Parallax: Chapter 1

(***)

"Hey, do you guys believe in fate?"

Haruno Sakura looked inquisitively at her two teammates, her whispered question hanging open-ended as she waited for a response.

Sasuke, lounging comfortably on a tree limb directly above her own, deigned to give her his patented 'I-don't-care' glare before turning his gaze back to the forest path they'd been watching for the past hour. She hadn't expected an answer from him, and it was nice to know that she understood his character so well. But sometimes, though she never voiced it, she wished that he'd show a little more emotion. She wasn't asking for much really - a less serious word here, or a voluntary compliment there ... anything to let her know that he was still human.

But then, he wouldn't be the enigmatic, brooding Sasuke that caused all female hearts within a ten mile radius to flutter, she rationalized. And as loathed as she was to admit it, she would view him in a different regard if he ever lost his mysterious air.

"Hmm ... I don't know, Sakura." Naruto's abrasive voice pulled her attention away from the dark-haired boy. "Why do you ask?"

She glanced down at the blonde positioned on the branch below hers, fighting the habitual urge to wince that appeared whenever the boy used that ingratiating tone with her. Trying to temper the sarcasm in her voice, she readjusted her body a little more comfortably against the tree and answered when she felt calm enough.

"Well, I was just wondering," she said thoughtfully, "if this criminal we're supposed to catch knew what he was doing when he stole from the Hokage. I mean, he must have known that they'd send someone after him, so you could say that his fate was set the moment he took that urn."

Confused blue eyes trained themselves on her.

"Sakura thinks too much," Naruto stated plainly with a wide grin. "Besides, I'll catch this guy and bring him back to the village with no problem. So this fate stuff won't matter at all."

Sakura threw her head back and let out an exasperated breath. Naruto just didn't get it. But then again, he never got much of anything, in her opinion, so it shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Trying to have an intelligent conversation with the blonde was like teaching a frog to tap dance; simply put, it was a complete waste of time, although in the frog's defense, it might actually respond more intelligently.

Yet, at times, she wondered if Naruto's blatant stupidity and brash ignorance were perhaps what made him the smartest one among them all.

Above her, she noticed Sasuke's lips twitch up slightly at the blonde's nonsensical comment, and marveled at how only Naruto seemed to always be the one to elicit any change of expression from the brunette - minor as it was.

"Umm ... do you think Kakashi-sensei was right about the location?"

A rustling of leaves alerted Sakura to her blond teammate's change of stance. Naruto ... being restless as always; she was actually surprised he'd lasted this long without saying something.

Standing on his tree branch now, Naruto looked up at her and Sasuke. "He said to keep a watch out for the guy here but it's been over an hour and nothing!"

Sakura glanced around at the surrounding foliage. The blonde was right. They had been waiting too long, but Kakashi-sensei had instructed them to stay put while he flushed the thief out, and if there was one thing she'd learned from her time as a genin, it was to trust their erstwhile teacher.

"Just be patient," she hissed.

"But ... "

Naruto never had the chance to finish his sentence. Movement from above told them that Sasuke too had stood up.

"Someone's coming," the dark-haired boy stated gruffly. And without so much as a parting glance, he jumped off his branch in pursuit of his lead.

Sakura watched her departing teammate, her mouth opened in protest.

'So much for teamwork,' she thought with righteous indignation.

"Hey, wait for me!" Naruto yelled, finally realizing that his eternal rival had left without him. "I'll catch that guy before you, Sasuke! You'll see!"

'And so much for discretion,' she added mentally. If the criminal hadn't known they were there before, he did now, thanks to Naruto's loud proclamation.

The blonde deftly launched himself off the tree, and darted after his dark-haired teammate, his physical abilities a complete juxtaposition to his mental ones.

And Sakura ... Sakura did what she had always done: she tried to keep up with her comrades without falling completely behind.

(***)

/******

The setting was perfect.

Dark eyes scanned the candlelit room, and a small, empty smile formed on slightly parted lips. He had come here early with the intention of arranging the whole ambience to his liking, but he had encountered a pleasant surprise when he had seen that everything had been arranged for him already.

He glanced apathetically over at the dead body on the bed, his victim still warm from the recent murder.

The dead man had put up quite a struggle when he'd first discovered the intruder in his home, but, being a mere chounin, he'd barely posed a challenge for the stranger. A simple glance and a quick twist of the wrist, and death had glazed over those wide, accusing eyes. The warm trickle of blood had run a slow, syrupy trail over guilty fingers then, a testament to the easy capitulation of life.

'It was quite pathetic really,' he thought in passing. 'If the man had been content with such a mediocre shinobi skill set his whole life, then he'd deserved to die.'

