Caves Collapse (So Does My Heart)

by idiotsensei

Summary:

When rumors surface about a lost forbidden genjutsu, Kakashi is sent to investigate. But it’s a trap. Captured by rogue shinobi, he’s subjected to relentless torment, both physical and psychological. Wounds heal, but scars remain; something fractures, far deeper than they realize. As the lines between illusion and reality blur, one question remains: what becomes of the Copy Ninja when the man beneath the mask is irreparably changed?

Notes:

This is my first fic since high school (eek!). I will try posting once a week to give myself enough time to thoroughly edit my work. I am currently jumping between different sections of the story as inspiration strikes, but I have roughly the first 3-4 chapters done. I have many others completed, but not the chapters in between! lol

Because this is a work in progress, I am already following a pretty detailed outline. However, if you have any suggestions of things to add moving forward, I'd love to hear them!

Chapter 1: The Mission

“Kakashi, I have a mission for you.”

 

The Copy Nin straightens from his slouch slightly and slips his ever-present book into the front pouch of his vest. Leaning back into his chair – likely the furthest the village leader will be from his desk for the day – the Hokage takes a long drag from his pipe. Kakashi watches with a half lidded eye as Hiruzen holds his breath for a moment, closes his eyes, and exhales a slow stream of smoke into the still air. Pausing, he savors the moment of peace before waving his hand and opening his eyes. 

 

If he were any less of a shinobi, Kakashi might have flinched at the feeling of the Hokage’s privacy wards washing over the room. The seals hum with a cold, intrusive buzz that unsettles even hardened anbu. His gaze almost flicks to the empty corner of the office, where Tenzo shifts just enough to betray his cloaked presence. Kakashi smirks faintly. He’ll have to remind his kohai that a concealment jutsu is about more than staying hidden. It’s about discipline. Self-restraint? Whatever sounds more official. Hmm, perhaps he can trick Tenzo into doing something for him under the guise of more training…

 

He comes back to himself as the Third speaks. “Now then,” the Hokage begins, his voice oddly clear in the pervasive silence of the warded office, “There have been rumors near our border with the Land of Rivers. A rogue cell may be using a genjutsu technique stolen from Konoha during the First War. I don’t expect direct confrontation, but your sharingan makes you our best asset if it comes to that.”

 

Obito’s sharingan twinges painfully for a moment, as if it knows it is being spoken about. Kakashi resists the urge to reach up and rub at it through his hitaiate to soothe the ache. “Yes, Hokage-sama,” he replies instead.

 

“Due to the sensitive nature of this particular jutsu, this will be a solo reconnaissance mission. Avoid combat. However, I don’t suspect these nin to be particularly strong, so if it comes down to it, I know you can handle them,” the Hokage’s eyes harden minutely, “If this truly is the genjutsu we think it is, it’s dangerous. We don’t know why they’re only using it now, so gathering intel is our top priority. If our suspicions are confirmed, I will set you up with a team once you return to neutralize the threat and recover the jutsu scroll.” The Third waves his hand once more, and Kakashi can breathe a little easier as the privacy wards lift. 

 

“I’ll send a hawk with the mission details. You have about an hour to pack for a two week trip and make arrangements for your genin team.” Kakashi bows, taking the dismissal for what it is, and turns to leave.

 

“Kakashi.” The tone is serious, but when he looks back, there’s a glint of amusement in the Hokage’s eyes. Kakashi suppresses the urge to groan. “Do try your best to not come back chakra exhausted. This is reconnaissance only .” The Third lets out a huff of air that could be construed as a laugh. “It would be a shame if dear Tenzo-kun had to watch after your genin while you recovered.” 

 

Kakashi finally lets his eyes land on the empty corner as he turns to leave again, where he can feel Tenzo’s chakra shiver momentarily. He hears a desperate “Senpai” on the wind of the open window. The Copy Ninja smirks, digging out his book and slipping into his slouch once again. He puts a hand up, offering a lazy wave as he walks out the door. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

-

 

The jonin slowly ambles towards his apartment block from Hokage Tower. Nose tucked in his book and senses turned outwards, he can hear the ever-present whispers of civilians and fellow Leaf nin as he goes. Friend-Killer. Cold-Blooded . It’s always the same. The monikers will follow him for the rest of his life, regardless of what he tries to do to put his past behind him.

