A tall figure stood in the middle of the emptying street under the fall of the night. People rushed by quickly, towards dry shelters, as the rain fell in a curtain over the village blocking the light of day. Water hit the ground softly soaking the earth and dyeing it darker. The figure only stood in the middle of the street, the rain seeming not to affect him as his blonde hair stayed spiked up and his flame cloak fluttered gently on the non-existent breeze. He starred ahead with an unreadable expression, his blue eyes tinged slightly with sorrow and despair, resting on a small four year old child.

The child sat with his back pressed against a wall, trying to get under the small over hang. But the wind changed direction suddenly pelting his small form with rain. His blonde hair became wet and stuck to his face as his now drenched clothes clung to him. He hugged his knees to him, his eyes downcast. He was the image of sorrow and pain. He seemed abandoned by the world as he sat in the cold harsh rain. The taller figure clenched his eyes, sharing the boy's pain.

"I'm Sorry…" The man whispered.

But the boy couldn't hear him; no one could. So his heart-filled words were carried away by the wind like ash.

"I-I…I wish the Kyuubi had never attacked. I wish I hadn't have had to seal it. I wish the villagers would treat you as the hero you are. I wish I had been there for you..." The man muttered as he clenched his fists. "I wish, I wish, I wish."

He wanted to throw something. He wanted to scream and thrash and howl. He slowly relaxed, slumping in defeat.

"I'm sorry." He whispered again, the words barely audible to his own ears.

The child looked up a moment and the Yondaime almost hoped he could see him. But dull blue eyes stared right through him. He looked into those deep soul blue eyes. They were riddled with pain and sorrow and despair. The Yondaime had to look away even though those eyes weren't on him. He couldn't take the stare. Tears gathered in his eyes and slipped silently off his face, dissolving in the air.

"I…"

The Yondaime looked up, tears still in his eyes, as the boy spoke. He strained to hear every word. The boy was looking up at the sky, letting the rain wash over his face. He should have had a family, a warm dry home, someone to love him; but he didn't. He was alone, cold, and in despair, sitting under the rain as it drenched everything and stole away the warmth.

"I wish the rain could wash the pain away." The small boy said in a voice to weary for one of his age.

The Yondaime also looked up, though the rain fell through his face, not on it. Then he looked down at his open translucent hands. The ghost of the Yondaime looked back at his son, Naruto, whom he would never hold, never speak to, never teach, never, never, never…do anything with.

"Yes… I wish the rain could wash the pain away." He replied in a whisper, his heart aching as he sobbed for his son, whom he had cursed with a seal.

And oh, how he wished.