A young prodigy, scarred by personal tragedy yet determined to surpass the person that he had once looked up to. A dead-last prankster, seeking the approval of the very people who ostracized him. A na?ve girl, without ambition as a ninja but still eager to help the people that she cared about. These are the thoughts that run through his head whenever he looks at his team, and he is both elated and terrified by the similarities to three different genin from so long ago, and what it might mean.
Hatake Kakashi does not believe in fate. Though many of his compatriots, battle-worn and hardened, subscribe to the idea that their lives and actions are manipulated by forces beyond their control and even their understanding, he is not one of them. Fate, destiny, predestination, these are words for the mystics to use, and Kakashi has always been too much of a realist for that title to ever fit him.. No, he tells himself confidently, there are no strings that control what will occur, only the actions of the past, and their effect on the present and future.
And yet, looking at his team, he cannot help but feel that there is a significance to what is happening, something that is much more profound than the rules of consequence, and yet so much more real than the idea of fate.
It is haunting scene that plays out before him, one that stirs up half-remembered memories and long forgotten dreams. There are some days that it keeps him up long into the night, his mind brooding over what might have been and that which might still be. It is a nightmare and a fantasy that he has found himself in, an epic tale whose end has not yet been decided, and yet, there is a part of him that believes that the ending has already been determined.
He watches this play, this tragedy, reading the actions of each day with a scrutiny that goes beyond the minimal attention that he has given to so many of the events that have marked his twenty-seven years of life.
He does not need Obito's gift to see them, but there are times when he uses it anyways, viewing the world through a single crimson eye, recording each action, each word so that he can replay them at his convenience, analyzing every detail so as to better understand his growing obsession. And it is an obsession; that, at least, he can admit freely, knowing that obsession is merely another facet of every ninja's personality, a survival mechanism that is carved into each of them through the bloodshed and carnage that they are all forced to endure.
At least, he comforts himself, his obsession is not as harmful as those that plague his colleagues. Unlike theirs, there is only one victim of his obsession, and that is him. That he suffers, and will continue to suffer, is beyond doubt in his mind, and yet he finds that the knowledge does not bother him. He knows that it is only right, that his obsession and all that it brings is merely the consequence of his own failings, of the mistakes he made so many years ago.
In watching the three of them, he is constantly reminded of another three young ninja, a fact that pains him, though he will never admit to that, and certainly not to them. Yet it is there, the phantoms of the past mixing freely with the realities of the present, creating a surreal collage that brings an almost unbearable torment, and yet also gives him a bizarre sense of comfort. It is as though, through their similarities to those three doomed genin, he is able to understand, not only who they are, but how they will react, how they will change, and, more importantly, how best to mold them to bring about those changes that will help them become the team that his never was.
He watches them now, three not-quite teenagers, as they struggle through another D-ranked mission, another seemingly useless exercise that few ever understand the significance of. However, Kakashi is not known as a genius for nothing, and he understands these missions with a depth of of insight that few could ever boast to possess.
Teamwork, he had told them, teamwork is the one thing that would keep them alive to see another day; teamwork is the only thing that would allow them to pass through the crucible of combat, and come out, if not unscathed, at least intact.
He had told them that, and they had taken his advice to heart, a fact that he can, and does, smugly smile about. It seems that his instincts were correct, he tells himself, secure in the knowledge that he understands these three, that he can ensure that through their struggles, they can emerge stronger and better off than he and his teammates were able to. The mistakes of the past need not be the mistakes of the present.
Yet, even as that knowledge comforts him, there are niggling doubts that stir at the edges of his perception, Obito's phantom voice whispering that all is not as it should be. This is a observation that is noted, along with all the others, marked for its significance and shelved away in the vault that is his mind, to be studied, prodded, and analyzed until it gives up its secrets to his conscious mind.
The fact that he hears his dead teammate's voice does not disturb him at all. He has long been resigned himself to the fact that he is crazy, that in listening to the voice of a man that has been dead for decades he has opened himself to a layer of dementia that is probably dangerous, even fatal, not only to himself, but to everyone around him. Yet Obito's voice has never steered him wrong, and so he shrugs and listens, trusting his friend in death as he never did in life.
The lines do not match up, Obito whispers, and Kakashi nods imperceptibly in agreement, his face hidden behind his book even as his eyes see everything.
