Written in a half an hour or so while listening to the song 'Serenity' by Godsmack on repeat. I'm sorry for the fluctuating between vagueness and actual clearness. I only really get immersed in a song fully for the first while, and then I'm pulled into the words. I really have to start writing shorter drabbles to keep them cool. A quick apology now for the cliché-ness- the song just called out to me and I couldn't resist.


S e r e n i t y


Where do we go when we just don't know

And how do you relight the flame when it's cold?


Kakashi's fingers pulled at the thin strings slowly, one and then the next one down and then the one three strings up. His arms moved gracefully, elbows crooked and his gloved hands bent smoothly at the wrist. His head was tilted slightly sideways as he only half concentrated on his hands movements, his lips humming along to the melody.

He sat cross-legged in the grass in front of the stone, cradling the wooden instrument in his arms. It was a plain instrument, a foreign kirigakure harp-like creation for which he couldn't quite remember the name. It had been his father's, sitting on the shelf above their fireplace for as long as he could remember, collecting dust on its hair thin strings. He couldn't remember why he'd brought it with him in his hasty, teary packing of what little he actually owned as he had left his old house so many years ago. But now he could feel it in the carved wood, the silent tears his father used to cry. He knew how cliché it was but he didn't care because it was the truth.

He continued to play the strings for his friends, the lullaby the same soft tune he could still remember his mother singing under her breath to him at night. He played for his mother and for his father, for Obito and for Rin and for Minato-sensei, whose coffin still lay under freshly turned earth. He couldn't sense anyone coming so he let his mind wander. He closed his eyes and began to play slower, his bare finger tips feeling out each note like a blind man.

With his closed eyes he could still see them smiling at him brightly, hugging them close and telling him not to cry. He could remember how they'd each told him not to worry, that none of this was his fault. But in the end it was, wasn't it? Whether they blamed him or not didn't matter as they all lay beneath the earth now, their names carved in stone the only thing to live on after them. And me, he thought sadly, trying to force back the tears already threatening to fall, There's always me here to live for them. But even as he thought this he felt his heart telling him to escape, to put back on his mask and forget it ever happened. Telling him to forget what Obito had told him and become the tool a shinobi really should be. After all, that's all that shinobi's were; tools of murder.

He set down the instrument down in front of the stone lightly, standing up slowly and slipping on the ANBU mask still tied around his neck. Mother, father, Obito Rin Minato, I'm sorry…


Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing?

And when will we learn to control…


Gai's feet traced the tight semi-circle on the ground again and again, back and forth so that there was a deep dent in the dirt, dividing him from the dirty lake in front of him. Hesitantly he leaned down, taking a kunai in his hand and forcing himself to ignore the blood staining the metal brown. Hyuuga Akira-sensei, he wrote in small, neat script, his lines chiseled and sharp. Hyuuga Haruki, Rukeku Youko. Rest in Peace.

He stayed in front of the ground, his fingers tracing mindless swirls in the dirt. The fingernails caked with brown but he didn't even notice, just rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, staring out blindly at the dirty waters in front of him. The fact that he couldn't even glimpse their corpses beneath the lake's surface made him feel cold, as if the water had taken his family and swallowed them whole, leaving no trace behind in the world; as if they'd come and gone without anyone sparing them a glance.

"Akira-sensei…" He forced back tears. He had promised his mother so many years before what he'd promised his father years before that. He wouldn't cry. He couldn't. And he'd promised himself he wouldn't give in, not ever. Even as his mother pushed him to the ground and screamed at him incoherently he just closed his eyes, letting himself forget. Ah, he thought sadly, looking down at the names carved deeply in the damp earth. Why can't I just forget now?

He could still hear his father's mantra ringing in his ears. Shinobi are tools of the village; tools for killing. He repeated it over and over in his head, forcing it into his head so maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. Because the death of three murder weapons should be rejoiced, not mourned. "Be happy…" He told himself, forcing a teary smile onto his face. "They're dead Gai… they've managed to escape…"

He stood up, feeling a twinge in his thigh as he stretched. He looked down to see his black shinobi pants ripped and bloodied, a deep gash stretching his thigh. "Ah…" Taking a small roll of bandages from his pack he sat down on the ground, wrapping his wound for the short journey home. Even after he'd fixed the cut up it stung as he run, bleeding onto the bandages. He just ignored it, running as fast as he could to deliver the news of how, despite the loss of three formidable shinobi, the mission had been successfully completed and the informant had been properly exterminated.

His long strides slowed as he finally reached the village and, after a minute or so, the Hokage tower, His leg was beginning to go numb but he ignored it. Tools could always be fixed; tools couldn't feel pain.

He would never forget the horrified looks on the Hokage's face as he bowed low, giving a brief and to the point report. 'The loss of three formidable shinobi?' He'd asked incredulously, staring at him with a mix of barely noticeable shock, fear, and pity. He'd only nodded and walked out slowly, his body tired and sluggish from blood loss, pretending to have missed the sickened look on the old man's face.


I need serenity

In a place where I can hide


"Kakashi."

The black-haired man sits down, sliding into the booth beside him. The silver-haired man smiles slightly in response.

"Gai… You need something?"

He shakes his head, just leaning against the other's shoulder.

"No… I'm just happy being here… with you…"

The silver-haired ANBU sighs softly, but doesn't force the other man off. He can feel the tranquility that he hasn't felt in so long. At least, not until he met the man beside him. He's been feeling something beating in his chest for the first time in years, something that had long closed itself off from the world. He doesn't fully acknowledge it but he leans into the other as well, their long fingers lacing.

"Yeah… It's nice…"


I need serenity…