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 very long delay in updating. I had some personal problems – my parent's split up so that kind of took up most of my time. As many of you probably know divorce is often ugly and nasty and I had the lovely decision of trying to figure out who I was living with and trying to not have a full fledge mental breakdown. But I'm all good now and everything's settled and I have no foreseen interference with my writing until finals in June (and it's high school finals so they're not that hard to deal with).

Also... I know this chapter is shorter than normal but it just fit to end it here and you've all waited long enough for an update as it is. It's now been proofread and I think I've caught all the little mistakes I had before... so it should be all good now!

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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/\/Four Days Later\/\

I wasn't going to be required to kill.

At least, that was the plan. The plan failed. The plan didn't work out at all.

An ambush. It wasn't too surprising… I guess they happen all the time. But still. I hadn't really been prepared – which is my own fault.

My first real mission for Konoha ended in success. Though the way we got to success was a failure. Two of the team died.

I wasn't quite fast enough.

Arashi-sensei keeps telling me it wasn't my fault. I shouldn't have had to do what I did. It wasn't suppose to be my responsibility. But the fact is that it did end up as my responsibility. Their lives were in my hands. But I couldn't save them all.

It was my first real fight, my first real kill. I remember it all, in complete detail. Every second, every decision I had to make. I've gone over the battle countless of times, taking in every decision I made. Every time I made the right decision.

But I just wasn't fast enough.

That will come with training and experience, I know. But it doesn't make it hurt any less. It doesn't dull the failure any less. I wish it did, but it doesn't.

I guess, in the end, it doesn't really matter. The mission succeed… that's all that counts. But I can't help thinking about the families of the ones that died. Sensei says I can't think like that. He says I'll go insane if I do. But I find it hard not too – I don't know how he manages.

I sigh as I unlock the front door to my house. The air outside is bitterly cold, more so then normally. I don't know if that's because it's actually cold out or if it's just me – probably because it's just me.

I push the door open. I just want to have a shower and go to sleep. It's late and I want to get this blood off of me. Maybe once the blood is gone I'll be able to put this all behind me.

Immediately I'm put on high alert. Every light is turned off except the one at the end of the hall – the one in father's study.

I close the door behind me and take a deep breath as a shudder crawls up my spine. Something feels off… something doesn't feel right. It could just be me and I might just be overreacting but I can't help it.

I slowly make my way down the hall. I pause at the top of the steps that lead down to the study. I can smell alcohol, and is that blood? Why would it smell like blood in father's study? I have a feeling that I should just turn around and leave – go tell Sensei that's something wrong. But I can't, not now. My curiosity and concern has been peaked and I need to know what's going on – I need to know what the source of the blood that taints the air is.

I slowly walk down the steps and pause for a few seconds at the bottom to allow my eyes to adjust to the bright light in this room; a stark contrast to the darkness of the rest of the house.

I should turn back. Leave before my eyes adjust. Go tell Sensei. But I can't, Sensei's Hokage now, has been for a few weeks, – he has greater things to concern himself about then me. I'm old enough to deal with whatever's happened anyways… I know I am.

If I'm old enough to kill than I'm old enough to deal with my depressed father.

My eyes adjust and the room comes into focus; too late to turn back now.

I wish I had though.

My heart skips a beat, or two, or maybe three… a lot anyways. There's so much blood – no wonder the whole house stinks of it. It's buried into the carpet, mingled with the spilt alcohol to create this gross reddish-brown colour. I can't see father's face, only his back. But the blood tells me what he's done without me needing to see it.

Seppuku. It's a wonder I even know what that is. I can't recall the moment I learned of it. At my age I have no reason to have even heard the word before. But for some reason, right now, I can identify that my father has committed seppuku.

Or is in the midst of committing it.

I can see his body still shaking, his shoulders moving ever-so-slightly with each shuddering breath he takes. He's not dead yet.

I want so badly to believe that there's still time to save him but the blood that coats the floor beneath him begs to differ. I came too late to get the help he needs… too late to save his life.

"Why?" I whisper… knowing that no answer will come to me. Not now, not ever. Father no longer has the energy to speak – and I'd be surprised if he even heard my voice.

Slowly I walk over to him; acutely aware of how my own body shakes and the tears that have managed to escape my eyes.

"Why daddy?" My voice shakes with barely suppressed emotion. "Why leave me alone?" I kneel down in front of him… so very aware of the blood that soaks into my clothes and the organs that have spilled from his body. "Why?"

