Fade to Black

Summary: Torn between two lives, broken by the choices he has to make. Will Hatake Kakashi live to see the next day or will he fade into obscurity:: A story of love, loss, pain, and happiness; the childhood of the great Copy Nin Kakashi.

Genre: Drama/Angst

Rating: K

Disclaimer: We all know I don't own Naruto.

Author's Notes: I'm purposely writing this story in fragmented sentences because I believe that most kids, no matter how smart they are, process thoughts in fragmented sentences. But that's just my opinion.

Yes I'm aware it's short. The next chapter is longer and should be up by the weekend. Hope this chapter meets everyone's expectations!

Please R&R…Thanks!

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Part of The Kakashi Chronicles, that currently include (in chronological order):
Fade to Black
Black Day
Self-Sustained Hell
Left Behind
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I hate coming here; I always have. But father says we have to go every now and then, father says we need to show him we care.

I haven't seen him in over a year and I don't want to face him now. I know what he'll say. He'll be angry at me, he'll tell me I drove mother away. I won't be able to deny it because we all know it's true.

I smell the bitterness of apple pies as we walk closer to the door. I hate apple pies. I used to love them, mother used to make them all the time. Now, since mother left, I hate them.

Father knocks on the door and a woman opens it. I recognize her, the baker of the apple pies, Leia.

Father makes casual conversation as we enter the house. I stay silent. Father tells me to wait in the living room and I do. I can hear the two of them whispering in the kitchen. I'm not deaf like they seem to think I am.

They always whisper about me when we're here, thinking I don't notice or that I can't hear them. In fact, ever since I became a Chunin a month ago everyone whispers about me everywhere I go. It's why I started wearing the mask like my father, to try and hide from them, to try and go unnoticed.

To try and disappear.

Another voice enters their conversation, a deeper voice, a sadder voice. I instantly recognize it. It's the one we came to visit. The one that is going to judge me. The one who is going to hate me. It's the one that everyone knows as the Hatake in the wheelchair.

It's my brother, Senji.

Father once told me that Senji has incredible chakra control, that he would've made an amazing shinobi. He would've been better than father, he would've been better than me. But when he was born, eighteen years ago, he couldn't walk. He's lived his whole life in a wheelchair.

He's been paralyzed from the waist down since birth.

Father once told me that I was a miracle child. Mother wasn't supposed to be able to have any children. Senji was a miracle child too, except he was born disabled. I wasn't just born, I was born perfectly healthy. I was a true miracle child. Father's perfect son.

I don't remember a time when we all lived together as a family. By the time I was born Senji was twelve and had moved out. Living with a caretaker in a more easily accessible house for him. Learning how to be independent with his disability. That caretaker was Leia, who he's now married too. At eighteen he's married and living on his own.

At six I'm the youngest Chunin in Konoha history.

Does that mean I'm better than him? Does that mean father is more proud of me? I don't know. But what I do know is that it's wrong for me to hate coming here. It's wrong for me to hate seeing my father spend time with Senji. I hate when father focuses his attention on other people. I want him for myself and only myself. I know that's wrong but I can't help it.

Everyday I question if my father really loves me. I don't recall him ever hugging me like the other father's hug their kids. He never picked me up from the academy. We've never gone to a movie together, or gone fishing together, or any of that stuff the kids used to talk about at the academy. All we ever do together is train. Is that true love? Or is what those other kids experience true love?

He hasn't been the same since mother left, which is my fault. I drove mother away. So maybe he's just punishing me. Maybe he's not loving me because I took mother away from him. Maybe he makes me sit in the living room when we come here because he can't stand too look at me, can't stand to see me sitting beside Senji.

If mother would come back than father would be happy again. Than I would be happy again. Maybe I have to go find mother and bring her back. Maybe this whole thing is a test. Yes, that must be it. Father must be testing me to see if I love him. If I love father than I'd go find mother and bring her back.

"He hasn't been the same since then," I hear my father whisper.

"Have you told him yet?" Senji asks.

Tell me what? Has father been hiding something from me? And if so, then why? And what?

"No…" my father replies, I can hear the grief in his voice, "I'm still hoping that she just got captured and didn't get killed. I'm still hoping she'll come back."

"That's fool's hope," Senji mutters, "Just plain old fool's hope."

She got captured? Who got captured? Is he talking about mother? Is mother dead?

"Until they find her body I refuse to tell Kakashi that his mother is dead. I need proof before I break his heart," my father whispers so quietly I can barely hear him.

But I do hear him.

Mother's dead? How could mother be dead? She's a shinobi, an ANBU, one of the best of the best. She can't be dead. I refuse to believe she's dead. This is just another test. Father's just saying this on purpose, knowing I'll overhear. He's doing it to see if I've matured, if I'm not a little cry-baby anymore. And I'm not so I won't cry. I would never cry over something that isn't true anyways.

I'm a shinobi, and shinobis are strong. Shinobis don't cry. Even if they're mother's are dead they don't cry.

I can taste my salty tears as they soak their way through my mask. Why am I crying? She can't be dead. She can't be dead so there's no need for me to cry. No need at all.

"Kakashi?" my father whispers in concern and I raise my head to look at him, standing in the doorframe, "What's wrong?"

"She's dead, isn't she?" I mutter, "I heard you, I heard you say…she's dead."

"Kaka…"

"Why?" I interrupt, my voice growing angrier with every word, "Why did you lie to me? Why did you hide this from me? Why did you keep telling me she was going to come back when you knew all along that she was dead? WHY!"

"Kakashi," my brother soothes as he wheels his way into the room, "Calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" I scream, the tears flowing in torrents down my face, unstoppable, "I did this! It's my fault! She left because of me!"

"Kakashi," my father whispers, now kneeling in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, "This isn't your fault. There's no need to blame yourself for something that was out of your control."

