AN: Woe is me, my sad little self writing these deep emotional, gooey things. They're actually a lot of fun, they don't require much thought and they take little time! It's like a Hot Pocket, but digitized! Doesn't that just blow your mind?
Disclaimer: nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing. NOTHING.
He never thought it would come to this. He was alone, his wife was long dead, and his children had long since left the nest.
And being the old man he was, that made him a bit crotchety. Sitting at his big mahogany desk, taking small puffs from his pipe and reading reports from fresh from the Academy gennin and five-foot chunnin occupied most of his day. Weeks would pass like a blur, he would loose track of time and before he knew it, he was old.
Old and tired.
The old warrior looked out his window, his eyes (not what they used to be, another of his senses that had started to go) seeing every inch of his village. His eyes traveled to the playground of the Academy and he felt himself getting winded just watching the children play. The pure delight on their faces was making the strings of his heart tug and pull on the weary muscle. The old man turned away from the delightful sight.
He had to catch his breath. He can't even remember the last time he had breathed that hard.
Lord Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, Saru. Many names had been placed upon his head over the copious years of his life, but he never thought sensei would be one of them. He can remember the first time he had been called by that name. It had been almost forty years ago, but he could remember it like it was yesterday.
It was the little blonde babe, her sparkling brown eyes that looked just like her grandfather's, and that fiery little temper she carried around was that of her grandmother. She was staring up at him (he couldn't forget how small they were when he first met them) and he kneeled down to meet her eyes.
"So you're sensei." She announced, words frothing with expectation like he was some dog ready to do flips for her. He remembers the strained smile he plastered to his face, and the numerous curses running through his mind as he thought of his goofy sensei filling out the gennin teams.
Sarutobi, from that day forward, became more than a teacher to the three children he was given.
He became their father.
The pale little genius had long buried his parents, the pervy little white haired one had no recollection of his, and the precious blonde girl barely saw her father, if any at all.
Years had floated past each of them, his children growing strong and raising names for themselves, the Sannin they called them. How proud Sarutobi was, he was beaming, and everyday you could see him carrying himself high, his chest stuck out like he was something.
But nothing would prepare him for their rebellion.
His prodigy was the first to go, taking with him his father's hope for the future.
His perv was next, ashamed and worn. He took with him his father's humor.
And finally, his girl turned tail, the most beloved of them all, had run off with her father's heart.
Now the old man sits in his chair, day in and day out, gazing at old pictures of the family he once had, remembering the bonds he'd formed and the years he had spent picking up the pieces.
The father sits and mourns.
O.M.G like, four already! Yosh, my hot youthful readers! THE LOTUS BURNS BURNS BRIGHT WITHIN ALL OF YOU! I'm already working on the fifth one, so no need to fret, awesomeness is on the way.
PEACE :P