Day of the Dead
Author's Note: Yep. Saved Kakashi for last. (And by order of deathly elimination, you should have a guess... : )
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7. For Hatake Kakashi
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By the time Konoha's copy nin found his way back to his apartment, it was so late that his landlady and her postman were as silent as the grave—absolutely no pun intended.
He turned the key and just for paranoia's sake, listened for anything unusual. Upon nothing precarious, he closed the door quietly. The first thing he noticed was how incredibly bright the crescent moon was. It almost reminded him of a night years ago.
He put away the thought as he did the jounin vest.
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It's fun to watch ninja try and break through a barrier that wasn't too inclined to dislodge itself from the space-time continuum any time soon. Suppressing a yawn, Yuuhi Kurenai watched the progress—or lack thereof. A squad of ANBU showed up on the south side, assisting the assorted group of chuunin and jounin. The red-eyed kunoichi did not recognize any of them—save one chuunin that she knew taught at the academy. She had to quietly laugh as he said another colorful metaphor at the wavy red blob with absolutely no intelligence whatsoever.
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Kakashi was sleeping before he awoke. Ukki-kun had come to him in a dream to warn him of the apocalypse again. Well, ok, so it wasn't exactly that, but something must have nagged at him enough to demand, 'Up! Up with your soul!'. He didn't like answering the call of suspicion—there was too much innuendo involved and usually led to an assassination attempt or something. That was equally troublesome. He hadn't bothered to change into anything—he rose up one of those dark blue soldiers of the night. He adjusted the mask and took a kunai from desk without a sound. The mimicked silence surrounding him almost seemed forged. Kakashi still had some hope he'd find Pakkun scratching a window or something, wanting to come in from a long night.
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It had become clear that the wavy red barrier was there to stay, Kurenai guessed at least until the sun rose. So, to avoid a sleepless night enduring failure and colorful metaphors (the breakfast of champions!), Kurenai called it a night and went to her home, regretting she hadn't stayed at Anko's just a little while longer…
She knew there probably wouldn't be a next year.
She had to smile—a terrible loss for Konoha, for sure.
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His alarm clock had told him it was two-fifty-nine—one minute from the man's hour, or so it went. He listened as he walked silently; he knew the moonlight was beginning to fade. Quite an advantage for the little soldier. Ruefully, he thought back to all those suggestive promises made by a little something called the Day of the Dead. Kakashi held the kunai tighter to keep his hand from trembling. He balled the other in a fist of sweat.
It was ridiculous.
Because quite simply, it wasn't possible.
…Right?
He heart beat faster of it's own accord.
Hatake Kakashi finally made it to the doorway of the kitchen. He nearly stopped breathing as he saw the refrigerator door wide open, hiding a shadow. The soldier didn't know why he didn't raise the kunai right then and there. He saw the figure shift and straighten from the soft white light.
The kunai slipped, and Kakashi wondered why he was staring at a mirror reflection of himself.
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Sandaimé Hokage was not happy, which was understandable. He knew, however, it would all be explained come morning, and come what may—that part troubling him the most—again, understandably. The little village of Konohagakuré had seen much, suffered much, endured, and lost much. For a lot of people, Death (with a capital 'd') was more than a word—it held all their beliefs and their memories. So, the old hokage would wait, come what may.
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"Yo,"
He was incapable of speech.
His son looked a little different in his opinion. Especially about the eyes. "Hey, do you have any alcohol in here?"
It was a simple enough question, but Kakashi couldn't begin to give an answer.
Hatake Sakumo grinned as time passed. "Don't talk much, do you?" He closed the door and it took a moment for both of their eyes to adjust.
The little blue soldier stared at the most definitely general and inconclusive way that God ran the world.
The White Fang of Konoha had returned.
…The first thing he did? Why, rummage through his son's refrigerator, of course! Hey, it was there—why not take a peek?
Where was that kunai? Oh—right, it was on the floor. All the way down on the floor...and that was a long ways down.
Kakashi knew he kept the windows locked at night. He saw the door, in the distance, untouched. This wasn't possible; this couldn't be possible…right…? But Kakashi knew he had neither the strength nor the will to prove any of it wrong. What—what was it again? The Day of the Dead—that's it. His heart was still pounding—probably with such volume anyone could hear. Anyone—of all people. Not Obito, not Rin, not sensei; it was his father, of all people.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to look in the light or shiny objects like the chrome on the sink. "I…I'm sorry," he apologized; maybe for the absence of sake, and maybe for himself.
"Are you…crying?"
"No,"
"…I'm so sorry."
Hatake Sakumo walked up to his son and smiled: "Come now; I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."
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