Self-Sustained Hell

Summary: ::Ch. 1:: I feel suspended in air, disconnected from myself and the rest of the world. Floating in a void of blackness and I can't remember anything at all; only that this is it. This is the end. . ::Sequel to Black Day::

Genre: Angst/Drama

Rating: T

Author's Notes: This chapter is quite short but don't worry, the others will be longer. I promise! Also, thanks are in order for everyone who has been patiently waiting so long for me to get this story going again. So thank you for sticking this out!!!

Disclaimer: Naruto is not mine. I'm making no money. Please don't sue.

Please R&R…Thanks!

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Part of The Kakashi Chronicles, that currently include (in chronological order):
Fade to Black
Black Day
Self-Sustained Hell
Left Behind

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The kunai rips through my stomach and I feel my skin tearing, the veins bursting and my blooding spilling from me. I blink, my memories fleeing from my mind and I can't figure out what I did wrong or why I'm here. Bile rises in my throat as I struggle to get my bearings and asses the situation. Blinking, my blurry vision begins to clear and what I see shocks me.

A kunai lays imbedded in a child's neck, no more than seven years old, her eyes staring up at me; pleading for help and asking me why. A hand clutches the bloody kunai, a gloved hand attached to a scared arm, a scared arm attached to my body.

I did this.

Her body fails, sliding off the kunai with a sickening sucking sound and landing, with a thud, on the ground. The kunai slips from my grasp and my arm limply falls to my side.

I feel disassociated from my body. As if I'm someone else watching my actions from above me. I can't remember how I got here or why I'm doing this. I desperately try to find a logical explanation to discover the reason behind my actions but my memories of today are gone. Have I blocked out those memories? And if I did, then why? What have I don't that is so bad that I must block it out?

I stumble backwards, the pain in my stomach drags my mind back into my body and I feel like myself again; which is never a good thing. I trip over something, landing hard on the ground. I realize that I tripped over a body.

Another child's body, another innocent young girl.

What have I done?

My eyes follow the trail of my own blood, leading to my almost-friend.

Asuma.

He's still there, crouching in front of the last child I murdered. One of his trench knives poised in front of his face, blood still dripping from it; my blood. His eyes pierce into me; accusing, ashamed, disappointed, and helpless.

I let my eyes wander the training field, the bodies of many lay strewn about; shinobi and children. Children who were just training.

"What have I done?" I whisper to no one, my voice breaking and my body shaking with emotion; that I hide as exhaustion, "Why didn't you stop me?"

Asuma sighs, slowly standing up and returning his trench knives to his holster, "Do you not remember?" he asks. His familiar voice sounds foreign to me and I don't know why.

"Why didn't you stop me?" I ask again, my voice rising with frustration, desperation, confusion, and helplessness.

"Don't try to shake the blame Kakashi, our White Fang of Konoha," Genma says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and disgust.

I slowly push myself back up to a standing position, my right arm clutches around my injured abdomen. I look around once again, trying to remember why I'm here, why I've done this; but I can't. No matter how hard I try I just can't remember.

My vision begins to blur as I look around at this destruction I've caused and the shinobi still standing; protecting terrified children.

"Why didn't you stop me!" I scream, my voice cracking at the end as I collapse to the ground; emotions overwhelming me.

Tears; wet and salty, unwillingly escape from my eyes. My perfect mask shatters into a million pieces as I stare at my hands, knees sitting in a poll of innocent blood, and watch my tears fall onto the ground and my bloody hands. The wet, clear liquid slowly mixes with the red, sticky, life-giving liquid on my own tainted hands and slowly washes them clean.

"Why didn't you stop me?" I choke out, shuddering under the weight of my grief, "Why?"

Someone kneels down beside me and I turn my head to look up at the intruder. His accusing eyes bore holes into my own eyes and I drop my head to stare at my now clean hands; too ashamed to look at another person. I begin to taste my tears as they finally soak through my mask.

"Kakashi?" Asuma whispers beside me, his voice coloured with fake concern.

