Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Gentle Lesson: The Restoration of the Hatake ❯ Ripples ( Chapter 5 )

 

I'm a sucker right? That's why I give in an update, right? Sigh…. Anyway, I put this up `cause I'm feeling good, `cause I got an A- on an art history paper that didn't deserve it. Cheers!

 

 

Only thing to dampen my good spirits: I don't own Naruto, this is all due to my sick imagination.

 

 

Warning: Language, disturbing images, angst!

 

 

This is a very, very angsty story! It'll have a good ending, but Kakashi isn't going to be fixed for a loooooooonnnnnnngggggg while. Seriously. So just hang in there, folks. Yukio is disturbing. Yes. He is meant to disturb. This is not a YAOI fic although there is inference to man/man sex which is non-con.

 

 

This is a Kakashi/Sakura fiction and that's what you have to look forward to!

 

 

Read and review please!!!

 

 

Easy to Forget?

 

 

Sakura's glare held no real venom as she laid a healing hand on Sasuke's cut - an accident during sword practice with Naruto. The said blonde was standing by, looking anxious - the art of the katana and the tanto still eluded him.

 

 

“Do this more often, Sasuke,” the pink-haired medic scolded. “And you'll lose a limb one day - and then - where will you be?”

Sasuke didn't even answer.

 

 

They all knew he and Naruto would come in next week due to another foolhardy practice session. And the pink-haired medic would be the one to come and heal them.

 

 

Their training always tended to be more dangerous.

 

 

Tsunade, watching from afar, smiled underneath her frown.

 

 

They lack the maturity to be sensei - but given time….

 

 

She sighed.

 

 

Maybe, together, they won't make the mistakes Jiraiya and I did. Sure Sasuke's rehabilitation has been hard but - but now at the top of the hill, there is a future to look forward to.

 

 

It's like old times, woman,” Jiraiya rumbled suddenly behind her.

Tsunade carefully set her scrolls down, trying to behave unstartled.

“It does.”

“Seeing them smile - laughing - being together - a team - it makes you feel hope….”

Tsunade nodded. Then frowned again.

“Team….”

“Eh?”

“They aren't complete, really.”

Jiraiya looked at the three young Jounins, who had - working together - proved their worth and the depths of their love on the battlefield.

“Old woman…”

“That brat is missing…”

“Eh?”

“Kakashi.”

Jiraiya's face went blank.

“Damn me!”

“Yeah, I know…” Tsunade said. “I've been keeping an eye out - an ear out for him… but - he's been so deeply involved with ANBU - I just forgot the importance he has for the rest of his… he's the last of his line, as well…”

“The village owes the Hatake - owes him a lot.”

“Jiji….” Tsunade said thoughtfully. “You wouldn't believe.”

“He's been good?”

“Well - he won't ever receive public commendation - but -“

She could still see the files of missions accomplished by the white-haired genius.

 

 

And Sakumo…

 

“I know! Imagine! Taking a shine off of the Sannin. I'm honoured - really! But I've got something better up my sleeve! There's so much potential power hidden in the Hatake - you watch! Between Kakashi and I, we'll bring the glory days back!”

 

I'd do anything for an old friend… Sakumo was a great man. But he was too thoughtful. Too sensitive…. Kakashi has walked a much darker - much lonelier - path than his old man. I'd do anything for an old friend… even to save his loved one from himself…

 

Damn the war…

 

 

“Maybe you should decommission him to regular Jounin duty - how long has he been in ANBU? A year?”

Tsunade jerked her head.

 

 

I'm always astonished at how he can just pick up what I'm thinking… Old man… Hn…

 

 

“No.” Tsuande said, turning away to walk down the hall, the sounds of bright laughter followed them in echoes. “Since the beginning of the war. You know the Oto-school incident?”

Jiraiya shuddered.

“Apparently, it was him.”

“For sure?”

“Well - I can double check - but I heard it from a very reliable source….”

Jiraiya said nothing for awhile.

Then:

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Hell.”

“I know, Jiji.”

“Can't we get him out?”

“If he doesn't pass the test, I'll pull him out easy enough… protocol…”

A silence.

“And if he does?”

“I'll get him out.”

“Gods, Tsunade… those kids….”

 

 

He could still see the blood on his hands.

One the walls. On his tongue. Clogging his nose. The tang was in his senses. And their eyes - terrified - still - young - asking, “Why?”

 

 

Why, Kakashi, why?

 

 

They reached for him with their stiff limbs - crawling and pleading for mercy - so young. He tried to tell them again and again.

 

 

Disillusionment is the work of time, time is the inevitable turning of the wheel of life.

 

 

But they didn't understand.

 

 

Bounding from his bed, Kakashi fell to the cold boards stifling a sharp cry as his abused body spasmed from the pain. The steady throb of his lower half struck up a symphony with his beautifully striped ribs.

 

 

Damn! Damn!

 

 

Just feeling the slickness of filth and dirt - and gods, dirt - all over his pale skin - the seed and the dried saliva - he threw up again and again the alcohol that burned still in his gut and pounded up through his head to a red-coloured sky.

 

 

Fuck.

It was like Tsukiyomi all over.

 

 

Fifteen minutes later, Kakashi scraped himself off the floor and hobbling around, found a soiled yukata, threw himself into the shower down the hall, with just enough presence of mind to grab his kit. Hands shaking, he managed to jerk out his sponge - his soap and within minutes, he was scrubbing at his sensitive skin maniacally.

 

 

A genius to revive the glory days…. Damn… Father… I'm so… gods… why do I

always fuck up this way… what the hell's wrong with me?

 

 

And he saw it.

It was everywhere. Blood stained his hands - red and dark. And no matter how much he scrubbed - no amount would wash the voices away. Nor their eyes.

He felt naked before their accusing eyes. And the cramped feeling in his gut unfurled - it was self-loathing and though he stood there alone, he could feel them watching.

 

 

Watching. Always watching.

And their blood never left his hands.

 

 

The tiny shower was comforting - steam surrounded him feebly attempting to warm the inner core of ice deep in his gut. It was so small he felt as if he was enfolded in warm arms.

 

 

Mother.

 

 

I wonder if this is what it feels like - to be back in mother's arms - or in her belly.

 

 

Although even there - even there - the ghosts would still be there to haunt him.

 

 

After four hours of standing with the warm water - now stone cold - Kakashi trying to control his chattering teeth and his shivering body, found his way to bed, blindly, in the dark night. Kakashi fumbled with his quilt and pulled it back hastily as he curled into a tight ball.

 

 

I want to die.