Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of its characters. I do own Kumi, though.

Warning: child abuse and bullying (mostly mentions of it), some dark themes, too much fluffiness sometimes, DRAMA!, unbeta'ed. A real rollercoaster (or, at least, it's supposed to be).

Author's note:

Wow, so many things to say. I don't even know where to start.

Well.

Why did I take so long to post another chapter?

Hmm, I feel guilty saying this, but I only post one chapter per month most of the time. I'm a horrible person, I know. Anyway, this time I was in the hospital. GASP. Yep. They took my appendix, guys. I'm... appendix-less? So I had a lot to catch in my university after a week resting at home. Not to mention that I lost a ballet a competition I had in the same day my abdomen started to hurt. I know. Universe is fucked up.

About this chapter:

THERE IS A TWO YEAR TIMESKIP. Just making sure that no one is gonna skip this part of my note. Well, for those reading it, I'll explain why. Because reasons. Nah, just kidding. I don't know if you guys noticed, but this story is divided in arcs, as short as some may be. We had the childhood arc, the academy days, the genin days and now we have the (hmm, no name for it)... Pre-fucked up future arc? Something along these lines.

The chapter is also longer than normal. Atoning for tardiness. Eh.

Why all my chapters are a major drama?

I'm unable to write something purely happy. Seriously. I don't know. The more I love a character, the more he has to suffer. Author Syndrome. Who knows. One of these days I'll end a chapter on a happy note.

(I deserve a review if only for a later scene in the chapter. C'mon, guys.)

(I'll try to post a drabble one of these days, so don't forget to make requests :D )

All Things Are Difficult Before They Are Easy

By Amaryllis D. Namikaze

Chapter XVIII:

The Easy Things

"But lately her face seems

Slowly sinking, wasting

Crumbling like pastries

And they scream

The worst things in life come free to us."

- "The A Team" by Ed Sheeran

"Lion, Deer, you finished?" A rough voice called from the earpiece I was wearing.

Seeing that Chitarō was busy wiping the blood off his sword - and, really, wouldn't bother answering anyway - I took my time to speak.

"Target eliminated. No major injuries. Ready to receive further instructions."

"Wow, protocol is such a pain in the ass, even two years later, isn't it?" Ren's voice commented, sounding impressed with the fact itself.

I heard Sakumo-sensei sigh. He was proud of how far along we'd come, I was sure, but our antics still reminded him of our age from time to time. Well, he had an almost four-year-old child at home, how bad could we be? Though Kakashi was such a controlled and amiable child...

"Let's meet up in our camp before discussing any protocol," sensei said with a chiding note to his voice. I could almost feel Ren wince.

Chitarō stood up from his crouching position. He was snickering quietly as not to make noise on the earpiece. I couldn't tell if he was smiling as the mask covered his face, but his dark brown eyes were twinkling in the fading sunset and I knew the Nara clan enough to know that his lips were twisted in a smirk.

He made a signal toward the general direction of where we had set up camp last night and I nodded in agreement. Silent as shadows, we moved through the thick foliage and I was just grateful that this mission was over. I loved my team and everything, but being the First Response meant being called in unexpected hours and being ready to go in five minutes at most. I had a handful of storage scrolls at home, prepared to be taken in case I needed to leave as quickly as possible.

We took ten minutes longer going back than usual had we been close to Konoha. The trees close to the Land of Hot Water were thick and full of blocking branches, which made our journey more bothersome and tiring. After such a long day, I only wanted to go back home and fall dead asleep.

"We're here," Chitarō announced, just in case sensei and Ren hadn't reached there before us. As the later stuck his head out of the hedge we decided to camp behind, this was not the case.

"Any of you hurt?" He asked, giving us an asserting glance. There were bandages around his right shoulder, but no bleeding, so I deemed him good enough to go.

Chitarō clicked his tongue in annoyance, "Worry about yourself first, Hawk."

