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.

I am not an expert in medicine or diseases or anything like that. So please excuse any medical mistakes. Besides it's Naruto; it doesn't exactly take place in the same universe as our lives do, so who says medicine has to work the same, right? ./shrugs/.

Please R&R…Thanks!

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I've always hated hospitals. They only bring death and grief. And they smell funny. I haven't even opened my eyes yet but I know I'm in a hospital just by the smell.

I open my eyes but it doesn't matter, I still only see black. Am I blind? I can't be. How would that have happened?

"Daddy?" I whimper; my voice raw with little use. I'm afraid he's not here. I'm afraid he's left me all alone.

How long have I been asleep?

It's black, so dark, so alone. Is this how I'm going to have to live the rest of my life? How can I be a shinobi if I can't see?

"Kakashi," my father whispers, relief and happiness filling his voice, "How do you feel?

He takes my right hand in both of his. They're so big, they swallow my tiny hand. I can feel their strength. I can almost see my father's wide smile and caring eyes looking down at me. Almost.

"I can't see," I whisper, tears welling up in my sore and burning eyes, "What's wrong with me daddy? Why can't I see?"

"Don't worry son, I'm sure it won't last," the underlying panic in his voice betrays his words.

I hear someone open the door. This room must be small for the door to sound so close to me.

"Tsunade," my father states in a forced greeting.

He doesn't let my hand go. He doesn't stand up to bow to the Legendary Sannin. Does he think I'll die if he lets go of me? I don't know. But shouldn't he be respecting the Sannin? Standing up and bowing to her?

"He can't see," my father says, his voice shaking. I can hear the tears in his voice, his desperation to keep his emotions in check, "My son is blind, why?"

I hear her walk to the side of the bed. I can't see her reaction so I don't know how serious this is. I don't know how much I should panic, or if I should panic at all.

"Kakashi," Tsunade's caring voice acknowledges me, "I know you can't see what I'm doing but you can't move until I tell you too. You have to stay still, can you do that?"

"Yes," I reply, my voice tight with nervousness.

A warm hand spreads my left eyelids apart, forcing them to stay open. Something clicks and I can feel heat on my eye.

"Can you see anything?" she asks.

"It's hot," I reply, trying hard not to flinch.

The heat goes away and her hand lets go of my left eyelids. They move to my right eyelids and force them to stay open. The same heat fills my right eye but this time it comes with a slight lightness of the drowning darkness around me.

"Any change?"

"It's hot," I repeat, then add, "And lighter. Grayish, not so black."

My father squeezes my hand, "Is that good?" he asks.

The heat leaves and so does the slight lightness, leaving me in the pitch black again.

"You don't have to stay still anymore, "Tsunade tells me as she removes her hand from my face, "As you know Sakumo," she directs at my father, "The chakra overflow has created many side-affects. This blindness is one that I didn't predict," she sighs, "I believe that blood has clotted in his eyes."

"Is it curable?" my father asks.

"The clots can be removed but," there's always a but, "there could be lingering problems because it's gone untreated for so long."

"What do you have to do?" I ask, releasing the breath I hadn't noticed I was holding.

"You'll be asleep so you don't have to worry about it Kakashi, just leave it to your father and I."

I sigh. I'm tired of being told not to worry about things. I'm tired of being told I'm too young to understand when I know I'm not. I also know that it's pointless for me to argue with adults, they never actually listen to me. Sometimes they pretend that they're listening to me but most times they just ignore me; often laughing at my opinions. It's annoying and tiresome. Don't they realize that my ideas matter to? I didn't become a Chunin just to sit back and watch them do everything.

They've been talking, Tsunade and my father, but I haven't really been listening. They're saying something about putting a needle in my eyes. Something about drawing the blood out. I don't really understand. Wouldn't putting a needle in my eyes make them worse?

My chest starts burning. I don't think that's normal. I hear the frantic beeping of machines around me. I don't think that's normal either.

