I stood in front of the memorial, staring at the names etched into stone. Echoes of memories surrounded this place, the melancholy feeling unshakeable.

I shudder as flashes of memories tear through me. The men, all part of the same criminal organization, all with the same green laughing skull on their right forearm. The woman who hired us for the mission, who hired us to deliver stolen goods without our knowledge. The people who it was stolen from, who hired the criminals to kill whoever had the stolen figure. Me, so weak, so helpless, so undeserving of the life that I still had, so undeserving of the heart that kept beating.

I sigh deeply, hugging my arms around my stomach as though I could stop myself from flying apart. With trembling fingers I reach forward towards the stone, gazing at a certain name engraved in the stone.

"Who are you here for?"

I pull my hand back with a slight intake of breath as I hear the voice. Turning, I see a ninja with white hair and his headband covering one eye.

"Kakashi, right?" I ask, not answering his question. He nods. I turn back to the memorial stone, scanning the numerous names. He slowly walked up behind me, silent. "You know, I heard that you actually die twice," I murmur, "One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time...

"How many of these people do you think have already died?"

"Those are some pretty heavy thoughts for a kid," Kakashi says, walking forwards.

I shiver slightly, a chill in my bones. "I'm no longer a child," I whisper.

Kakashi gazes sadly at the memorial stone, shoulders slumped tiredly. "I can tell."

The silence stretched between us. "Yeah. So I come out here, wondering how many of these people have already died again and I just can't stand that thought. So I go through the names and just whisper them to myself."

Kakashi nods, his silence surprisingly welcoming.

"Do you think someone could remember all these people?" I ask.

"That's not your duty," Kakashi says gently.

"No, but if I don't come here and remember and keep them alive then who will?"

After a long pause, Kakashi simply shrugs slightly. "I don't know," he admits.

I step towards the stoned again, tracing a certain name over and over again. "Daisuke Igarashi," I whisper, "Daisuke Igarashi. Daisuke Igarashi. D-dai... Daisuke. Daisuke. Dai...s...suke. D-d-d-Daisuke."

I don't know at what point I began sobbing, or at what point Kakashi settled his jacket around my shoulders, or at what point it grew dark and he began to pull me back to the village. I just knew the pain in my heart and Kakashi's comforting presence. We didn't know each other well at all but were bonded over our mutual pain of losing someone we cared about. At some point Kakashi got me onto his back and began to carry me through the village.

Finally I got some semblance of control over my crying and quieted down. "Where--" I'm interrupted by a slight hiccup, "Where are we going?"

"We're gonna go visit your Sensei," Kakashi said.

"It's too late to find Kurenai," I whisper.

"No, we're going to go visit your Sensei," he repeats.

"Oh," I whisper, guilt pushing onto me. I'd thought of Kurenai when I heard sensei, not of Sensei.

We soon arrive and Kakashi sets me down, signing us both in. We both walk up, then enter Sensei's room.

He was sitting in a chair, his back facing us as he gazed out the window. He didn't acknowledge our presence at all and my chest clenched at the sight.

"What are you doing out of bed at this time, Sen?" Kakashi asked gently, walking around to face him. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment before joining, knowing what I would see: that gut wrenching emptiness in his eyes.

I watch as Kakashi tugs Sensei to his feet, guiding him to the bed. Kakashi pushed Sensei lightly down onto the bed, and Sensei moved his feet up, following the motion. I walk over, rearranging the pillows behind his head. Kakashi smooths the sheets over Sensei, a sad gleam in his eyes.

"I forgot. You used to do missions with Sensei, didn't you?" I ask.

"Mm," Kakashi nodded, "Back when we were both ANBU."

"Huh. What was he like?" I ask.

Kakashi grins slightly and shakes his head. "Ten years younger than me," he laughs, "And he still ended up being one of my closest friends. He's so young..." The sadness descended upon us, everything muffled by the emotion.

Then Kakashi broke the melancholy with a laugh. "Ha! Did he ever tell you about the time we were assigned a mission to deliver some of the rarest honey in the world and he ended up feeding it to a bear?! That's how he got the nickname Hachi--short for Hachimitsu."

By the time we were both done with our share of stories it was deep into the night.

We both fell silent and stared at Sensei. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could almost see the slightest of smiles on his face, in his eyes.

