Welcome to new reviewer MiekoYagyu.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
He had held the memories like a ribbon in his hand, never loosening his grip or giving any sign that he would do anything but hold them close to him.
In his other hand was the pain of losing so much, and even when the spikes bit into his skin, he clenched it tightly, even more tightly after it made him bleed and the blood spilled out from between his fingers, dripping to the floor…
Yahiko gripped the Leaf hitai-ate in his hands, stared at it, and wondered.
There was no way he could deny that he had been very bitter, for very long. The Leaf had come to his home, his Amegakure, and had slaughtered without distinction, cutting down villagers without stopping to notice if they were nin or not, if they were armed or not or if they were even capable of fighting back. When it came down to it, in battle the Leaf were the same as any major village in battle: they fought like animals, lived like animals, and died like animals.
The Sannin had been no exception. Yahiko had been an eyewitness to the fact that neither Orochimaru, Tsunade or even Jiraiya cared who they drew into their battles, who they killed if they missed their intended targets.
They had been trying to kill Amegakure's leader Hanzo, and had failed. Yahiko had grinned when it had been made clear that the Sannin had been beaten, and had been nothing short of aghast when Hanzo let them go.
They were the enemy. They were responsible for the deaths of countless Amegakure villagers. Didn't they deserve to die?
The Leaf were the enemy. Every time Yahiko had attempted to forget and move on, he would close his eyes and his parents' faces were as clear as day.
They stared up at him, faces waxen and blank in death, their eyes glazed over as they made him swear to never forget what had been done to them, and who had been responsible.
Konohagakure was the enemy. It was a monster spun out of control, drunk on its own power, uncaring of the ants it crushed in its quest to dominate the continent.
Yahiko felt he had every right to hate them.
When Yahiko met Jiraiya, the lines became a bit more blurred.
Yahiko had been unaware that Konoha could produce soldiers who were not in every sense of the word morally corrupt. Out of all of them, he had expected the same thing: moral bankruptcy. Why did Jiraiya have to be so different? Yahiko wondered in frustration. He muddled everything up.
And Jiraiya hadn't been the only one. Yahiko outright despised Orochimaru and held only a scant amount of respect for the irreverent, brash Tsunade, who cared not one wit for the dead, but there were those he found he could respect.
The Sandaime Hokage was a genuine lover of peace, though he didn't seem very effective in maintaining it. Minato and Arashi were two of Yahiko's closest friends, and Kushina was a good comrade as well. Even Nara Shikaku, Yahiko's newfound brother in arms, meant something to him beyond a warm body who watched his back.
For all the time I was here, I fought the Leaf's battles, talked with the Leaf's soldiers, and made friends amongst their ranks. Before I knew it, my hatred for the Konoha military had been all but extinguished, almost before it had ever flamed.
But I still hated this headband I had to wear. I wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even myself, but I did. It reminded me of bloodshed and suffering, of my parents, of everything I had lost.
Where's that hate now?
In the gloomy, overcast morning, Yahiko sighed and stood up. Without a word, he threaded the hitai-ate back over his brow.
Nothing was as clear-cut as he had thought it was.