"Why?" I choke out again, feeling the last of my control beginning to slip away from me, "Why? Why? Why? Wh . . ."

"Kakashi!" Asuma shouts, breaking me out of my ramblings.

My breath catches in my throat as my grief chokes out my last will to live. All these years I've struggled to stay alive, all these years I've struggled to stay in control of myself.

Today I've broken; and I realize that. Today I will never be the same again, I will never be in control again. Today I've become useless; useless and dangerous; dangerous and dead.

I'm dead inside now; I've murdered myself by murdering others. I might as well just be dead physically and remove myself from this world, prevent myself from ever doing this again.

"Kakashi?" Asuma tries again, his voice full of fake caring and fake friendship.

I've lost the respect of everyone in Konoha now; my reputation is shattered. I've fallen into disgrace, just like my father did all those years ago.

"Kakashi?" Asuma whispers, yet again, "Kaka . . ."

"I'm sorry," I quietly interrupt, sobs choking every word, "I'm so, so sorry."

"Kakashi, It's alright. Everything will be okay. Every . . ."

"Shut the fuck up!" I scream, slamming my fist into the ground, "It's not okay! This isn't okay! I CAN'T fix this!"

"Kakashi," he whispers, I can hear the sadness in his voice mirroring the sadness in my own.

I push myself back up into a standing position again. Right hand holding my stomach while my left hand wipes the tears from my burning eyes and removes my tear-soaked mask.

I don't care if they see my face now, I don't care if they know my identity anymore. I'm nothing but a disgraced shinobi, a failure at the only thing I know how to do. I no longer hold the privilege to hide my identity. My mask is broken, my fucked up mind revealed, the meaning to my life destroyed and mangled.

I am nothing anymore.

"Kakashi," Asuma pleads, standing up and grabbing my right shoulder.

"Kakashi," he repeats as if it's a life-line. But I'm not sure if it's a life-line meant for myself of him.

I turn my head and stare into his eyes. Nothing registers anymore; I'm numb to all feelings and emotions. Numb to the world, to myself, and everyone else.

"I am nothing anymore," I say, my voice now calm, collected, and level; almost like a robot's voice.

"Kaka . . ." he beings but I don't hear the rest of his words.

I rip my right shoulder from his grasp as my hands move at lightening speed, forming the familiar seals I've done for all of my short life. The world spins away into a black void but almost immediately comes back into focus. I'm no longer at that destroyed and cursed training fields but at my own, equally destroyed and cursed, apartment.

I walk across my small living room and open the door that leads into my bedroom. The dresser, that's what I'm trying to find. I have to keep myself focused for just a few minutes longer. I walk over to the dresser and open the bottom drawer, it squeaks with years of no use. I faintly feel the blood dripping from my stomach but I ignore it, knowing that it won't last for much longer. I reach down and pick up the only object that lays within and pull it out.

My father's broken sword; the Hatake's legendary sword.

I smile, remember my father and the former fame he held with this sword; the fame my father had before he disgraced himself. No different then how I disgraced myself today.

Now I finally know how he felt, now I finally understand the pain he held within.

I slowly walk back into my living room, my mind blank of all thoughts. I know I must stay calm or else I will lose myself to my emotions before this final mission of mine is completed. My left hand clutches the broken sword with unnecessary force. I can feel the blade cutting my skin; still sharp, even after all these years.

Faintly I hear knocking at my door but it sounds like it's coming from far off. On the other side of a long tunnel, a tunnel so long that I can't even see the end of it. My body shudders from physical fatigue and emotional exhaustion and I stumble, falling hard on my knees on the wooden floor. The sword slips from my grasp and I gasp in pain; catching myself on my hands. My stomach screams in protest at my sudden movements and my head begins to throb.

"Kakashi!" A voice yells from outside my door, the banging is steadily getting louder and louder but I can barely even hear the noise above the rushing of blood in my ears.

I silently thank God for the fact that I somehow locked my door along the way, though I don't remember doing it.

