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.

2nd Author's Notes: No school way more writing. This chapter is like over 10,000 words or something ridiculous like that. Amazing, nh? Pain in the ass to proof-read though…

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

2nd HUGE AUTHOR'S NOTE: Character torture… you've been warned.

Please R&R…Thanks!

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It doesn't take long for Jiraiya to pick up Kakashi's scent. The child had spilt much blood during his capture which the Sannin is somewhat thankful for – it makes his job easier but it also means Kakashi's chance of survival is smaller than originally believed.

However, Jiraiya is acutely aware of the fact that the enemy has just over a days head start and he knows eventually the scent trail will run dry. At that time he will have to employ his detective skills to track down the Sand Shinobis who've taken the child.

He knows every passing second is a second closer to Kakashi's death – if he is even still alive.

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The first thing I notice is the fact that I'm covered in cold sweat. The second thing is that I'm tied down to metal bed. The third thing is that I think I'm drugged because everything seems fuzzy and hazy and I can't seem to really focus.

Wait… shouldn't I be dead?

I frown as I force my eyes to open – but it doesn't really help. The room is pitch black but yet I can feel another person's presence; I can actually feel three other people's presence. Please tell me this isn't death… because if it is than it's a little different than what I expected.

A face appears in my line of sight. "So you're finally awake," the person drawls out. I recognize him from the battler earlier; he's one of the Sand.

I open my mouth to speak but I find that my voice doesn't feel like working. I try to move my arms but they won't move… neither will my legs.

Why the fuck can't I move?

The man smiles at me and I think my panic might be showing on my face. "Don't worry," he says, "The drugs we gave you to keep you controllable are why you're paralyzed. As soon as we stop the drugs you'll be fine again."

I highly doubt they're going to stop the drugs anytime soon. And I realize, with horror, that as long as they keep me drugged I can't do anything. They have complete control over me.

He smiles at me. "You still haven't quiet healed yet. We'll let you sleep a little more. Trust me, enjoy it well you can."

I feel the prick of a needle in my shoulder and a few moments later the limited sight I have in this dark room goes blurry. My eyes close and seconds later I fall into the blissful escape of sleep.

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The wetness wakes me up instantly. The cold water splashed against my face causes me to open my eyes to see just what is going on.

I find myself in a small room with the Shinobi from earlier standing in front of me… an empty pail in his hand. I've been dragged here and forced to kneel – my arms bound tightly behind me and my ankles shackled together.

"You're healed," he states, "Now we can have some fun with you." He tosses the pail to the side of the room; it clangs against the wall, the noise is grating against my ears. I watch as he nods to the two people who I've just noticed are standing behind me.

They grab me underneath my shoulders and yank me up to a standing position. My legs wobble as I struggle to stay standing – my muscles are weak and unused to having to bear my weight.

The man in front of me walks forward so that he's inches from my face. "This is called Strappado," he whispers, "Do you know what that is?"

I shake my head to answer 'no' for I don't trust my voice to speak right now.

His smile grows. "Then this is going to be fun."

One of the men behind me ties a rope to my already bound wrists. I twist my head to look behind me and see that the rope they've tied to my wrists passes through a hook in the ceiling. A ball of panic begins to develop in the pit of my stomach and I gulp; I think I might know what they're planning to do.

I try to struggle but the drugs that are still coursing through my system leave my movements slow and awkward. The man in front of me laughs and I turn my head to face him again.

"You can't escape in your condition. Struggling is useless."

I watch in horror as he nods to the men behind me and a split second later I feel them pull down on the other end of the rope. Suddenly I'm jerked up and my feet leave the ground. My full weight being held up by my arms; the arms tied behind my back.

I let out a small whimper as I feel the joints grinding – twisting back in a way that I'm pretty sure they're not designed to.

For the first time in my life I thank God that I'm only ten and that I don't weigh a whole lot. I can only imagine how much worse this would be if I was any heavier.

I stay silent, biting my bottom lip to stop myself from crying out, as the men slowly pull the rope – raising me up to the very height of the ceiling.

"You know," the Sand shinobi states from below, "For most people this torture is enough to get them screaming. But you're so tiny and light that it doesn't have quite the effect I'd like it too so I'm going to have to add another aspect to it."

I furrow my brow in confusion. What else could be done?

My eyes widen in horror as the I feel the rope slacking and suddenly I'm sent falling to the floor. The seconds seem to pass by in minutes as I approach the ground.

A scream is ripped from my throat as I'm brought to an instant stop just above the floor. The sudden jerk tears at my shoulders and I can hear the tendons and nerves ripping with the force. I'm left panting and gasping for breath.

The man approaches me. "I know who you are," he murmurs, "You're Hatake Kakashi… the son of the White Fang." He pauses. "Sakumo killed my wife, did you know that?"

I shake my head, unable to speak through my desperate gasps for air.

"And now I've learnt that Sakumo is dead." He chuckles sadly. "Now how am I suppose to get my revenge?"

I stay silent, my eyes narrowed in anger and disgust at this man.

"How?" his voice rises with anger. "How!"

Silence stretches throughout the room; broken only by my heavy breathing. Does it truly want me to answer? I don't know but I doubt I could even if I wanted to.

He smiles again and nods at the men holding the rope.

"No…" I unintentionally whisper as I watch the floor get smaller and smaller as I'm raised back up to the ceiling.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the rope is once again let go and I'm sent plummeting back down to the ground. I hear myself scream again as fiery pain shoots up my arms. The audible pop of dislocation reaches my ears as I feel my right shoulder tear from it's socket.

I can't do this. I can't survive through whatever this twisted, fucked up man has planned for me. This is only the beginning and already he's managed to break me. What other tortures does he have in store? What other pain will I have to endure?

"Soon," he whispers – but I don't bother to open my eyes to see him, "we won't need to drug you to keep you in control. The pain itself will render you helpless and immobile."

I feel myself being pulled back up and I desperately try to get my panic and pain under control. But it's useless. Each fall and sudden, jerked stop tears a pain-filled scream from my sore throat. Drop, after drop, after drop rips tendons and nerves. Causes unbearable pain to shoot up my arms. Somewhere along the way, in one of the many falls, my left shoulder is also dislocated. My full weight can't be kept held up by my broken shoulders anymore.