It is true, he observes, and marks down the differences, pondering their significance. While the shadows overlap, they are not quite the team that he remembers, and that suddenly scares him, because if they are not the team he remembers, then he cannot understand them, not as well as he would like, and what is worse, he cannot predict what they will do. With that knowledge, he is left to flounder in indecision, unable to choose a suitable path to take, not knowing which decision will be the right one, the one that will see these three survive and grow to be the future leaders of the village.
His eyes slide from his book to watch his team, eyes flickering from one to another before finally settling on the genius. For a brief moment, staring at the sullen boy, he is reminded of another angry teenager, a young man brooding over the loss of his father, the one person whom he had always looked up to. And, in a way, they are the same, as his father's flight from life is similar in a way to the older Uchiha's betrayal of his village. He sees in the genius the same arrogance that he once felt, that same impatience that the genius must feel as he scowls and sulks, anxious to prove himself. For a moment, he is touched by the none-too-subtle reminder of his own past, and he has to suppress the urge to ruffle the boy's hair and urge him to be patient, that his time will come.
And yet, the wounds go deeper in this one, a hatred that, while hidden, cannot be completely suppressed. That worries Kakashi, because while he resented his father's suicide, he had never truly hated the man, and that marks the difference between the two. He cannot relate to this one, and has no idea how the genius's hatred will manifest itself. And yet... he is also aware that the genius is a Uchiha, and that the Uchiha have always been the pride of the village, the pillar which has allowed the Hidden Leaf to survive for over a hundred years. He has the potential to become the savior of the village, and Kakashi is resolved that he will be the one to allow the boy to reach that potential.
Next, he shifts his gaze to the girl, and for a moment, he sees brown hair instead of pink, dark eyes in place of green. Like Rin, she is the medium, possessing neither the genius's arrogance nor the dead-last's drive. Though she obviously cares about the genius, there is also a compassion in her, one that manifested itself in her actions during the bell test, when she gave her lunch to the dead-last. He had smiled to himself when he had seen that, knowing, as he still knows, that she has the potential to be the glue that keeps those two extremes from clashing, to keep the team working together.
But, watching her simper and preen at the genius, he realizes that while the similarities to his teammate are eerie, the differences are also acute. While Rin had similarly harbored feelings for her teammate, she had been able to remain grounded in her sense of self, not allowing her emotions to cloud her judgement as this one does. Rin knew her duty and was able to fulfill it in a way that he doubts the girl will ever be able to achieve. Yet, the potential is there, and he knows that all he can do is watch and hope that the girl will find her center and her place within the team.
Finally, he watches the dead-last, the one whose impatience and drive so remind him of the person who would become in his final moments the greatest friend that Kakashi will ever know. Just as Obito was, the dead-last is driven to succeed, to prove himself to the people who currently scorn him. He must know that he will never match the talent that the genius possesses, and yet he is determined to try anyways, to become a hero in his own right, a person that the entire village can look up to and admire. Like Obito, the thing the dead-last desires most is the recognition that he matters, that he is important.
However, he possesses shadows that never troubled Obito. Perhaps they are a result of the monster that is contained within him, or perhaps they were placed there through the negligence and disdain of the village. Either way, these shadows impede him, cause him to hesitate in a world where such indecision results in death. The reckless energy that Obito had in abundance are diminished in him, a pained caution taking its place. The dead-last knows the truth of his origins, or at least thinks he does, and, perhaps as a result, he has begun to alienate those very people that could help him.
No, he thinks to himself, he does not know these three at all. There are hidden depths to each of theme that not even the Sharingan can pierce, and that makes all the difference in the world. Though he can see the past so very clearly, he cannot see the present, and that is a flaw that could be their undoing.
He had once thought that he had known; the bell test has always been a tradition of the Hidden Leaf, one designed to not only show the individual strengths and weaknesses of each of the genin, but also to inspire them to overcome those weaknesses, to band together in the face of a superior foe. It was how he and his squad had been tested, and though they had stumbled, the bonds that had been forged through that test had connected them in a way that transcended their petty differences, creating bonds between them that perhaps not even death had been able to break.
He had known that they would have a difficult time of it. Even in his initial meeting with them, on the rooftop, he had sensed the tension, the struggle of three very different personalities clashing against each other, and yet he truly believed that, when push came to shove, they would succeed.