 

Iruka never calls him names. Well, he does, but it's mostly lazy, perverted, things like that. But never those names. Kakashi’s friendship with Iruka was rocky at the start, but the unlikely pair have grown close in the last few years. They will frequently get a bite to eat together and complain about Naruto’s antics or the other happenings in the village. Ah, they were supposed to have dinner tonight. Maa, Tenzo will know to drop by and let him know he has been called away. He had extended the invite to his kohai after all.

 

A cackling howl is followed quickly by a wail and Kakashi changes his direction towards the noise. 

 

A few moments later, the Copy Nin finds himself tucking his book away to look on bemused at the sight in front of him. Team 7 sits at a table nestled in a small tea shop. The shop's patrons shoot startled glances at the genin as Naruto rubs his head, clearly in pain. Sakura is shaking her fist at the blonde, yelling something about the tea stain still spreading down the front of her pink dress. Sasuke huffs idiot under his breath, but leans down to pick the shattered remains of a tea cup off of the ground at their feet. A small frog hops away as it is uncovered from under one of the porcelain shards. 

 

Kakashi figures he should probably intervene before Sakura’s yelling gets them kicked out of the tea house. He ducks under the welcome banner and steps up next to the kids’ table. They startle upon noticing him, but Naruto quickly yanks his hands away from the growing lump on his head to grab onto Kakashi’s vest. “Kakashi-sensei, thank god! You gotta get me away from her, she’s crazy!” Sakura’s momentary silence shatters. Her face flushes red with anger as she socks Naruto on the other side of his head with her fist. The jinchuuriki wails in pain dramatically, curling in on himself, now clutching both sides of his head as Sakura shouts, “ Me? Crazy?! You don’t put a frog in someone’s tea! I oughta string you up and let Sasuke use you for shuriken practice!” Sasuke raises an eyebrow slightly in interest, but otherwise says nothing.

 

“Sakura-chaaan,” Naruto laments, “It’s just a prank, ya know. Haven’t you ever heard of a prank, huh Sakura? Haven’t you?” Kakashi steps in as Sakura’s fist begins to pull back for another shot. He grabs the back of their shirts, holding them up out of their seats and away from each other. “Now now, my dear students. Do you really want to spend the last moments with your sensei fighting?” They freeze, and three pairs of curious eyes land on his single one.

 

They blink at him for a few moments. “You done?” Kakashi asks. Sakura heaves a sigh and falls limp in his hold. “Yeah, for now at least.” Naruto shoots her a skeptical look but for once says nothing as he sets them back down into their seats.

 

“Mission?” Sasuke asks, ever quick and to the point. Their jonin-sensei nods, “Lord Third gave me enough warning to get you guys squared away for the next two weeks.” Naruto deflates. “Two weeks?! Aw, but Kakashi-sensei,” he wines, lip out in a pout, “You were gonna teach us that super cool new jutsu tomorrow.” The silver-haired jonin gives into the urge to ruffle the kid’s blonde hair. “Maa, my cute little genin, don’t worry. I’m leaving you with homework!” He eye smiles at them. Naruto continues to glower, Sakura perks up in her seat, and Sasuke’s eyes flick away from him, muttering under his breath. Though the Uchiha appears annoyed, Kakashi can tell from the way Sasuke is angled towards him that he is just as interested in the homework as Sakura. “I’m going to write up some chakra control exercises for you three to practice while I’m gone,” Kakashi continues, “If you meditate on them a few hours each day after your sparring sessions, by the time I get back, you will be more than ready for that new jutsu and be able to pick it up much quicker.” 

