A Lingering Scent

By Maria Szabo

Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Kishimoto Masashi and his publishers, etc. This is a work of fanfiction and no profit is being made save that of enjoyment.

Now I cannot tell
What my old friend is thinking:
But the petals of the plum
In this place I used to know
Keep their old fragrance.

Ki no Tsurayuki

English translation by Bownas and Thwaite, The Penguin Book of
Japanese Verse (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1964), p. 82

"Obito?" He hesitated, looking down at the shattered remains of what he thought might be the monument stone for the shinobi who had lost their lives in defense of the Leaf Village. It was hard to tell. Everything in the village had been flattened, from the edge of the great cliff where the Hokage faces stared down past the great gates down to where the deep woods began. "Obito? It's me. Kakashi. Again."

The base of the monument had cracked in three places. The pieces of the headstone were scattered, the names of the departed now relegated to tiny chips of obsidian shimmering upon the dust-covered grass.

"You won't believe it. I think I might have died. Maybe. For a moment. Or something." Even now, the memory was fading. The darkness, a creeping light of a campfire, the reflection of a face, the one so similar to his own, the one he tried so desperately to hide so that no one would remember. "I saw him, Obito. My father. And he talked to me."

The light caught upon the obsidian on the grass, sparkling.

"I always hated you, you know? Uchiha this, Uchiha that. The great, the mighty, the all-powerful Uchiha clan. You would never shut up about it. And every time you opened your mouth, I just kept thinking about my family, about the Hatake. We were nothing special. Yeah, my father was extraordinary, but even he broke under pressure. Not like the Uchiha. Ironic, huh? Look at what happened to them. What an idiot I was."

He could feel tears forming. From his real eye, not the one Obito gave him.

"And you. You were like a joke. Always late, always making excuses, always writing stupid love poems to Rin. You don't think I didn't know about that? Idiot. Didn't sensei ever tell you the reason we always have a girl on the team is so that we can learn NOT to fall in love with them?"

The morning had dawned with a clear sky, but now clouds were forming on the horizon.

"Not that Rin ever noticed you. She was too busy wasting her time looking at me. Silly girl. Didn't she realize that we were at war? There's no time for that."

He kicked the dusty grass and felt bits of stone crackle under his feet.

"But I was wrong, wasn't I? Sensei sure found the time, didn't he? But by the time I turned around to look at Rin, she...wasn't there anymore. Just like my father. Just like you. Just like Minato-sensei, even. Just...gone."

It felt darker. Kakashi looked up. The clouds were growing thicker.

"It's kind of hazy now, but I remember sitting at that campfire, talking to my father. I thought he'd be angry with me, but he just seemed so happy to see me. I don't remember him ever smiling like that when he was alive. And I said I was sorry. And he said it was okay. I kept thinking you would show up, too. And Rin. But you never came."

"Is it because you've forgiven me? Is that it?"

The wind shuffled around him. Cool air. Probably rain coming in.

"Minato-sensei's kid, he's really turned out to be something. I've told you about him before. Kid's dense, just like you were. But he never gives up. I keep thinking he'll break, like my father did, but he just keeps coming back, stronger. He reminds me of you. Well, at least the stubborn part."

He knelt, gingerly, his body still aching from the savage beating he'd gotten the day before.

"I just wanted you to know. I was waiting for you, too, at that campfire. It would have been nice to see you again, just one more time."

He felt a drop of rain on the back of his neck. First one, and then another, and another.

"Well, gotta go. The village is gone and the tunnels in the cliff aren't stable. I'm supposed to be working now, actually. It feels like something's coming. I can smell it in the air, but..."

He stopped and laid his hand gently across the cracked stone.

"Well, don't worry about that. I'll tell you later."

FIN

Author's note: written as a gift to Leafy Girl, in celebration that Kakashi didn't die after all. Yet.

(Yes, I'm still working on Love is Blonde. Haven't had time to write much lately.)