"Is that all you can take?" the Shinobi teases me as I gasp for breath after the last torturous fall. "I thought you'd be able to handle more… being Sakumo's son and all."

I open my eyes to send an evil glare his way. What more can I do? I'm helpless in this position. Completely and entirely helpless. And even if they were to untie me and let me go right now there'd be little that I could do in such pain.

He laughs and nods to the men again. Another serious of falls and sudden stops causes my screams to come in ragged, short gasps. Tears fall unwillingly from my eyes as I swear my arms are going to be torn completely from my body if this continues for much longer.

Finally they let go of the rope completely; sending me crashing to my knees as my arms fall, limply, behind my back. I keep my eyes squeezed shut and focus on just trying to level my breathing. I can't focus on the pain, I can't focus on what's just happened. It's just too much for me to process at once.

The man laughs as I feel the shackles around my ankles being removed. The ropes binding my wrists are cut and my arms fall uselessly to my sides. I listen to their footsteps as the three of them leave the room, locking the door behind them.

After a long time, I have no idea exactly how long, I manage to get my breathing under control and the pain slowly starts to subside. I crack open my eyes to find the only light that comes into the room is from the tiny crack underneath the door – leaving the room in near darkness.

I slowly stand up, forcing my exhausted body to make it's way to the nearest wall. I know what I must do even though the pain could be enough to send me spiraling into unconsciousness.

I drop to my knees and with great effort I manage to move my injured, weak right arm so that my hand rests on the joint between wall and ceiling. I take a deep, shuddering breath and force all my weight against the arm. A straggled gasp escapes my mouth and stars dance across my vision as I hear my shoulder pop back into place.

I rest my head against the cold wall for a couple minutes; calming my racing heart and letting the pain subdue a little before attempting my left arm. A while later I lean back and use my now slightly more useful right arm to place my left hand on the joint between wall and ceiling. The same straggled gasp is ripped from my throat as my full body weight is placed on the injured shoulder.

But it doesn't pop back into place. Instead my elbow buckles underneath the weight and I fall forward, catching myself with my right hand against the wall. Why didn't it work? Is my shoulder too injured to be fixed? Or did I simply not do it fast enough?

I should try again but right now all I really want to do is just let myself fall into the unconsciousness that is teasing me.

I sigh and slowly place my burning left arm in the same position as before. I take one last deep breath before I push all my body weight onto the arm.

I find that I don't even have the strength to scream, or even gasp, anymore. But I do hear the blissful sound of a shoulder popping back into place.

A couple shuddering breaths later I finally let the unconsciousness take me.

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I awake to rough hands pulling me up. The motion sends jolts of pain through my still injured shoulders and causes me to gasp slightly. The man throws me against a wall and binds my wrists and ankles to shackles bolted into the cement.

"At least have the decency to tell me your name," I mutter; my voice hoarse from little use besides screaming.

The Shinobi walks in front of me and chuckles. "It's Kanaye."

I lift my head to look at him. The door to the room has been left open so enough light has entered that I can actually see more than just shadows.

The man, Kanaye, stands at just over six feet and looks to be in his late-twenties. His blonde hair is tied in a low ponytail and his eyes are of a dark blue colour. He has a scar running across his face, from his left temple to the bottom of his chin. His nose is crooked and has probably been broken many times before.

His body is lean and long, with little muscle definition. He looks like a person who eats very little. His hands are gnarled and scarred and the tip of his left index finger is missing; cut off somehow.

But for all his looks it's his eyes that hold my attention. Deep, dark blue that hold the crazed-look of a man out for revenge. Whatever sanity he once had is long gone and I can tell his been waiting to get his vengeance for far too many years. Is this what revenge does to a person? Causes them to become a twisted ghost of their former selves? Causes them to hurt the innocent to calm their broken hearts? Whatever it does it's enough to disgust me and I dearly hope that if I live through this I will never fall into the despair-filled grasp of revenge.

He smiles that twisted smile of his. "This is called Water Cure. Want to know why?"

I make no response and his smile fades. "Fine then… I won't tell you. Maybe you'll be able to figure it out yourself."

He snaps his fingers and the two men that were his accomplices from last time enter the room; carrying buckets of something. One hands Kanaye a funnel and he takes it, tossing it lightly between his hands.

"This is traditionally just done with water," he explains to me as he shoves the funnel into my mouth. "But I find it's more interesting when done with other substances. Things such as oil, and tar, even animal waste. I even have a desire to try it with decomposed human body. Wouldn't that be interesting?"

I gulp as I try to move my head to get rid of the funnel but one of the two other men grabs my chin and keeps me still.

I watch as Kanaye moves to one of the buckets and fills a rather large cup up with just plain water; thankfully.

The first couple cupfuls that he pours down the funnel I swallow easily as the water cools my parched throat. I haven't had anything to drink or eat in some time and the water is refreshing. But the fourth cup is harder to swallow – and each one after becomes more and more forced. I can feel each gulp of water trying desperately to make it's way back up my throat. My stomach is filled and I can feel it beginning to distend.

Who knew drinking water could be so painful?

He laughs when he notices how I struggle to keep the water down.

"You know what's fun about this torture?" He asks as he pulls the funnel from my mouth and the accomplice lets go of my chin. I shake my head in response. "Once the person throws up you can start all over again."

I gasp as his fist makes contact with my stomach. He calls over one of the other men and he hands Kanaye a long, metal pole.

A few swift swings at my stomach and I can no longer keep the water down. A few minutes later I'm gasping for breath as my shirt is now soaked with the water and bile previous in my stomach.

Kanaye shoves the funnel back in my mouth and the other man takes hold of my chin again. The liquid this time isn't water but rather something much thicker – something incredibly harder to swallow.

"It's tar," Kanaye says, "Just in case you're wondering."

Each cup is poured down the funnel one after the other. I can hardly keep up and I start to panic. If I don't swallow fast enough I know I will drown without actually being succumbed in water. Drowning by not drinking tar fast enough – wouldn't father be proud?

