Memories and the Final Decision
The grass was still being splashed by the rain. It had been less than twenty-four hours since the village of Hidden Leaf was set on fire. People didn't know whether to be glad that it rained for it put the fire out, or to be desperate for it made it harder for them to find their people. Despite the time of the day, the sky was dark. A young silver haired boy was in front of the heroes' monument, facing the cold and wet stone. He was standing with his eyes closed, and from time to time, frowned a little. He had taken his hitai-ate off and was holding it on his right hand.
It had been seven years since his father died on that night as the White Fang of Konoha. It had been two years since Obito died on that A-rank mission as a chuunin. It had been five months since Rin died on that S-rank mission as a jounin. It had been less than twenty-four hours since his sensei died on that attempt to save the village as the Hokage.
He still remembered the training sessions he had with his father as a kid. He still could remember those people in front of his house demanding to his father to bring back the lives of those who died because of his decision. He could still remember his father's posture on the wooden floor. He could still remember the blood that passed through his feet on that night.
He remembered those times when Obito arrived late in the mornings, and he gave him deadly looks. He remembered the time when Obito had tried to show off during a mission and ended up being saved by Rin's medic jutsu. He remembered that incident when he lost an eye and a friend, and got a new eye and a new name.
He didn't forget all those times Rin cured his injuries, and those few times that she saved him from the verge of death. He didn't forget those words he heard from her before he used his sensei's kunai and was saved. He didn't want to forget her special lunch boxes for her team. He definitely didn't want to forget how she had predicted her death, and kissed him before dying.
His sensei's name wasn't carved on the stone yet, but it was just a matter of time. He thought about those uncountable times his sensei ruffled his hair and grinned like an idiot. He thought about those countable few times his sensei had gotten mad at him. He thought about that only time his sensei hit him out of training time, when he couldn't get over Obito's death and stayed home for a week.
He couldn't see them from the place he was standing, but everyone else in the village was running back and forth trying to save those who could survive, and those who needed to be buried. He wondered if all those people he killed up until now had had people who cared about their deaths, and whether those who cared felt like him. 'But then,' he thought, 'that's how shinobi live.' and he frowned once more.
He remembered what his sensei had told him once.
"You live once, Kakashi. Everybody lives only once. You might as well enjoy the few moments in that short one life when you will be happy to know that you're living."
But now, with all of them gone, he didn't have anyone who would really care if he died today. What could he exactly expect people to say or even think when he became an Anbu? He was pretty sure they wouldn't mind at all. After all, he was no one. He was just a tool for his village.
He turned around and headed to the Hokage's office, where Sandaime Hokage would be busy with all the paper work. He was joining the Anbu no matter what his teammates and sensei were telling him from the back of his mind.
A/N:
I was kinda dying in the heat the other day, and wrote a fic about Kakashi remembering those who cared for him. Enjoy!