Infelicity: (noun)

1. the quality or state of being unhappy

2. misfortune, or bad luck

3. an unfortunate circumstance; a tragedy

4. the state or quality of being infelicitous; unhappiness; misery; wretchedness; ect.

She had dreamed they were invincible. She had dreamed that they could not be broken. She had dreamed that they would survive their time on this earth together and tell stories of their missions to their children and possibly grandchildren. She had dreamed that they would grow old and live together, and have each other always, and have a happily ever after, as clichéd as that sounded. She had dreamed that she would always have him.

But she knew that they weren't invincible. She knew that they could be broken. They were shinobi of the hidden leaf village of Konoha. She knew that it was a possibility that one of them wouldn't survive their time on this earth together and that with one wrong mission gone awry, there would be no stories, no children and no happily ever after. She knew that they probably wouldn't grow old together, that they would probably die before their fortieth birthdays and they would part in their own horrifically violent ways, as melancholy as that sounded. She knew deep down that she probably wouldn't always have him and that before she knew it, she would be alone. She attempted to prepare herself for the moment by knowing all these facts. She categorized them and organized them methodically. Because knowing was the key.

But there was a difference between knowing and dreaming and distinguishing which you believe in more.

And still, she was shocked when it happened.

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She had always thought they were an odd couple, but a perfectly functional couple none the less. There was an understanding of sorts between them, a strange hole that couldn't be filled without one another. An emptiness. A tragic happenstance that had turned into a lifestyle choice because neither did well with dealing with grief. Because both were tortured souls and while he didn't talk much and dealt with his problems through his silent introverted nature, she did enough talking for the both of them. It was easier that way. Still, he listened well and was kind in a gentle manner. He wasn't aloof and jaded like people said he was. He was a human like everyone else and even human's, human's who are shinobi bound to codes of honor and laws and indictable rules of conduct have feelings. So when they found each other and the emptiness between them clicked, she wasn't surprised when neither felt obliged to announce their new found relationship to the world. And after a while, after years of being together in silent companionship, she began to think that maybe this was something right for once. Maybe he was the one.

But all it took was three short words to cease those thoughts. It took three words to tear down her world. It took three words to break the bond of two people destine for each other on an earthly plane.

"Anko, he's dead."

It took three words to destroy a person. Three words to end of a pipe dream. Three words to announce he was gone. Forever.

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There are some who say that to grieve properly, you must go through five sequential stages in a cycle that are essential in over-coming a tragedy. But Anko had never been able to cope with tragedy or grief that well, and so in the only way she knew how, went through the stages in a methodical, categorical way in order to make sense of them like an instruction manuel. Stage one, Ibiki told her, is denial. You ignore the problem and tell yourself that things that are happening or have happened are not and that the world you are living in is an illusion. Essentially, you lie to yourself. But Anko had never lied to herself. "I know he's gone Ibiki. Kakashi is dead."

Stage two is anger, he told her. You hate everything. The world, yourself, god…because why is this happening to you? Why did fate deal you such a shitty hand? You don't know and you want answers. But Anko wasn't angry. She felt nothing and thought nothing of it. She was beginning to get annoyed by his theory however…

Stage three is bargaining, he said. The god you once hated you plea with and you beg to Kami to bring your loved one back. And when that doesn't happen, you get depressed. Which brings you to stage four. You become sad…and sometimes loose the will to live. Life seems pointless without them, and so you ask yourself, why bother?

Yet Anko had never pleaded with anyone to bring him back. And life wasn't pointless…just empty. Still, she thought Ibiki might be right, if only about that one stage because she felt an overwhelming feeling of pain and sadness every time she thought about him and for a few days, got drunk in her apartment alone.

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On the fourth day of isolation, Ibiki visited her and told her tragedy was best defined as the art of human suffering through mental anguish and torment caused by one's perceived losses. He told her that without completing the cycle she would never heal and the emptiness she had felt before he had been in her life would return. She got angry, and thought Ibiki's theory was stupid and told him to fuck off because there was no "perceived loss", but an actual factual loss. Kakashi was dead and he was never coming back.