My stomach gurgles as it refuses the thick tar. I soon find myself hunched over, as much as one can be when shackled to a wall, throwing-up the black substance.

Kanaye chuckles as he wipes his hands clean on his pants. Somehow the funnel has ended up on the ground and he picks it up.

"Stomach can't handle it, nh?" he teases.

I watch, with shuddering breaths, as he drags over a large bucket with hot boiling liquid that stinks – stinks a lot.

"This," he looks up and smiles, "is the Grande Finale. I boiled this substance so it should be pleasantly warm in your throat." He fills the cup up and shoves the funnel back in my throat; that man grabs hold of my chin again to keep me still.

"This is a combination of urine, manure, and decomposed human body… it should be quite delicious. I hope you enjoy it."

I desperately try to turn my head to get away but the hand that holds my chin keeps me still.

I gag as soon as the first drop touches my tongue. The thick, boiling liquid burns as it fills my mouth and I can't breath. I know I have to swallow it but I just can't bring myself too. Not this, not this boiled liquid of body and waste.

Stars start to appear in my vision as I desperately try to breathe with my mouth full. Kanaye pours another cup in my mouth and I try to shake my head to get at least somewhat free but it's useless.

One accidental deep breath causes a mouthful of the liquid to get sucked into my lungs and I immediately start coughing to get it out but Kanaye refuses to remove the funnel.

Two hours later, with stars still swimming in my vision, the bucket full of boiling liquid has all either been swallow into my stomach or inhaled into my lungs. The liquid burned my throat raw and I feel like my stomach's going to explode. My whole insides ache with the distention they are forced to endure to accommodate the litres upon litres of liquid forced into them.

Kanaye removes the funnel and the other man lets go of my chin. I let my head fall forward limply as the panic of not being able to breath slowly dissipates. The taste, however, refuses to leave my mouth and I'm acutely aware of the fact that I just swallow decomposed human body – as in, other people… flesh, muscle… it's now sitting in my stomach along with animal urine and manure.

I fall to my knees as my shackles are removed. I notice that my whole body is shaking as I still can't seem to get a good, deep breath. My shoulders ache from being kept in the same position for so long; the injured tendons and nerves from the Strappado torture I had to endure before dully ache in the background of my mind.

Kanaye kneels down in front of me. "How was that?" he whispers as he lifts my chin gently with his hand. "Did you enjoy it?"

I look at that damned smile on his face; that twisted, sadistic smile. He enjoys this. He enjoys every single fucking moment.

"Go to hell bastard," I manage to choke out.

His smile just grows even more and the next thing I know I'm curled into the fetal position in a futile attempt to protect myself from the kicks aimed for my stomach.

But I can't. And soon I find myself retching as the contents of my stomach are forced out. Eventually their beating stops and they leave me; locking the door and plunging me back into darkness. But I can't stop the retching and soon the floor around me, along with myself, is covered with the bile and disgusting liquid that was in my stomach.

It takes over an hour before the retching stops and another two hours for the dry-heaving to completely end. But I still can't get a proper breath and I know that's because some of the liquid is still trapped in my lungs and I probably won't be able to ever get it all out.

I curl up into a ball, not even bothering to move out of the pool of bile, and let exhaustion overcome me. Within minutes the relaxing safety of unconsciousness steals me from this living hell.

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Jiraiya can't help but panic. It's been weeks and so far he still hasn't been able to figure out where Kakashi is. Once the blood trail had gone cold he had managed to find a couple of leads but nothing solid and nothing that had ever really helped.

He's putting all of his years of training and experience to use but the Sannin is beginning to doubt that he'll ever find the young child. And that's causing him to panic because he knows just how undeserving Kakashi is of this fate and just how painful the child's death would be to Arashi.

So Jiraiya trudges on but the emotional strain is making him exhausted and tired. He knows that if he's ever attacked in his current condition he would probably have a hard time escaping unscathed. His mind is far too distracted with thoughts of just where Kakashi may be or what he may be enduring. Or worse yet, if the child is even alive.

It's at times like these that Jiraiya finds himself cursing Sakumo's mistake – even though he hates himself for it. It's also at these times that Jiraiya finds himself wishing that the White Fang was still around because he always seemed to know just what to do. And since Kakashi is Sakumo's son the old friend would probably have an even better idea of what to do.

But Sakumo is no longer here and Jiraiya has to struggle on without his friend. And the fact that every passing day without finding Kakashi is another failure to his lost friend has not escaped Jiraiya's notice.

So the Sannin struggles on hoping against hope that he hasn't yet failed the task of saving Kakashi. Hoping that he won't have to return to Konoha empty-handed and see the look on Arashi's face. And hoping that somehow he'll manage to save Kakashi; if not for himself or for Arashi than for Sakumo – for his old friend.

For the one he is really starting to miss.

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I awoke long before they ever came back to inflict whatever torture they had planned. I managed to crawl over to one of the walls so that I would have something to lean against. But the pain in my shoulders is growing with every passing moments and my left hand is now constantly tingling. I'm beginning to fear that there's been permanent damage to the tendons and nerves – especially the nerves – in my shoulders.

I don't know how long it's been. The drugs, the pain, and the seclusion in this dark room has completely fucked up my internal clock and made it impossible to determine the date or even a rough estimate of the time I've been trapped here.

I hug my knees to my chest and let my head fall forward. My stomach is painfully contracted and my throat burns. I wonder if anyone is even trying to find me? They saw the injury I sustained back in the original fight in Konoha – perhaps they already think I'm dead.

Maybe no one's even looking for me. They're probably not. I'm probably going to be just stuck here until I die or Kanaye gets bored and lets me go – and I highly doubt he'll ever let me go.

I let the tears fall because I really don't have the strength to try and hide them. And I can taste the salt on my lips from them but it doesn't bother me because I don't care anymore. Why should I care if they see me cry? Look what they've done already… there's nothing that I can do to keep my dignity now.

And I can't help feeling like Konoha's abandoned me.

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Arashi wishes he could've gone after Kakashi. He just about did but Jiraiya convinced him to stay. After all, he is Hokage, he needs to stay. Konoha needs him and Jiraiya assured his former student that he can take care of finding Kakashi.

