There is no need to dress up in costumes, to celebrate the supernatural. All shinobi know that the line between living and lived, life and existence, is too thin, too intangible. There are souls with no bodies and bodies with no souls at every turn. Demons are an inescapable reality when they're twenty stories high and cloaked in fire, laying carnage to your home.
On October tenth, the Fourth Hokage drew the seals and opened a portal to the netherworld. No one was shocked, not really. Not even those who watched Sarutobi Hiruzen give himself up to the reaper. Shinobi know what Death looks like; it's not black but white. Empty eyes, lips leached of life, pale skin stretched taut over a rack of bones.
Only the living wear black.
...
November
Ten and five days into his journey home, he hears about the Fall of the Leaf. Panic grips him hard and tight, coils right around him before he springs forward in a punishing pace. He knows he will be late anyway - tundra land surrounds him as far as the eye can see. This strip is No Man's Land and there is little life out here. For news of the Leaf to have spread so far ...
A barren forest greets him on his return. He's almost managed to skip Fall and go straight to Winter. The last leaves are fluttering to the ground; some of them are fiery and defiant to the end, they will never fall. A scabbing wound flares to life, breaking open as he leaps through the window and squeezes through the dusty window frame. His bones have lengthened, and his shoulders broadened again. It will take a while to train himself to adapt to the change but the greater reach will benefit him once he's done.
There is an order to life in the Leaf. It's not quite home but not quite anywhere else. There are rules here that he only breaks sometimes.
This will be his first normal day in a year. A shower, five hours of sleep, and a hot meal. When it cannot be staved off any longer, he returns to the Stone. He's two sentences into the story of his year long mission to the Snow when a sob catches him off-guard. There's a small figure slumped behind memorial, trying to cry. He's not used to company here. Most shinobi visit at night, or at dawn. Kakashi prefers mid-morning, when the rest of the village is busy with life.
That's right, there are new additions. He forces himself to look down, searching for the familiar characters, the ache in his chest mounting with every moment. A hand marks Obito's name, just over the center of the list. There are so many new etchings and his eyes blur over them all. He's looking for just two. He braces himself for one but when his knees buckle, it's really because he's found the other.
Obito, I've failed you.
The soft cloth grows damp and clings to his face in grief. Take care of Rin. Such a simple command. And he'd failed failed failed in every single way imaginable. He hadn't even tried, not really, not at all. He's hollow inside out and incapable of saving anyone. Not Rin, not Obito, not sensei.
The child is at his side now, having given up mourning in favor of watching him crumble on hands and knees. If he had any pride at all, this would be the time to leave, but there's no room left for anything else and he reaches out, his fingers scrabbling over newly cut grooves for confirmation.
He trembles over the last name before realization (relief, chased by guilt) hits him hard and he crashes to the ground. The mask is sopping wet now, tears dripping down into the cloth wrapped around his neck. Slowly, he draws himself back up, kneeling in front of the Stone in reverence.
Unexpectedly, it's grief and not respect that bows his head as he rests a palm on the newest addition.
Sarutobi Hiruzen.
...
December
Chill rain soon gives way to hard, cold snow that gets into everything and is impossible to ignore. The village is still rebuilding, still in mourning. Death is part of life and none know it better than those who have spent their lives in the hidden villages. But it is not every day, not every week or month or year, that they lose a leader.
Sarutobi Hiruzen had been a Hokage for the lifetimes of many of the Leaf. He had outlived many of his charges, and many more had thought that he would see them off as well.
His successor is the tall, grim-faced Namikaze Minato who ascended to the position months before the Sandaime's death. The Leaf follows him without question or hesitation. This is Konoha's Yellow Flash, their ace that won the War, and he has their unwavering loyalty.
Those who knew him before the War remember a loud, brash brat with messy blonde hair, clumsy feet and too-big dreams. Every Leaf shinobi who survived the War has a Yellow Flash story. And after the Nine-Tails Attack, every Leaf villager near worships the ground he walks on. In the rest of the shinobi world, his name is renown and once more people know to fear the Leaf.
Uzumaki Kushina, dead and buried just weeks ago, knew Namikaze Minato and the way he loved ramen, loved red hair, loved forests, loved inventing, loved her and his village above everything else. She knew how he snored at night and could fall asleep during sex because he was the Hokage and a stubborn man who refused to delegate; he woke up sometimes crying for his dead students and dead comrades and tried to never ever let her know. She knew how he pretended to daydream when he was really watching the Konoha gates, waiting for a flash of white hair to signal the return of a mentor or a disciple, his only family before her.
Of those who called him Sensei, only his first student still breathes. It is winter, nine weeks and four days since Kushina's death, when he reads a mission report and realizes this.
"Get me the Wolf," he rasps out to one of the ANBU standing guard and it's as easy as that. Perhaps, it is the only easy thing about being the Hokage.
One look is all the Wolf needs to know the Fourth is not sleeping, not eating, hanging onto life by the fingers of a newborn babe and piles of paperwork.
"You returned earlier than expected," is all Minato can say to the boy in front of him; he doesn't apologize for Rin, doesn't tell him about Naruto. The Wolf just nods; doesn't ask about Kushina or Rin or even the Sandaime. Here and now, with the Hokage's desk between them, they are nothing more than shinobi and lord.
The debriefing could have taken less than half an hour, could have been done by someone else. The Wolf lingers for a moment too long before he brings out a parcel, wrapped carefully in shiny silver paper. "For your son," he places the gift on desk. The Hokage stares at it and the Wolf bites his lips, thankful for his masks. "I know this isn't the right time or place, but, I went to your old apartment and it was deserted, and I didn't know when else I'd get to ... congratulate you," Kakashi tries his best to explain.
The smile that slowly spreads across Minato's haggard face is worth it. To any other person, the awkward rush of words would just seem a strange contrast to the clipped and precise report the ANBU Wolf had delivered moments ago. But Minato, once jounin-commander of the disbanded Cell 7, knew how rare it was was for Hatake Kakashi to (almost) stumble over his words. Kakashi was actually flustered and Minato wishes he had a camera, wishes the damn masks were off.
"Thank you," there's life in those blue eyes now, "But I think you should give Naruto his gift in person."
"Naruto?"
That gets a genuine laugh. "Yes, after Jiraiya-sensei's character."
Kakashi snorts in disbelief. He knows Sensei; he's had to sit through enough ramen lunches and dinners because of the man.
"Hey, it's not a bad name!"
Kakashi just folds his arms in mock disapproval. A knock on the door makes him straighten his back and drop the insubordinate pose, once more the consummate picture of a Leaf shinobi. He doesn't miss the way Minato's face tenses at the interruption. Minato looks at him then, past the porcelain mask and the cloak shrouding his form, and smirks, "You've grown taller."
"That tends to happen," Kakashi replies drily, glad that no one can see the upturned corners of his lips and the warmth spreading through him. The knock comes again and the Hokage lets out a soft sigh.
"I'd better see to that. But I'm serious, you should visit Naruto. The Skink can take you," he waves at the guard positioned outside the window. Kakashi nods his assent before he follows the Skink into the bowels of the Hokage Tower. The Yondaime watches until Kakashi's chakra signature blends into the crowd of paper-pushers, nodding absently to the Chuunin who was laying out proposals for attention.
30.10.2010
