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My Brother's Keeper	By : PhoenixInnocence Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1720 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or it's characters. I do not make profit from this story.

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Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto and I don't make money from this story.
This story is Beta'd by the amazing MisatosPenPen. This story is also dedicated to MisatosPenPen

October 2015
The wind whipped through the lush rolling hills, the neatly manicured grass swaying with the rocketing breeze giving an illusion of a rippling green sea. It was a peaceful, quiet place; befitting for a cemetery named Tranquil Rest Cemetery.
It was a chilly start to the day, slightly less than normal for this time of year, but the day was expected to be a warm one. Kakashi stood there, shivering. He wanted to say it was completely from the chilly breeze, but that would be lying to himself and he was well past that stage in his life. He lived in a world of hard reality, having learned the hard way.
“How long have you been here?” Minato asked, walking up behind Kakashi. Hand in hand with his wife Kushina, his other hand gripped a bouquet of a dozen beautiful tea roses; a solitary orange rose nestled in the middle of the bunch. He laid the bouquet of flowers in the vase to the left of the headstone. Kakashi’s own rested to the right, a bouquet of orange roses and blue forget-me-nots that were meant more for a wedding ceremony instead of destined for the cemetery.
“Since five,” Kakashi said, without looking up.
Kushina rested her hand against Kakashi’s shoulder. She held an air of quiet dignity even as her overwhelming grief contorted her beautiful face into a mask of graceful sorrow. Her eyes were downcast, staring at the jutting slab of polished black granite. She was a strong woman, formidable, yet likable and loved.
Kakashi admired her.
He didn’t know how she did it, day in and day out. Kushina made it seem effortless; like she did everything else in her life. Whether it was planning a charity function or organizing a political campaign dinner, she greeted each day with a steely resolve that was the envy of many. But behind the unrelenting woman beat a heart of gold; one that was crushed and broken. A heart that stopped truly beating five years ago. She lived, but always in the shadow of her greatest loss.
Kakashi inhaled deeply and stared down at the headstone. It isn’t fair, he thought.
“Will we see you tonight at dinner?” Minato asked.
Kakashi respected Minato. The man had taken him in when he was ten and raised him like his own son and Kakashi treated him like a second father, even if he didn’t call him so. He was envious of him as well. Minato was stoic and proud; never one to show any emotion but fierce determination on the political platform or in the public eye. But when he was in the company of those few who knew him well, his mask slipped revealing a heartache as deep and as profound as his wife’s.
The dreaded dinner, Kakashi thought. He’d missed the last two because it hurt too much. Celebrating a birthday for a boy who could grow no older was not how Kakashi wanted to spend his day. It was enough to turn him into an alcoholic. He’d tried of course; the last four years he’d made his way to the local bar and threw back shot after shot until he was thoroughly ensconced in the realm of drunken stupor. Then he’d walk the three blocks to his inner-city apartment, stumble through the front door and land in a heap on his worn leather sofa where he’d promptly pass out – last year he’d made it just past the front door before blacking out.
The next day he woke to the fuss of EMT’s bending over him, checking his heart rate and sticking him with an IV. The neighbor from two doors down had stepped out of her apartment to walk her children to school when she’d noticed Kakashi face-down in his doorway, blood dripping the length of hallway from his door. She’d immediately hustled her children back to their apartment and rang 911. She’d thought he was dead.
But Kakashi was alive, with a deep gash in his forearm and no memory of how he’d sustained it. Kushina and Minato had met him at the hospital, a look of deep concern coming from Kushina. The woman could not turn off her motherly instinct, even though Kakashi was too near her age to be called her ‘son’. But all the fuss and that look wasn’t enough to make Kakashi feel guilty about his drunken escapade; no, it was the look from Minato that truly got to him. A look of complete sadness and understanding; Kakashi felt like a heel, completely unworthy.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Kakashi said, determined to redeem himself from his past mistakes.
Kushina knelt in front of the headstone, brushing off dirt, cut grass, and fallen leaves from the top and base. Her fingers traced the letters carved in the stone with graceful reverence.
Kakashi watched with a heavy heart, his eyes reading the words her fingers traced as his heart thundered in his chest.
NARUTO UZUMAKI-NAMIKAZE
BELOVED SON AND BROTHER
OCT 10 1998 OCT 10 2010

Naruto was happiness and sunshine; slightly naïve with a heart of gold like his mother. He was sweet and made friends easily. He was a charmer and a heartbreaker even though he was only twelve. He’d wanted to be a doctor with Médecins Sans Frontières when he grew up. But more than that, Naruto was his little brother. And he’d been murdered. Worse; the killer was never caught.
It rankled Kakashi to the core, as Naruto’s family and an ex-marine. Disillusioned with the detectives investigating his brother’s murder and their lack of progress, Kakashi joined the local police force; vowing to solve Naruto’s murder for himself.
In the five years since, Kakashi managed to climb his way up the ranks. He’d just passed his sergeants exam in time to be promoted before the fifth anniversary. It should’ve been a celebratory moment; something he could look back on with pride. But he found himself disgusted. Because, also in five years’ time, he’d only managed to look at Naruto’s file twice. It sat in the top drawer of his desk, mocking him, a daily reminder of his broken promise. He felt himself no better than the detectives who began the case. He also feared he’d never find the son of a bitch who took his little brother from him.
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My Brother's Keeper