But it's been weeks and Jiraiya hasn't returned. Arashi's started to lose hope… and not just for Kakashi's safe return but also for Konoha's future. He doesn't think Konoha's going to make it through this war – not at this rate.

And Arashi hates feeling hopeless but he can't help it. And he also hates that he's turning more and more to alcohol to ease his pain. He knows that isn't good or right or correct but he doesn't really give a damn anymore.

He laughs at the fact that he's Hokage; look how he's failed. Sometimes he thinks that maybe it would've been better if they had chosen someone else to become the Yondaime.

He wishes Jiraiya was here to tell him what to do. The Sannin would know what to do; the Sannin always knows what to do.

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I have to close my eyes when they open the door because the light is burning to my vision.

In an instant they have me sprawled on the floor; one person holding my wrists down and another holding my ankles.

Kanaye's voice reaches my ears: "You probably won't eat on your own if we give you food so we've decided to just force feed you. Easier for us and life-saving for you."

I don't even bother to struggle because I know it's useless – I don't have the energy nor the strength to fight them off.

The feeding pipe is thick, thicker than my nostril. At first Kanaye can't get it to go in as I instinctively struggle against the pain. But he keeps pushing the tube down my nose and eventually the cartilage cracks and blood comes streaming out of my nose… I can taste it in my mouth. It hurts enough to force tears out of my eyes and tear a straggled scream from my throat. But the scream is cut short as the tube is shoved down my throat.

I start to panic as the tube makes it way down my throat; causing me to become incapable of breathing either in or out. I keep gasping for air but I get nothing and my lungs burn as if they themselves are on fire. Eventually the pipe reaches my stomach and I can finally breathe properly again – at least I can if I take small, shallow breaths.

I close my eyes as Kanaye pours cup after cup of some gross looking slop, that I guess is suppose to be food, through a funnel into the pipe. They keep me held down for about another hour… I guess to make sure that the 'food' gets absorbed and I won't accidentally vomit it back up.

They then remove the tube with no care for any pain they cause me. They rip it out as fast as they can and I can feel it tear the back of my throat as it comes out. I gag a couple times and Kanaye puts his hand over my mouth to make sure I don't throw-up. Once satisfied that I will be fine he nods to the two men and they let go of me.

Slowly I sit up as the two accomplices exit the room; leaving Kanaye and I alone.

"Now that was annoying," Kanaye mutters as he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me up to a standing position.

Before I even realize what is happening Kanaye is behind me… left arm pushes me hard, face first, against the nearest cement wall and his right hand is tightly grasped around my right wrist. My right wrist which he is currently being pushed up to my neck.

He's breaking my arm. I can feel the tendons and muscles straining to keep the bones together.

Eight minutes. For eight of some of the most painful minutes of my life he drags the process out. Every now and then increasing the pressure just slightly, just enough to cause another jolt of unbearable pain up my arm and into my already injured shoulder. The pain becomes too much and I start to whimper; letting the tears fall shamefully down my face.

With a very audible crack my wrist reaches the back of my neck and my right humerus is broken into three distinctively different pieces. A final push into the wall ends the torment and he lets go of my broken, useless arm. I listen to his footsteps as he leaves without a word; locking the door behind him and once again plunging the room into darkness.

I turn around so that my back is now resting against the wall; my left hand clutching on my now broken arm for dear life. I slide down the wall until I'm sitting. The fiery pain doesn't dull and I can't stop the tears from streaking down my face.

"Aren't you proud of me now daddy?" I bitterly mutter to the silent air.

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They come again some time later. I don't know how long later but I do know that I didn't sleep. The pain in my broken arm wouldn't let me sleep.

Kanaye binds my wrists and drags me out of the room; making sure to grab me by my broken arm. I cry out many times as I stumble and fall; my legs unable to carry my weight. But Kanaye doesn't care and he just pulls me up by my broken arm – causing me to cry out even more. The pain causes black spots to dance in my vision and makes me unbalanced and uncoordinated.

We reach a door and one of the two accomplices opens it for Kanaye. He drags me through it and I have to squint against the harsh, bright light of the sun. The fresh air burns my lungs and leaves me gasping for breath.

"They think you're the reason the Sand's attack in Konoha failed," Kanaye whispers into my ear as he drags me along a wooden platform. "They hate you because they think you single-handily caused the deaths of hundreds of Sand Shinobis."

I look around to find myself on a platform high above a crowd of thousands of Sand civilians… and hundreds of Sand shinobis. The long pole in the center of this wooden platform catches my eye. What is it that he's planning to do?

We reach the pole and Kanaye kicks the back of my knees, causing me to fall down. He unbinds my wrists and then roughly places my hands on a small piece of wood nailed perpendicular to the long pole; the rough handling causes me to hiss in pain. He binds my wrists together on the opposite side of the pole to where my body is.

A lump of panic and fear starts to form in the pit of my stomach as I realize what's about to happen. This is the position often used to tie prisoners up so that they can be lashed.

And I realize that I'm tied up in such a way that my right side is facing the public crowd so they can not only watch the whip against my back but so they can also see the reaction of my face. This is a public lashing… a torture for everyone to see.

I watch in silent horror as one of Kanaye's accomplices hands him a long, black whip. He slowly walks around to stand behind me.

I bit my lip and take a deep breath as soon as I hear the whip cut through the air. A moment later it cuts across my back and I hiss in suppressed pain. The crowd cheers and I try desperately to block out the sound. Who are these monsters? What people would so willingly endorse the torture of a ten year old child? But then again, they have been told that I'm the reason hundreds of their Shinobis died.

But still. Who is Kanaye to think he has the right to do this? Who is he to feel the need to torture me simple because I'm Sakumo's son?

The next whip catches me off guard and I cry out unintentionally… much to the joy of the crowd. I bite my lip and resolve to make as little noise as possible.

It goes on for what seems like hours. Whip after whip. Cutting across already torn skin. My ripped shirts rubs painfully against the lashes for quite some time until it eventually is shredded to such a point that it simply falls off.