Ren huffed and went back to his own mending. I rolled my eyes at them and went over to deliver the scroll to Sakumo-sensei.

"Here, Captain," I said with my utmost serious expression.

Sensei gave me an unimpressed stare at my cheekiness. He held the scroll in his hands, rolling it around to make sure everything was in place though my seals hadn't failed us as of yet. Not to mention that it was a simple storage scroll specifically designed to hold corpses.

Corpses, I grimaced mentally. Even after two years of my promotion to Chūnin, I still couldn't think about dead bodies without flinching. Sensei said that killing never got easier - as it shouldn't. But, as long as we got our job done, nobody cared if we were vomiting our insides out in disgust afterwards.

"We are inside familiar territory, so let's not waste another night out in the woods. If we set a good pace, we should be able to reach Konoha in five hours or so. Gather your things and c'mon," sensei said, standing up from the rock he had been sitting on.

There wasn't much too pick up, as we usually didn't leave our most important belongings in the camp. A couple of food packages and the only tent we bothered to set up this time. Ren was bickering with Chita as usual, so I let them to their devices.

The incoming night was cool on my bare arms. I had gotten used to my new uniform, even if the mask was suffocating from time to time. The pants were like the ones I used to wear, but the tank top, metal arm guards and grey flak jacket were uncomfortable at first. They made my Taijutsu seem stiff in the beginning, especially because I was used to bending more than most did while fighting. After so many months, though, they were like second skin.

"Urgh, haven't they ever thought about making this mask in a more breathable material?" Ren complained like he always did. His hawk-like mask was painted in a menacing-looking way - he looked anything but when he opened his mouth to whine.

"One would think that after a couple of years you'd be used already, you big baby," Chita replied, uncaring of our best friend's suffering.

Sakumo-sensei decided to add his input, "Frankly speaking, though, these masks are really well designed. They're practically unbreakable despite our line of work."

"Hah, Kumi doesn't care about these details," Chitarō said and, by his teasing tone, I knew that nothing good would come out of his mouth in the next few seconds. "He only wishes that his mask and codename wasn't Deer."

So Chitarō was Lion and I was Deer. Sue me.

Ren laughed his heart out, almost hitting face-first against an unexpected tree.

"Even Hokage-sama knows what's going on," he poked fun at me.

I sighed, already used to this particular line of tease. Both of them - Ren more than Chita, really - had been teasing me about liking Shikaku ever since we received our masks. I didn't like the Nara heir, honestly. The most we did was play shogi once or twice a week when we managed to meet up during my Fūinjutsu classes. I couldn't fathom why my teammates would think I had a crush on him. Not to mention that Shikaku was only there to keep company and talk to his cousin.

And the Nara heir was womanizer. He'd never look at a guy, much less me.

I barely managed not to slip down the branch I jumped from. I shouldn't let my thoughts stray away. This was a dangerous game I was playing and I wished my best friends would stop teasing me with this idea, because it made me think of things I shouldn't wonder about.

"Both of you, pipe it down," sensei said, sounding genuinely tired. His broad shoulders were slumped and even his chakra seemed sad to my sensor abilities.

We didn't blame Sakumo-sensei for his impatience in our last three missions. His wife, Natsumi, had fallen ill and Kakashi was still just a kid. We could understand his need to be home as much as possible, but, in the end, he couldn't get away too much from work. If we were a normal team instead of a First Response one, we'd be able to choose most of our missions and plan our schedule. As it was, we were always free or training until called to Hokage-sama's office or to the ANBU headquarters. All the stress from going on missions, having a young child and a sick wife was getting to him.

We stayed quiet the rest of the way and the only sound was from the leaves rustling in the wind. My heart was aching in my chest with each step we took toward our home. I knew that Sakumo-sensei's wife wouldn't live for much longer, even though he hadn't told us what was wrong with her. I knew all the problems that would plague my teacher in the future, but I never spoke about it with anyone, because people would think me crazy.