And yet, miraculously, they had not. In fact, it might be said that they failed spectacularly. They were, and are, too wild, too independent. They did not come together, they did not reason out the purpose of the exercise; no, instead they behaved like stupid children, each acting only according to his or her own interests. It had frustrated him then, seeing the potential in them, knowing that if they sent back to the academy, that potential would all be for naught.
He had wanted so badly for them to succeed, and, in his heart of hearts, he recognizes that this is perhaps where he had gone wrong; teamwork is not something that can be forced. You cannot make someone care about their teammates, not effectively, and in telling them the purpose of the bell test, perhaps he had tried to do just that, forcing the answer that he wanted to hear on them and letting them to parrot it back to him, instead of letting them come to the proper conclusion on their own.
They did not come to appreciate each other, nor have they come to do so now. The genius is still caught up in his own arrogance, still convinced that he does not need anyone else to succeed. The dead-last has withdrawn from the other two, and from him, drawing even further into whatever shadows have darkened his heart. Even the girl, the one he had counted on to bring the team together, is still caught up in her own petty dreams, ignoring both the reality of her situation and the harm that her fantasy is doing to those around her.
And yet, he cannot blame them for that. Their failure as a team is nothing more than a result of his failure as a teacher. In his arrogance, he thought that he could control them, that they would react the way he wanted them to. He failed to understand the differences between the people he thought (or perhaps even wanted) them to be, and they people that they truly are. It is his mistakes that have led to this situation, and it is his duty to rectify the situation.
Perhaps, he thinks to himself, it is time to retake the test. That was where his failures began, and perhaps that is the one area that his team would benefit most from revisiting. They are gaining nothing from this constant string of D-class missions, so perhaps it is time for something a little more challenging.
In the morning, he will petition the hokage for a C-class mission, one that will challenge his team, one that will force them to rely on each other, to see the value in each other. Despite his mistakes, there is still a chance that it will work out, that they will work out, finding the cohesiveness and strength that currently eludes them. They are young, and there is still room for them, for all of them, to grow. With the sins of the past hanging over him, and Obito's voice whispering in his ear, he knows that he has to give them that chance.
For all of his mistakes, he has to try.
o o o
If anyone can point out places where the flow isn't quite right, or spelling or grammar errors, etc. I would be much appreciative.
Hatake Kakashi does not believe in fate. Though many of his compatriots, battle-worn and hardened, subscribe to the idea that their lives and actions are manipulated by forces beyond their control and even their understanding, he is not one of them. Fate, destiny, predestination, these are words for the mystics to use, and Kakashi has always been too much of a realist for that title to ever fit him.. No, he tells himself confidently, there are no strings that control what will occur, only the actions of the past, and their effect on the present and future.
And yet, looking at his team, he cannot help but feel that there is a significance to what is happening, something that is much more profound than the rules of consequence, and yet so much more real than the idea of fate.
It is haunting scene that plays out before him, one that stirs up half-remembered memories and long forgotten dreams. There are some days that it keeps him up long into the night, his mind brooding over what might have been and that which might still be. It is a nightmare and a fantasy that he has found himself in, an epic tale whose end has not yet been decided, and yet, there is a part of him that believes that the ending has already been determined.
He watches this play, this tragedy, reading the actions of each day with a scrutiny that goes beyond the minimal attention that he has given to so many of the events that have marked his twenty-seven years of life.
He does not need Obito's gift to see them, but there are times when he uses it anyways, viewing the world through a single crimson eye, recording each action, each word so that he can replay them at his convenience, analyzing every detail so as to better understand his growing obsession. And it is an obsession; that, at least, he can admit freely, knowing that obsession is merely another facet of every ninja's personality, a survival mechanism that is carved into each of them through the bloodshed and carnage that they are all forced to endure.
At least, he comforts himself, his obsession is not as harmful as those that plague his colleagues. Unlike theirs, there is only one victim of his obsession, and that is him. That he suffers, and will continue to suffer, is beyond doubt in his mind, and yet he finds that the knowledge does not bother him. He knows that it is only right, that his obsession and all that it brings is merely the consequence of his own failings, of the mistakes he made so many years ago.