I stopped counting the lashes after I reached a fifty. And it seems like it's been ages since then. My vision spins from loss of blood and the jeering crowd has become nothing more than a ringing in my ears. I faintly notice that I now cry out with every strike of the whip.

Eventually the torture stops, my wrists are untied, and I am dragged to my feet. The sudden change in position causes me to waver and the world around goes black.

I don't fight the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness.

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Day after day they drag me out there. I eventually figure out that it's one hundred and fifty lashes each time before Kanaye will stop. Each time I swear that the crowd that watches is bigger than the last one.

It's been too long for any hope of rescue. I've been abandoned, forgotten, left to suffer through this day after day. The lashes don't even have time to heal before I'm thrust out into the public eye again to be once again tortured. The pain is unbearable and I can't help but scream with each painful cut across my back.

Often Kanaye will angle the whip in such a way that it wraps around the side of my body and cuts my chest before being drawn back. Every breath hurts. Every touch causes searing pain to course through my body.

And my arm is still broken. And each time I'm taken out here Kanaye makes sure to grab a hold of the broken bones.

I really wish I would just die already.

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Jiraiya's horrified to hear, from one of his many sources, of a child being flogged in the public eye in the Sand Village.

He becomes even more horrified when he learns that the child is from Konoha; and that the child is silver-haired and only a mere ten years old.

Jiraiya's no idiot. He knows the child is Kakashi. And that makes him sick to his stomach because he can only imagine what the kid's been through. After all, it's been over a month know and the floggings have only been going on for about a week – at least, as far as the Sannin knows.

It doesn't take long for Jiraiya to discover that the man in charge of Kakashi's 'care' in the Sand Village is Kanaye. And it doesn't take long for the anger to build up inside of him.

Kanaye is going to pay.

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I'm surprised when Kanaye comes in with his two accomplices and they don't take me out to be flogged again.

However, I realize quickly that they're here for another force-feeding. And wonder if it really does any good. But I don't bother to fight back and I just let them shove the tube down my nose, and I let them force the slop into my stomach. Because maybe, just maybe, if I go along without a fight they'll just leave me alone and let me be for a little while. That's all I ask for. Just a little while; a couple days without any torture, without any pain to tear screams from my throat and choke my breath.

But I know that that's too much to ask for. When the force-feeding is done the two accomplices leave and suddenly I'm struck with uncontrollable fear. What will Kanaye do this time? Will he break my other arm? Their rough treatment has so far prevented my right arm from healing at all… in fact, it's probably just broken it further.

I watch as he tosses a kunai back and forth between his hands… smiling that fucking smile of his.

"You know," he whispers as he walks closer to me. "I've always wondered about you."

He grabs me tightly around my right arm, causing me to cry out in pain, and drags me to standing position. In seconds he has my wrists and ankles bound to the shackles bolted into the wall.

"I've heard that you're quite the kid," he murmurs into my ear as he lightly draws the kunai down my chest. "Doing S-rank and A-rank missions… killing without hesitation… and just the fact that you've survived this is amazing."

I gulp as I see that all familiar gleam in his eyes that I always saw in Uncle Moro's eyes and Leia's eyes.

The kunai pops open the button on my pants and I squeeze my eyes shut. My breaths come in fast, shallow gasps as I try desperately to suppress the panic and fear inside of me.

Why does it always end with this?

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The darkness does nothing to help me forget Kanaye's touch against my skin… nor his breath in my ear, or the smell of his hair, or the taste of his lips.

I curl up in the fetal position on the dirty blood-stained and vomit-stained floor of this cursed room. Why can't I just fucking die? Haven't I lost enough blood to die? Haven't I been through enough to be let free? I just want this to end. I just want it to be over.

And it hurts so much more simply because I know that I've been forgotten and abandoned by everyone in Konoha that I thought cared for me.

They come again, the door unlocked and opened, but once again they don't take me out to get flogged. No… they have something else this time. Something I haven't seen before.

Kanaye kneels down and grabs my arm. He, along with one of his accomplices, shackle my wrists and ankles to the wall.

"You know what this is?" He asks, showing me some sort of contraption that sort of looks like pincers but instead has a cylinder-like end that, when closed together, forms a long narrow tube.

"No," I whisper in response.

"They're called Crocodile Shears," he says with a wide grin on his voice. He opens them and I see that the inside of the blades are line with spikes. "They're used on people just like you."

He nods at his two accomplices and they leave, letting the door stay open to allow light into the room.

He leans in and whispers into my ear: "They're for little whores like you."

My heart starts racing as I realize exactly why the blades are tube shaped… why they're for 'whores' as Kanaye so nicely put it.

With the tool in his left hand Kanaye uses his right hand to pull down my pants and I try desperately to writhe free. But it's no use… it's never any use.

I scream. Unbearable pain courses through me as the Shears are clamped onto my exposed penis.

And I scream, and scream, and scream. And my breath hitches in my throat and tears stream down my face. I scream until the my throat is raw and no voice comes. Then I gasp for air and desperately bang my head against the wall to distract myself from the pain.

Eventually he removes the torture device and releases the shackles. I fall to the ground and curl up in the fetal position – whimpering and crying. Kanaye kneels down and yanks my pants up. I cry out as the fabric touches the torn skin.

The blood flows freely, along with my salty tears. And I wonder, yet again, what did I ever do to deserve this? Being Sakumo's son isn't my fault… it doesn't mean I should receive this.

Eventually the blood loss sends me into unconsciousness.

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It doesn't take long for them to come back and once again I find myself woken up, dragged out to that fucking wooden platform, and tied to that damn pole.

But this time it's different because this time the whip isn't smooth like it should be. No, this time the whip has small pieces of… is that bone?... attached to it. I gulp as I realize that this going to hurt so much more than I think I can handle.

The whip cuts deep into my back and I can't help but scream as the small pieces of bone rip off chunks of flesh.

Whip after whip comes crashing down on my back. Cutting over unhealed lashes from the many times before and ripping more and more flesh away. The blood comes gushing out and pools around my knees.

