Just a little thing that had been rolling in my mind for a while. Yes, I'm still working on Don't Say A Word, but this is a thing I must write right now.

Lyrics are from Poets of the Fall's song Dawn, which is, by the way, one of the most beautiful songs ever.

And yes, clock is way past 2 am and I should be in bed and yes, I do believe Yondaime to be Naruto's father, so there you go. :p

Yondaime had always thought himself as some sort of an overprotective person. Yes, being the Fourth Hokage did that to some people, but well, let's just say that he wasn't some people.

He was a respectable man and this was his village, his home.

"When darkness, is no less, than everything you've built become undone."

Some people thought that he was a hero.

"There's no fight, and no flight."

Yondaime himself thought that he was just an ordinary man, yes, perhaps an elite ninja, but still, no different than your average man.

He said he loved them all. Like a brother loves his sister or like a husband loves his wife.

Or like a father…loving his children.

Because to Yondaime, Konoha's kids were his kids, their future was on his hands. All of their future was his responsibility.

"Disaster leaves your passion overrun."

It's the Kyuubi! Watch out!

Call Hokage-sama immediately!

And when Kyuubi attacked, Yondaime thought that this was why he was born.

"It's time to let go, time to carry on with the show."

He thought all of the children who would lose their parents in this war. Thought all of the sisters who will lose their brothers, the wives who lost their husbands.

This was war and if he would die, then…shall be it.

But when he looked at what he carried on his arms…

The poor boy was still sleeping. His dear boy, his darling…son.

And thought, maybe he could have something else than all this fighting and dying and still fighting. Maybe, just maybe.

But living wasn't an option anymore.

"Don't mourn, what is gone."

Dying for these people, his people.

"Greet the dawn…"

Dying for this little baby sleeping in his arms. His flesh, his blood. His eyes, those startlingly blue eyes. Yondaime didn't notice tears in his eyes as he kissed the baby on the forehead.

'Goodbye. Goodbye, my son."

"And I will be standing, by your side…together we'll face the turning tide."

Children died that day. Adults died that day.


He died that day.

"Remembrance, can be a sentence, but it comes to you with a second chance in tow."

Kyuubi flashed its gleaming fangs as the mighty frog-boss rose in front of it. On its back, stood a tall man with a grim face and a mess of sunny golden hair. One tear fell down his pale cheek, even though his blue eyes were dark.

Kyuubi charged.

"Don't lose it, don't refuse it, 'cos you cannot learn a thing you think you know."

To the people of Konoha, the man called the Yellow Flash was a hero.

"A new light is warm, shining down on you after the storm."

To those people, whom he had loved dearly, to them, his death was a sacrifice. His death was great misery.

"Don't mourn, what is gone…"

He had smiled, finally, when his soul had been taken from him, sharp claws clutching his already bloody body. He had smiled his last smile, that sunny smile with such warmth that even death was hesitating.

The baby cried.

"Greet the dawn…"

Yondaime Hokage, the Yellow Flash of Konoha, had been something above anyone else. He had been an angel, a ray of light that brought warmth to everybody's soul.

The dawn came, the red dawn and with it came the knowledge that they had lost that light.

They had lost their loving leader, the man who thought everyone was equal to others, who cherished everything and still loved them, even with their mistakes and wrong-doings.

"And I will be standing, by your side…"

When his son would grew up…

Yondaime had wished that they would thought that his son was a hero, when he sealed the Kyuubi inside. He thought that his son carried the same strength that he did, because he knew it.

…he would become like him.

"Together we'll face the turning tide…"

Because to his dear boy, the Yellow Flash was the fire in his heart. Even though he was treated badly, even though he saw those cold stares, he still felt warm.

He knew that someone was watching him. From the above.

Because he was his father's son and his father was a hero.

And heroes lived forever.

There you go. It was a little short, but hey, I'm dead tired... xx