Tilting his head to the side like an artist evaluating a masterpiece, he walked the few steps that separated him from the bed and decided to re-arrange the corpse into a more suitable pose.

The limbs were still malleable enough, rigor mortis having yet to set in, but it did take a bit more strength to prop the man up higher into a semi-reclined position. He took extra care in covering the wound with the bed sheets, and since the blood had coagulated enough, he wouldn't have to worry about it seeping through. Next, he let down the hair, gently tousling it so that the usually spiky locks fell in ordered disarray around the shoulders. And finally, he re-dispersed the red rose petals that had been haphazardly scattered throughout the mattress, putting as much effort into the act as a painter would putting the final touches on a painting.

Taking a step back, he gave the scene one last appraising glance.

The candles that burned along the corner of the room cast a parade of angular shadows across the walls, throwing the space into a war of light and dark. And yet, where the borders between the two danced, a sense of perfect balance existed, harmonizing and complimenting each other until one couldn't deny the mellow aura of the room.

He looked once more at the dead man blanketed in the beautiful orange glow.

Who knew that Umino Iruka had been such a romantic at heart?

Candles, rose petals ... all that was missing was the music.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he quietly withdrew himself into the shadows of the closet to await the arrival of his prey. He closed the door partially, and made sure that enough space was left opened to give him a perfect view of the scene.

Besides, what good was art when there was no one to admire it?

His intended target would be here soon, and he didn't want to miss this for anything in the world.

It was a good thing he was patient by nature because a good quarter of an hour passed before the guest arrived.

Of course, he shouldn't have been surprised.

Hatake Kakashi had never been on time in all the years of their acquaintance, and he should've guessed that the same policy held when the silver-haired man had a rendezvous with his own lover.

From his unseen corner, he watched with wry amusement - and, admittedly, a glimmer of morbid fascination - as the skilled jounin entered the dimly lit room. At first, the man hadn't noticed anything amiss, but then, even through that concealing mask of his, the distress became apparent.

And he, blending in so comfortably with the shadows that surrounded him, drank in that distress like it was an aphrodisiac. A pleasant trickle of warmth washed over his skin, and sent his nerve endings firing. Despite the fact that by then, the silver-haired man had already checked for the non-existent pulse of his dead partner and stood tensed by the bed, that arousing sensation still coursed through his body.

Years ago, the scene may have revolted him, disgusted him into retching even, but now, it proved to be as intoxicating as the most potent of elixirs, lulling and coaxing him into an almost euphoric climax.

Yet, as with all experiences of this nature, it had to end, and sobering, he prepared himself to face the upcoming task at hand.

After countless years of being a top-ranked ninja, Kakashi never disappointed when it came to a confrontation, and this was the case when he continued to observe the silver-haired man from his hiding spot. The shinobi's posture was ramrod straight, his shoulders thrown back and hands fisted. Even to the untrained eye, one could tell that the man was lethal, current aura notwithstanding.

Idle fingers traced the wood of the closet door in anticipation of discovery. With the jounin's present energy filling the room, it wouldn't be long before he was found, and he could barely contain his excitement at the prospect.

'Come, Kakashi ... find me ... find me and don't leave me like this ... '

The words echoed endlessly in his head, as if saying so silently would prompt the man to uncover him sooner.

But the older fighter didn't need any encouragement; for within minutes, a deadly kunai was released in his direction, the force behind the sharp blade great enough to splinter the wood of the closet door.

He almost laughed with joy as the well-honed weapon zipped by his cheek, the wooden slivers in its wake nearly embedding themselves in his face.

"Who are you?"

Kakashi's voice hadn't changed in the six years since he'd last seen him. Its deep, lax quality never lacked for authority, and if he weren't enjoying the moment so much, he might have succumbed to a bout of nostalgia.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" he said pleasantly as he stepped out from the broken door.

The one, uncovered eye, usually drooping with the façade of boredom, widened in momentary surprise.

"You ... "

He smiled humorlessly at the reaction, although the expression probably appeared alien to the silver-haired shinobi. After all, when had the man ever seen any kind of emotion from him?

He allowed himself to reminisce briefly as he slowly walked nearer to his target. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't been much for enjoyment when he was younger. It was rather sad how much time he'd wasted on such petty things like peer rivalry and filial vengeance.

Amused, he watched as Kakashi tried to move, but found himself incapable of doing so. Then again, why would he be able to run away? His death had been assured the instant their gazes had met when he'd stepped out of the closet.

But the older shinobi never showed his panic, his question asked in his usual nonchalant tone.

"What do you want?"

He shrugged, and stopped just inches away from the frozen man. He breathed in deeply, inhaling in a clean, musky scent that the late Iruka must've found attractive on his partner.