 

Naruto sighs and sits back in his chair, sinking dramatically a little bit. “ Fine Kaka-sensei, but you better put a lot of detail into it. I don’t know what you’re saying half the time and-” “ Legible!” Sakura abruptly shouts, slamming her hand down on the table, startling a few of the closer patrons as they turn to look at her. An embarrassed flush begins to grow on her cheeks as she slides her hand back into her lap. “I mean, could you just make sure your writing is actually legible, sensei? Last time you left written instructions for us…” she trails off in a grumble, crossing her arms over her chest in frustration. Sasuke nods, “I couldn’t read it with my sharingan.”

 

Kakashi is already pulling his book out again, seemingly not paying attention to the kids in front of him. He waves his hand as he turns to leave. “Maa, maa, just have Iruka-sensei help you. He knows how to read my mission reports. I promise I'll be back before you know it to teach you that new jutsu. See you in two weeks!” Twin squawks of outrage and a quiet sigh trail out of the tea house behind him, followed by hasty well wishes to come back safe. Kakashi smiles inwardly. He never figured he would be any good at this whole sensei thing, but he’s been having more fun with it than he thought. His students are growing stronger every day, and weaseling their way into his heart. Ever since the chuunin exams fiasco and Sasuke’s near defection, the kids have unknowingly become part of his family. His pack . He continues his way to his apartment, still thinking of his kids as he unlocks his front door and tucks his book away once more. 

 

-

 

By the time Kakashi is finished packing and writing up his students' homework, the Hokage’s messenger hawk is tapping frantically on his balcony window. Unbothered by the bird’s apparent urgency, the jonin meanders over, taking his time to unlock the window and retrieve the mission scroll. As he sends the bird away, he swears it gives him a dirty look for his slowness. But it’s a bird. Birds can’t do that… right? He purses his lips thoughtfully. 

 

Still wondering about birds, he pushes his hitaiate up and off of his head, opening his sharingan. His hair falls into his face and tickles the bridge of his nose. He cracks the Hokage’s seal and unrolls the scroll, scanning the contents and committing them to memory. Solo reconnaissance in River Country, not far from the defunct Katabami Gold Mine, but closer to the coast. Do not get caught, do not engage unless necessary, blah blah blah. The standard fare. Kakashi shivers in anticipation as he lights the scroll with a small katon, scattering the ashes out onto his balcony.

 

He closes the window, remembering the last time he was in the Land of Rivers during his time in anbu. The famed Copy Ninja, Hound, Master of a Thousand Jutsu, got stuck in the muddy waters of the swampy area and had to be pulled out by Tenzo’s mokuton. Needless to say, his kohai has never let him live it down to this day.

 

Returning to his headband, Kakashi carefully wipes the grime of the day from the silver plate of his hitaiate. For just a moment, he observes the way the sunlight coming through his blinds faintly glimmers off the polished metal. It reminds him of- He shakes himself out of a memory and ties it back around his head, tilting it just so.

 

The jonin sneaks a quick peek in the mirror above his dresser, giving his mission-ready reflection Gai’s patented thumbs-up pose. Kakashi drops his hand, staring at himself for a moment in shock. Damn, I hang out with Gai too much. He distracts himself by grabbing his pack and heads to his front door, adhering his student’s homework to the door with chakra for them to find the next day, and resetting his wards as he goes.

 

As he passes through the gates of Konoha, the Copy Nin ruminates on his mission. He has never been so far south in the Land of Rivers and prays that it's more rocky than swampy, as it is closer to the coast. 

 

-

 

Much to his chagrin, it's just as gross as he remembers. After three days of non-stop running, Kakashi is caked with mud and chilled to the bone despite the humid air in the swampy region. He sniffs deeply, wrinkling his nose at the boggy smell of rotting vegetation. His mask does little to filter the smell. Luckily, despite the mud, there are more rocks this close to the coast like he suspected. So much so, that there are small caves scattered around the mounds of boulders that seem to be growing in size the closer he gets to his destination. The ground is far too muddy to set up camp, and the limbs of the surrounding trees are too thin to stay perched in all night. He wasn’t looking forward to the arduous task of looking for a dry spot to set up camp, but since it is more than likely he will be camping out in a cave, he likes that even less.