In watching the three of them, he is constantly reminded of another three young ninja, a fact that pains him, though he will never admit to that, and certainly not to them. Yet it is there, the phantoms of the past mixing freely with the realities of the present, creating a surreal collage that brings an almost unbearable torment, and yet also gives him a bizarre sense of comfort. It is as though, through their similarities to those three doomed genin, he is able to understand, not only who they are, but how they will react, how they will change, and, more importantly, how best to mold them to bring about those changes that will help them become the team that his never was.
He watches them now, three not-quite teenagers, as they struggle through another D-ranked mission, another seemingly useless exercise that few ever understand the significance of. However, Kakashi is not known as a genius for nothing, and he understands these missions with a depth of of insight that few could ever boast to possess.
Teamwork, he had told them, teamwork is the one thing that would keep them alive to see another day; teamwork is the only thing that would allow them to pass through the crucible of combat, and come out, if not unscathed, at least intact.
He had told them that, and they had taken his advice to heart, a fact that he can, and does, smugly smile about. It seems that his instincts were correct, he tells himself, secure in the knowledge that he understands these three, that he can ensure that through their struggles, they can emerge stronger and better off than he and his teammates were able to. The mistakes of the past need not be the mistakes of the present.
Yet, even as that knowledge comforts him, there are niggling doubts that stir at the edges of his perception, Obito's phantom voice whispering that all is not as it should be. This is a observation that is noted, along with all the others, marked for its significance and shelved away in the vault that is his mind, to be studied, prodded, and analyzed until it gives up its secrets to his conscious mind.
The fact that he hears his dead teammate's voice does not disturb him at all. He has long been resigned himself to the fact that he is crazy, that in listening to the voice of a man that has been dead for decades he has opened himself to a layer of dementia that is probably dangerous, even fatal, not only to himself, but to everyone around him. Yet Obito's voice has never steered him wrong, and so he shrugs and listens, trusting his friend in death as he never did in life.
The lines do not match up, Obito whispers, and Kakashi nods imperceptibly in agreement, his face hidden behind his book even as his eyes see everything.
It is true, he observes, and marks down the differences, pondering their significance. While the shadows overlap, they are not quite the team that he remembers, and that suddenly scares him, because if they are not the team he remembers, then he cannot understand them, not as well as he would like, and what is worse, he cannot predict what they will do. With that knowledge, he is left to flounder in indecision, unable to choose a suitable path to take, not knowing which decision will be the right one, the one that will see these three survive and grow to be the future leaders of the village.
His eyes slide from his book to watch his team, eyes flickering from one to another before finally settling on the genius. For a brief moment, staring at the sullen boy, he is reminded of another angry teenager, a young man brooding over the loss of his father, the one person whom he had always looked up to. And, in a way, they are the same, as his father's flight from life is similar in a way to the older Uchiha's betrayal of his village. He sees in the genius the same arrogance that he once felt, that same impatience that the genius must feel as he scowls and sulks, anxious to prove himself. For a moment, he is touched by the none-too-subtle reminder of his own past, and he has to suppress the urge to ruffle the boy's hair and urge him to be patient, that his time will come.
And yet, the wounds go deeper in this one, a hatred that, while hidden, cannot be completely suppressed. That worries Kakashi, because while he resented his father's suicide, he had never truly hated the man, and that marks the difference between the two. He cannot relate to this one, and has no idea how the genius's hatred will manifest itself. And yet... he is also aware that the genius is a Uchiha, and that the Uchiha have always been the pride of the village, the pillar which has allowed the Hidden Leaf to survive for over a hundred years. He has the potential to become the savior of the village, and Kakashi is resolved that he will be the one to allow the boy to reach that potential.
Next, he shifts his gaze to the girl, and for a moment, he sees brown hair instead of pink, dark eyes in place of green. Like Rin, she is the medium, possessing neither the genius's arrogance nor the dead-last's drive. Though she obviously cares about the genius, there is also a compassion in her, one that manifested itself in her actions during the bell test, when she gave her lunch to the dead-last. He had smiled to himself when he had seen that, knowing, as he still knows, that she has the potential to be the glue that keeps those two extremes from clashing, to keep the team working together.