The edges of my vision begins to darken and my breathing becomes even more ragged and rapid in panic. I can't slip into unconsciousness now; not before the end of this final mission.

I try to calm my breathing but I can't seem to. I can't even focus my eyes on my hands; they look blurry and unfocused. My head snaps up at a particularly loud bang on my door. Obito's Sharingan eye automatically activates itself; seeing through my locked door to the person on the other side, or rather, the people on the other side.

A pink-haired girl, a black-haired boy, and a blonde-haired boy; team 7.

My team.

My breathing speeds up even more in severe panic. Why are they here? What are they doing? Did they see what I did? Do they hate me now? They should. I've disgraced myself and them, not to mention this whole village.

And I know they can't see this, they shouldn't see this. It will fuck them up. Just like watching my father fucked me up.

I drop my line of vision from the door and search for that cursed broken sword. I find it, to the left and a little ahead of me. I reach forward with my left hand, my stomach screaming in protest, and attempt to grasp the handle. But I miss, my blurry, now tunnel vision, makes it almost impossible to judge depth, distance, and direction. I shut my eyes, focusing what little amount of chakra I have left to the outside world; attempting to see with my chakra. I reach out yet again for that handle, the smooth wood slips easily into my grasp and I slowly open my eyes with a small smile of accomplishment and resignation playing on my lips. I lean back, resting my full body weight on my knees, my butt on my heels. I lift my right hand and raise it to my face. Blood, sticky blood, my blood on my hands, my tainted blood on my tainted hands. Blood that shall not flow any longer, for the benefit of everyone.

I twist the sword around in my left hand, the shattered end pointing towards my already torn and bloody stomach. I lower my right hand and fold it over my left, my eyes following its shaky path.

Deep breaths, stay calm, no sound, just breathe. My father did this, I watched him. If he can do it then I can easily do it. I'm stronger then he ever was and this will prove it.

Some part of my mind screams in protest. Some small part of my mind is telling me how insane this is, how fucked up my reasoning is and how wrong my judgment is. Too bad that part of my mind is so small that I easily shut it out, burying it underneath everything else and ignoring it.

My head instinctively snaps up at the sound of my door crashing in. I drop my gaze immediately, unable to look into their confused and accusing eyes. I watch as the broken sword pierces deep into my skin, a few swift movements and its done. My insides ripped, torn, and twisted.

I gasp, I can't breathe. My panic rises as I feel the blood pour out of me. The pain is overwhelming and if I could scream then I would but my voice is cut off in my throat. It hurts too much to scream, too breathe, too even think. My mouth turns dry and the room starts spinning. I know this is the end.

I'm terrified.

All of the sudden I'm terrified of what's on the other side. What could I have done better? What will I miss? Will I be forgiven or condemned? Panic rises in me and overtakes the pain; which gives me a strange sense of relief.

I finally realize that I really don't want to die; too bad it's now too late to change my mind.

"Kakashi!" I hear a voice scream in panic but I can't place it.

Someone kneels down in front of me and grabs the broken sword out of my limp hand.

"Oh my God," a girl whispers from somewhere in the room.

The loss of blood makes it hard for me to concentrate on anything anymore. I can't recognize anyone or anything.

"Kakashi," the same voice whispers. I can hear the grief in that strangely familiar voice.

I raise my head up, my head that feels incredibly heavy, to look at the blurry face of that man that I should remember. Another man kneels down beside him and I manage to recognize him; Sarutobi, our Hokage, bloody and bruised. The other man looks somewhat like Sarutobi; as if their related but I can't be sure.

The room begins to spin again and my heavy head starts to feel light, almost as if it's disconnected from the rest of my body. My vision goes, all I can see is black, then my hearing goes, my sense of smell is next, followed by all physically feeling.

I feel suspended in air, disconnected from myself and the rest of the world. Floating in a void of blackness and I can't remember anything at all; only that this is it. This is the end.

I let myself slip into unconsciousness, knowing that I will never wake up. It's finally over.

I'm finally free; forever.