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.
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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I can hear the whispered conversation as I slowly wake up from my drug-induced sleep.
"So his body just rejected his heart?" I hear Sensei ask.
"Well… it's been going on for awhile now." I hear the doctor reply. "His body attacked the heart and killed the muscle. Dead muscle leaks hemoglobin – it's toxic to the kidneys. That's probably what caused the worst pain for him."
"But you replaced his heart, so is he going to be fine now?"
The doctor sighs. "The dead tissue, along with the hemoglobin, was washed into the blood stream – its going to be painful for him as the liver tries to clean the body out. That's why he's on such a high dosage of Morphine. It might be enough, it might not. We'll see how he feels when he wakes up."
"And if it's not enough?" Sensei asks; I can hear the concern in his voice.
"We'll put him in a chemically induced coma to sleep through the pain. But that carries its own risks."
I can almost see Sensei; nodding – with that heavy, sad look in his eyes – and scratching the back of his head.
I let the constant, even beeping of the heart monitoring machine lull me back to sleep. Because I know in my drug-induced sleep that I don't have any nightmares. I don't see the faces of those I've killed or hear their screams. And it's so much nicer then reality. And I kind-of hope that if I go back to sleep I won't have to wake-up.
I really don't want to wake-up.
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It hurts. It hurts so much that I can barely even focus. And all I can do is curl up into the fetal position and pretend it doesn't hurt. And if I imagine hard enough it almost doesn't hurt.
But it still does. And my breaths come in such ragged and short gasps that I feel as if I'm not getting any air at all. And isn't this a hospital? Shouldn't there be someone here to help me?
It feels as if my insides have been ripped right out of my body and I'm nothing but a shell that's bleeding. And it hurts so fucking much. And all I can do is whimper – I would cry if I had any tears left but I don't. And I would scream if my throat wasn't so dry and choked; but it is so I can't scream.
All I can do is hug my knees to my chest and bury my head into my knees and try to block out the pain. But it doesn't really help and it hurts so much that I can't even think straight.
Someone rolls me onto my back and shoves a tube down my throat. And I gag because it happened so fast that I couldn't prepare myself. I hear someone shout out for something but I can't understand what they're all saying. And I think they gave me more drugs because it doesn't hurt quite as much and my body is sort-of relaxed.
Eventually I fall back asleep.
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"Kakashi?" Sensei quietly asks.
I blink a couple times to get my bearings and clear the cloudiness of sleep from my vision.
"Kakashi? How are you feeling?"
"Better." My voice is hoarse and my throat is dry and sort of hurts. And that's probably because of the tube that was shoved down my throat before.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
I shrug and I know he's speaking of my heart. "I didn't really notice."
Sensei sighs and I'm sure if I looked at him I would see that same sadness in his eyes that's always there whenever he looks at me. And sometimes it hurts just to think about all the pain and worry I've caused him.
I push myself up into a sitting position and absentmindedly scratch the back of my hand – where the IV line is.
Sensei grabs my hand to still it. "Don't do that," he chides.
I sigh because it's really itchy and I really want to scratch it. But I listen to Sensei and let my hands rest on the top of my lap.
"There's a temporary truce in place right now," Sensei says, "So I won't be going on any missions for awhile because I have to stay here and be a diplomat. Try to get this temporary truce into a permanent one."
"That's good," I murmur, "For Konoha and all."
"It's good for you too."
I look up – raising my line of vision from my hands to Sensei's face – and lift my right eyebrow in question.
"I'll be here more. I'll be able to help you more than I could before."
"I don't need help." My voice is so low that even I can barely hear it. And I know my words are all a lie but I ignore that fact.
He smiles sadly at me. And I so badly want to make him happy again. Because before all this shit happened Sensei used to smile and actually be happy – not like now. Now all his smiles are laced with hidden sadness and suppressed pain.
And I know it's all my fault.
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I don't like it now that Sensei is here more often. It's harder to hide the drugs and the alcohol. And I fear cutting because I fear that I won't always clean up all the blood. And it's harder to deal with everything because I have no way to cope.
He's trying though – trying to help me – and I have to give him credit for that. But I'm so far beyond help that there's nothing left to save. But Sensei doesn't understand that because Sensei's an optimist and he always thinks he can fix everything.
