✔️Heal My Heart {Kakashi Hatake}

49 | pages of the past

"What to do when you're madly in love," I murmured, tracing my fingertips across the worn spines of the books that lined every inch of the walls. My father had lived his life between the pages of some book or another, and was immensely proud of his library. I wasn't as avid a reader as he had been, but there was something relaxing and beautiful in the musky scent of dusty pages, the soft rippling sound of pages turning. This was by far my favourite room in the house.

A gap in the shelves disrupted the smooth flow of books against my fingers. Actually, it wasn't a complete gap; it was just a space where a very small, very worn notebook had been crammed into the shelf. I frowned and inspected it.

The notebook was small and black, with large ring binding. It was very messy, and each page seemed to have some sticker or scrap of paper sticking out the top. The corners were worn down. I reached out and touched it, half expecting it to open some secret door in the shelf when I pulled it out, but there was no such reaction. It seemed to be just a plain old notebook, so naturally, I sat cross legged and opened it.

Mizuro Uraka - Private property. No peeking. Especially not Yuro!

I felt my heart leap a little in my chest. This notebook had belonged to my father! It seemed to be a journal of some sort. I wondered how old he had been when he wrote this. I knew that Yuro was Pa's younger brother, though Pa refused to speak of him, and Mama would only ever tell me that he'd died before I was born. When I got curious enough to ask my big brother, Hajimaru had confessed that he had never been told, either. The handwriting was messy, which led me to think that Pa had been a teenager when he wrote this. I decided to continue reading, reasoning that everything in here technically belonged to me now.

Father was being annoying again today. He took me out and had me train, pushing me further than I've ever been pushed before. He is cold and selfish, and wouldn't even let me up to get a drink, even when Yuro was right there with water bottles and I was about to collapse. It's so unfair! He never makes Yuro train like this. Whenever I tell him so, he just lashes out at me and scolds me. He says that as his firstborn, I must be stronger than every other shinobi so that I can be a Clan Head some day. Sometimes, I wonder if I even want to be Clan Head. Not if it means being like Father.

While we were talking, Father was saying things that... I don't even know if I should write them down here, in case someone finds it. He thinks that our ancestors were wrong to join with Konoha over something as 'stupid' as a couple of blades. He doesn't like using Hokori and Yorokobi. I think he can't. I think that because he's right handed, he can't use two blades at once. I think our ancestors were wise to accept them as a gift; Hokori and Yorokobi are unbreakable, and can cut through almost anything. Father is just being grumpy, though I'd receive lashings if I said so to his face.

I paused, blinking in disbelief at the words. Pa had never once expressed anything but love for his father, though he too had died before my birth. I flipped over a few pages and found much of the same; Pa's discomfort and frustration at his father's dissatisfaction with the way Konoha was being run. Judging from this entry, the Second Hokage was even more disagreeable than the Third. Based on the fact that the Second was in power, I quickly did the math, and calculated that my father was around sixteen when he wrote this.

I'm done. I've had enough. I won't let my father push me around anymore. Yuro and I are going to drive him out today. We don't care if he's our father; he has never done anything for us except torture us in the hopes of making us strong. Today we're going to retaliate and show him exactly how strong we are.

My heartbeat quickened as I followed my father's story. If I didn't know better, I might have guessed this to be a work of fiction - but I did know better. Everything in here made perfect sense, and explained why my father refused to talk of his family. It seemed that his mother had died when he was too small to remember her in much more than a haze. That reminded me of Kakashi, whose mother had died when he was one. I turned over the page to find it crinkled and stained, as though Pa had struggled to write the passage. Reading through, I soon discovered why.

I hate him. I hate him so much! I refuse to even call that monster my father. Yuro and I ambushed him as planned, but it seemed that he had been expecting it. Before I knew it, Yuro - my loyal little brother, who refused to let me be pushed around, who stood with me to the end - was dead. By that monster's hand. What sick creature kills his own son?

I hadn't planned to kill him. When Yuro and I set out that morning, we only intended to best him and force him out of the Clan. But when he killed Yuro, I knew I had to.

It was Hokori and Yorokobi that did it for me in the end. Father didn't use them, so I found them discarded at the back of the shed. They're easy enough to use; light, but long and deadly. Father's rusted old katana didn't stand a chance. While we fought, I couldn't even think clearly about what I was doing, only that my poor little Yuro was dead and I had to avenge him.

I love you, Yuro. I wish I'd found the time to tell you while you were still here, but now I'll have to settle for these words and the hope that I'll see you again, one day. I wish we could have had more time together. I wish I hadn't taken you for granted. You were my brother, and my best friend. I miss you more than I can say. This house feels too big and empty. The Clan is compassionate, understanding. They know I had to kill him after he killed you. I never told them about our plan. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Would you have wanted me to do it? I don't know anymore. Everything is so confusing now.

I realised that I was crying. I hadn't known any of this, though it was no wonder Pa had never told anyone. I rubbed the dampness from my cheeks with the palm of my hand. This notebook would be staying with me, I decided. Perhaps I could even write one of my own.

"There you are!" Kakashi exclaimed from the doorway, his posture sagged and relieved as though he'd been searching every corner of the world and had found me in the last place he'd thought to look. "What's that?"

"My dad's journal from when he was, like, sixteen. I didn't know he kept one," I replied, holding up the worn old notebook.

"Anything interesting?" Kakashi asked, walking over and sitting down beside me.

"Apparently tragedy runs in the family," I commented wryly.

"Maybe it's not just in the family," Kakashi suggested gently. "Maybe tragedy just comes with being a shinobi."

"Yeah, you're probably right." I stared at the cover of the little black notebook, at the words on the front. Mizuro Uraka - Private property. No peeking. Especially not Yuro! Tears threatened to spill once more at the sight of Yuro's name engraved in ink, fated to remain there until it wore down. "Did you know that my grandfather killed his youngest son in cold blood?"

Kakashi didn't know, of course, but I asked anyway. I could feel the shock pulsing from him. "Why?"

"He... didn't agree with the government, I think. My dad wrote that he said a lot of stuff about Lord Second that he didn't like. They planned to drive him out of the Clan, but he killed Yuro. Apparently my father hadn't wanted to kill him, but from what I can tell, he and Yuro were very close."

Kakashi was silent for a moment before responding. "If it were me, I'd have felt guilty for the rest of my life. That's not the kind of thing that's light on your chest."

Painful reminders of Rin flashed through my mind, and my heart clenched. Was Kakashi still carrying that burden? I couldn't meet his eye. My grip on the little black notebook tightened. "I think you're almost ready to go home now," I said, changing the subject. Ignoring Kakashi's questioning look, I stood and walked over to the door. "I'll see how you are in the morning," I called over my shoulder.

"Hey, Miyoshi, are you-?"

I shook my head quickly and hurried away from the library, and checking that Kakashi wasn't following, I raced up to my room. No doubt Kakashi was confused. He wouldn't think he'd said anything upsetting, but how was he to know that the idea that he was still in pain made my chest hurt?

I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow. It was all too much. Why was I being so emotional all of a sudden?

It's because you know, the medic in the back of my mind whispered. You know you're in love and that makes it a thousand times more potent.

What a burden love is, responded my rational mind.