I wished I could take away all the pain that my beloved people would feel in the future, but I couldn't. I could only drown in grief and guilt.

"Good job, guys," Sakumo-sensei said, taking his wolf mask off. His silver hair was as wild as ever, but his eyes lacked its usual warmth. "Rest until our next mission. No training this time, Ren."

I waited for my best friend's whine, but he was surprisingly obedient. He merely nodded in agreement and shoved his spare uniform in his locker. I moved my mask sideways on my head, puzzled. Even though sensei had been down in the last couple of months, Ren had tried to maintain his upbeat attitude for everybody's sake really.

Sakumo-sensei disappeared in a whirlwind of leaves and dust. Chitarō sighed beside me. He was sprawled on the thin bench in the middle of the locker room, his torso littered with little cuts from the previous mission in Grass Country.

"I hope Natsumi-san gets better soon, because I can't take this atmosphere anymore. It's too troublesome."

"Wow, how selfish of you," Ren said in an unimpressed voice, his back still turned to us.

Chita sat up, looking irritated, "Ok, what's your problem, Miss Hawk?"

Ren spared him a glance.

"My problem is that sensei can't even spend time with us anymore because his wife is dying and all you can think about is how the atmosphere is killing you?"

"Natsumi-san is not dying," Chitarō replied. His eyes hardened with each word spoken. Between the three of us, he was the one who spent the most time with our teacher's wife, while we busied ourselves with Kakashi's demands.

"Even you can't face the truth."

"SHE IS NOT DYING!" Chitarō lost it, getting up and shoving Ren against the lockers. I moved between them, putting a hand in their chest, but all of my 135 centimeters were nothing compared to their 160 ones. Ren easily moved me out of the way.

"She's been on the hospital ever since she collapsed two months ago and there's no sign of her being cleared anytime soon. Sensei can't even eat right and Kakashi cries himself to sleep every damn night. Do you really think that everything is gonna be alright?"

Not only was it painful for Chitarō to hear it, but each word was punctuated with a jab of Ren's index finger against his abdomen. I swallowed the tears that threatened to come up - this wasn't the time to be my usual crybaby self.

"Stop trying to hurt each other," I pleaded, looking up at their frowning faces. "Everyone has been stressed, there's no need to shout, guys."

We were just fine six hours ago, teasing each other and stuff, I told myself. Except we hadn't. Not really. Even when Ren had tried to cover the silence when it stretched for too long, there still was this ominous cloud handing over our heads like a snake ready to lunge.

"Please," I asked again when they showed no signs of backing down.

A entire minute of glaring before both of them even thought about stepping away. Chitarō was the first one to crumble, sitting back on the bench with the sadness of a widow whose husband had just died. Ren followed, sliding down against the locker until he hit the floor tile.

"Sorry," they muttered to one another and I couldn't decide which one of them sounded more exhausted.

I patted their heads, trying to assure them that everything would be alright.

It wouldn't.

The guilt had been simpler to carry when the future had only been a faraway notion. Nowadays it was easier to stay quiet and let this burning ball of anguish inside me litter my chest with burns and heartache.

Ren stood up, breaking me out of my dark thoughts. He gathered his things and waved at us with the most depressing hand movement I ever saw.

"See you tomorrow at Chita's house?" He said, posing it as a question.

Chita nodded, "Sure. Good night."

A brief pause.

"And I'm sorry, Ren."

A deep breath.

"It's ok. I get it. I hope you're right too."

And that's how our saddest mission to date ended - with my teacher and captain worrying himself to death and my best friends filled with a sense of despair. My silent agony seemed like a tiny price to pay for all this mess.

"Come to my house tonight, Kumi," Chitarō suggested when I finished packing my belongings. My spare uniform needed cleaning, but the other was good for the mission.

