Still dont own Naruto.
He was tired lost and hungry, a boy lonely and yet determined to go on. On his back was strapped his father's sword, and old and beaten sheath hiding within itself a shining blade. The kantana was long and foreign to him, an alien appendage. Previously he had only wielded small tantos or the made-to-size bamboo blades he had practiced with. He was heavy his body aching, he just wanted to curl up and go to sleep.
Briefly he wondered if death was like falling asleep. He settled for marching onward though the heat was unbearable, his thirst maddening, and feet bleeding. Kakashi was always one to march on.
He always will be.