I'm a little desperate for any comments or opinions. It's driving me crazy. If you like Bittersweet Memories, let me know. If you hate the story, let me know. Any criticism, let me know. It doesn't matter if it is harsh, I asked for it. I'll take it and hopefully learn from it.

Oh, little contest: If you have noticed that my story title and chapter names are songs, then try and guess the artist.

If correct, I will either make you a character in my story or write a story about your character or write a one-shot or any request similar to those. Or you can just guess for the hell of it.


Two Iruka's stood facing each other. One with a fierce glare, hands on the hip, a slight frown. The other stood, weary, one hand loosely running through his hair.

The first one broke the tension-filled silence, "I've done everything. Clones, transformation, chakra control, what else do you want?"

"I want an answer. Roran, you are a medical mystery. The chakra network around your lungs is destroyed. How are you able to perfectly perform jutsus with half a network?" This Iruka's hand fell from his hair and into a questioning gesture. His face held disbelief and wonder.

The other formed a release seal. Poofs of smoke clouded around me.

"I don't know, Sensei. I don't focus on the past." I hated the past. Every little detail about it. The stupidity of people before me, the wars, the alliances. My bad past made me hate anything dealing with what once was. It seemed logical in my mind.

Iruka's warm eyes met my blue ones. "Tomorrow you are allowed to take the final. Are you ready to do this?"

I laughed. I have been dreaming of becoming a ninja for a long time. I was ready to take this leap and guard my home with my life. God dammit, I was going to make of my life and prove I can do what others say I can't!

"Are you ready? Is my dad ready? I'm ready but everyone else who worries needs to let go some. I'm not a toddler anymore. I'm not in his care anymore." I spoke, letting my emotions power my words.

"He isn't the village anymore. Roran, you need to show us your memories and allow us to see what Oroch—"

My hands flew to my ears, struggling to block out any unwanted sound. "Not the name. I don't want to remember."

I took steps backward, shaking my head. Wisps of red curls dancing in my line of vision.

"I understand it's painful." He tried to comfort me holding out one hand.

"I'm not ready to face it." I weakly countered bumping into a desk.

Iruka kept his distance, hand still outstretched. "How can you be ready to face death, blood, responsibility, and danger but not your past?"

Touché. I shook my head once more. I dropped my hands to sides and ignored Iruka's. My mouth opened and closed while my mind strained to muster an answer. My eyes swept to the clock then to the door. Iruka noticed my movements, sighed, then said, "You can go now. Also, you can take the final."

I nodded ignoring traces of the previous talk. I walked quickly, stumbling every once and awhile.

"I'm sorry, Roran." He sounded sincere. I paused at the doorway and glanced over my shoulder. He was sitting at his desk reviewing from his clipboard. Despite the sincerity, I wouldn't accept it. I don't deserve pity.

I ran like I always did. I admit it. I run from my problems. I'll do anything to put distance between the past and myself. One day I'll woman up and face them all.

I'm not sure when that day will be though. I guess only time will tell.