I looked at him. His face was still young, not seeming a day over his fourteenth birthday. He'd be fifteen soon, I knew, but it was easier to picture his smooth cheeks and his childish freckles than his tired eyes and tensed jaw.

"Ok, let's go, then," I tried to smile briefly at him.

I wondered if Minato had returned from his own mission in Suna, but I could warn him of my safe return tomorrow. Not to mention the chances of him being with Kushina in one of their private Fūinjutsu classes. They had those all the time - and though I didn't doubt their existence, as my brother supposedly became a seal-master in the future - some lessons' hours were fishy at best.

I sighed to myself. Well, at least someone in my daily life was having a good time.

It was way past midnight when we finally entered the Nara district's main house, but the lights in the living room were lit up nonetheless. I saw Chitarō wave to the guard standing on the roof. There was always a guard in the entrance of the district and one near the main house. Chitarō, in particular, thought it ridiculous, as all member of his immediate family - even his mother - were Chūnin-level or higher. I had once told him that it wasn't wrong of his father to place a guard near their place. Head of clans were, after all, had a big, red targets plastered on their foreheads.

I took off my shoes with a wince. My muscles were already getting sore. I had been experimenting with a new type of seal a few hours before being requested for the mission and the price was showing itself.

"Aniki," Chita said, managing to sound bored and surprised at the same time like only a Nara could. "The hell you're doing up and about?"

I entered the living room to find the older Nara brother sitting on his usual place in front of the low glass table. Unsurprisingly, a shogi board with its pieces in different places was laid out in front of him. His state, however, made me look away.

I had seen half-naked people before. I lived with my brother in an one-room apartment and had had my fair walk-in accidents. And having missions like my team did meant that we slept in forest more than the contrary. I was proud of myself for being able to get dressed in front of these total of four people. It was easier to remember the taunts imprinted in my brain than my new appearance. There were times that this body didn't feel like mine at all.

Nothing prepared me for the vision of Shikaku reclining against the couch, his legs spread, but bent, and arms relaxing over his knees. Without a shirt. In boxers.

I felt my cheeks heating up and wished desperately that I wasn't blushing. I so was. Admittedly, it was far simpler to ignore my best friends' teasing over my supposed crush when said person only met me every few days with an annoying smirk on his face and analytical eyes. I knew that I wouldn't be able to take the image of Shikaku - half naked, with a six pack and muscled arms - out of my head.

Maybe I'm reaching puberty in this lifetime, I thought, with dread. Maybe it's not because of Shikaku. It may only be the situation.

Too late to fake it, I noticed that both Nara brothers were looking at me with a smirk. Damn Naras.

"Don't strut around shirtless, Aniki," Chita reprehended, even though I could tell by the crinkle in the corner of his eyes that he was amused shitless.

Shikaku snorted.

"Well, it is my house," he said, before pausing. He took one good look at my beet red face and seemingly decided to keep his next comment to himself. Strange. The Nara heir was the smuggest guy I had the opportunity to meet and couldn't imagine him holding back of the chance of teasing anyone.

Chitarō sighed, as if exasperated, "I will heat some leftover food that Kaa-san probably left. Don't embarrass, Kumi, you bastard."

Shikaku's smirk got even wider.

"As if I'm able to embarrass anyone. I'm all sunshine and rainbows and shit."

Sure.

My best friend rolled his eyes, taking his Lion mask off his head and throwing it on the armchair. As we had managed to dirty ourselves with blood this time around - and wasn't that uncommon? -, bath could wait for a little while. My stomach agreed with Chita's decision to heat up food.

"Well, sit down," Shikaku called, indicating the floor on the other side of the low table.

With a justifiable wary glance at his form, I obeyed. His muscles were even more impressive up close, but, then again, Shikaku was already, what, seventeen? Not that he had had my thin arms when he was my age. Well, at least my legs were stronger thanks to my taijutsu style. I didn't even have a thigh gap anymore. Small victories.