But he can't. And he doesn't understand that. And it hurts so much to see him trying so hard even though I know that it won't help. Because I can't be helped.
But Sensei doesn't understand that.
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I freeze.
And Sensei just stares. I look up from my hunched over position on my bed. And time seems to slow because he's just staring at me with this pain-filled expression that hurts just to look at.
"What… what are you doing?" he finally stammers out.
I tilt my head to the side. "Cocaine." I reply; my voice calm and even and nonchalant because the drugs have already started to take affect.
And he just stares. And I don't think he knows what to do. And a part of me feels a little guilty but the drugs squash that feeling immediately.
Sensei walks over and takes away the magazine with the neat little white lines on it. And he leaves the room with it and I hear the toilet flush and I know he just got rid of it all. And a part of me is a little bitter because that was my money that he just flushed down the toilet.
He walks back into the room and sits down on my bed beside me. I wipe my nose to get rid of the left over cocaine that didn't quite get snorted all the way up. And he just looks at me and eventually I can't stand to see his sad expression so I look away.
Suddenly the far wall has become so very, very interesting. And I can hear Sensei breathing and it hurts to know that I've failed him again.
"How long?" Sensei asks. He's so quite that I have to strain to understand him.
I shrug. "Since Senji died."
And he makes no response – at least, not verbally. But I think he probably nodded, as that is the most common reaction that I get from him now.
"Why?"
I shrug. "No real reason."
He sighs and I think he's frustrated. And it would've been so much easier if he just hadn't caught me. But I hadn't really been hiding it as well as I should've. And maybe that's because subconsciously I wanted him to find out – because maybe subconsciously I still think I might be able to be save.
But I can't be.
"I'm sorry," Sensei whispers.
And I think my heart just skipped a few beats because I didn't expect that at all. And I turn to face him again and just kind-of stare at him and my mouth is just a little but open – not that Sensei can tell because my mask is only pulled down enough to reveal my nose.
"For what?" I finally manage to force out of my suddenly dry throat.
"For not noticing… for not helping sooner… for letting you fall this far."
I think he's about to cry. And I really don't want him to cry because he doesn't need to cry – this isn't his fault.
"I chose to do this." I turn my head to stare at the far wall again. "It's not your fault."
"And it's not yours either."
And maybe it's because I'm exhausted, or maybe it's because I feel so insanely isolated and lonely, or maybe it's because it's all just too much for me to handle… I don't know why but I find that the tears have come back. And it's so incredibly hard for me to choke back the sobs.
I hug my knees to my chest and keep staring at the wall. And I desperately try to hide the tears from Sensei because he doesn't need to know how weak I am and how much this hurts.
But it doesn't matter because he already knows. He is Hokage after all, and he is my Sensei, and it's so ridiculously hard for me to hide anything from him anymore. And he places his hand on my shoulder and slowly pulls me back and I find myself laying on the bed with my head on his lap. And my tears soak his pants but he doesn't seem to care.
For some reason he's presence seems to calm me.
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I promised. I promised Sensei not to cut, not to drink, and not to do drugs. And I didn't think it would be this hard but it is.
And now the nightmares are coming back because there's nothing left to sort-of numb them. And it really, really hurts. And I can't sleep anymore.
I keep waking up screaming because the memories are too fresh again. And I really want to numb it all but I can't. And the only thing that kind-of sort-of helps is when Sensei comes at night and sometimes he just stands by the door until I fall asleep. But if the nightmares are so bad that I fear to even close my eyes than he'll lay down beside me and let me cry into his chest because it hurts too much to keep it all inside. And eventually I'll fall back asleep because I'll get to exhausted to keep my eyes open.
And I don't know if I'm mistaken but I swear I see Sensei smiling at me sometimes – and his smiles are genuine and there isn't any pain hidden underneath it all. And I think he thinks that I'm getting better and I don't know if I am or not.
But sometimes I dare to hope I am.
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I don't know why I did it. And it doesn't make sense. And I like to believe that it's because I wasn't thinking straight and I was still trapped in the nightmare. But I know that's just a lie.
I touched him where no student should touch their Sensei.
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Jiraiya softly closed the door behind him and turned around to face the other two occupants in the room. The Yondaime sits at his desk with his head in his hands and his elbows resting on the desk top. And Sarutobi stands by the window staring at the rising sun.
And the atmosphere is choking.
