Hey, guys!

So, for starters, I wanted to say something to you. I think I will finish the requests you have sent me, or hey, any new requests between now and then, and then I will write this up as finished. If I write anything else for it after that, well, I'll put it up. But It has been nearly four years since I started this, and I did write it in one-shot format so I could stop whenever I felt I should stop or when I couldn't come up with anything else.

Of course, I do realize this story belongs to you now, not only to me, and as such, if you want to write something in response to this, or even send in the odd request for a chapter, or if you feel something is missing from this story that you want or need me to write for you, you are very welcome to write to me.

Writing this has given me the opportunity to understand the impact these sort of narratives have, and I am now aware of just how important it is for people to feel connected to a character that may not be the most typical, especially when that character is a protagonist. So thank you for this chance you have given me. And when it is finished, if you can and want to, share it, because although I know it is not the best thing ever written (and is in fact far from it), I'd like for someone to see themselves reflected in it.

Of course, it will still be some time. I know I have six more requests I have yet to write, one that is in progress, and two chapters I have started on my own. But I do feel like you deserve to know much in advance.

That said, is your opinion on the new generation of manga high enough that you would accept mentions of tiny!NewGen children?


028. Revel in the Chaos
Multiple ages

Despite the selfish, uneducated perception of people, Sakumo was fiercely protective of Kakashi. It was not the standard sort of protection; Sakumo never, ever, thought of helping Kakashi get up when he fell down, or to tell him there were no monsters hiding under his bed. Sakumo was adamant that his son needed to learn to get back up without help and keep fighting. To shoulder the weight of the world and never look back, not even to gain momentum.

Sakumo would never forget the backslash he got when he taught Kakashi how to hold a kunai when he was only a year old. He's too young, they said. He needs a childhood, they said. But Sakumo was giving his tiny, precious boy a childhood. He was giving him life. The civilians frowned and raised eyebrows when they saw two-year-old Kakashi seated on his shoulders silently and diligently counting the twenty shuriken Sakumo had just bought him.

Chakra manipulation was easy, natural, for Kakashi. He had stood up when he was six months old, strengthening his knees with chakra and bracing tightly to the coffee table for support. He had escaped his genin babysitters and climbed the tall tree in their backyard all the way to the top only two months later. Sakumo apologized to the genin for not alerting them of Kakashi's newfound ability.

The genin grumbled and pouted.

Their jounin only smiled.

The academy instructors readily told Sakumo that they admired his job, that they would do anything to be like he was, and to thank him for giving it all for the village. Then they scowled and berated Kakashi for fighting dirty in sparring matches. He keeps kicking boys in the groin and pulling the girls' hair, they sneered. He breaks knees and he's brilliant but he keeps live kunai hidden in his clothes, they explained.

Sakumo never denied that Kakashi fought dirty, but he said nothing while his son, his little four-year-old baby wrote in big, messy characters that shinobi never fought fair. He kept quiet and encouraged Kakashi to defend himself and his ideas and to figure out when it wasn't worth it to argue.

The world was an ugly place, he told Jiraiya. Especially the lives they led. And Kakashi, unable to speak out loud, needed something more. In the world of shinobi—in the world of tears and blood and death—Sakumo gave his son the greatest of weapons. He taught him to fight.

He taught him to fight, and he found him a teacher who would do the same when Sakumo could not go on. He gave his baby a kunai and hoped against all hope that he would get to grow old and become a man. That he would use those twenty shuriken to defend himself and his friends and his students and his children.

Sakumo eyed Kakashi, now, dread coiled like a wild beast in his chest, and had to resist grabbing him. Dressed all in black, standing in front of a new grave, Sakumo wished things were different. Kakashi should be able to dress in yellow and orange and red, to hold a toy train or maybe a doll, and jump down in the river without molding chakra at the soles of his feet.

"Come on, Kakashi," Sakumo gave one final look to the cold stone, and pushed his boy away from the black-garbed crowd. "Let's get to work."


Special thanks to: lokithehotty, Keirra, Elaine Weasley, VampireDoll666, Nebelkind, Rika24, Bookaholic346, QuirckCirc, LilyVampire, Berry5tz, Quinnec, IWantColoredRain, Copy-Nin's Daughter, and a guest, for their reviews!