Return Of The Madness

Chapter 14

Today was the day that Yuma was allowed out of the hospital. Tsunade had deemed her stable enough for Kakashi to take her in once again, assuming Yuma was okay with that arrangement. She'd been gifted a grey sweatsuit, her cloak confiscated, despite her pleas to keep it. Tsunade explained that the girl being recognised alone could stir trouble, to be seen carrying a known enemy's mark would without a doubt cause a dangerous uproar.

The charcoal haired girl and Kakashi, after that day of storytelling with Shikamaru, had begun mending their relationship with extraordinary speed. Of course, things were not immediately back to the way they were, and though she was still haunted in the night by nightmares of twisted memories starring the silver haired man and his colleagues alike, she wanted to make this place home again.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Kakashi asked softly, his hand on her shoulder as they stood before his modest home. Their modest home.

"As I'll ever be," Yuma nodded after a deep breath.

Kakashi nodded, opening the door for her and letting her enter.

Rusty red irises looked about the dim walls as she entered the living area. The old couch rung a bell, as well as the scuffed up coffee table before it. Her gaze roamed over the arched doorway that obviously lead to the kitchen before finding the staircase.

Not seeming to notice Kakashi trailing behind her. Yuma began ascending the stairs, looking at the pictures against the wall, looking brighter than anything else in the room.

Her, but younger, beaming at the camera with a stuffed rabbit in her arms.

She and Kakashi, her on his shoulders as she mimicked his closed-eyed smile, throwing in peace signs for good measure.

Naruto, Sakura, and a dark boy whose name rang through her mind like a gong. Sasuke. Tachi's little brother. The three were standing around her, Naruto with his arm draped over her shoulder, Sakura with her arm linked through hers, Sasuke standing beside Naruto, the slightest of smirks on his face as Yuma's small hand latched onto his wrist. They all looked so... happy.

The picture at the top of the stairwell made her falter, stopping to stare. She was holding hands with an old man, dressed in white and red robes, with a white goatee and a tanned face, filled with wrinkles and kindness.

"Grampa..."

It took Yuma a moment to realize she'd said it. After a while of staring at the picture, she turned to Kakashi's solemn face.

"He died... didn't he?" She asked hesitantly, her chest aching unexpectantly when he nodded.

"He did... Just before you were taken..." his voice was tight with emotion, and Yuma stared in surprise before looking back at the picture.

Kakashi reached up, taking the photo from the wall as his other hand found her wrist gently. He pressed the frame into her hand, his mask wrinkling in a sad smile.

"You can keep it in your room."

She nodded, looking down at the photo in her hands. She felt a knot form in her throat, and asked quietly, "Later... Will you tell me about him?"

"Of course."

She nodded again, then took the final step to the second floor. She seemed to move on autopilot, straight for a darkwood door. She reached out, grasping the knob. But she stopped...

"What's wrong?" Kakashi asked softly, his hand finding her shoulder. "Yuma?"

She steeled herself, turned the knob, and pushed open the door. It creaked eerily, hinges in dire need of oil, and revealed to them a room of near pristine condition. The only thing to give away how long since its been used was the thin layer of dust that covered every surface.

A small bed, dressed in red sheets and black covers. A desk, riddled with stab marks. A wardrobe. A full length mirror. Overall, it was bare, but she had vague memories of packing things away, a note, and a large white building in the middle of nowhere.

"You've grown," Kakashi said softly, his hand finding her shoulder once again. "We'll need to get you some new clothes soon, and a new bed, as well."

At the mention of clothes, Yuma looked to him, and his warm smile. "When can I have my cloak again?"

His expression visibly darkened at her question. "Yuma... The Akatsuki took you... they warped your memories so you'd hate us... why would you want-"

"They're my family, too," Yuma frowned, shrugged his hand off of her shoulder and stepping away from him. "They... they took care of me..."

"They brainwashed you," Kakashi insisted, his brows furrowing. "They used you as a weapon."

"It wasn't always like that!" Yuma protested, growing irritated with how he spoke of them. "They cared about me!"

"They may have acted that way, but they were only-"

"HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?!" Yuma cried, her chest tight as she balled her fists. "WHERE YOU IN THEIR HEADS, OR IS IT IMPOSSIBLE FOR SOMEONE TO REALLY LOVE ME?!"

What? That wasn't at all what Kakashi meant. "N-No, Yuma-"

"WELL SO-RRY, ASSHOLE," Yelled the choked up teen, marching past the silver haired man as crimson tears bubbled in her eyes. Her face felt hot, she couldn't seem to breath properly, and her mind was blinded with hurt and anger. "I'LL BE SURE NOT TO MAKE THAT MISTAKE EVER AGAIN!"

Kakashi, frozen in shock, flinched as the door slammed downstairs. He hadn't meant- he just wanted- why couldn't she see-

With a heavy sigh, the weary jounnin buried his head into his hands.

"What have I done...?"

She was just starting to trust him, but he may have just ruined it for good...