"You could take a picture," Shikaku said. I looked up, startled and blushing and apologizing all at the same time. His voice and his face betrayed his amusement, though.

"I just... Eh..."

He put his chin on the palm of his hand, observing me with those unnerving, all-knowing eyes.

"Nah, it's fine. Too troublesome to think too much over it. Damn hormones, probably," the Nara heir concluded. "I started chasing anything with legs under a skirt as soon as I became a Genin. Still do, as a matter of fact. Hmm, I'm probably not the best example of good behavior then."

I let him ramble on. He did that a lot in a relaxed setting, I had noticed. Probably because his thoughts came too fast for his genius-like mind and, as they weren't put in order as in a mission situation, he simply started talking. There were days that Shikaku was quiet and some that he was absolutely unbearable. Who knew that even lazy, laidback Nara could be complicated. Must be rule number five or six of their clan or something.

Then, again, there were times like this. Times were he spoke as if without thinking only to analyze your reactions. Shikaku was a smug, annoying genius. I tried not to let any of my emotions show on my face as his eyes flickered over mine.

I wasn't surprised at his reveal. The fact that Shikaku was a womanizer wasn't a secret. He had more girlfriends a year than he could count in one hand. No boyfriends ever came into the picture, which made his preference very clear. Like I said, it was easier to ignore my team's teasing about crushes and whatnot when said person was away.

It seemed childish of me to worry over crushes and one-sided love when the world was starting to fall apart at the seams. Who knew how many longer I had with my beloved people before everything started to go wrong? I knew, for a fact, that Kakashi wouldn't have his mother alive by his fifth birthday and his fourth was fast approaching.

How much longer before the guilt started to seep too deep within? Would I be able to bear the thought of being responsible for so much for the next decade or so? I was obligated to change the storyline. I could let it flow as it should. But, then, could I live with myself knowing that my friends and only family were suffering despite the possibility of avoiding it? In the end, I had to decide between two things: what was harder to live with - the guilt of not being able to change everything despite my knowledge or the anguish of seeing my beloved people die because I was too much of a coward to act?

The people who interacted with me alive. They breathed, laughed and cried. They felt sadness and contentment. They had ideas and desires. They weren't manga characters. Their skin was soft or rough or scarred under my hands.

"Kumi?" Shikaku called me. His voice sounded cautious, as if he was speaking to small animal.

I glanced up from the tabletop. I had daydreamt once again.

"Sorry," I said. "I was lost in thoughts."

He took a couple of seconds looking through my being before replying, "I noticed. Well, why don't you play a match with me?"

I nodded, even though shogi wasn't my favorite game in the world. I'd rather have something else to concentrate on.

When Chitarō came back with two plates of food five minutes later, his eyes bloodshot red and puffy. He wasn't one to cry, but Natsumi-san was in the hospital and she was like a sweet Aunt to all of us - always ready to offer a quick snack and a smile. Chita was from a ninja family, so he knew loss, but much like killing, it never easier.

(It never became easier to overcome loss; it only became simpler to truck it around with you.)

I offered him a soft smile and his brother ruffled his hair. We fell into an comfortable silence, even though the downcast Chita, the half-naked Shikaku and the agony in me should've made the room too full of everything.

If there was one thing I had learnt in this world was that, every so often, it was less complicated to breathe with a room full of pained people. There was no judgment there.

Kakashi's fourth birthday was spent in a hospital room. The young child didn't seem to mind, talking a mile a minute with his smiling mother. He was very perceptive for his age, of course, but I knew that only a ninja lifestyle would curb his excitement at everything.

Ren baked a cake with my help and was presenting it proudly to the bedridden woman. My best friend was hopeless in the kitchen when making savory food, but the simple chocolate cake had turned out mostly alright with my instructions. Maybe there hope in the sweet path.

