They came looking for me; it's only right if I try to help! I didn't have to bring you or Mother into this—!"
I did look back one time, to check on Mother. She was hugging her knees and trying to stifle her coughs. Her face was paler than before. There was only one place I could take her. One that I could trust.
With a resolute heart, I led us towards the village.