"Okay, what happened?" Jiraiya asks – too tired and worn from his last assassination mission to feel like playing a guessing game.
"I thought he was getting better," Arashi whispers and Jiraiya can hear the repressed tears in his voice and he knows that his former student is speaking of Kakashi.
"What happened?" Jiraiya asks again but he's met with complete silence and the Sannin's starting to get pissed because he really wants to clean this blood off of him. "What happened?" Jiraiya's voice is beginning to rise with anger and frustration.
"Kakashi's been having nightmares and I've been sleeping in the same bed with him to comfort him," Arashi mutters.
"He's ten, he doesn't need someone to baby him."
"Yes he does!" Arashi stands up from his desk and Jiraiya can see the tears that streak his face. "But he wouldn't have if we hadn't given him S-rank missions that were 'mislabeled' as A-rank! And he wouldn't have if he hadn't see his father kill himself! And he wouldn't have if any of us had been there years ago when this first started!"
"Tell me what happened!" Jiraiya screams back – but neither of them realize that they're screaming.
And it hurts Jiraiya so much to see his former student so torn up over his own student.
"What happened?" Jiraiya tries again when he still doesn't get a response.
But the Yondaime doesn't reply and instead he just collapses back into his chair and stares at everything but Jiraiya.
"Kakashi touched Arashi when he was having a nightmare," Sarutobi speaks up – still staring out the window.
"What do mean?" Jiraiya thinks he knows the answer to his own question but he doesn't quite want to believe the conclusion he came to.
"I mean what you think I mean," Sarutobi continues, "He was trying to do what both Moro and Leia, and who knows, maybe Senji too, did to him. And who knows why… maybe it was to confront his past… maybe it's because it's the only form of love he knows… maybe it's because he's just desperate for anything familiar to latch on to. I don't know."
Jiraiya leans against the door because all of the sudden his body seems so very heavy and he didn't expect this to happen.
"It's my fault," Sarutobi whispers. "I've completely ignored him since the day Sakumo died."
"It's not any ones fault!" Arashi raises his voice in anger. "And I'm tired of everyone blaming it on themselves. It's not Kakashi's fault, it's not Sakumo's fault, it's not my fault, it's not Sarutobi faults, it's not Jiraiya's fault, it's not the Elders' fault… it's no ones fault! It was just a string of horrible events that have brought us here – not any specific one!"
The room falls silent and Arashi's burst hangs in the air with no words to replace it. And Jiraiya just sighs and pushes himself off the wall.
"I don't know what to do," Jiraiya murmurs, "And neither do you two. Do what we should've done years ago and just consult a damn psychiatrist."
"And please, tell me how we're suppose to do that Jiraiya?" The Yondaime's voice is bitter. "There hasn't been a trained psychiatrist in this village for years. And all the medic-nins have more pressing things to deal with."
"I don't know. Okay." Jiraiya's voice holds its own bitterness – but it's directed at himself. "Sakumo made us promise to keep Kakashi safe and we all failed. And I don't know what to do because all I've done for the last few years is kill people. That's all we've all done – including Kakashi. We don't know how to fix anyone because we can't even fix ourselves."
"Where is Kakashi right now?" Sarutobi asks with a hint of worry in his voice; interrupting Jiraiya from his rant.
Arashi shrugs. "I left him in the other room."
"I know," Sarutobi replies. "But I can't sense his chakra anymore."
The Yondaime stands up immediately and all three of them stare in silence at each other for a few moments before Arashi finally breaks the stupor and bolts for the other room.
The three of them get there at nearly the same time to find the same scene.
Kakashi broke his promise to not cut. And Arashi's at his side in seconds and the blood coats the carpet. And it stinks. And Jiraiya has to make a conscious effort not to throw-up because for some reason he finds it really difficult to see the ten year old Kakashi covered in his own blood.
Or maybe it's because it's hard for Jiraiya to see his former student covered in the blood of his own student. Or maybe what hurts Jiraiya is that he's watching Arashi break right in front of him as his former student tries to help Kakashi.
Whatever the reason is Jiraiya has to leave because he can't stand to stay in that room. So he makes himself useful by calling for the medic-nins and then he goes to clean up.
And he's sorry because he failed to keep his promise to Sakumo and now Kakashi is the one that's paying the most.
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"I'm sorry."
