Summary: a prologue of sorts, featuring Naruto (part 3) đ
Since the genocide began, Naruto, Sai, and Kakashi had barely paused for more than a few days in one place, all too aware of how magical creatures were killed in the streets by soldiers and citizens alike. The rare moments of peace among the chaos were what Naruto remembered best, moments when they could forget about the people hunting them, forget everything they'd lost, and enjoy simply existing for a while.
They once took shelter in a vacant cottage on the edge of a small village, drawn out of their makeshift camp by a storm. They made themselves at home in the cottage for the stormâs duration with minimal fear of being discovered.
Naruto remembered sitting by the fireplace in a rickety rocking chair, reveling in the warmth as he listened to the fire's crackle and the rain's pitter-patter. Sai had moved the carpet aside so he could draw on the wooden floorboards, while Kakashi lingered in a shadowed corner that allowed him to discreetly peer out the window.
Warm and content, Naruto had lost track of time, lulled into a state of calm. An idle glance back revealed Kakashi sitting on the floor with his legs drawn to his chest, head cushioned against the arms crossed over his knees, asleep.
Naruto was equally amused and perplexed by Kakashiâs preference for sleeping on the ground or tucked into a corner, even when a perfectly good bed was available. It was just another one of Kakashiâs odd quirks, Naruto decided, like the manâs love for Jiraiyaâs novels and his penchant for masks. There were many things Naruto didnât know about Kakashi and even less he understood. The man was mysterious, and Naruto, having little patience for mysteries, didnât try to understand.
They might have been friends in another life, but Naruto was too broken for that now. It was too late for him.
It wasnât too late for Kakashi.
Naruto poured all his energy into the rune. âI hope you can forgive me for this,â he said to his nearly-dead companion.
Magical feats always had a price. For this kind of feat, the price was lofty, and Naruto wouldnât be the only one paying.
The blood-drawn rune on the rocky ground around them began to glow. He felt a shift in the air. The atmosphere changed, as if it simultaneously dulled and sharpened at once, caught in a state of in-between.
He found this strange suspension to be peaceful.
Naruto always thought heâd die in a fight, not on a bloody riverbank at night, sacrificing his existence to change the course of fate. He never thought his death would be peaceful.
The moment before everything disappeared, Naruto thought about sitting on that rocking chair in front of the cottageâs fireplace, remembered Kakashi being there with him, a loyal companion he hadnât deserved, and mustered a few parting words for his former master.
âGood luck, Kakashi.â
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