"I would have thought you'd know the answer to that by now," he replied softly.

"You - "

He watched the other man with a thoughtful light in his eyes as the rest of the sentence remained unspoken. He had long abandoned the use of conventional weapons, now preferring to kill by more natural means. And so, with an innocent look of shock, he glanced down at his right hand, his expertise of chakra-manipulation having allowed him to easily pierce the flesh with his own fingers. It had so much more of a personal touch to it, although it did get a little messy at times.

As expected, Kakashi's blood washed warmly over his skin, the soft tissue of his abdomen encasing his limb like a finely crafted sheath, and belatedly, he realized what a bitch the substance would be to remove from beneath his fingernails. But for someone as near and dear as the silver-haired jounin, he guessed the effort would be worth it.

" I would ask for forgiveness for what I've done," he said conversationally, as the life began to ebb from that revealing eye, "but it seems that everyone has condemned me beyond redemption years ago."

And with that, he withdrew his hand with a sickening sucking sound, leaving the dying man to fall ungracefully onto the bed beside his dead lover. The red rose petals jumped at the sudden disturbance, the soft, fragrant dabs of silk swirling in a macabre dance of crimson tears.

'It's oddly grotesque, yet strangely poetic at the same time,' he thought as he casually wiped his hand on the bed sheets. Perhaps he should've become an artist instead of a fighter.

Quickly finishing his impromptu cleaning, he gave the silver-haired man sprawled on the mattress one final look.

He had always thought that Kakashi would die more gloriously - go out in a blaze, so to speak - and not flicker away like some pathetic candle. But nevertheless, the man had stayed true to his nature.

No mercy had been asked.

That was enough to maintain the reputation of the legendary copy-ninja in his mind.

Satisfied, he smiled, and turned to leave.

And accordingly, on his part, no mercy had been given.

******/

(***)

The human mind was such a strange thing.

He crouched carefully on the tree branch and waited for his target to pass by. Had he been thirteen years younger, his leg muscles would've complained at maintaining such a position, but now, he was more than accustomed to it. Yet, whereas his body obeyed his wishes easily, his mind was a completely different matter.

He knew he should have been concentrating on his current goal, but inexplicably, his mind was wandering, uncovering memories and images that he would much prefer to leave buried. A sick, heavy constriction still lingered in his chest, and he wondered how much longer he would have to suffer this unwanted sensation.

'Not long now,' a calm, rational voice said in his head. 'Everything will be fixed shortly, so not much longer at all ...'

No sooner had those words ran through his mind than he felt the telltale breeze he'd been waiting for.

His target was too skilled to make any noise, and thus, it would've been impossible to track for one new to the field. Yet, his years of training and fighting had more than prepared him for this task.

Thus, with an anticipation he hadn't felt in a years, he leaped soundlessly from the tree and into the path of his first target.

(***)

Kakashi had discovered long ago that he was not teacher material. Now, that was not to say that he hated his position as an instructor, but he just knew that he hadn't a classical 'teacher' bone in his body. If he had to define it, then he'd say someone like Iruka fit the mold to perfection. He, on the other hand, was more of a mentor.

Yes, that was it - a mentor.

And that would also explain why he had ordered his students to wait as he did. For all his lack of enthusiasm and encouragement in their achievements, he trusted them - wholly and implicitly trusted them as if they were a legitimate shinobi group rather than the mundane Team 7 of instructor and students. It was no surprise then - at least, not to him - that he was proud of all they'd accomplished.

Therefore, when he had told them they were to apprehend this low-class criminal after he flushed the culprit out, he had done so with the greatest confidence.

But trust and confidence only went so far.

And if he didn't catch up to those kids, there would be nothing stopping Naruto from botching the whole mission, Sasuke from killing Naruto for doing so, or Sakura from watching the whole event with steam coming from her head.

The lush, green scenery past by him in a blur as he stretched and contracted his leg muscles to their limits, the rush of freedom gleaned from the speed enough to remind him of why he had chosen to become a shinobi all those long years ago. In short, it was exhilarating to feel his body fulfill the promise of its potential, and the familiar burn from the exertion gave him a sense of accomplished satisfaction he rarely experienced doing anything else.

Throughout his years as an Anbu and as a shinobi, he had discovered something about those who managed to survive time after time. Those men and women who always seemed to emerge from conflicts alive were not necessarily the strongest or the most powerful, but they did possess an uncanny instinct of self-preservation, a sixth sense - one could say - that warned and cautioned when mortal danger was near. It was safe to assume then, that he had developed this said instinct quite thoroughly for it had saved him numerous times in the past, as it had saved him then.

