There was a picture folded in his pocket. He'd cut it out of an old newspaper years ago and had since always carried it with him in the front left pocket of his flak jacket. It was a picture Konohamaru had taken many, many, too many years ago for one of his Academy newspaper articles.

There stood three genin at the edge where a forest met a training ground. A dark brooding boy leaned against one of the trees, looking bored and uninterested in any and everything. Nearby sat a bright blond child. He seemed to be rocking back and forth in anxious excitement, his mouth still smiling around whatever words he was saying. In front of the boys paced a petite, pink-haired girl. Her face portrayed a look of patient sophistication and control, which was harshly contrasted by her clenched fists.

It was a different time. The days seemed so bright and the whole world spread out before them. They had faced hardships and were familiar with loss and death, but their's was a world filled with promises and opportunities. They seemed to be at the cusp of something, something great. They had a future around the corner and were determined to meet it head on. They could feel it; the dawn of a new and better day was not far off...but their sensei was definitely late.

Now the dead-last outcast, the vengeful prodigy, and the average fangirl were gone, replaced by the beloved Hokage, the hidden protector, and the strongest kunoichi in village history. It was hard for them to remember what it was like to be those other people. It all felt so long ago, distant, as if from a previous life.

But Kakashi remembered. If only for the reason that no one else seemed to. He remembered ridiculous promises and condescending smirks and desperate giggles and just how long it took for each of those kids to grow into someone else. He remembers those kids because it was those reckless fools, not the shining and successful adults, who forced him to love them. It was their naive and loyal hope that wouldn't take no for an answer. It was something that he had once known but had forgotten in the long years of ninja. He would not allow himself to forget it again.

So he remembered. He remembered repeated failure and ramen obsession and blind persistence. He remembered disguised pain and prodigal arrogance and single-minded purpose. He remembered long hair and happy blushes and endless devotion. He preserved it all in his mind, separate and distinct from the people he knew today.

He carried the old photo with him...because some things deserved to be remembered.