Chapter Text
A small figure was sitting outside as silver moonlight rained down on him, making for a rather ethereal, sad, glow.
Knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around them and a chin tucked close.
He needed to go in soon. The clouds were gathering and a soft drizzle had started, but he stayed there, uncaring of the dampness and cold.
("Tou-san, look! I got first rank again!" He was practically glowing with pride, but a sort of jittery anxiousness stirred within, looking up at his father for approval.
He didn't get said approval.
He got more.
Arms immediately wrapped around his small body with shinobi quick efficiency, a yelp escaping involuntarily as he was suddenly high up in the air. A delighted laugh escaped his Tou-san's mouth, that familiar face beaming with so, so much pride. It stirred up his own pride again, anxiety suddenly disappearing in the face of a shy, happy flush.
"That's my boy! Knew you could do it!"
Then, he was pressed up against his father's side, arms immediately circling his neck for more balance as he shot his father a beaming smile that was quickly mirrored. A teasing light entered his father's eyes, a familiar mock pout quickly showing up.
(More familiar than it had any right to be, in Kakashi's opinion.)
"Maybe now you could spare some of that studying time for your poor, lonely, Tou-san?"
A considering hum, a soft tapping on his chin and raised eyebrows.
"I dunno…. Could I?"
"I'll get you eggplant miso soup for a week."
"Deal.")
A single tear, one salty line down his face. The drizzle got more vicious, a soft wind starting to blow.
(He had skipped a grade again, and was kind of ostracized by his peers, which he hadn't paid much attention to, since this was the usual reaction to someone younger than them joining in the middle of the term. Smarter, too.
Then, his stuff started disappearing. Whispers when they thought he was out of hearing range. Words on his desk, easily washed away, but never forgotten.
He never let his feelings show. His father saw right through him.
A head rested against his own, forehead to forehead and warm, calloused hands on his cheeks, an angry, yet gentle, gaze.
"Whatever they say, whatever they assume about you, they are wrong. You are so much better than that, so much more. Humans get jealous, Kakashi. It's in our nature. It's more pronounced in some, less in others, but it's always there festering, waiting in the background, striking when it sees the chance. A natural instinct. They got jealous of you because you are better than them, yet so much younger, and that just makes the fact that you're stronger all that more worse in their opinion. Their pride was stung. So they chose the stupidest possible thing to do and lashed out. Children are cruel in a way that adults can't be, but adults also have their own brand of cruelty. You have to be prepared and always remember it doesn't matter how much others hate you, despise your very existence, because there will always be those that care about you. Who have your back. Your family, your comrades.")
A choked sob. A second tear. A soft storm started to rage, wind lashing against his too small frame.
("Where are you going?"
A jolt, posture quickly tensing up before he recognized the voice and relaxed again. A sheepish grin was on his father's face when he turned around to face him, an uneasy frown on his own as a bad feeling started to worm its way inside him.
"Kakashi! I didn't even notice you there. You're getting better at stealth. It truly makes a father proud."
A single fake tear, but a truly proud smile, and still, there was something off. His father was a strong shinobi (nearly as strong as the sanin, no one dared to say). He would have sensed his presence ages ago, even if he had improved in his stealth.
Which he hadn't.
He had been focusing on agility, stamina and throwing projectiles lately. Not stealth. It made the bad feeling grow further.
His father noticed his agitated figure, smile finally dropping yet reforming in favor of a wry, proud, yet still so gentle (always gentle) one.
"I'll be going away for a very important mission now. The odds… aren't favorable, but I have to. I will. And I'll come back to you, alive."
A determined glint, conviction in his voice. Kakashi's body relaxed, frown softening, blind trust and an unwavering faith stepping in. He wished the bad feeling had gone away, but it hadn't, was still there. He ignored it. (He should have listened to it.)
"Come back."
Because his Tou-san didn't need luck. He had skill. His father's eyes lit up in acknowledgement, faith returned with his own trust and so much warmth.
"See you soon.")
A third one, and they were starting to pour down now, following the lead of the soft drizzle turned vicious storm.
The dark clouds started to light up, a warning of what was to come.
(His Tou-san was back, and that was all Kakashi cared about, all Kakashi could focus on, but then…
The whispers started again. Not about him, but about his father, about a team rescued, about a war started. The whispers followed their every move, dogged their every step, affected how others viewed them, treated them.
His Tou-san hadn't come to pick him up today, but that was okay. Kakashi was a big boy now. He could go back home on his own.
Then, someone approached him, a woman. She seemed rather nice, but the pitying look she looked at him with irked him, made him bristle.
"You poor little thing, having to live with that sorry excuse of a konoha shinobi. It must be so hard dealing with that. I just wanted to say that you're welcome to stop by and have a sleepover with my Takeshi whenever you want to get away from him."
It was clear who the 'him' was. What Kakashi then proceeded to say was something a child should have never even known about, something even he wouldn't have uttered if only because he was better than that, smarter than saying it, but he didn't care. He was just so angry. The woman had insulted his precious Tou-san!
Who was Takeshi anyway? Probably one of his classmates. Kakashi wasn't really sure, nor did he care. He certainly wouldn't be becoming friends with him anytime soon.
His opinion had been made clear.)
Lightning flashed in the distance, the following boom of thunder muffled from how far away it was.
Another choked sob. Sadness, a strangled rage, potent hatred…
(He looked at his father, a broken, fragile thing, a mere shadow of the previously confident and strong man.
Yet the smile was the same.
He was broken, just tethering on the edge of shattered, and still he never stopped trying to be strong for him. Never for himself, just for Kakashi. Kakashi hated it.
He wanted to scream, to rage, to demand he just stop.
"I'll always be here, Kakashi. I'll always have your back."
So, Kakashi did the one thing he could think of to make him stop.
"I don't need your help… "
The whispers flashed by, the villagers' disgusted faces, the revolted ones of the shinobi. One word stuck out.
"... Traitor.")
… An overwhelming guilt.
"Liar."
Whether he was referring to himself or his father, he had no idea.
(A warm puddle of blood, a still chest, crimson blooming across his father's body, blade buried deep within it.
His life would never be the same.)
Lightning struck nearby, thunder ringing within his ears, the scent of ozone now clear in the air.
(He could still smell the distinct scent of iron, blood heavy on his arms, his legs, his everything, as he tried to get him to move, to breathe, to wake up and realize this was all just a horrible horrible dream. A complete nightmare.)
He curled up into himself, wanting the storm to disappear, his father back, his emotions to stop, for the world to go away.