 

When the jonin estimates himself to be an hour’s walk from the town the rumors originated from, he finds a small cave big enough for himself to stand up in with his hair brushing the ceiling, lay down fully stretched out, and not room for much else. It’s the perfect size for a lone shinobi to set up camp without being worried about being discovered by local predators or missing nin sneaking around. The entrance is small, but given his lean, wiry body, he is able to shuffle through the opening with little difficulty. He reaches back through the opening to pull his pack in after him, giving one last glance to the setting sun as he retreats into the darkness of the cave.

 

He takes a moment to just sit on the dusty floor, his pack discarded next to him. The cool, slightly damp stone underneath him seeps through the warmth of his jonin blacks, grounding him. He simply looks around, breathing deeply to center himself. Ever since the Kannabi Bridge incident, Kakashi has had some… reservations about caves. It’s gotten better over the years, trauma management or something. Gai is always yelling about the youthfulness of therapy, but yeah, no thanks. He prefers his deep breathing and occasionally possibly semi-frequent nightmares to speaking with a random nin that couldn’t give two shits about his problems. As long as he keeps finessing the yearly psych evals, he is content to do his own thing.

 

If he is forced to stay in a cave on missions, which is often the case when based in coastal or mountainous regions, Kakashi will take a moment to just sit and acquaint himself with the cave. He’ll quell the urge to take large gulps of air, still his shaking hands, and push away the cool sense of dread that washes over him. If his chakra reserves allow, he will typically use the sharingan to memorize the details of the cave; entrances and exits, places he could safely perform jutsu, areas prone to collapse, especially those areas . 

After a moment to himself, Kakashi wipes the moisture collecting under his sharingan – crybaby Obito – and sets out his bedroll, tossing his pack aside to deal with later. He sits on top of his bedroll despite the mud on his clothes. It’s seen worse than a little dirt. He takes off his hitaiate, gently cleaning and polishing the worn metal with his sleeve, glancing his mismatched gaze reflected back at him for a moment before replacing it on his forehead. He sighs deeply, lacing his fingers behind his head and settling down to relax. His chakra stores are a little lower than he’d like… Guess that's what tree hopping for three days straight gets you. Sorry Hokage-sama. I’ll take my time getting back so you don’t have to scold me for chakra exhaustion when I return . He giggles breathily to himself as he begins to lightly doze, thinking of the scared look on Tenzo’s face when he inevitably returns exhausted anyways. He has told his kohai enough horror stories about his kids to have the anbu running for the hills if he ever has to look after them, even under the Hokage's orders. Intent on beginning his reconnaissance in the morning and allowing his chakra some time to replenish, Kakashi falls asleep as the stars emerge for the night.

Chapter 2: The Incident

Notes:

jk I can't wait, here's chapter 2 lol

Morning never comes for the Copy Nin. At least, not in the way he would like – ideally with a yawn and a beautiful, smelly, swampy sunrise. 

 

In the dead of night, the cave collapses.

 

A shout of doton! and a rumble overhead snap Kakashi awake. The ceiling buckles and debris crashes down. Instinct kicks in. He’s grateful that he sleeps with his uniformed fully equipped and battle ready on missions. Before his mind can fully catch up, he forms the seals for his Hiding Like a Mole technique and sinks into the earth, unintentionally dragging his bedroll with him. He almost makes it – almost – before a chunk of rock slams into his temple. The fabric of his hitaiate does nothing to soften the blow. His vision whites out momentarily, ears ringing.

 

Thick blood immediately wells up, spreading quickly and obscuring Kakashi’s vision. He swears, fingers coming up to wipe his eye clear. His head hurts. Clear vision only lasts a moment before the sticky substance is dripping back into his field of view. He needs a moment, just a second to think. 

 

Unknown number of enemies. At least one doton user.

 

His anbu training attempts to formulate a plan, but his thoughts form sluggishly. Head trauma. Concussion. Definitely. He stops trying to blink the blood out of his eye. Escape now, plan later.

 

Kakashi continues crawling through the rock, the Hiding like a Mole jutsu slowly eating away at his dwindling chakra reserves. He is moving a bit slower than normal, likely due to the head trauma , he thinks grimly.

