The scent of blood, pus, and decaying flesh was heavy on my nose; redolent incense tried to mask the odor of ruined bodies, but the smell clung to the air. I was far too used to the scent, the flavor permeating my nostrils tasting typical.

It was horrifying, really, that I was used to fetor of dying men—it was even more horrifying when I realized that this was better than usual. The hospital room I was in was far cleaner than beds of smoggy mud pounded on my dying skies.

With a sigh, I approached my teacher. Guilt clogged my throat, a steep incline of penitence making it hard for me to be here.

"Hey, Minato-sensei." I quietly said, standing next to the cot the man was situated in. Minato had woken up a few days ago, but I hadn't been able to visit him until now.

And by hadn't been able to, I mean that I was a coward. I was scared to speak with him, scared to confront him. I let his student die. He asked me to protect his students, and I failed. I let Rin die. I was too weak, my lousy movements finally showing why they were my greatest weakness.

Truly, it was ridiculous. Divine humor, perhaps, that I let myself stumble and Rin died. How can I possibly confront the future Hokage when I couldn't even do the bare minimum?

The blond's heterochromatic eyes met my own, and he gave me a charming smile. His new Sharingan felt strange to see. "Hey, Sakumo."

I awkwardly stood there, not sure as to what I should say. Minato remained quiet, letting me think. Sensei was incredibly empathetic, I've noticed. I struggled to feel deserving of it, my next words coming out in a mumble. "I'm sorry."

The room was painfully silent for a moment, Minato and I meeting each other's gazes. It was painful, trying to meet his eyes. My chest tugged painfully.

This was why I had avoided…all of it. Pretending to be happy, to being well, was far easier when you didn't confront your wrongdoings.

"Sorry? For what, Sakumo?" Minato curiously asked, head tilting to the side. He flinched as raw skin tugged against itself. He ignored the pain. "I don't think there is anything to be sorry for."

The blond looked terrible, exhaustion and damage making his usually-handsome appearance warped and ruined. Tanned skin was interlaced with pale, white flesh, the contrast horrific in its nature. Cuts and scars still creeped up his neck, giving him a Frankensteinian look.

I need to become a better medic. If Minato-sensei doesn't fully recover…I don't think I could live with myself. I already have failed him enough.

"I—" My voice cut, hands morphing into clenched fists. I stared at the ground, my tongue drying. I shouldn't have come here. "I let Rin die. You told me to protect them and she died because of me…I failed. I failed you, I failed her, I failed Kakashi and Obito and the Leaf and—and…"

I devolved into incoherent mutters and babbles, trying to express adequately just how terrible I am. Rin died because of me. I—I hadn't even talked to Obito or Kakashi since we came back to the village. I'm a horrible teammate, a crummy comrade.

Obito must hate me. My plan got Rin dead. He put his trust in me, and I let Rin die. I let a child die. I've already died once, I already had been given a second chance…

It was not fair. It was so, so unfair. My presence was supposed to change canon, to make the world better.

"No, Sakumo." Minato moved to place a hand on my shoulder, but he winced and stopped halfway, muscles failing. He frowned and then shook his head, proceeding to quickly hide those expressions. "You failed no one. I am your captain. I am an adult. I failed you."

I gaped, mouth held ajar. How could he possibly be blaming himself? My voice pushed out of my throat, the noise squeakier than my typically high-pitched voice. "But you defeated all of those—!"

Minato snorted, his face clearly showing he thought I said something ridiculous. I disagreed with his assessment.

"In my own arrogance, I decided to take on three S-ranked shinobi." Minato definitively said, leaving no room for arguments. "I judged my abilities to be greater than they truly were. It is in my arrogance, Sakumo, that Rin died." He gave me an encouraging smile, but I could see the pain he tried to hide. "Never, ever blame yourself for my own failings."

Minato may have left no room for arguments, but no one ever said I was not a fool.

"You did what you thought was the best action." I defended my teacher, a scowl falling on my face. "You weren't arrogant, you thought that—"

Yet again, I was cut off. "And you didn't do what you thought was the best action? You're better than a hypocrite, Sakumo." An amused smile pulled itself onto his face, but it was positively miserable. "I knew your namesake, did you know that? Kakashi's father was much like you—both of you lack the ability to pull yourselves out of your own guilt. It is that same quality that led to his death, a quality that I don't wish to see fester in you. "

"So you admit I am guilty!" I triumphantly say, completely ignoring all of what he said. I ignored the implications of what he was saying, his words going through one ear and out the other.

"Kushina would hit you if she heard you say that." Minato sighed deeply, the mismatched skin on his face scrunching. "Sakumo, Rin died because I decided that defending the line was better than a retreat. Rin died because I thought that I could win against three S-ranked shinobi. Rin did not die because of you."

