The Sun Burns Out

Prologue - Red Hands

She was sobbing now; they both were. But no matter how she pulled, pushed or slammed her tiny shoulder into the concrete it would not move. She had no strength left—they had both run out of what meager chakra they had long ago— lungs choking for air and her eyes wild with panic. She could no longer bring herself to push the concrete, but her friend's screeches drove her to claw at it with broken and bloody fingers that left morbid streaks of red against the pale canvas of Ten Ten's prison.

There was a roar, so close that it reverberated in her bones, and for a moment both young girls just stared at each other with growing horror.

"SAKURA! GET ME OUT OF HERE! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE—"

With only fear and desperation to move her, she gave a cry of frustration when her efforts drew no results. The ground began to shake with heavy footsteps, the roaring drowning out the trapped girl's screeching to be freed. Focusing on the pain in her hands, she continued her futile assault and tried not to stare at her bloodied hands with missing fingernails. Because if she did she would remember her parent's bodies, and Ten Ten's image would overlap with theirs and she would not let it happen.

Suddenly, as if struck by luck, a section of the road collapsed, bringing with it a large portion of the fallen concrete building and creating a space between the slabs for the pinkette to pull the other girl out of. Neither of them paid attention to the blood that coated their clothes, and Sakura had Ten Ten's wrist in a white knuckled grip as she sprinted away from the wreckage.

Swallowing a scream that bubbled to her lips every step of the way, the brunette fought to keep her vision clear, her twisted—or perhaps broken, she couldn't really tell—left ankle causing her agony but the looming threat of knowing there were at least three hollows in the area driving her to fearful silence.

It was just supposed to be a short three-day trip with Sakura's parents. There had never been a report of so many hollows in town at once; they had said it would be safe. It was just supposed to be a fun trip.

Running—stumbling for a few minutes in silence, a moment of happiness overtook Sakura, the prospect of the two of them escaping giving her a moment of weightlessness as she tugged Ten Ten forward more willingly through the street, whispering encouragingly to the other girl. "We're okay, we're going to be okay!"

It did not last. Something large slammed against her side, violently throwing her off her feet like a broken rag doll and making her vision go black. She didn't realise that she had actually met the ground until her body had stopped tumbling and the pain finally set in. With the wind knocked out of her lungs, she couldn't even scream, but when her vision cleared she wished she could have.

Meters away, Ten Ten's body lay sprawled out, blood seeping into the cracks of the pavement, large open eyes staring unseeingly at the sky. She stood not a foot away from the corpse, staring disbelievingly at the chain affixed to the front of her chest that had once been attached to previously living, breathing body. Looking upwards, she watched as the large hollow stalked forward, the ground shaking with every step that was the countdown to her death. She could run, but then she probably wouldn't get far, and she would not leave Sakura alone.

It's impossibly large dark hand reached out for her, the hollow mask splitting open to release what she could only interpret as a roar of victory, and she cursed her own helplessness. Clenching her hands tightly to stop the shaking, she steeled herself to face her demise without a slip of a tear or a cry for help. Her will of fire burned hotly in her heart, a steep contrast to the chill on her skin.

"I'm not afraid of you!" She screamed back defiantly, wishing that she had the strength to do more, the ability to wield the weapons and power that could take it down.

Its fingers were nearly around her, and she bit her lip, her eyes shutting tightly when her bravado fled and abandoned her as a frightened eight year old girl. The grip of death never touched her, and she peeled an eyelid back to see the white mask of the hollow cleaved in two, the body disintegrating into black matter.

A black haired male dropped to the ground with a flare of billowing white robes, the number six printed clearly on the back. His katana was swiftly sheathed, and he spoke with a cold command that demanded obedience.

"Clean up the area."

"Yes sir!" Snapping her head up, Ten Ten watched with awe as several more black robed forms darted from the rooftops to carry out their orders with haste. When she tilted her head back down, she gasped and stumbled back when the shinigami was now but a couple feet in front of her, his steely gaze pinned on her form. She had traded one form of death to another, but there was no argument to which was the better deal.

