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: T

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.

I'm sorry for the long delay in updating. I had huge problems getting this chapter to sound even remotely good. I still don't like how it turned out but I can't keep just working on this chapter and I need to move on to the other chapters. Plus, I can't keep everyone writing. So here is the next, not quite as good as the other, installments of Fade to Black. Hope you enjoy!

HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please, please, PLEASE, be aware that this story contains child abuse. You have been warned.

Please R&R…Thanks!

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"Kakashi?" I hear Arashi question from the other side of the bathroom door, "You've been in there a long time, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I mutter as I take another clump of my hair and chop it off. It's almost as short as it was before I got sick – before I was asleep for all that time.

"Kakashi?" my sensei's concerned voice reaches my ears.

"I'm fine," I state, a little louder, a little more forced then earlier.

Another clump of hair falls to the floor.

"Kakashi, are you –"

"I'm fine!" I hear my own voice shaking as I watch the last clump of hair that needs to be cut collect on the floor.

The sound of a key scraping within the lock in the doorknob breaks the short moment of silence. The door creaks open and I watch in the mirror as Arashi pushes open the door and freezes in slight shock.

"It was bothering me," I offer as a weak excuse.

He simply nods as he walks over and kneels down in front of me. Slowly he pries the scissors out of my clenched fist and sets them on top of the counter.

"I'm fine," I whisper as a few tears manage to escape my eyes but I quickly wipe them away, "Really, I'm fine."

"I know," he whispers into my ear as he hugs me, "I know you're fine."

And for the first time in a very, very long time I actually feel safe.

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"Kakashi," Arashi kneels down beside me as we stand in front of my house – the Hatake clan's house, "Your father's been very stressed lately and he might not be acting quite like himself. So I want you to be warned of that."

I nod, "I just want to go home."

"Very well," he smiles at me as he stands up, "You can go home now."

I turn to the door and open it, closing it softly behind me. The familiar smell of home reaches my nose. I've missed this place. Oh God have I missed this place.

"Father?" I question as I take my shoes off and place my bag down, "Father?"

No response. But I can hear the sounds of someone breathing in the kitchen. It must be father. And it's only now does the stench of alcohol reach my nose – why didn't I notice that before?

I make my way to the kitchen and slide open the door to reveal a sight I've never seen before. My father, Hatake Sakumo – the White Fang of Konoha, my proud father is just sitting at the kitchen table – a bottle of sake, at least I think it's sake, in his hand. There's many other bottles just kind of strewn everywhere. I'm not sure if they're empty or not and I don't really care to know.

"Father?" I question as I make my way over to his slumped form, "Are you okay?"

I pull a chair over and climb up on it so I'm sitting next to him, "Daddy?"

He looks up at me and I can see the shame, the grief, the emptiness in his eyes – though they're emotions hidden behind a haze of unawareness. Does he know I'm his son? Does he know who I am?

"Daddy?" I take the bottle away from him and crawl over to sit in his lap. "I missed you daddy."

"I'm sorry," he whispers as he hugs me, "I'm so sorry."

"Daddy," I whimper, "Please promise me you won't ever leave me again, okay? I just want to stay with you for awhile, please?"

"I promise."

I can hear the pain in his voice. But why? Why is daddy so sad? What has happened to make him so unlike himself? I'm afraid to ask. I'm afraid to know even though I think I should know, shouldn't I?

"Arashi-sensei said he might be able to take me out on a mission next week," I pull away from father's hug so I can look into his eyes. "He says I'll be a huge help to the village if I succeed."

"That's good," daddy replies as he grabs the sake bottle from earlier and takes a long drink, "That's really good."

"I'm finally growing up daddy," I bury my head into his chest, "I'm going to make you proud."

"Hmm."