Chitarō and Sakumo-sensei were obviously not trying to ruin the mood with their worry. They were the most grounded of us four and knew that the situation wasn't looking good so far. I tried to observe Natsumi-san symptoms, but I had hated the peak at iryo-ninjutsu I took a year ago. Ren was the one learning basic first aid and healing jutsus in our team. My chakra control would have been up for the task, but I loved sealing and learning new techniques too much. I was even thinking about creating my own.

"How is she?" I heard Chita ask in the corner of the room. Natsumi wouldn't be able to pick it up with her civilian senses and Kakashi was too untrained to make much use of his advanced, clan-inherited hearing.

Our teacher sighed. His shoulders were slouched.

"The doctor says that there's nothing he can do. Her illness, whatever it is, is shutting her entire body system off. When her main organs fail her..." He stopped, unable to continue.

"And there's really no way to reverse it?"

"They aren't even sure of what is causing it. Tsunade left the village a little more than a year ago and refuses to come back. I sent her a summon myself, but she didn't answer."

His voice sounded pained and I could fathom why. Sensei knew all three Sannin, as their ages were close enough to pass of as same generation comrades. Tsunade-sama's refusal to come back and help her friend in a critical situation probably hurt his already wounded heart. It also meant the inevitability of his wife's future. If the best medic wouldn't come back and try to heal her, who would?

I knew that the Slug Princess wouldn't come back anytime soon. Her lover and brother had died during the Second Ninja War and the loss probably hit her hard. I vaguely tried to recall if she took Shizune with her while the girl was a child, as I had fuzzy images of seeing her interacting with Kakashi's generation. Perhaps Shizune's parents were alive until the Third War? She had been Dan's niece instead of his daughter, wasn't it?

"The only thing they can do is give her medication for the pain. She hides it when 'Kashi comes, but it's getting harder and harder. Sometimes she can't breathe right or her heartbeat shots up."

I tried to block their whispers and focus on the little party occurring around the bed. Natsumi briefly took her eyes of Kakashi's drawing to look at me. Her dark grey eyes, similar to her son's, were gentle. It pained me to see such a good woman, such a good human being, falling prey to death because of an illness.

As a shinobi, I came to the hospital frequently enough. Not only because of light or medium injuries, but also for annual check-ups. It shouldn't make me tremble so much to the white walls and the waiting rooms with their uncomfortable plastic chairs, but it did. Hospitals were the same no matter what world and I couldn't support their atmosphere. I knew that Natsumi-san wouldn't be leaving this room anytime soon and I would regret not visiting her, so I forced myself to come every time my team did.

Her gray eyes told me that she appreciated the effort. She was aware that it couldn't be easy for me, a boy whose mother had died on a hospital bed, to come back to this building to talk to her about day-to-day things and to pretend that everything would be okay. Her gray eyes told me many, many things.

(Look after my boys.

Don't let them drown in sorrow.

I'm sorry for leaving them.

I'm sorry for leaving you.

You'll all be fine.)

I wasn't ready to say goodbye, but when would I ever be?

I could feel Minato's assuring arm around my bony shoulders. Except for a handful of sniffing civilian woman, the small funeral was overall silent. Ninja were solemn and chose not to cry during it out of respect. If the family wasn't crying, why should the rest of us start to make a scene? They were being stronger than us close friends.

Sakumo-sensei spoke a few words about his wife, but they flew over my head. I was sure they were lovely, because anything related to Natsumi-san could only be lovely. He had chosen to leave her coffin closed, not an uncommon habit in this world, and her last image would only be in our memories.

I could picture her willowy form bending at the waist to offer me a plate of cookies, caramel waves of hair tumbling forward her shoulders and grey eyes twinkling in happiness. That was the last image I had of Natsumi-san in my mind as she was buried and it was also the one that I carried for the rest of my life. I could remember her many moments in the hospital and, though she seemed pretty fine most of the visits, these moments never reflected her trued self.