 

The Copy Nin grimaces as his arm catches roughly on a sharp jut of rock. The wound on his head throbs harder. Damn, his head really hurts. The pain is dizzying. Blood stings his eye, still momentarily blinded. He growls, frustration mounting. He can't see. He's underground. He hates this.

 

Something suddenly has his hair standing on end. Honed anbu instincts flare in warning, his body taking a gulp of dusty air in anticipation. Danger . 

 

Something closes around the fabric on the back of his vest and pulls . Kakashi yelps, though he won’t admit it, as more jagged rocks tear into his skin as he is ripped from the earth like a weed by one of the enemy nin. He is thrown onto the ground on his stomach, earning a grunt of pain as his head roughly connects. His anbu instincts scream at him, but he still can’t see from all the blood in his eye, and oh god why does his head hurt so bad. 

 

He tries to throw out a small burst of katon jutsu to put distance between himself and the enemy, though he can’t tell if anything connects. With shaky hands, the jonin reaches for his kunai holster at his thigh. He must be moving slower than he thought, as he never quite makes it. A boot roughly connects with his shoulder, sending him sprawling out on his back. The same boot stomps on his right wrist and grinds . A sickening snap sounds beneath his skin. “This him?” A gruff voice says above him. Kami, his head hurts, and the bones in his wrist shift like gravel. He’d yell if he didn’t have so much dust in his throat. So much for a mask. 

 

“Hold him down, let me check,” another voice replies. It sounds far away, but maybe that’s just the ringing in his ears, because there are suddenly hands all over his body, pinning him down harshly. Knees connect with the ground on each side of his head, stirring up a cloud of dust around them, and a pair of hands are suddenly on the sides of his face. Kakashi’s head is held still between the thighs of the shinobi. A voice in the back of the jonin’s mind tells him there are five ninja in his immediate vicinity; three holding down his limbs, the one at his head, and the one still grinding down on his wrist. No matter, he can do one handed seals as long as he can get his other arm free.

 

Kakashi tries to move, to pull his limbs away, but his body doesn’t respond beyond a twitch under the weight of the hands holding him down. His body feels heavy, wrong . Too heavy. Not just chakra fatigue. Something’s off.

 

He jerks his head, breathing erratically, as the hands roughly yank his hitaiate away. No! It’s thrown haphazardly off to the side, clanging where the metal plate strikes a rock. His fingers twitch uselessly, longing to methodically polish the now dirty metal plate; to keep it safe .

 

And suddenly, contact.

 

A finger gently traces the bottom groove of the scar embedded in the soft skin of his cheek on the left side of his face, in sharp contrast to the rough hands holding his body down. Kakashi stills, a cold sense of dread icily settling into his heavy limbs. A calloused thumb follows, swiping along the closed lid of his sharingan. The nin leaning over him hums thoughtfully. Kakashi’s lungs suck in a breath of their own accord and his heart rate skyrockets. That’s Obito’s eye. The Copy Nin is faintly aware of a growl distantly coming from his own throat. “Don’t,” he snarls. 

 

“Ah, ah, ah. Settle down boy,” the honeyed voice – a woman – above him breathes, “Just taking a peek.” Kakashi fights to screw his eye shut against the fingers attempting to pull his eyelid apart, but just like the rest of his body, the weakness prevails. 

 

The Copy Nin immediately feels the eye’s pull on his chakra as he winces against the bright light of the full moon. His head still hurts, and the added light elevates the pain to another level. The starry night is bathed in the red glow of the sharingan, though there seems to be a hazy tinge to what he sees. Probably the concussion , he thinks again. After a moment to adjust to the painful moonlight, Kakashi looks into the eyes of the nin above him. 

 

She is looking at his chin instead of directly into his sharingan, disrupting his plan to pull her into a genjutsu. Kakashi attempts to open his other eye, but the cooling blood serves as a glue to hold it shut. Observing the other nin around him in the red-tinted darkness is difficult. He can’t make out the color of their clothing, so he can’t pinpoint which region they are from. The lack of hitaiate only adds to the mystery. 