The attacker had come at him from origins unknown, and even with the speed at which he'd been traveling, he had been seen and caught. It only alerted him to the skill level his mysterious enemy possessed. Reacting with an automatic response, he blocked an attack before he even saw it coming, the reflexive action learned from years past serving him in good stead. Flesh and bone connected viciously with his forearms, the strength behind the contact enough to send a shock felt right down to his teeth, and cause his balance to waver. However, with the momentum he'd acquired from his aborted dash, and the abrupt interruption, he realized too late that the physics of the whole situation were against him, and that his body was suddenly falling to the ground.

Almost immediately, conscious thought left him, and ceded control to pure, adrenalin-driven instinct. Without thinking, he quickly looked for a spot to land, and using that as a reference point, he easily found his equilibrium and forced his body to move. His limbs and muscles responded and strained with the efficiency of a well-tuned instrument, deftly flipping his entire self over and landing gracefully on the ground. A muffled symphony of cracks and rustles resulted from his action, letting him know that he'd found a spot of dried leaves and twigs far from the forest path. His knees had been bent to absorb the force of his meeting with the earth, and they remained thus in a crouch as he scanned the surrounding area with his one uncovered eye.

Whoever had attacked him had moved with a stealth and speed that far exceeded that of a regular shinobi, and his mind worked frantically to recall if he had ever encountered anyone of this level.

"Who's there?"

His tone sounded confident as he spoke. He could hear a high pitched buzzing in his ears as his blood began to course through his veins with renewed vigor, and although he never showed it, he could feel the sweat begin to form in his pores. His breaths were coming quick and shallow, the warmth being captured in the fibers of his mask and reminding him of his own vitality.

Now this ... this was the feeling he loved. This was the feeling he lived for. This was the feeling that washed over him every time he walked the thin tightrope of life and death ... for he could never feel more alive than when he faced the reality of his own mortality.

"It's me ... though I doubt you'd recognize me."

The voice had come from above him, hidden in the shifting leaves of the forest's trees, but as soon as the words had been spoken, a darkly clad figure fell softly to the ground directly in front of him.

Kakashi tensed for an attack at the appearance, yet the stranger remained still, slowly straightening to his full height as the wary jounin looked him up and down.

The unknown man was about his age, if not a year or two older, and was dressed in a dark, nondescript uniform that held no affiliation to any village. Fine, black hair fell straight to the level of his chin, held back by a head protector that bore no mark. His nose was sharp, and slightly arrogant, and was perfectly offset by a confident, well-defined jawline.

Kakashi did not recognize his opponent, but he couldn't help thinking that he'd seen the man somewhere before.

"Do I look familiar?"

The question was asked in such a stony, emotionless fashion that one of the jounin's eyebrow rose in surprise. Curious, he met the stranger's gaze, wondering where he'd heard that voice before.

And it was then, staring fixedly into the fathomless eyes of the other man that he realized who he faced. But the awareness didn't come soon enough because in that on blinding moment, he felt a rapid flash of fire caress his whole body, paralyzing every cell and molecule it came in contact with.

'Shit,' he swore in his head. If he had known sooner, if he had realized earlier ...

Try as he might, he couldn't force his eye away from the ebony-flecked crimson ones of his opponent, a tortured gaze that told more with its mysterious resolve than all of the man's words and expression combined. He could sense his energy being siphoned out of his body at an astonishing rate, the sudden absence leaving him rather lightheaded and dizzy. It wasn't long before the strength deserted his legs, causing him to fall heavily to the ground in one lumbering heap. But neither the jarring contact, nor the scratching twigs could break the trance he'd been ensnared in and he was left to watch helplessly as the other man walked nearer to his prone self.

His vision was darkening. Kakashi could feel himself slowly losing his grip on consciousness, yet he somehow managed to see sadness on his opponent's face that defied the limiting restrictions of spoken language.

"It was nice to see you again, Kakashi-sensei," the standing man said quietly as he stared regretfully down at the fallen shinobi. The words were heartfelt, their simplicity and sincerity burrowing deep into the silver-haired man's chest.

He wanted to say something, wanted to ask questions that begged for answers, but he now lacked the energy to even speak. Thus, he could only watch, watch and wait as the standing man paused for several more silent minutes before darting off into the obscure shadows of the forest from which he had first appeared, leaving the jounin with nothing but his own shallow breathing and the lulling sounds of the woods.

Kakashi understood that he would be unconscious soon; he had long learned the traumatizing effects of the Sharingan when the Uchiha clan had still existed.

Even though he knew the futility of it, he tried to move and tried to speak, wanting to resolve the queries that were running through his now-dulled mind. But all of it culminated in nothing substantial ... nothing but a hoarsely whispered word before he lapsed into darkness.

"Sasuke ... "


End Chapter 1