"But it wasn't out of my control!" I retort, "She left because I disappointed her! Mother's dead because of me!"

"Son, this isn't…"

"Now I know," I sob, interrupting my father, "Now I know why you never hug me, or take me fishing, or do anything the kids at the academy do with their fathers. You can't stand to look at me. I killed mother and you hate me for it."

'That isn't true. I don't know where you get these thoughts but they aren't true," I hear my father say, desperately trying to get me to calm down and listen to him. But I don't listen. I'm tired of always having to listen and never being able to talk.

I try to back away from him but he's holding on to me too tightly, "Let go of me," I growl, "Let me go."

"Kaka…"

"LET ME GO!" I scream and to my surprise he does let me go.

At least, I think he did. Maybe not. He's sitting a few feet away from me now, his eyes staring at the palms of his hands. They're burnt; I can see that they're burnt. But how? Did I do that? Did I hurt my own father?

Why? I didn't mean too, I didn't mean to hurt him.

I turn around, bolting for the door. I slam it shut behind me and run as fast as I can down the street. Away from them all, away from their accusing eyes. I don't watch where I'm going and I don't care. I just need to get away from them.

Really I'm just trying to get away from myself. But that's impossible. So I'll just run away from all of them, the people who look like me, who remind me of myself.

I stare at the ground, not looking up, not wanting to face anyone. My tears blur my vision but I don't bother to wipe them away. I can hear them whisper about me, all around me their voices mutter in mixed awe and fear. They're proud of me, proud of having such a strong and promising shinobi coming from their village. But they're also afraid of me, afraid of my strength, afraid of what I might become. I can hear the fear in their voices. I can smell it in the air, everywhere I go.

Something makes me stop, some unseen force. Some sense of my own tells me to stop running. I look up to find myself at the entrance of the Hokage tower. Two guard shinobis look at my quizzically.

"Hatake Kakashi," one of them says. I recognize the voice; I just can't quite place it, "What is wrong?"

I sniffle, wiping the tears from my eyes with my left sleeve. I shake my head and take a few steps back. I want to run away from them all, all the accusing eyes. They know. Everyone knows that mother died because of me.

I bump into something. A leg. I tilt my head back to look at who I've accidentally bothered.

Jiraiya.

I see concern is his eyes, hear it in his voice as he says something but I don't listen. And I don't know if it's because I choose not to listen or if I just can't listen.

He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around as he kneels down. Trying to get to my level. That's one of the things I hate about being so young; the height difference. Because I'm so short people automatically think I'm vulnerable and helpless and need to be cuddled and protected.

I don't. I'm not vulnerable, I'm not helpless. I'm a Chunin. A shinobi of the Hidden Village of Leaves. I don't need to be protected. I'm strong, just like every other shinobi in this village.

"Kakashi?" I hear Jiraiya ask in concern.

Relief floods my brain. I can hear now. I don't understand why I couldn't before but at least I can know.

"Kakashi, what's wrong? Can you tell me what's wrong?"

I look into his familiar face. Father and him are always talking to each other. Sometimes in a serious matter, sometimes in a joking matter. I guess they're friends. I've always wanted a friend but all the kids are terrified of me. Terrified of my strength. They act like I'm going to kill them just because I can. I stopped trying to convince them that I won't. I ran out of strength to argue with them.

"Kakashi?" he continues to probe, desperately trying to get an answer out of me.

"Mother's dead," I finally whisper, "I overhead father telling Senji," fresh tears unwillingly fall from my eyes and sobs choke my breath, making it hard to speak, "Father hates me. I drove mother away. Got her killed. Everybody hates me."

"Kaka…"

"Don't tell me it's not true!" I scream, "I might be young but I'm not an idiot! I see the hate in their eyes!"

I turn around and try to run away but he grabs my left arm. Forces me to stop.

"LET GO OF ME!" I scream.

I can feel chakra building up in my body. I don't know why. I should be able to control it but I can't. It starts to burn. Spreading through my body. It grows stronger, more painful with every second. Sets my muscles on fire.

I hear screaming but I don't bother to try and figure out whose voice it is. I feel my body hit the ground but I don't care. I curl up into a little ball, hugging my knees close to my chest. It doesn't help. Tears stream down my face. I can feel their coldness on my cheeks. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the pain and stop the tears but it doesn't help.

Finally I realize that the screaming is my own. I force myself to stop, force myself to get in control. The pain starts to reside, becoming a dull burning inside of me instead of a raging fire. I can't stop the whimpering coming from my own throat.

"Kakashi?" I hear my father whisper.

I cautiously open my eyes to stare into the blurry face of my father. I blink a couple times to clear the tears and he comes into focus.

"It hurts daddy," I whimper, "It burns, like there's a fire inside of me."

"It's going to be okay," he soothes, picking me up and cradling me in his arms.

"Make it stop daddy," I plead, "Please, make it go away."

"Just hold on for a bit longer, okay? It's going to go away very soon, just be strong."

I nod, closing my eyes and resting my head against my father's chest. Faintly I hear the voices of my father and Jiraiya and I desperately try and focus on them to distract myself from the pain.

"I don't know what happened," I hear Jiraiya say in confusion, "He got angry and there was so much chakra that came from his little body," he sighs, "Maybe he opened one of the eight resistance gates?"

"It happened earlier too, also when he got angry," my father replies, also sounding confused, "But opening one of the gates at his age? That's impossible."

"Nothing's impossible for him. After all, he is a genius and a Hatake…"

Jiraiya's voice fades away as unconsciousness slowly creeps up on me. I welcome the relief it brings from the burning pain inside of me and I don't fight it as darkness overwhelms my senses. The pain slips away as the world turns completely black and I let the comforting silence of unconsciousness steal me from the waking world.