Tell yourself it's okay. Tell yourself that you cannot harm them if you just hold onto your mind. Tell yourself, Kakashi Hatake, that you will not allow yourself to fall; you cannot fall; you made a promise to them, to yourself. You will not harm them, you will not kill, you will not kill, you will not kill, I will not kill.
My hands, they burn. My nose, it burns. The stench of myself burns my skin. I am the last there is of the Hatake clan. I must protect them. I will not allow myself to fail. I will survive. I will not allow this darkness to encompass me. It cannot happen, it will not happen, and I will not die.
But if it is him, no, it is him...I have already failed. He knows my face, my weaknesses, my moves, how much he can humiliate and harm me...I am at once defeated by his ability. I am in no condition to fight back the way I did; the way I struggled to keep him down, to be sure of his final breath, I can do no longer. It is an impossibility. But I was sure I heard that final gasp of life leave his body. I saw his black blood seep the ground where the roots began to hide their vulnerabilities. I was bloodied and shredded, but I had won; I had saved a village, the country from this thing...
Why is he alive?
Why am I still alive? Why has he yet to finish me off? Is he so sick and twisted that my life is worth the pleasure of seeing fade into a cannibalistic, murderous mind? Is he so egotistical that he enjoys watching his enemy turn into himself?
These questions are boiling my brain, I can feel how the nonsense of my situation drives my senses wild, and I can feel myself forgetting everything about me...
There has to be a way to come back to the light.
Where are my friends?
Where is Naruto? Where is Sakura?
My dear Sakura...your mother must miss you.
And Naruto...have you lost what is most precious to you? What happened to your will to fight? What happened to the fox inside of you?
...I am tired of death.
In eastern culture the artists of the stage perform a play of antiquity, but this antiquity has yet to become antiquated. It is the center of superstition, it is a staple of the theatrical canon. A murder, insanity, guilt...defeat. My hands cannot be washed of the blood that I now thirst for..."out, out brief candle..." Where is my candle? When shall my wick reach the end of the copper handle?
But they still come to renew the wax dripping from my face allowing my flame to last painstakingly longer than intended.
And now that the sun is shining directly over my head and my shadow has been swallowed up by this sack of flesh and bones and evil they come with fire to light me again, and water to quench the smoke in my mouth.
I shall kill them all, every last one of them, until he comes to face me himself.
I will kill. I will kill. I will justify, I will give reason to my irrational passions, but I shall not end them until Dathan looks me in the eyes. And I will say to him: "You've nothing in me. My gift is gone."
"NEMA!" Dathan paced back and forth in his office itching at some scratch his chest had recently developed. Clambering in, Nema swung the door open.
"Yes, my Lord?"
"Is the boy ready?"
"Which boy, my Lord?"
"The jinchuuriki! Is he ready? Don't be a fool!"
"Oh, the blond haired one."
"No, the bald one; OF COURSE THE BLOND ONE!"
"Um, is something wrong, my Lord? You seem quite upset," Nema took a chance. He was there to please Dathan; better to find out now his wishes than later.
Dathan stopped mid-stride and grinned. Looking directly at Nema he cocked his head as if to figure out what type of brain was placed in that man. "Nema, my dear Nema," Dathan sauntered over to Nema and grabbed his chin gently. Nema began to tremble. "Oh," Dathan started in a soft tone. "Nema, there is no need to tremble. You know I would never harm such a reliable, loyal, and convinced servant such as yourself. Why do you ask if something is the matter with me?"
"Well," Nema gulped. "The question is nearly out of concern for your well being, my Lord. I remember what you have been through these past few weeks, and have noticed that something is perturbing you."
"Perturbing me? Why, Nema, I never knew you possessed such mastery over the language you claim to speak! Perturbed! Do you happen to know the definition of that word?" Dathan's grip tightened on Nema's chin. "Hm? Do you? I can't understand you."
"Yes, yes! I do know the definition."
"Let's have it then."
"It means to be anxious or unsettled, my Lord."
"Oh! So you think I look anxious and unsettled?"
"Well, yes..."
"So are you saying that I look as anxious and unsettled as you do now? Are you saying that I am trembling like a leaf under the weight of some higher power?"
"N-no, my Lord, not at all-"
"Do you know what trembling under a higher power means? It means that one is weak! Are you telling me that I look weak, Nema? Answer me!"
"No! Lord Dathan, I do not mean that at all!"
"Then how do you mean perturbed, Nema?"
"I...I don't know, my Lord..."
Dathan looked square into Nema's eyes, and held his gaze searching for some rebellion behind a wall of fear and genuine concern, but could find nothing. Dathan let him go and walked back to his desk.
"If you must know, Nema, I am perturbed," Nema slowly regained his composure. "I have been dreaming of Kakashi's past, not mine. The same scenes over and over...every night I see the suicidal father, I see the half body of his dear friend...and then I dream of my past, Nema...it is enough to make one...perturbed..."
"If I may say something, my Lord?" Dathan did not object. "As you will recall you had Kakashi's memories copied in the same chamber where other shinobi have been trapped, left to turn into Things."
"You think the Things are involved?"
"The Things are known to be very clever; they've seen many memories in that place...their negativity, their want for revenge against you could be creating this phenomenon you are experiencing..."
"But how?"
"I could not tell you, my Lord. It is a speculation of mine."
Dathan stayed silent. Nema shifted uncomfortably. "I shall bring in the jinchuuriki, my Lord."
"Yes. Bring him in."
Nema quietly exited the room and headed towards the keep where Naruto was being held. Dathan, processing the possibility of something he created unnerving his senses, sat in the chair behind his desk, took out his pen and paper, and wrote down the following words:
I have killed myself by killing him.