The crowd cheers a little less than normal and maybe, just maybe, they have come to realize that this is just a little too extreme. Or maybe it's the tears that I can't stop and the raspy screams torn from my throat that makes them nervous. Or maybe it's just the copious amounts of blood that pours from my body that they can't stomach. Whatever it is I can sense that they don't seem to be quite as in to this form of flogging as the normal kind.

And maybe it's a delusion from the loss of blood but I swear that for a split second I saw Jiraiya in the crowd.

The next strike wraps around my chest and the bones on the whip catches on one of my rips. It gets stuck and Kanaye doesn't even bother to see why – instead he just pulls a little harder and eventually a loud cracking sound alerts me, and everyone near me, to the fact that my rib has just been broken and the whip pulls back – taking a large chunk of flesh and half the broken rib with it.

I scream; an unnerving, exhausted, wretched scream that hurts even my own ears. I start gasping for air as the pain from my broken rib and torn flesh rages through my mind. I dare a glance down to my left chest to see that enough of the skin and muscle has been torn away that I can see the sun glimmer off the whiteness of three of my ribs; one of those ribs being broken in half.

The next whip brings the relief of unconsciousness with it.

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Jiraiya stands in silent anger among the crowd. His chakra will only allow him to stay disguised for a short period of time but that's all he needs to confirm what he wished to never see.

It is Kakashi.

And he flinches with every strike of the cruel, bone-spiked whip that cuts the kid's skin. And he curses the Sand for being so unbelievably cruel.

The Sannin has to turn away when the whip catches Kakashi's rib. And the resounding crack of the broken bone and the following scream that is torn from Kakashi's throat makes Jiraiya shudder with despair and anger.

He wishes he could just save the kid now – kill Kanaye and flee. If his emotions had a say then that's what he would do. But Jiraiya knows how foolish such actions would be and he won't dare to fuck up this rescue mission. He won't risk getting Kakashi killed in a poorly planned and poorly executed rescue attempt.

No – he will save Kakashi and bring him back to Konoha. The kid deserves at least that much.

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I open my eyes to find myself in the same damned room I've been in for what seems like years now. And I find that my chest has been sloppily bandage but the blood has soaked the fabric right through.

With a hiss of pain I remove the bandages to find that the gaping hole on my ribcage where flesh should be is now infected and desperately trying to heal when I know that it won't be able to; especially here, with no proper medical care.

The door opens and in walks Kanaye. He grabs my right arm, I can't still the cry of pain, and yanks me up.

"Let me go," I growl.

He freezes and turns around. "Pardon?" he questions with a small chuckle.

"I've had enough." My voice is dry and hoarse. "Fucking enough."

He laughs and starts dragging me along behind him again. I take a deep breath and swing my left arm around – the still injured shoulder screaming in protest.

Fist meets jaw and he let's go of my arm; surprise and shock causing him to stumble back, clutching his jaw in pain.

"You… you…" he mutters. "How dare you!"

He moves to attack me but I dodge out of the way – adrenaline now coursing through my body. I know this is my last chance to ever escape and I have to at least try; even though I know that success is minimal.

Within moments I'm out of the room and running down the hall. Kanaye probably should've thought about breaking at least one of my legs at some point – if I had been him then that's what I would've done. It would've prevented escape attempts like this from ever happening.

But I know I won't get far anyways… the burst of energy my adrenaline gave me is already fading. And I can hear the footsteps of Kanaye and his two accomplices closing in on me.

I have no weapons to fight with either.

They surround me within minutes but I'm not about to give up. I manage to kick a kunai out of one of the accomplices hands and grab it. With speed I didn't even know I still possessed the same man's throat is soon slit, the blood spilling on the floor.

Kanaye and his remaining accomplice block my only escape path and I know there's no way I can beat the two in a fight. I have to somehow get around them.

I feign attacking Kanaye which drags the accomplice from his position. A quick dodge and a well place kicked at the accomplice's knees frees open my last ditch chance.

But my flight is halted almost as soon as it begins as one of Kanaye's kunais imbeds itself in my lower back. Gasping I fall to my knees.

I have to blink back the tears for I know that that was my last chance and I fucked it up. I won't be able to survive the next flogging. This was it. This was all I had left.

Kanaye rips the kunai out from my back and kicks me in the stomach. He kneels down and grabs me by the throat. Roughly he throws me against the wall and I collapse to the floor – too weak to even stay standing.

"You fucking bastard." His voice is tinged with anger and frustration. "Going off and killing one of my men… attempting to escape. I'll make sure you can never do that again!"

The remaining accomplices has now joined us again and Kanaye nods at him. His rough hands push my shoulders back against the wall; keeping me from any more attempts at escape.

Kanaye kneels down beside me and grabs my left thigh, just above the knee. He smiles at me and I bite my lip as I watch his hand carry the kunai deep into my knee. I unwillingly scream as the weapon shatters my knee cap and cuts through tendons and nerves.

I squeeze my eyes shut and gasp for breath as Kanaye releases my left thigh and stands up. I listen to his slow, sure steps as he slowly walks over to the other side of me.

I open my eyes to watch him as he kneels down and grabs a hold of my right thigh. I lean my head back to stare at the ceiling; I don't want to watch this time.

A scream forces its way from my throat as the kunai plunges deep into my right knee – breaking knee cap and destroying the tendons and nerves.

My breathe hitches in my throat and tears escape my closed eyes. My God, what did I ever do to deserve this?

Kanaye's hand grabs my right arm and I scream in pain – my body's too tired and too overwhelmed for me to have any control over myself anymore. But Kanaye doesn't care… he just drags me up. I fall to the floor as soon as I even attempt to put any weight on my now shattered knees.

"What?" he whispers into my ear, tightening his grip on my broken arm. "Are you too pathetic to even stand on your own anymore?"

"That's enough Kanaye."

I blink at the sound of the unfamiliar, and yet familiar, voice that reaches my ears. Slowly I lift my head and blink away the fuzziness from my vision.

I gasp. "Ji-san?"

Before I can even register what's happening Kanaye and his accomplice have been killed and their blood pours upon the floor.

Without Kanaye's hand on my arm to support me I have no strength to even stay in a kneeling position. But strong arms scoop me up before I even have the time to hit the ground.