"And how is it fair for you to take all the blame?" I clench and unclench my hands, my gaze held onto the blanket covering my teacher. "Why do you deserve to take all of the blame? I messed up! I made a bad plan and Rin died because of it. I tripped and Rin died!"

If I had spent more time practicing my taijutsu, more time correcting my horrible movements, Rin would be alive. I wouldn't have stumbled. But I did stumble because I am weak! Because I am lazy!

Minato was considering my words, tasting them and trying to find what flavor they were of. With his sour countenance, they must have been acerbic. If my words were food, he'd have spat them out with a scowl.

"Fair?" Minato repeated the word, lips held tight. A colder expression fell on his face. It wasn't directed at me, that I was sure of, but it was chilling. "There is nothing fair about it. The world we live in is not fair. I have personally killed five thousand shinobi over the course of this war, my blade slitting their throats and piercing their skulls as they gurgled on their own blood. Was that fair?" He paused, staring at my lowered head.

I refused to meet his gaze. I didn't deserve to. Minato can remain a good person even when he does great evil—I was already a terrible person before I committed any horrible sins.

Minato continued. "The number of civilians that I have killed is not far off that previous number. I have been placed on assassination missions where I have been ordered to slit the throats of infants. Rare, but it did happen…" He trailed off, a far off look in his eyes and a frown on his face. "Was that fair, Sakumo? Was it fair to the children who died at my blade?"

No noise left my throat. I refused to respond. Minato, however, just kept talking.

"And what of the two hundred and seventy-one towns that I had ordered to be destroyed for the war effort? Do you think it was fair to the people who lived there innocently that their livelihoods were ruined?" He bore into my skull, multicolored eyes held tightly onto me. "Sakumo, what is fair about any of this?"

I didn't want to respond, but Minato went quiet. The silence was painful, making my skin itch and the air heavy. I looked up, a miserable look on my face. "Nothing…nothing is fair about it."

"And you are a child, Sakumo." Minato had a gentle look on his face. It wasn't pitying—rather, it was meant to be comforting. My gut just felt tight. "You are blameless. I gave you an impossible task. It was unfair of me to ask such a thing of you. I was wrong, not you."

I shook my head, glaring. "I should have been able to do it. You told me to protect them. You told me to! I couldn't do the bare minimum, a task that should have been simple. The Jinchuriki only focused on us because I decided to attack him."

"And what would have happened if you did not attack him?" Minato rhetorically asks me. We both know the answer. "I'd have died. Then you would have died. Kakashi and Obito, too, would have died."

A blank look fell on my face as I drew back in surprise. "I—I could have done better." I sputtered in obstinance, ignoring how ridiculous my words were. "I just—I just shouldn't have tripped. I should have been stronger."

"How?" The blond simply asks, the singular word leaving me baffled. What did he mean by how?

"What?" I question, eyes narrowing in confusion. "What do you mean how?"

"How could you have been stronger, Sakumo?" Minato tilted his head curiously. "What could you have done to be more powerful?

I opened my mouth…and came up empty. My mouth opened and closed, words being birthed and instantly dying once they reached my lips. How could I have been stronger?

"I—I could have practiced my taijutsu more so that I wouldn't have stumbled." I weakly say.

Minato hummed. "And where would your sealing training come in? Or your medical training?" His eyebrows crinkled. "Or do you think that you could have somehow fit medical training, sealing training, and taijutsu training into your schedule? And if you did so, do you truly think you'd have been capable enough to unseal a Tailed Beast? Would you have been skilled enough to heal yourself from death? Or me?"

I wouldn't have been, I know that. Yet, I couldn't vocalize it. I want to be in the wrong. I want to have been the one to fail. I want to be the one blamed.

I don't know why, I really don't.

Minato reached a hand out and ruffled my hair, steeling himself to ignore the pain from the motion. His eyes were full of pride, a look I didn't deserve. "You did better than anyone could have reasonably expected you to do. No blame can lie on you, Sakumo. You were just following orders—the blame can only lie on myself, never you."

His phrasing made me freeze. Minato seemed to notice he misspoke, mouth opening to try and fix his misstep. I spoke first.

"Just following orders." I parroted, looking at Minato with a distant gaze. I tuned him out, my brain tracing those words. "Just following orders…"

Was that not the same rhetoric spewed by the monsters at the Nuremberg Trials? They were just following orders. They killed eleven million men, women, and children…but they were just following orders. They were blameless, they were just following orders.

Good soldiers follow orders. And when they don't follow orders, they are a bad soldier. And when they do follow orders, they become monsters. Am I a monster? I am just following orders, aren't I?

