| [Jan. 6th, 2010|12:45 am] |
There were scorch marks on the top of the monument, too. Long lines of black seared into the red stone. Eventually, someone with a moment of free time and the need to do something useful would come up here and scrub them away. Or they'd be left for the elements to wash clean. Kakashi crouched and dragged his (unshaken, never trembling) fingertips through one thick mark, watching flakes of black ash spiral into the breeze.
A hundred feet above the village, and the Fox had still left a scar.
Maybe he'd scrub them away. Do some coping--
Then he was on his feet and turning, metal in his hands, before the first shiver of strange chakra had finished pinging his senses. It blossomed into a cloud of dense smoke, thick and white, wrapped around the jutsu-user, and Kakashi braced himself to see Jiraiya's flush-cheeked, furious face...
Smoke wisped away in the wind, leaving a girl behind.
He palmed his kunai, concealing them behind his wrists, but didn't sheathe them. The girl wasn't old--his age, maybe, or slightly older--but that meant nothing. She was dressed in mourning blacks, stark against pale skin. Her colouring was almost the same as his, if you threw a touch of brown in, but her face was Rin's, and he hated her for that. Hated her more when he realized her expression was all Obito's.
She looked at him, wide-eyed and flustered, a little desperate and a lot hopeful, from twenty feet away. There were no tear tracks on her cheeks, but her eyes were red-rimmed.
Briefly, Kakashi pictured embedding a kunai in her forehead.
"What?" he rasped, tilting his head back. "This spot is taken. Go find your own." |
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