"Ji-san?" I question again, no longer even having the strength to open my eyes. Is it really him? Has someone actually come to save me?

Was I really never abandoned?

"It's me," he whispers. "It's over now, don't worry. I'll take you back to Konoha."

"No," I mutter as I feel Jiraiya take off running.

"Don't worry Ka—"

"Just kill me," I interrupt, "Please… it hurts. Just… I want to die."

It's hard to hold back the sobs because I know it's too late… he was too late. I can't be saved. I'm too injured, I lost too much blood. And even if I make it back to Konoha I will never heal fully. I'll be crippled… I don't want to live as a cripple – I'd rather die instead.

I can feel Jiraiya's breath hitch in his chest. "Don't worry Kakashi. Just rest."

I sigh and close my eyes; resting my head against his chest. The position I'm in is putting a lot of pressure on my broken arm but I hardly even notice anymore. I'm just so relieved to be gone from that place.

It doesn't take long for unconsciousness to overcome me.

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Jiraiya didn't think it would be has hard as it was. Finding out what cell Kakashi was being kept in was the least of his problems. It took him forever to just sneak in and not get caught.

It took every single ounce of patience that the Sannin had not to just going running down the halls in plain sight looking for Kakashi. He dearly wanted to but he knew how foolish such actions would be.

So he had waited, and been patient, and sneaked with all the skill he could muster. Within time he realized that Kakashi was being held in the lowest cell. He found that out when the guards would gossip about the kid; commenting on how amazingly strong Kakashi is to have survived Kanaye's torture this long.

Jiraiya regrets that he came just a little too late for he realizes that had he been but a mere few minutes earlier he would've saved the sever damage to Kakashi's knees. And the Sannin would beat himself up over that for months, even years, to come.

But for now the Sannin is much more worried on escaping. Sneaking in seemed ridiculously easy compared to sneaking out; for it's hard to sneak out when you've just killed two Shinobis in probably not the most quietest way possible.

So Jiraiya flees for he doesn't dare to fight with Kakashi laying unconscious in his arms. And being that this is the Sand Village it is in the middle of a desert so there's few places to hide.

But thankfully it's near the edge of the desert. And once out of the prisoner dungeons Jiraiya stops for just a brief second to summon Gamabunta. The giant toad does his job of detaining the Sannin's pursuers long enough for Jiraiya to escape.

It wasn't until a day later did Jiraiya dare to stop… and only than it was because he had managed to find a small forest to find shelter in. Kakashi still had not awoken and Jiraiya feared that the he had indeed been too late. It couldn't bear to think of what would happen if Kakashi were to die during the trip home.

By the light of a small fire Jiraiya examines the child's injuries and realizes with a sharp intake of breath that Kakashi has little chance of ever fully recovering.

The kid's going to be a cripple.

The thought brings tears to the Sannin's eyes but he forces them back. They'll be enough time for tears later. Besides, not all hope is lost. If he could only find Tsunade – Tsunade would be able to completely heal the child.

He laughs at the thought. Find Tsunade? The women has been missing for far too long to ever really find. And he doubt he would ever be able to persuade her to come back to Konoha just for one, ten year old boy. Especially now with her hemophobia and emotional demons. No, Tsunade would probably be of no help.

And does that mean that Kakashi is now doomed? Will this child never fully recover?

The Sannin shakes his head to clear is thoughts and sets about doing what he can for the child. Bandaging his chest to try and stop the bleeding from his wound. He sets the child's broken arm and makes a makeshift splint out of a few sticks and some bandages.

However he can do nothing for Kakashi's destroyed knees and he notes, with sadness, that the child's shoulders have both been dislocated at least once. The bruising on the skin of Kakashi's shoulders tells Jiraiya that the kid was tortured in such a way to damage the tendons and blood-vessels of the shoulders; and possibly even the nerves.

A few hours later Jiraiya puts out the fire and scoops Kakashi into his arms – making sure to put as little pressure on the kid's shoulders and broken arm as possible. He fears that he may be pursued by Sand shinobis and he doesn't wish to be caught in a fight with Kakashi in the condition he is in.

Two uneventful days later, during which Jiraiya doesn't sleep and Kakashi never wakes up, the Sannin manages to stumble his way into Konoha. Exhausted, tired, and emotional drained Jiraiya is close to collapsing.

He sends one of the guards to inform the Hokage that he has returned with Kakashi, an alive Kakashi, and to meet him at the hospital.

With his last burst of energy Jiraiya runs as fast as he can to the hospital. Once there he bursts through the doors only to be met but his former student. Who's happy face falls as soon as he catches sight of Kakashi.

The medic-nins are there in seconds and before he even knows it Kakashi is taken from him, placed on a gurney, and wheeled away.

A nurse quickly explains to them both to wait in the Waiting Room and that a medic-nin will come and explain the kid's condition to them as soon as possible.

"What took you so long?" Arashi's voice is bitter and angry and Jiraiya is taken back for a split second.

"Don't take your anger out at me," the Sanin replies as he collapses into a chair; exhaustion finally catching up with him. "I don't want to deal with it."

The Yondaime sits down beside his former sensei. "To tell you the truth," he whispers after a few minutes of silence. "I had given up all hope for Kakashi."

"Good thing it wasn't you who went on the rescue mission then." And this time Jiraiya doesn't bother to hide the bitter anger in his voice. "For someone who acts like he cares so much for the kid you didn't hold much hope for his survival."

Arashi doesn't make a response and Jiraiya mutters something inaudible under his breath.

"You smell like sake," Jiraiya says after another moment of awkward silence.

"You smell like blood and sweat," the Hokage retorts, "We'll call it even."

Jiraiya sighs. "Look, Arashi, don't do this."

"Do what?"

"Don't play dumb!" Jiraiya's voice unintentionally rises with anger. "The drinking! You can't be Hokage if you're a fucking alcoholic!"

"A drink every now and then doesn't make me an alcoholic."

"It's more than every now and then… I'm not blind. It's been going on for months and months and I fear this incident has only made it worse. It can't be your crutch!"