"It's late," Kakashi said quietly, "You ought to go home. Your parents will be worried."

"No, I'm staying at a friend's house-- Sakura's, actually. I'll leave in a couple of minutes," I wave him off, "You can go, Kakashi-san."

He nods and stands. "See you later Fuzen," he says, then looks at Sensei. "Take care, Hachi."

I watch Sensei, watch as his eyes slide shut, watch as he turns on his side, curled tightly with his brows furrowed as he fought for sleep.

Slowly I rest my head on the bed, allowing my eyes to close as I relaxed, exhausted. I was just starting to drift off when the door slams open and I shoot to my feet, startled. Then I saw who it was.

"Father," I greeted.

"I knew you would be here," he growled, "I thought I ordered you not to visit him anymore. There's more important things for you to do than visit some faker."

I turn to face him quickly, anger making my movements sharp. "He's not faking," I warn lowly, "He's catatonic. He's been through more than you can imagine."

My father rolled his eyes, grabbing my upper arm tightly. "Fine, let's say he's not faking if that makes you feel better. But even then he's just some depressed shinobi who gave up. He can't even tell you're here. He's weak," my father insulted.

"He's a stronger man than you will ever be," I hiss. Somehow I could never stand up for myself to father, but the moment he turned on someone else I felt strong, angry, unstoppable. But at the same time I was terrified. Why was I doing this? It was a huge mistake. I would never do this, yet here I was.

Then my head is turned to the side by his stinging slap. I stare with wide eyes at Sensei, who's eyes had slid open in time to see the altercation. He'd seen... He'd seen father hit me.

And he wasn't doing anything.

His eyes stared at nothing, and slowly the fury built itself up inside me. Why did this have to happen to me? To Sensei? To Daisuke? To Shun? All caution left me as adrenaline courses through my body.

I slowly turn my head back to my father. "Don't. Touch. Me."

In response he hits my other cheek. "Don't order me around, Fuzen. I'm your father: treat me with respect.

I look at him with furious eyes. "Don't. Touch. Me," I repeat. He goes for another slap and I block it, glaring.

Then suddenly there's a barrage of fists raining down on me and I fall to the floor, covering my head. Then he's kicking me and kicking me and kicking me and then suddenly he's gone but there's blood on my hands so much blood and Daisuke is dead his dead eyes are staring at me and then--

I gasp slightly, waking with a start. My head is resting on Sensei's bed, the sheet pressed uncomfortably into my cheek. I stare at the white sheet for a moment before shutting my eyes, a sob escaping me.

I lay my head back on the bed and cry, shaking with sobs as tears pour down my face. "Just a dream just a dream just a dream just a dream," I whisper fervently. Father wasn't here, Sensei didn't see me get slapped, Daisuke's dead eyes weren't staring at me (but they were), and I wasn't covered in blood, no matter how much it felt like I was. It was all a dream. I was just starting to get a headache from all my crying when I felt it.

A hand on my head.

I look up slightly, only to see Sensei's open eyes. Still they were blank, tired, exhausted, but I could almost swear there was the slightest spark in them.

Slowly he begins stroking my hair, and my tears begin to subside with his comfort.

"I don't regret killing that shinobi," I finally whisper. "The only thing I regret is not killing him sooner. Does that make me a monster?" I breathe deeply. "It was Daisuke's regret, his guilt from his actions is what kept him from becoming  a monster, kept him from being a murderer after killing that genin. And here I am, not regretting a thing, except having killed him later rather than sooner."

Suddenly I sit up, pushing his hand off of me as something inside of me snaps and resolve hardens within me. "I wanted to talk with you about something," I begin abruptly, "I was just thinking..."

But somehow, when I stared into his empty eyes, saw the helplessness in him, I couldn't bring myself to tell him that I was planning on leaving him. Planning on leaving Konoha. It's not as though it was uncommon for ninja to leave a village to grow stronger. I even heard that Naruto was planning on leaving with his sensei when the time was right. As long as I cleared it with the Hokage I would be allowed to leave.

I knew.

I knew I had to go. I had to grow stronger. For Shun. For Sensei. For Team Eleven.

For Daisuke.

I needed to be strong. I needed to leave Konoha, train, escape my parents and become strong, be strong.

But I wasn't quite strong enough to tell Sensei I was leaving.