His nose tingled from the change in climate as the rain continued to swell and roar. It was indeed a miserable night to be out, but there he was. Of course, it was clear when he had headed to the kunai shaped memorial only a few hours prior, but the storm had hit without warning. "What a day..." he sighed through his black cloth mask, tapping his drenched head band. The village was still in ruin, families had been shattered, lives desecrated. The third hokage had passed and the time for the new had begun, but not without consequence. He passed a ramen shop, closed for the evening. The events replayed through his closed eyes, pain and grief. The nine-tailed fox had taken no prisoners, not even children were spared. The days beforehand had been relatively normal; the laughter of children from the academy, the din of town life, and him carrying out missions. And now, look where he was, engraving the names of his comrades and friends on the memorial. "Too much..." he muttered softly.
Their names will be forgotten, their faces will fade... he thought coldly. How many names after all, did he know? Those on the stone that had been given memory bore no meaning for him, they were before his time. But seeing those he knew etched across the glassy surface sunk through his skin to the core of his very marrow. And to know that in time the next generation would forget those before them, stung. He grimaced as "if only's?" flew across his conscience. If only he had been stronger. If only the third hokage had not died. And if only his friends had not been heroes. Perhaps then, he would not have to be alone. The word snaked through his body...alone. Another sigh. His eyes followed a bolt of lightening towards the Hokage faces, contemplating how soon the third would join them in stone tribute.
Suddenly, it caught his eye. Something, or someone was falling at a dangerous pace. "What the...?" With a fluid motion, he uncovered his left eye yelling "Sharingan!" Adrenalin rushed though out his body. "There!," he marked the figure falling. It was a child, a little girl, and she was not breathing.