To dull the rage, she later tried to ignore it all together, deny the facts of life, and drank some more. She woke up feeling disorientated and numb, but still angry.

Stages one and two were now complete. She remained switching between these stages for quite some time.

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Sometime after, she took a visit to the memorial stone. She couldn't think of anything witty or poignant to say; nothing enlightening, nothing of his trials and tribulations, nothing of his success or achievements, nothing about him, or herself, or herself with him…just his failure. His failure to obviously do something critical which led to his death. An unlike others who had come before her, leaving flowers and reciting unplanned monologues panegyrizing his character while weeping miserably over the loss of a great shinobi hero and friend, she stood in silence and told herself she would give more anything in the world to have him back.

And after a while, after she had thought long and hard about it, she knew there were no words or feelings strong enough to bring him back, and nothing worth expressing that could describe everything she was experiencing right now.

Eventually, she took out a blade and carved "I miss you" into the ground near the stone his name was etched into with ultimate honor and went home.

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Ibiki had never explained to Anko what the fifth stage of the grieving cycle was. But if he had, it would have told her acceptance is the fifth and final stage. He would have told her it is a time in your life when you come to terms with everything that has happened and you feel a sudden burden lifted from your mental state. Acceptance isn't simply acknowledging a tragedy has happened, it is acknowledging it and dealing with the effects it has had on your life. You know things are going to be fine and that by realizing and having such an epiphany, you will have completed the grieving process by normal standards.

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Anko reached the fifth stage of acceptance when saw two of the three former students Kakashi had taught visiting the memorial on a rainy spring day, one year later.

They left flowers and the brat with yellow hair from the chunnin five years previous exclaimed loudly that he was well on his way to becoming the next Hokage and that when he did he would come visit him again and show him his accomplishments.

She expected the girl next to him to become angry, hit her companion or even tell him to shut-up. This is their sensei he was talking to and he was acting like a complete idiot. But she didn't…she simply smiled wistfully, and in a quite voice said:

"What Naruto is trying to say Sensei, is that he thanks you for everything you taught him while you were alive."

And for some reason, Anko smiled. A feeling…a feeling so heavy that she had carried with her for so long suddenly vanished because these children—no—young adults, had made her realize that even in tragedies such as these, there was always something to be thankful for. She had her epiphany. Even though he was long gone, his body turned to ash and his soul amongst the heavens, there was always the memories he had left her with. She couldn't have him with her, but she could be thankful for the time that she had had with him while he was alive.

So she remembered. She remembered once not being able to know whether she wanted to believe in dreams more then reality. She tried to organize life methodically and categorized the facts, because if she was prepared for life, then she wouldn't be so distraught when it hit her. But it hit and she was still distraught...and she knows now the only solid fact in life is that life is unpreparable. Still, she doesn't know what to think anymore, because even with this sudden realization, she's still angry, still sad, still trying to forget it ever happened and still wishing she could give something so he would come back to her. Without him she feels like she's missing something, the ying to her yang, the half piece of her half whole...but she can cope now. Cope knowing, not dreaming, that she still has the time they spent together to be thankful for. On quiet nights she likes to tell herself it was simply his time to go...

But still, she likes to dream, and hope, that one day, when it is her time, when her violent end comes to pass she will fly to heavens, fly to Kami and see him again, in another life, another world, and maybe be reunited. Maybe there she can dream of growing old together, having each other always and it is there she can dream of being invincible and unbreakable. It is there that she can dream. But until then, she is stuck in the cycle, the cycle of life, the cycle of birth and renewal, death and regression, the cycle of grief...until then, she is stuck coping, stuck waiting for the day she meets her maker and knowing that she can dream when it's all over.

Because all she's ever wanted was happiness. All she ever wanted was him.