We stay like that for an unknown amount of time. I can hear dad's heart beating in his chest – calmly, rhythmically. It reminds me of my own weak heart, which isn't even mine really. I wonder who died to give me this heart. Was it a girl or a boy? Did he or she have siblings, friends, a pet? Was it a shinobi like me or not? How old was the person? A child or an adult? And how many people will die to give me a heart over the years? What was it? Every five to seven years I'll need a new heart. That could add up to a lot of people who die to keep me alive.

I guess it all depends on how long I live. But is that right? Should someone die to keep me alive? What if they deserve life more then me? It's not fair really. But then again, I guess there isn't much in life that is actually fair.

"Daddy?" I question after the silence becomes too much for me to bear, "Are you hungry?"

He makes no response and I quietly sigh as I untangle myself from him. I slide off his lap and make my way over to the cupboard. I search around for awhile, knowing that I'm not really hungry but just want something to do to distract myself.

I find some Instant Ramen and pull out two containers. I have to drag a chair over to the microwave because I'm too short to actually reach it on my own. I climb up on the chair and reach over to the tap to fill the containers with water and then place them in the microwave. I watch the Ramen for the three minutes it takes to cook. The microwaves beeps, I open up the door, and pull out the two containers.

The water from one of them spills onto my hand, burning it, but I barely even notice. It doesn't really hurt, in fact, it kind of feels relaxing. I'm not sure if that is normal or not but I don't care to try and figure it out. I just want daddy to be normal again. Maybe if he eats then everything will be okay.

I place the two Ramen containers on the kitchen table, pushing some of the empty sake bottles to the other end of the table to make room, and I turn around to retrieve two forks – a big one for daddy and a small one for me.

I crawl up onto my chair and hand daddy his fork. He takes it and plays around with his Ramen for awhile. I sit quietly and eat the food I cooked – staring at my hand where the water touched it. It's red and the skin has started to blister already. It stings a little but it doesn't really hurt – it still kind of feels relaxing in a way. Plus, the ball of nervous tension in my stomach as started to dwindle away the more the burn stings. Odd.

I finish the Ramen and look up to see that father hasn't eaten any of his. But why? Isn't daddy hungry? Maybe he ate earlier so he's not hungry anymore.

"I'm going to go to bed daddy, okay?" I say as I slide off the chair.

He doesn't make any response. "Daddy?" I question again.

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to go to bed," I repeat as I watch him twirl his fork around in his untouched container of Ramen.

"Uh-uh," he replies and I sigh – knowing that he probably didn't even listen to what I said.

I turn around and leave the suffocating depressive atmosphere of the kitchen. I walk the familiar path to my room and open the door – standing on the tips of my toes to reach the knob – and literally just collapse on my bed. I'm too tired, or maybe just too lazy, to change my clothes or brush my teeth or even climb under the covers.

I crawl my way up to the end of my bed and tightly hug my pillow for whatever comfort it can give me. I look at my hand again to see the blister has grown in size. Perhaps I should pop it? Or is that the wrong thing to do? I can't remember now. I'm sure I learnt want to do with burn blisters at one point but I can't recall that training right now.

I bury my head into the soft pillow and pretend to myself that I'm not crying – even though I can feel the wetness of tears on my cheeks. Maybe if I tell myself I'm fine enough times then I will be. Mind over body… mind over emotions. It can't be too hard, can it?

I wish I had stayed with Arashi-sensei. At least he acts like he cares about me, at least he acts normal. Well, for as far as I understand the meaning of 'normal'.

I just want daddy to love me again.

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I woke up to the sun shining through the window and on to my face – the first thing I did was shower and change. Act normal and everything will be normal.

Once changed, and with my mask pulled up to hide myself from something – what I'm not quite sure anymore, I walk down the hall to be met with the sight of father sleeping on the couch. I quiet my steps a little more then normal and silently make my way to the kitchen.

I have to crawl on the chairs around the table in order to get up high enough to collect the empty bottles and put them in the garbage can. I clean up as quietly as I can, making sure not to drop the bottles or hit them against each other. I don't want to wake father up, he might be angry if I wake him up.

