I take a sip from the cup of hot tea I hold enclosed in my hands, as though to keep it warm. I wince as the drink scalds my tongue, and burns my throat.
Pure, white, untouched snow. Just like the boy I killed, many years ago. When I was still young.
You didn't have to save him, Haku – kun. I still remember the feeling when I performed the three hands seals for the raikiri that would finally end one of the weirdest class "C" missions I'd ever been on. Let's get this over with, I had thought. I want to end this. Zabuza just stood there, eyes, wide, held still by my nin – ken. Maybe I felt a little pity at the way he was going to die. Electricity crackled up my arm, and then –
And then, you intervened. My nin – ken vanished, your senbon through the scroll. Your life vanished; my hand through your heart.
I still remember the feeling. It's something you never forget…even not seeing you, I could feel the difference. Lighter, slimmer – less dense. Younger, and less world weary. The blood splattering my torso and face, konoha – gakure hitai – ate. Staining your clothing, long, sleek hair and pale, clean face.
Perhaps clean isn't the right word. Because, before you stood between me and Zabuza, your face had dirt and blood on it, no doubt delivered by Naruto. What I mean by "clean" is the way your face was so open wit it's emotions. Your eyes, so trusting. You had not yet learned how to maintain an impassive mask, as Zabuza and I had. Just as my prior students hadn't learned. I can say safely that Naruto still hasn't.
Sometimes, I wonder if your death wasn't for the better. It brought out the best in Zabuza, killed the killer, and showed my students the less glamorous side of the shinobi life, an angle that, I must admit, rather shocked them.
If I take on this side of your death, I like to think that I caused the change in Zabuza, by killing you. Or at least, that Naruto did, in showing the Demon ninja how much you cared, enough to 'throw away' your life, enough that you didn't have any dreams of your own.
But the more I think o it, I have to conclude that you changed him, Haku – kun…your love, ultimate devotion, and supreme sacrifice for Zabuza did more that any jutsu I can perform, or anything Naruto can say.
I see Iruka come in, his reflection in the window showing that he is laden with groceries. Purposely ignoring him, I try to hide a smile, although there is no need, behind my mask.
"I know you saw me," Iruka calls from the kitchen. "Help me put the fod away, why don't you, Kakashi?" he adds irritabley.
Putting down my cup of tea, I take a last look at the snow, then go off to help Iruka.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a snowflake stick to the window, and melt, a tiny tear in an unforgiving world.
XXVX
AN: okay, don't kill me…written at five in the morning, only by the sun's light, so I couldn't read half of this when I edited. (wrote it out longhand). Written to "Grief and Sorrow" by Toshiro Masuda, in the early grey hours of the morning. Hop you enjoyed, although I cant see how you could've. Thank you for reading…now do you mind….?