Arashi and Jiraiya both look up from their conversation to stare at me. It's obvious that they didn't realize I had woken up.
It hurts to look at them because their eyes are so sad and I know that's because of me. And I broke the promise I made to Sensei and I'm so very sorry because I didn't mean to.
I haven't meant to do a lot of things in my life.
"Don't be," Sensei says with a small smile. "There's nothing to be sorry about."
"I broke my promise," I whisper, "That's enough to be sorry about."
"Kakashi… please," Arashi murmurs, "Just listen to me… okay?"
I nod as I push myself into a sitting position.
"I don't want you to promise me anything else anymore… I just want you to try, okay? Just try."
I can hear the tears in his voice and I know he wants so badly to cry but he won't because he doesn't want to upset me.
"This is no ones fault," Jiraiya says – and it's so nice to hear his voice after being away from him for so long. "What's happened to you, how you're feeling, this war, everything that's happened – it's not any ones fault. Remember that. It isn't your fault and it wasn't your father's fault, and it isn't my fault or Arashi's fault. It's no ones fault. And you have to believe that. Everyone has to start to believe that because we're all holding more guilt than we need to, even Arashi and I."
"But…"
"Don't," Sensei interrupts me. "It's not your fault. And you've done nothing wrong except be stuck in a horrible string of bad situations. And you should be proud that you've managed to deal with all this like you have. But it's time to move on and it's time to put the past in the past. And we're here to help you."
I sigh and close my eyes for a brief moment. "But… but I can never stop seeing them, I can never stop hearing them."
"Them?" Jiraiya questions.
"Them…" I murmur. "The ones I've killed, the ones who's blood is on my hands. The ghosts that won't leave me alone."
"It's time to let them go Kakashi… because they will only come for as long as you let them."
I sigh again because I know that they don't understand. They don't see them like I do – they don't hear them like I do. And I don't know how I can make them understand because it hurts so much more than I can convey.
"You know Sensei…" My voice starts to get choked with sobs. "I didn't mean too… I never meant…"
"I know," Sensei interrupts me. "I know."
I so badly want to believe them that it's going to be alright. But I can't because they've told me this so many times before and nothing has ever come from it.
But maybe it will be different this time.
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The temporary truce broke. And I knew it was going to happen but I wanted to believe that it wouldn't. I was attempting to be optimistic and trying to believe that Sensei could get it to become a permanent truce. But he couldn't and now Konoha needs all the Shinobis it can get.
And I'm back doing mislabeled A-rank missions and the nightmares are coming back. And it hurts because it was starting to get slightly better but now I'm fucked over. All those memories, all those ghosts, were starting to dissipate and leave me alone but now there's new ones to replace the old ones. And it's all so fresh and painful again.
Last night I sat on the floor of my bedroom and wrote my suicide letter. I had father's Chakra blade beside me. Carving into my arm. Didn't break the skin though. Just carved. A huge part of me wants to do it, but then another side of me wants to hold off for a bit. That part is so desperately trying to believe Sensei and Jiraiya when they say it's going to get better.
And the nightmares are so bad that I'm waking up and puking because it's all too gory for me to take. And I'm trying to ignore it. And I'm trying to forget. And I'm trying to let go. But I just can't and it hurts too much.
It really, really sucks because it was starting to get better. But then they had to go and break the truce and the war had to start all over again and I had to be thrown back into the fray. And I really just wished I had listen to my mother back when I was five years old – then I would've never become a Shinobi in the first place and I wouldn't be where I am now.
I still wonder why so many lives are placed on my shoulder. I'm only ten and I shouldn't hold such responsibility. But I do and it sucks.
At least Raido and Genma and Asuma are healthy again. And we're all back doing missions together again and it's nice because they're sort-of my friends. And Asuma lends me his smokes and they calm my nerves for a bit. And I'm trying so hard not to cut or drink or do drugs. And I've succeeded in not doing drugs or drinking but I can't stop cutting.
It's so comforting to see the blood splatter on Sensei's gray tile floors. I still miss Senji's white tile floors but there's nothing I can do about that.
And I'm really, really sorry that I'm falling again. And I'm really, really sorry that I can't let go. And I'm really, really sorry that father's memory still haunts me. And I'm just really, really sorry for everything.
And I haven't seen Nozomi in a long, long time.