"Shut-up," Arashi mutters. "Just fucking shut-up! Do you think I not know? I see… I see what I do. I have to look in the mirror each day at myself!"

"But you won't accept it, you deny it."

"I deny it to everyone else! What do you want me to do? Admit it? Tell the whole fucking village. 'Oh, by the way, I, your Hokage, am an alcoholic.' How well do you think that would go over?" Arashi's own voice is starting to rise with anger.

"Stop fighting."

Both Jiraiya and Arashi look up in surprise to see Sarutobi standing in front of them. "If you want to fight then fine, but fight somewhere more private – like an office – not the hospital Waiting Room!"

They both fall silent and an awkward silence falls over the three of them.

Jiraiya stands up and states, with unhidden anger in his voice: "The kid's going to be a cripple." He then turns around and leaves.

"What!" Arashi shouts as he too stands up. "How do you know that!"

The Sannin slowly turns around. "I've carried him back here for three days… I've seen his wounds. None but Tsunade could fix them fully. And if you want to go chasing after that kunoichi fool and beg her to come fix your precious student then go on ahead! But I'm done! I'm done with this! Done with dealing with Kakashi! And done with dealing with you! I can't take this… I just can't handle it anymore!"

Arashi stands there in shocked silence and watches as his former sensei turns around and leaves. "You're starting to become more and more like Tsunade each passing day," he mutters under his breath, "Losing hope and giving up – it's not like you."

Jiraiya stops and whispers, barely audible to Arashi: "Are you really any better?"

"You two are being fools," Sarutobi says. "You're letting the stress get to you. You're letting your emotions run your decisions."

Arashi turns on the former Hokage and opens his mouth to speak but Sarutobi cuts him off: "Don't even think of chalking it up to the pressures of being Hokage during war. I know such pressures and I've dealt with it. This is your own fault." Sarutobi sighs. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. You weren't ready to be Hokage and you still aren't."

"Shut-up you old fool," Jiraiya mutters before disappearing though the doors.

Arashi collapses back into his seat and buries his head into his hands. Sarutobi quietly sits down beside the young Hokage and squeezes his shoulder in comfort.

"What would Sakumo say if he saw us now?" Arashi whispers. "We've failed to protect his child and we've failed to even stay friends. What's left?"

"We can only prepare for the future. It is useless to try and fix the past. 'What ifs' will only torture us… and you know that. You've been taught that much." Sarutobi's attempts at comforting seem to fall on deaf ears.

"He hates. My own Sensei hates me."

The Sandaime sighs. "He doesn't hate you. He's exhausted, he's angry at himself, he said many things he didn't mean."

"No… he really does hate me."

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The hole in the locker wasn't really something Jiraiya had meant to do. It had just happened. And since it had just happened to happen he left it at that and thought nothing more of it. It had, after all, managed to disperse at least some of his anger.

It was a quick shower that followed and soon the Sannin was dressed and leaving the Jounin locker room.

Sometime later he finds himself standing before the grave of Hatake Sakumo and wondering just exactly why he came here.

Oh yah, that brat of yours.

"Seems I didn't quite manage to keep that promise to you Sakumo," Jiraiya mutters to the cold air. "It took me too long to find that brat of yours and now I fear he'll never fully recover. You see…" The Sannin's voice starts to constrict with unshed tears and choked back sobs. "It seems he was tortured pretty badly… for over a month too… and he's only ten, as I'm sure you know. So who knows? Maybe this will cause him to want to quit all together. I've seen less tortured Shinobis quit. God, I hope so. Because I really don't want to have to tell him that he can't be a Shinobi anymore. I can just see the look on his face, your face really, because you two are so similar it hurts. And it makes me cringe to look at him sometimes because I swear I can see you. Sometimes I even think the brat's got as much experience and wisdom in those damn eyes of his as you."

Jiraiya realizes that he's rambling, and rambling to a gravestone of all things, but he can't seem to bring himself to stop.

"He's too young to be where he is in life. Too young to experience the things he's experienced. And I can only pray that we're not fucking up as much as I think we all are because I have no idea if this is what you want your son to be doing. Maybe we're all just completely failing and making fools of ourselves because I really don't see how we're helping the kid. Especially me… all I've done is pretty much fuck everything up. I couldn't even save him you know… at least… not soon enough to save him from becoming a cripple. And I know that Tsunade's the only one who can heal your brat completely but I have no idea where she is or if she'd even come to help."

The wind whistles by Jiraiya's ear and he swears he heard a whispered voice but he shakes it off as exhaustion and an overactive imagination.

"I really wish you were still here." And with that Jiraiya turns around and curses the moral part of his brain that's screaming at him.

Because tomorrow morning he knows that he'll be leaving to go find that fool Tsunade and beg her for one last favour before she disappears from the Shinobi world forever.

Fuck, sometimes Jiraiya really hates the moral, righteous part of his brain.

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Author's Note: Just to say… if you are an author I highly suggest not writing in torture scenes as I have done. It has to single-handily be the hardest thing I have ever done. Mainly being the research of such torture methods is pretty much unbearable – to know that everything I wrote about in this story was actually done to real people in this world actually really disturbed and shakened me. I had a very hard time finishing this chapter and that's why the update came so quick… because I knew that if I stopped and took a break of more than an hour on this chapter that I would never be able to come back to it and finish it. The torture obviously adds to the Kakashi-angst that I tend to write but I don't know – somehow I think I might've gone just a little bit too overboard with this chapter. And if I have than I'm very, very sorry.

Also… this goes out to all my reviewers so far. Thank you SO VERY MUCH! Without you I would never, never be able to finish my stories.

And I just have to give a special shout-out to Tsukiyomi the Kami – who, without fail, has reviewed pretty much every one of my chapters within like half an hour of them being posted. It's kind of ridiculous really. But seriously… I love you. And your last review was GOLD! It even had constructive criticism, which I love! MORE CONTSRUCTIVE CRITICISM EVERYONE! And constructive criticism WITH JOKES! It's like... vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce. The vanilla ice cream is good by itself but SO MUCH BETTER with chocolate sauce! Love you Kami… keep me smiling!