He raises his head to look up at me. Our eyes meet and I can tell that he is no longer there – his life has fled his eyes and his body is simply waiting for death. There is nothing that can be done to save him now. No words I could speak to garner his attention and get a response. He's gone in all matters except physical – and that will come with time.

A part of me slowly slips away – I can feel it. A part of my soul, something probably vital for everyday life has just shattered and fallen away. To kneel here and stare at the eyes of your father as he dies – that can't be normal.

A katana lays an arm's reach away from me and I know what it's for. It's for the kaishakunin to use to behead the one who commits the seppuku. To kill them during the height of their agony – to release them from the unbearable pain.

Again I briefly wonder where I know all this information from. I shouldn't know this, I'm too young to know this. Yet somehow, for some reason… I do know.

I pick up the katana and stumble up into a standing position. I lay the blade on father's shoulder, pressing against his neck.

I know this is what is suppose to happen – this is what is suppose to be done. But I… I just can't. I don't think it would really make a difference; not at this point in time. He's probably already passed the worse part of the pain. Hell, he's probably not even all there – at least, not enough to even register the pain anymore.

But still… this is the next step in the process. He's suppose to be beheaded; it's the way the process goes. It's the tried and true method, the way that works the best.

I can't do it.

I watch as the katana slips from my shaking hand and clatters against the floor. It bounces a few times and lands a few feet away from me.

Father just looks as me with those dead eyes of his. So many questions I have to ask, so many things I don't yet know.

Now it's too late. I waited too long to ask for my answers and now I will never get them. Whatever knowledge my father has is now lost to the cruel hands of time. Fate has brought us both to this place but why? What did father ever do to cause him to feel he had to kill himself? What happened in that last mission of his? What was it that destroyed him?

Now I may never know… at least not from his voice. Father will never be able to explain his side of the story to me. The only knowledge I will ever gather is from others now.

I collapse to the floor and brings my knees up to my chest, hugging them desperately into my chest. I stare as father's body automatically takes shaking breath after shaking breath. It seems like it takes forever but in time his chest stops moving and he slumps to the side; eventually his body becomes completely limp and falls against the floor with a thud.

I find it hard to see through the haze of tears.

I bury my head into my knees and rock back and forth; desperately trying to block out the sound of my own sobs. If I focus on nothing I find that I can pretend that everything is fine. If I just keep my eyes closed and stare at the accompanying darkness I can almost completely block out the smell of blood.

I hear someone enter the house, soft footsteps that make their way down the hall. I can imagine the person. With each step that I hear I can see exactly how far down the hall the person has made it – how close they are to reaching me.

I don't know who it is and I don't really care. Anyone would be a welcome release from this torturous hell. I realize that I could've left at anytime but it seems wrong to go; seems wrong to leave father all alone, even in death.

The man pauses at the bottom of the stairs – probably taking the time to let his eyes adjust like I had to do. What would he think when he sees what has happened? Did he predict this, did he guess this would be the scene he would see? I can tell by the chakra that his a shinobi… which means he must know about father and what he did – whatever it was – in which case he might have already known that this is what he would see.

He walks towards me… I hear his footsteps – muffled by the blood that coats the floor – as he gets closer and closer.

"Kakashi?" he whispers and I slowly lift my head to meet his gaze. I have to wipe my eyes with the back of my hand to get rid of the tears and clear my vision – it doesn't really help though as I can't stop crying and more tears just replace the ones I wiped away.

"I tried… I really did try," I murmur out – unsure if I'm speaking of my pitiful attempt at being the kaishakunin or of my pitiful attempt at trying to help my father in the past few days… or weeks… or how ever long it's been.

"Come on," he whispers to me, "Let's go see the Hokage, okay?"

"Sensei?" I manage to force out of my constricted throat.

He nods and smiles at me. How can he smile? How can he find the strength within himself to smile?

He offers his hand and I take it; letting him pull me up to a standing position. I feel weak, woozy; I don't think I have the strength to move on my own.

He starts to let go of my hand but I tighten my grip. I don't even know who he is but his presence is somewhat comforting. His physical touch is an anchor to the world of the living.

A large part of my just wants to follow in my father's footsteps. How am I going to survive without him? Who is going to be here to raise me? To teach me? To train me? How will I learn if I have no father to teach me?

"Let's go," I vaguely hear him say.

I turn my head to stare at my father. His lifeless body lays against the floor. Suddenly my body feels so very, very heavy. I don't think I can move… I don't think I even have the strength to follow this man.