Faintly I hear people rushing into my room. It's hard to hear them above the ringing in my ears. Someone tells my father he has to leave. I can hear him protesting. His hands let go of mine and I panic. Don't leave me alone! I don't want to be alone in the dark!

"Daddy," I whimper, "daddy…"

"Don't talk Kakashi," Tsunade's panicked voice reaches my ears.

"My chest hurts," I mutter.

"Don't talk," she repeats, angrier this time.

My lungs feel weird, heavy. Every breath is a struggle. My head feels light.

I can't breathe!

Why won't my lungs work? Why can't I breathe?

Someone tips my head back, opens my mouth, forces something down my throat. It hurts, rips my throat apart. It's too big. Whatever it is it won't fit in my throat. Something else, something smaller, slides down my throat through the other thing. It goes down further and I gag, trying to force it out. That person keeps pushing it down, tearing my throat apart.

I can breathe. My lungs work now. My chest still burns but I can breathe again.

Something pokes into my hand and my body goes number. My mind starts to go fuzzy. It's hard to concentrate. Then the welcoming presence of unconsciousness creeps up on me. I let it take me in its comforting arms.

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This is not comfortable.

How long have I been here now? Is my father still here or has he given up on me? I can't feel his presence; I can't feel anyone's presence.

I open my eyes; staring at the white ceiling above me. I can see again.

I won't have to quit being a shinobi.

Is that wrong? Is it wrong that the only reason I'm glad I can see is because I won't have to disappoint father. Or have I disappointed father already? I don't know.

I lay here; not moving and not caring. I don't have to look around to know that no one is here. There's a breathing mask over my mouth and nose and I don't bother to remove it even though I know I can now breathe on my own.

I feel so much older than before. How long have I been here?

The darkness begins to lift as light slowly washes in from the window. It must be the sun rising; it must be morning.

I remove the breathing mask, letting it fall off the side of the bed; letting it hang from the machine it's attached too. Slowly I push myself up, my hair falls down my back, just below my shoulders.

It was definitely not this long before.

I push the sheets back and unhook the monitoring wires connected to my naked chest. There's a scar. I huge scar that runs down the middle of my chest. Did I have surgery? I only remember my chest burning and not being able to breathe, nothing else.

The monitoring machines beep wildly now that they have nothing left to monitor. I slide my legs over the side of the bed. It's so close to the wall. This room is suffocatingly small.

My legs are numb and weak from, what I assume to be, little use. It's going to be hard to walk. I brace myself against the wall and push myself up. I stand for a few minutes, steadying my wobbling as much as I can. Breathe, just breathe and focus. One foot in front of the other. It's simple. I've done this for years.

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, I make my way to the door on the other side of the room. I have to lean on the wall for support. I can't believe that I'm too weak to even balance on my own anymore, too weak to even walk. How pathetic do I look?

I struggle to balance on the tips of my toes as I reach for the doorknob, twist it, and push the door open. I step into the silent hallway. What part of the hospital is this? Every time I've gone to the hospital it's always been busy. Never silent like this. It's eerie. It's not right.

Slowly I make my way down the hall, bare feet echoing loudly in the emptiness. I lean on the wall, relying on it to support my weight for I can't do it by myself anymore. I pass door after door and every door I pass I look into. I'm barely tall enough to reach the edge of the window but I manage. I wish I was too short to see through the window. Every window holds the same image. Silent people lying in silent rooms. Alone. Machines beeping in the same rhythm from room to room. Identical breathing masks keeping these silent people alive. Every single person is alone.

I have to get out of here.

My chest burns, just like it did before. What is wrong with me? Am I suffering from some incurable disease? Am I not really the healthy, perfect son my dad believes I am? I just want to find someone who is awake. Someone who can answer my questions.

I don't want to be alone anymore. It's so lonely down here. There's no sound except for the beating of my own heart and my footsteps on the floor.

I want daddy. Where's daddy? Why did he leave me all alone? Does he hate me?