"Kakashi?"

One of the bottles slips from my grasp as father's voice startles me. I flinch, my back facing my dad, as the glass crashes against the tile floor and breaks apart – the sound is unnaturally loud in the quiet stillness of this house. Father's hand grabs my right wrist and twists me around.

"What are you doing!" He backhands me across the face.

I stumble backwards and fall onto the broken shards of glass on the floor – cutting my right forearm as it lands directly on the sharp edges. I blink back the tears that threaten to escape my eyes as I slowly push myself onto my knees.

"I was just cleaning," I manage to keep my voice from not-really shaking. Why did he hit me? I did nothing wrong. Did I?

"Don't," he mutters, "It's not your job. And you can't do it properly anyways."

I nod, gently pulling out a few pieces of glass that stuck into my skin. The cuts aren't deep and they don't bleed much, which I'm thankful for.

"Are you hungry?" My dad's voice sounds different – rougher, harsher. I don't like it, I want my old daddy back.

"A little."

"I'm going to make some eggs then," he states and then makes his way over to the cupboard.

"What about the glass?" I quietly ask.

"Leave it… it's not your job to clean this house, didn't I just say that?"

I push myself back up to a standing position and walk over to the fridge. I open up the door and search the contents. "We don't have any eggs dad."

"Or for fuck sakes."

I can't understand why dad is so angry. He never used to be this way. Why now? What has happened to change him so much? Why can't he just be like my old daddy?

"I'll go buy some daddy," I say, closing the fridge door.

He sighs and reaches into his pocket. He grabs a handful of change and tosses it in my direction. I catch it easily and place it in my pocket. "I won't be long."

Father nods quietly and I turn around. I quietly leave. It's cold outside but I ignore it. The village is bustling with energy, even in this part. It's usually quieter here but for some reason it isn't today.

A few people that I recognize as Uchihas and Hyugas look up at me but quickly turn their heads away – as if seeing me is painful to them. But why? I did nothing wrong, did I?

I shove my hands in my pockets and make my way down the street – making sure to not make eye contact with anyone. Eye contact makes people want to care about me and protect me, which I don't need. I'm seven and a Chunin, I don't need anyone helping me but myself.

I reach the store and silently enter. Just go in, buy the eggs, and leave. In and out. Less time I'm in the public the less amount of people who will stare at me. Whatever happened in daddy's in last mission seems to have gotten around pretty fast.

I grab the eggs, open the carton to check to make sure none of them are broken, and then bring them to the counter. I have to stand on the balls of my feet in order to reach the counter – a fact that still annoys me. The lady at the counter smiles at me and rings the eggs through. I hand her the money, she gives me my change back and hands me the eggs in a plastic bag.

I quietly leave the store and make my way back home. Left hand in my pocket, right hand holding the bag of eggs. The streets are getting busier by the moment, something I don't like that much.

"Hi!"

I blink as my forward progress is halted by some unknown person. Who would dare talk to me? Who would want to talk to me?

"Hello?" The voice questions.

I raise my line of vision from the person's shoes to their face. A girl – around my age – with brown eyes and long, curly, auburn hair obstructs my view.

I try to walk around her but she moves to the side and blocks my path.

"Aren't you going to greet me?" She places her hands on her hips and scowls.

"No."

She lets out a heavy sigh. "My name's Nozomi. I think you're interesting so I've decided that we're going to be friends!"

"No."

Who does this girl think she is? She's strange, that's for sure. But is this common for her? Does she just randomly go up to people and declare that they're friends? Because as far as I know, two people's consent are needed for a friendship.

"What do you mean? I said we're going to be friends, so we're going to be friends!"

"No."

I step around her and continue walking home. Hoping she gets the hint and leaves me alone.

Sadly, I hoped for too much.

"Where are you going?" she asks as she falls into step beside me.

"Away from you."

"What! Don't be so mean! I'm allowing you to be MY friend. That's a privilege not many people get!"