I want so badly to see Sensei but somehow I can't bring myself to leave my father. He shouldn't be left alone, his body shouldn't be left like this. Someone needs to clean him up, to make him look presentable. Even in death he still deserves honor and respect. Even in death he deservers more than to be left in a crumpled heap on a bloody floor.

"Kakashi?" he questions and I manage to tear my eyes from daddy's body. I turn my head to stare at the ground.

He moves forward and I follow suit; holding onto his hand as tightly as I dare to. I don't want to be left alone, not again, not today. I stare at the ground as we make our way across the study, up the stairs, down the hall, and into the front room. I see the faint sunlight crossing against the dark wooden floors of the hallway.

It was dusk when I came home… now it's dawn. It's been longer than I thought, far longer than I thought.

He opens the door and I lift my gaze to the streets. I try to stifle my sobs as I wipe the tears away but I can't. And new tears just replace the ones I wipe away. There's no use trying to present an image of nonchalance to the outside world so I just drop my gaze to the ground again.

He moves forward again and I follow suit; grasping even tighter onto his hand. I wonder if what he saw hurt him? Did he care at all? Or was he glad that father died? Was he one of the people that whispered in the streets? Was he one of the ones who hated my father for whatever-it-was that happened in father's last mission? Of was he one of father's friends? I don't recognize him – I've never seen him before. And he seems younger then daddy's friends.

But does he care? Does it hurt him? I want so badly to ask but I don't, it's not my place. And I don't think I could find my voice even if it was my place to ask. I just want to know that someone else cares too. I just want to know that I'm not the only one that hurts from this.

Somehow I have a feeling that I am the only one that this will hurt.

I wonder if daddy was mad at me? Did he hate me? He must of. I must of done something wrong to make him hate me. If daddy loved me he would've found the strength to stay for me… I know he would've.

But he killed himself. He didn't think I was worth living for. He thinks I'm nothing more than trash, useless. I don't deserve his love, I don't deserve his presence or his life.

Daddy hated me until the bitter end. He must of… he had to of. He wouldn't have killed himself if he still loved me, even a little but. It's probably because I drove mother away. It's probably because I wasn't strong enough to protect myself against Uncle Moro.

He hated me because I was weak. He doesn't want me to live… he doesn't think I'm strong enough to carrying on. He must hate me for my weak body… my heart transplants and my health problems. He must think I'm weak and useless and a failure.

Daddy would've stayed if he loved me… if I deserved it.

I hear him knock and I look up; we're already at the Hokage's door. I didn't even notice when we passed by the security guards or when we walked up the stairs. I wasn't paying attention.

Daddy would've be mad at me for not paying attention. He always said that lack of attention causes mistakes, causes death.

"Come in," I hear Sensei call from inside. He sounds so cheerful, just like always.

He pushes the door open and we walk in. I try desperately to suppress my sobs and I manage to contain them to mere sniffles. Daddy might've died because he thought I was useless but I'll prove to Sensei that I'm worth something.

I don't know what yet… but something.

"What brings you here Shikaku? So early in the morning?" Sensei asks with a small chuckle. He's standing with his back facing us, staring out of the window. He doesn't see us, doesn't see the blood that covers me – daddy's blood.

"Sensei?" I whisper, flinching at the sound of my own voice – dry and cracked.

"Kakashi?" Sensei asks. I can hear the worry in his voice as he turns around to look at us. "What… what happened to you two?"

I can see the confusion and shock flash across his face at the sight of us; but it's quickly replaced with his normal, calm expression.

I let go of his hand – Shikaku's hand – and let my arm fall to my side. We just stand there, the three of us… just stand in silence. I think Sensei's in shock but I'm not sure. Does he know? Can he figure it out just by how I look? How I'm acting? I wouldn't be surprised if he could… after all he is Hokage now.

"My… fa… father," I eventually manage to choke out. I curse my own weakness at not being able to control my emotions. Daddy always said that emotions are a shinobi's greatest weakness; they bring nothing but trouble.

"I'll speak to you later Hokage," Shikaku states.

Sensei doesn't reply to the man and instead he quickly covers the distance between us and hugs me. I relax into the comfort of his arms and let the sobs come freely.

Tomorrow daddy… tomorrow I'll be strong for you. Tomorrow I'll start making you proud. At least your death has taught me how weak I once was.

Not anymore. Now I will be the perfect shinobi.

I will make you proud daddy. I promise.