Title: Call It Fate
Author: raikune
Rating: (Maybe T for dark-ish themes?)
Word count: 511
Theme/Challenge: Fall, History Repeats Itself
A/N: A late submission for the Fall challenge on Livejournal's naruto100 comm. Since it didn't qualify I thought I'd post it here.
Summary: Second person POV. The last moments of the Rokudaime.


Before you rush out, you take one last look in the mirror. Because you know this is the last chance you'll get to really look at yourself. So you pause, mindful of the yells and crashes outside, you stop, slowly turn and look.

This is you. This is the face and body you've known your whole life. Your silver spiky hair. Your good cheekbones. Your swirling Sharingan eye, with the scar slashed down the eyelid.

You remember how you got that scar.

You remember a lot of things.

This is you: Hatake Kakashi.

This is your coat. Your coat of office. It looks like the Yondaime's: your dear, brave, goofy, heroic sensei. Yours is black, with grey flames. Turn around. On the back, it says Rokudaime. That's you.

You think: you never asked for this.

Those chosen to be Hokage rarely do.

More screams. Uchiha Madara has appeared on the horizon, riding an enormous bijuu. Its tails block out the stars.

He means to destroy Konoha, and you will go and face him.

Call it fate.

And you know this, surely as you know every scar on your body; that this is the day you die. You feel this deep in your blood. You wonder if your sensei felt the same, felt the same sense of purpose and acceptance the day the Kyuubi attacked. He went toward the beast, calm and unafraid.

You wish you could feel like that.

Your lips curve grimly under your mask. Afraid or not, you'll go out there. Cowardice is not an option.

You crack your knuckles.

You are the Rokudaime, leader of the Leaf Village. You are Hatake Kakashi; the living legend, wielder of the lightning-blade, possessor of the Sharingan. Your love for Konoha burns in the furnace of your heart. You'll give your all for your village.

You turn away from the mirror. The time for reflection is over.

Leap out into the night, your coat flying behind you. Your target is rampaging on the edges of the village. Black shapes dart: ANBU ranks fly alongside you, escorting you, willing to give aid if necessary. It won't be. You want you and Madara to be alone.

Closer now. You can feel Madara's poisonous chakra. The heat and stink of the bijuu.

Madara doesn't know the nature of your Mangekyou, it's one advantage you have over him. You laugh suddenly, a little crazily, startling your silent escort. All this death-rush, the sense of doom, the adrenalin, the fear, the excitement, it's getting you high. You've used up your life's one-way ticket, your end is near. And you welcome it.

You order your ANBU escort to fall back. Letting a summoning jutsu fly, you leap up and land on top of a giant wolf demon. Now you and Madara can look each other in the face.

Sorry I'm late, you tell him, I got lost on the road of life.

He's confused for a second. A second is all you need.

Sharingan Mangekyou!

You're going to die.

And you'll take this bastard with you.