I hear footsteps and I stop walking, leaning on the wall. I won't be alone anymore, someone's here, someone who isn't silent. I realize that my breathing is ragged and uneven. Why? I've only been walking. I shouldn't be this tired.

I watch as the only woman of the Legendary Sannins turns the corner and stops, frozen in shock.

"My chest hurts," I whisper, my voice harsh and raspy.

It hurts to talk.

My legs give out and I desperately try to claw on the smooth wall to keep myself up. I can't find a grip. Even if I could I doubt I'd have the strength left to hold myself up.

In a split second Tsunade's beside me and scoops me up in her strong arms before I even hit the floor.

"You shouldn't be up," she scolds me, but I can still hear the kindness, the relief in her voice.

"Daddy," I mutter, leaning my head against her chest, "I want to see daddy."

She stays silent and I lift my head up to look quizzically at her but she's avoiding my gaze. Did I do something wrong? Did I do something to make her angry?

I sigh, leaning my head back against her chest. Adults are so confusing to figure out.

"Thanks for fixing my eyes," I whisper, not bothering to look up and see her reaction.

She still doesn't respond.

After a few more minutes of silent walking, broken only by the sound of Tsunade's feet hitting the floor, we take a sharp turn and she pushes the door open. I look up at her as she places me back in the bed and hooks up the monitoring machines again. She pulls the sheets back up to my chest but she leaves my left arm uncovered.

"Why is it so silent here?" I ask. She still doesn't meet my eyes. She still doesn't respond, "Tsunade?"

She ignores me and turns around, pulling something out of a shelf on the wall.

"Kakashi," Tsunade whispers, her voice seems to be breaking, like she's on the verge of tears. But why?

"Kakashi," she repeats, "You're going to have to have a shot and take pills every morning and every night for a very, very long time. It will make your chest feel better."

Shots? Pills? Twice a day? Why? What happened? What's really wrong with me? Why won't anyone just tell me what's wrong?

"Why? Why am I so sick? What's wrong with me?" I mutter, my voice breaking into sobs, "Why?"

Tsunade turns around to face me, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears, "It's about time that someone tells you the truth," she whispers, "But first your medication."

I nod and watch as she disinfects the vein in the crook of my left elbow. I grind my teeth together as the needle breaks skin. I can feel the liquid flowing into my veins and mixing with the blood. She takes the needle out and turns around, putting it in the garbage. I push myself up into a sitting position as Tsunade rummages through the shelves on the wall.

She turns around and places a small cup of pills in my hand, "Just wait here, I'll go get you a glass of water."

I nod, unable to trust my own voice. I watch as she leaves the room. I look down and stare at the cup of pills in my hand. I tip the cup over, letting the pills pour into my other hand. I put the cup down, balancing it on the soft bed. I just sit here, numbly picking up pill after pill and carefully placing it back in the cup, making sure not to tip the cup over.

Twenty-one.

Twenty-one different pills. Some white, some pale blue, some black, and others are gray. Some big, some small, some oval, and some round.

One shot and twenty-one pills. Every morning, every night, every day, for a very long time.

Twenty-one.

I pick the cup up and stare at it, looking at it from every angle I can. I have a sudden urge to throw the cup across the room. To watch it break on the wall and the pills fall on the floor. To watch the glass shatter in front of my eyes, just like my dream of being shinobi, just like my ability to make my father proud.

Tsunade comes back, glass of water in hand. Someone walks in behind her. Someone I know I should recognize but I just can't for some reason. Tsunade stops by the side of my bed and hands me the glass. I take it. He stops at the end of my bed, hands shoved in his pockets and a sad smile on his lips.

"How you holding up kiddo?" he asks.

His voice clicks in my head. Jiraiya.

I make no reply. I can't even bring myself to look at him anymore, this friend of my father. The father I've disappointed. I drop my gaze to the two cups in my hands. I sigh, bringing the cup of pills to my mouth and tipping it back. I pour them all into my mouth at once and quickly follow up with the glass of water. In one gulp all twenty-one pills are swallowed.

And so it begins.