"Do you even know what 'privilege' means? Or did you parents say it once and you decided you were a 'big girl' and were going to use the word too?"

"No! Why are you so mean?"

"Why are you so annoying?"

She sighs and falls silent – finally. At least I'm almost home. Then I can get away from this Nozomi girl and never see her again.

"What's you're name anyways?" she questions.

"None of your business."

"You're name is 'none of your business'?" She giggles. "That's a silly name!"

"Oh God," I mutter. "Please tell me you're not really that stupid."

"Of course not! I was being funny. You know, you're suppose to laugh."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Next time I'll try not to forget." I don't even bother to hide the sarcasm in my voice. What's the point?

"This is my house." I state. "I'm going in. And no, you can't come in. And no, I won't call you later. And no, we're not friends so don't talk to me ever again."

"You so un-friendly!" she calls out to me as I retreat into the safety of my home. Making sure to lock the door incase she gets any ridiculous ideas.

"Who was that?" father asks, a bottle of sake already in his hands.

I place the carton of eggs on the table and hand him the change. "Just some girl who decided, quite randomly and unexpectedly, that we were friends."

"Hmm… interesting."

"Very."

He stands up and begins making breakfast. I notice that he at least cleaned up the broken glass – though he hasn't done anything else really.

"There's somewhere we need to go later," father tells me as he places a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of me.

He pours me a glass of orange juice and then sits down with his own plate of food.

I pull down my mask. "Really? Where?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

I nod… there's no point trying to pry information out of father if he doesn't want to give it. Besides, for now I'm content to just sit and eat breakfast for him while he's still sober, while he's still my dad. Because I know, his sobriety won't last for long – he's already drinking.

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I really don't think we should be here with father this drunk. But that decision isn't really mine to make.

Father pushes open the door to room 203 of the hospital. I don't like hospitals. They only ever bring bad news.

"I've kept this hidden for far too long," father slurs, "But I think you should know now what lays here."

"Is that… is that…" I stutter, "Mother?"

Father softly closes the door behind us while I just stand here, frozen in complete shock.

"How long?" I finally dare to ask as I walk over to the edge of the bed. She has many machines hooked to her, and a breathing mask over her mouth and nose.

"It's been almost a year now."

The alcohol makes father more blunt with the words he speaks. Makes him less caring of the feelings of others.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tears flow freely from my face as relief washes over me.

"Son…" Father places his hand on my shoulder and kneels down beside me. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. "She's brain dead. She's been brain dead since the day she came back from her mission."

"Why didn't you ever tell me!" I pull away from his touch in anger. "You never said anything! WHY!"

My head snaps to the side as father backhands me, for the second time today.

"Don't raise your voice at me," he growls in anger. "I did what was best for you."

"Why did you bring me here?" I choke out.

"Because it's time now to let her go and I figured you should be here to see it. If you really want to be a shinobi you have to get used to this – you'll see it multiple times in your life. Who knows, maybe one day you'll have to be the one to make the decision on whether to pull the plug or not."

"Why are you telling me this?" I mutter. "It was easier when I didn't know."

"You can't always be ignorant of the world around you Kakashi. If you want to be anyone worth anything you have to become knowledge about what's happening around you. I'm not going to be able to protect you for the rest of your life. I can't shield you from the world anymore."

I open my mouth to reply but a knock on the door interrupts me. The door squeaks open and in walks Tsunade. She smiles softly at me as she closes the door behind me. But I see in her eyes that she didn't expect me to be here – she didn't think I knew.

I wish I still didn't know.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" she asks my father in a quiet voice. "There's still hope."

"Fool's hope, nothing more," he answers. "I can't keep living my life waiting. This needs to be finished, this needs closure."

"Daddy, please…" I take a few steps backwards until my back hits the wall. "Please… you're not yourself… please…"

"This isn't your decision."

"Then why did you bring me here!" I can feel my anger growing. "Why did you tell me mother was alive just to kill her a few minutes later! What made you think that's an okay thing to do!"