Raising his arm, she realized that he was going to send her to Soul Society and she shook her head furiously. "Wait!" The young girl shouted, taking a single step back in hopes that he would at least allow her request before she was sent on. "What about Sakura?"

The name was unknown to Kuchiki Byakuya, but when the spirit swiveled her head to the side he followed her gaze to the bloodied heap that was the form of an unconscious small pink haired girl. Unconscious, yet not dead.

"She will not be going with you." When the brunette's eyes began to well with tears, he thought that she were upset by the fact she would be separated from her friend, however he was mistaken.

"G-good." Blinking in surprise, he took in her shaky smile as she rubbed her eyes almost bashfully. "I'm glad it's only me."

"Admirable." Perhaps when this one went to Soul Society, she would become someone or something, or perhaps not. It would all depend on her strength, but there was promise in her.

Heavy. Her eyelids were heavy, and after several attempts at trying to lift them they were also very disturbingly crusty. Sakura slowly raised an arm to wipe the grossness from her lashes when she was greeted with sluggish movement and sore muscles. Her hand made it maybe a half a foot off the bed before it was cradled in rough hands with tenderness and warmth that surprised her. She knew who the hands belonged to—was very well acquainted with the owner, but she could count on one hand the number of times they had held her so comfortingly and still have fingers to spare.

"Kaka—" she choked, her throat dry and grimy.

"Shh." Her teacher hushed her, placing her hand down gently before carefully supporting her head in one hand while slowly tilting a glass of water to her lips in another. "Don't drink too quickly now."

Peeling her eyes open, she found herself in a familiar hospital room, Kakashi at her side wearing his signature white disposable surgical mask and navy scarf. Eyes drifting, she frowned at the white gauze that were wrapped neatly over every patch of skin that was not covered by the hospital blanket that stopped mid-torso.

"Kakashi-sensei? Why am I in the hospital?" The man swallowed nervously, and when he knelt down beside her with a pained look she was at slight war with herself, not knowing if she should be more alarmed or bewildered at the young man's uncharacteristic actions. "Kakashi—".

"Do you know what day it is, Sakura?" Her small brow scrunched in an adorable way that only children could produce, and she shook her head with alarmed eyes. "It's May the seventh. You've been unconscious for three days."

"But, on—" she began, but as her thoughts caught up with her she couldn't continue. The short trip with her parents—the roar of a hollow, jagged scores across buildings, a slab of concrete that dropped onto her parents so quickly they couldn't even screa—the three hollows she and Ten Ten—they huddled when more buildings began to collapse, and when a window shattered next to her it sent her tumbling away, by the time she looked back her friend was under a pile of rubble and large broken pieces of a building that may have come from a block away—had unsuccessfully run from, the hollow going after Ten Ten when the shinigami appeared—white billowing robes, long black hair, he had killed the hollow, he had saved Ten Ten—and her memory ended soon after.

First, a small whimper escaped her, and when Kakashi squeezed her hand softly yet so firmly she broke, heart-wrenching wails that made the twenty-one year old male grimace, his own heart shuddering as he carefully scooped up his seven year old student who had lost both her parents and friend in a terrible attack. He was at loss at what to do as her tears soaked into her shirt, little hands balled up and crying at a pitch and volume he never knew how someone so small could make so high and loud.

If a wet shirt and ringing ears was all he had to give up in order to offer her a sliver of comfort, then he would gladly do so. That, and so much, much more.

"Kakashi-sensei." Her voice was quiet and raspy, her face still buried in the front of his shirt. "Will you teach me to be strong enough?"

Lifting one hand, he ruffled her light pink locks in the same manner he had done hundreds of times before, and hugged the small girl closer to him. "I will. I promise I will."

A/N: Short prologue to something that was supposed to be a short one-shot but didn't turn out that way. Err... still working on the next chapter of HYGT and the sequel of Moshi Moshi... and more one shots... orz;;

As usual, quickly written without editing with an overflowing barrel of mistakes. Let me know if you find one :)

Little tidbit, you know those flimsy white surgical masks? In Japan people wear them all the time when feeling slightly sick as to not spread germs. I think I see at least a dozen people wearing them a day but most likely more.

Questions/Thoughts/Reviews~ let me know!