Kakashi was clinging to the hem of my pants while his father spoke. He had already reached the one meter height mark and it sounded amazing to me that the only thing separating the tops of our heads were thirty-five centimeters. I was tiny for my age - as annoying as it was to admit - and he would be a tall man in the future.

I tried to swallow the sudden barrage of tears that threatened to come. Minato's comforting arm around my shoulders tightened, as if he knew that my crybaby tendencies were coming up. I bit my lower lip, forcing myself not cry here. Not because of the rest of group, but because Kakashi was clinging to me. He was silent, but not in tears. I knew from experience that those would come sooner or later.

"May Hatake Natsumi rest in peace," my teacher finished with a hard edge to his tone.

We repeated the line with different degrees of sadness. The gravediggers lowered the coffin and that was it. From now on, we were expected to overcome the loss as if it was as straightforward as it sounded. Our team would be given a couple of weeks at most without a mission to let Sakumo-sensei adjust to the lack of wife and managing of his household, but soon enough - too soon, in fact - we would be called back to active duty.

Kakashi's enrollment in the Academy was approved by the Hokage a couple of days later, despite his very, very young age. He sounded both excited and scared at the idea of going to ninja school. His prodigy tendencies would show early, as I was aware of his probable graduation by this time next year, so I was aware of how successful he'd be in his classes. In the end, however, he was only a year over toddlerhood, so I did my best to calm him.

During these two weeks he clinged to me like a baby monkey. I wondered if he really saw me as a female figure as indicated by his name for me, Onee-chan. His father was in no state to take of a four-year-old after his wife's death, so I didn't mind spending my entire day in their house looking after Kakashi. I would do my best to make him keep his childish urges.

All in all, I was afraid of what the future could hold. Nobody said it was going to be easy, but I kind of wished it was. Natsumi-san's death would led to a profound change in my teacher. Perhaps the presence of his team would keep him in the right track, but the major problem would only come when his son was six to seven years old. Would I be able to prevent the failure of the mission which led to his ultimate death? If it wasn't a failure, he wouldn't be ostracized for possibly causing the next war.

Then again, if it was this simple, I would be able to plan for the Kyūbi's attack quite quickly. I didn't know the mission's detail or location or target, only that one of sensei's teammate was kidnapped and he chose to save him instead of continuing his obligation.

I paused at my thinking, taking advantage of Kakashi's time in the bath to ponder over my confusing plans. Would we even be his team during this mission? It would happen in what, two, three years from now? Of course First Response Teams weren't that easily disbanded as we had been trained specially for this - among other things - but what guaranteed our participation on this mission? The war would be close enough to blow up because of one mission, so who knew what the Hokage would change then?

I rubbed my hands against my temples, feeling a headache starting. And to think that I only wanted to change Minato's fate in the beginning.

A sobbing sound drew my attention. I hesitated for a moment, trying to hear if sensei would investigate the noise - it was obviously his son - but there was no sign of it. I sighed. My teacher was incredible in many aspects, but dealing with crying children wasn't one of them.

I opened the bathroom door to find Kakashi crying on the ground with a giant, fluffy towel around his body.

"Oh, 'Kashi," I made, using his nickname. I crouched down in front of the child, putting my arms around his form and drawing his face to my neck.

"Nee-chan," he sobbed once again with tears and snot all over his face. I cleaned the cheeks and nose with the towel with practiced easy. I wouldn't be able comfort people in my first life, but my friends and Minato and Mom and Daddy had made me a better person.

I was selfish. A liar. A weak little thing. Traumatized by loneliness. A crybaby. Bitter over many circumstances. In the end, however, I had learnt how to receive and give hugs - how to expect the best in people, because, at times, they could surprise you in the most unexpected way.

So I stayed sitting in the wet floor tile with a lapful of a crying child while trying to rock him to sleep. I could be many horrible things, but, right then, I was what a four-year-old saddened by his mother's death needed.

If only I could make his grief easier to cart around like I had learnt to do.