"Don't yell at me!"

I watch as his hand comes up to hit me, yet again, but it's forced to stop as Tsunade herself grabs father's arm.

"Don't take your anger out on Kakashi," she whispers, "he's done nothing wrong."

"I don't want to watch. I want to go home." I wipe the tears away and will myself to stop crying – it's embarrassing.

"You're watching!" father yells at me. "That's why you're here. To get you used to this."

"For God's sake Sakumo! The kids seven years old. If he doesn't want to watch he doesn't have to!" Tsunade snaps. "Get a hold of yourself. Do you see what you're doing? Do you see how you're hurting your son?"

"Don't tell me how to raise my child!"

"Shut-up," I mutter, "Just fucking shut-up."

They both freeze and turn to face me. "Where did you learn that word?" father asks, I can hear the anger in his voice.

"From you, who else?" I feel tired all of the sudden. Weary. I don't want to be here. I want to go home. I want to sleep.

Tsunade shakes her head. "Are we doing this now or not?" she asks. "I have things I need to do."

"Do it." Father replies, as if what's going to happen is nothing out of the ordinary at all.

Like killing your wife, my mother, is something that happens everyday. Like dinner, or training, or washing.

"I'm going home."

"No you're not!"

"I'm not watching this… this isn't happening. I'm going home." I turn and leave. Father makes no attempt to stop me. No anger. No yelling. No hitting. Nothing.

And that's kind of scary.

I sigh and shove my hands in my pockets as I make my way home. The roads are silent, not surprising since it's dinner time right now.

"There you are!"

I look up to see the girl from yesterday – was Nozomi her name? – sitting on the steps in front of the door to my house.

I sigh in frustration. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you. My parents told me that you come from a bad family. I wanted to know if that's true," she smiles at me. "But I doubt it is, right?"

I shove past her and unlock the door. "My father made a mistake, that doesn't make him a horrible person. And tell your parents that I'm not the same as my father."

"Something's wrong."

"Yah… you're here." I slam the door behind her and lock it shut. I don't want to face her. I don't want to see her. She's just annoying and stupid and makes me angry.

"Hey! Don't slam the door on me!"

I ignore her and make my way to the room. I collapse onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. I close my eyes to stop the torrent of tears that threatens to spill from my eyes. How could father do this? For so long I thought mother was dead. Now he shows me that she's alive, just to kill her. That doesn't make sense. Why didn't he just let me live on thinking she was dead?

But why don't I feel as upset? And why didn't I try to stop him? I just left. Just walked away. As if I can just pretend that this day never happened. Which is probably what I'll do – because that's what I always do.

The front door slams shut and I know that father is home. I can smell the alcohol from here; and that's probably not a good thing. I hear him rummage around in the kitchen. Sounds of crashing as he knocks things down reaches my ears.

He screams. Words that grate against my ears. Words that tear at my heart. I can hear him throw things. Objects breaking. I don't know what they are. Maybe pots, maybe pictures, maybe something that I would rather not have broken. I don't know.

I wish I could help him. I wish I could fix whatever happened to make him hurt so… but I can't. And I know I can't. I'm powerless against whatever demons haunt him.

And that hurts the most.

Eventually his breakdown quiets and I brave leaving my room to see the results. I find him in his chair, slumped against the kitchen table. I stay standing at the doorway… unsure whether I should approach him or not.

He's drunk, I know that. He's angry, I know that. Those two things combined are probably not the best combination. However, it's hard for me just to turn around and walk away from him. He needs someone, but I know I can't give him what he needs. I'm just a kid.

I'm just seven years old. What can I do to help? Especially if I don't even know what the real problem is.

He's glazed and unfocused eyes look up to stare at me. "What do you want?"

A heavy sigh escapes my lips. "I'm going to bed."

I turn and walk away. There's nothing I can do to fix him. There's nothing I can say to make his pain go away.

Nothing.