But, watching her simper and preen at the genius, he realizes that while the similarities to his teammate are eerie, the differences are also acute. While Rin had similarly harbored feelings for her teammate, she had been able to remain grounded in her sense of self, not allowing her emotions to cloud her judgement as this one does. Rin knew her duty and was able to fulfill it in a way that he doubts the girl will ever be able to achieve. Yet, the potential is there, and he knows that all he can do is watch and hope that the girl will find her center and her place within the team.
Finally, he watches the dead-last, the one whose impatience and drive so remind him of the person who would become in his final moments the greatest friend that Kakashi will ever know. Just as Obito was, the dead-last is driven to succeed, to prove himself to the people who currently scorn him. He must know that he will never match the talent that the genius possesses, and yet he is determined to try anyways, to become a hero in his own right, a person that the entire village can look up to and admire. Like Obito, the thing the dead-last desires most is the recognition that he matters, that he is important.
However, he possesses shadows that never troubled Obito. Perhaps they are a result of the monster that is contained within him, or perhaps they were placed there through the negligence and disdain of the village. Either way, these shadows impede him, cause him to hesitate in a world where such indecision results in death. The reckless energy that Obito had in abundance are diminished in him, a pained caution taking its place. The dead-last knows the truth of his origins, or at least thinks he does, and, perhaps as a result, he has begun to alienate those very people that could help him.
No, he thinks to himself, he does not know these three at all. There are hidden depths to each of theme that not even the Sharingan can pierce, and that makes all the difference in the world. Though he can see the past so very clearly, he cannot see the present, and that is a flaw that could be their undoing.
He had once thought that he had known; the bell test has always been a tradition of the Hidden Leaf, one designed to not only show the individual strengths and weaknesses of each of the genin, but also to inspire them to overcome those weaknesses, to band together in the face of a superior foe. It was how he and his squad had been tested, and though they had stumbled, the bonds that had been forged through that test had connected them in a way that transcended their petty differences, creating bonds between them that perhaps not even death had been able to break.
He had known that they would have a difficult time of it. Even in his initial meeting with them, on the rooftop, he had sensed the tension, the struggle of three very different personalities clashing against each other, and yet he truly believed that, when push came to shove, they would succeed.
And yet, miraculously, they had not. In fact, it might be said that they failed spectacularly. They were, and are, too wild, too independent. They did not come together, they did not reason out the purpose of the exercise; no, instead they behaved like stupid children, each acting only according to his or her own interests. It had frustrated him then, seeing the potential in them, knowing that if they sent back to the academy, that potential would all be for naught.
He had wanted so badly for them to succeed, and, in his heart of hearts, he recognizes that this is perhaps where he had gone wrong; teamwork is not something that can be forced. You cannot make someone care about their teammates, not effectively, and in telling them the purpose of the bell test, perhaps he had tried to do just that, forcing the answer that he wanted to hear on them and letting them to parrot it back to him, instead of letting them come to the proper conclusion on their own.
They did not come to appreciate each other, nor have they come to do so now. The genius is still caught up in his own arrogance, still convinced that he does not need anyone else to succeed. The dead-last has withdrawn from the other two, and from him, drawing even further into whatever shadows have darkened his heart. Even the girl, the one he had counted on to bring the team together, is still caught up in her own petty dreams, ignoring both the reality of her situation and the harm that her fantasy is doing to those around her.
And yet, he cannot blame them for that. Their failure as a team is nothing more than a result of his failure as a teacher. In his arrogance, he thought that he could control them, that they would react the way he wanted them to. He failed to understand the differences between the people he thought (or perhaps even wanted) them to be, and they people that they truly are. It is his mistakes that have led to this situation, and it is his duty to rectify the situation.
Perhaps, he thinks to himself, it is time to retake the test. That was where his failures began, and perhaps that is the one area that his team would benefit most from revisiting. They are gaining nothing from this constant string of D-class missions, so perhaps it is time for something a little more challenging.
In the morning, he will petition the hokage for a C-class mission, one that will challenge his team, one that will force them to rely on each other, to see the value in each other. Despite his mistakes, there is still a chance that it will work out, that they will work out, finding the cohesiveness and strength that currently eludes them. They are young, and there is still room for them, for all of them, to grow. With the sins of the past hanging over him, and Obito's voice whispering in his ear, he knows that he has to give them that chance.
For all of his mistakes, he has to try.
o o o
If anyone can point out places where the flow isn't quite right, or spelling or grammar errors, etc. I would be much appreciative.