"I—I'll see you later, Mister Minato." I distantly say, turning around to leave. My teacher called out, telling me to wait with a twinge of panic in his voice. I barely heard him, already walking out of the door.

Minato was in no position to chase after me.

'You are not a monster, Sakumo.' Isobu prodded gently from the back of my mind. 'And you are not simply a soldier following orders.'

'Then why can't I believe that, Isobu? Why do I feel like a blight on the world?'

I've felt like a worse person ever since I became a ninja, almost as if every day I have been a shinobi I have only grown in iniquity. I wasn't made to be a shinobi, I wasn't made to be a ninja. I'm not particularly strong nor talented, I am not cut out for this.

Saving people, that is what I want to do. Yet my job is to deal in lives, deciding who is sent to the grave and who gets to live another day. My choices decide who lives and who dies…and I can't even feel like I am doing good when all I can see for miles is death, gore, and violence.

I like learning and helping people, and being a shinobi feels like the antithesis of that.

Isobu remained quiet, thinking of an adequate response. 'If guilt were not such a painful emotion, why would it be necessary for the Mangekyou to activate?' The Bijuu paused, letting me ruminate over his words. 'Guilt is the worst emotion any human can feel. The only emotion I have ever seen members of your kind kill themselves over is guilt.'

'But it is miserable.' I bemoan to Isobu, a heavy frown on my face. 'I don't feel good about anything I do as a ninja. How can I find joy in healing someone when I know that it only lets them live for one more day?'

'At least they get to live another day. As little time as it may be, it is still more time. Find joy in letting someone have their final thoughts, in letting them greet death on their own terms. That way, they may die free.'

I shook my head in disagreement, biting my lower lip. Blood trailed down my chin in dribbles. 'Is it a mercy? Is it truly a mercy to bring someone back to suffer? What mercy is there in letting someone live so that they can struggle and anguish for longer? Are I not playing a chessmaster, treating lives like pawns for my own whims?'

'How so? Is your intent to do so, Sakumo? Or do you just wish to let someone live, to let them survive?' Isobu paused, letting me take in his words. 'Do not answer that. We both know you wish to help people.'

I made my way through the hospital as I spoke to my partner, legs guiding me mindlessly to the exit. 'Even so, I don't feel like I am a good person. I only feel like scum.'

Isobu did not respond, leaving me to the silence of my own thoughts. I hate my thoughts. Too fast, too sporadic, too miserable.

I exhaled, stepping into the streets of Konoha. The air around the hospital Minato was placed in was clean, something that could not be said for a majority of the village. In the time I had been away, the smoke stacks and smog only grew worse.

I feel much like the village in that regard.

Like the village, will I only grow into soot? Any beauty whittled down with asphyxiating smoke and ash? It feels like it. It really feels like it.

Taking in the street around me, the frown on my face grows even deeper. Konoha was sad, I'd noticed. Life had been beaten out of the village, any joy drained into inky fuel to be poured into the war effort.

Even the better places—like the street I am on—are dirtier and filthier than what you would expect. Graffiti is sporadically placed in alleyways and even creeps into the main streets, written works protesting the war and the leadership.

Discontent was brewing in Konoha, and the graffiti just proved that the village was starting to lose its control over the people. There weren't enough shinobi at home to stop minor crimes like this. The Uchiha Police had long-since been dispatched to the war.

Konoha is in shambles, and it is only getting worse. I can't even imagine how terrible it is in the other villages. A few years back, Konoha was still beautiful. Even ignoring the propaganda, we were the richest hidden village with the best people. Now-a-days, I don't even know what would qualify as best people.

To be a good person, what does that even mean? I mean, I consider Minato to be a good person, yet he has killed infants in cold blood and has indirectly caused hundreds of thousands of people to die. Does Minato-sensei consider himself to be a good person? Does he consider me to be a good person?

Is anyone, really, a good person? Or are we all on a spectrum between being a paragon and being a devil? Does it even matter if I am a good person?

I certainly do not feel like a good person. And yet, how unique am I in that? It'd take a monster, really, to be a ninja and consider yourself to be good.

A laugh broke through my throat, earning me glances as I walked down the bustling streets of Konoha. It is ironic, I think, that the ninja who is a monster is the one who thinks that they are good. Likewise, the ninja who thinks that they are a monster is the one who is good.

To be a happy monster or a wallowing paragon, that is the question…

AN: Give your thanks to a guest on my story Haute-Wrought Peccancies for asking me to update. TBH I'll usually update if you just ask me, but why would anyone want that? Regardless, I'm a whore for affirmation...I am just terribly lazy.