 

The man crushing his wrist is large with a plain face. He is looking out into the surrounding trees, arms crossed in mild boredom. Kakashi flicks his red eye downwards, taking in the nervous body language of the young man holding his right leg, and the calm and collected air of the two men holding his other limbs. The nervous nin snaps his gaze briefly to Kakashi’s face – mistake – and the sharingan strikes. The nin’s grip on his leg goes limp and his face goes slack as Kakashi pulls him into a genjutsu. I can do this . The jonin’s lowered reserves twinge painfully as more of his chakra weaves the jutsu. It bubbles and pops against his pathways, leaving a burning sensation in his face. Head injuries always impair a shinobi’s chakra control.

 

Eyes empty, the man swiftly pulls a kunai from his holster, slitting his own throat in one fluid movement. Kakashi feels the warm arterial spray splatter onto his legs in contrast to the cooling sweat on his skin. “Son of a-” someone swears. The nin’s body hits the ground with a dull thud.

 

The Copy Nin’s view is plunged into darkness as the woman above him rests her hand over his eye. “That’s enough of that,” she says, “Serves him right, that idiot. Looking into a sharingan eye, ugh .” Kakashi’s head spins as his chakra attempts to settle. The burning sensation gives away to tingling, spreading down his neck. Gravel crunches in his ear as the woman rises to stand, her knee knocking into his head slightly. A sudden wave of nausea rolls over the jonin as he struggles to keep his awareness turned outwards. 

 

The big nin towering above him grinds a heel into his mangled wrist. Another groan escapes the jonin, sounding foreign to his own ears. He grits his teeth, fighting to stay conscious.

 

“So,” a second feminine voice emerges from the trees. A sixth enemy, the Copy Nin’s brain helpfully supplies. “It’s Kakashi of the Sharingan, is it not?”

 

God, sometimes he really hates his widespread reputation.

 

“You were right Eri,” the woman near his head replies, “Let’s tie him up well before we bring him back with us.” Kakashi is faintly aware of the metal twang of ninja wire being unspooled. “Ichiji, treat his head wound some so he doesn’t bleed out before we can get this underway. Dispose of that fool’s body while you’re at it.” A pause. “No, don’t look at me like that. Do as I say .” “... Fuck ,” the man, Ichiji, growls harshly, “Fine, fine.” The pressure on Kakashi’s other leg abates, followed by the breath of a jutsu and the sound of the earth swallowing the dead ninja whole.

 

Kakashi needs to get ahead of this situation while the shinobi around him are somewhat distracted. Scraping into his reserves, the jonin begins to slowly channel lightning chakra into his left foot, hoping it goes unnoticed. His toes tingle as his chakra crackles and pops. Just a few more seconds and he should be able to flip up and deal one of Gai’s signature kicks to the nin holding down his good wrist to free it. It’s the only idea he has at the moment. He can do the seals to escape for good this time, he just needs one hand-

 

“He’s channeling chakra in his leg,” the woman from the woods states.

 

… Fuck!  

 

“Oh,” the woman above him states, “Right, just let me-” Her foot sharply connects with his head. Pain blossoms from the point of impact, radiating down into his body. The lightning chakra gathered in his foot disperses uselessly, leaving the appendage completely numb. His vision blacks out despite his eyes being closed. A guttural moan is pulled from his throat. “Mmhg.”  

 

Kakashi’s ears ring, and he knows no more.

Chapter 3: The Cave

Kakashi stands motionless, feeling like he’s floating in midair. Somewhere deep inside, he registers a dull ache, but it feels distant – muted. He drifts in a calm, gray fog, oddly soothed by the stillness. A soft sigh escapes him as his body settles, mind adrift. Soft strands of hair fall across his face, tickling his nose. The sensation is unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. There's something he's meant to recall, yet it escapes him. No matter, he’s not ready for this to be over. It’s relaxing, after all, not having the grating drain of the sharingan pulling on his- 

 

His breathing stills, heart skipping a beat-

 

Obito’s sharingan!

 

Kakashi is forcefully thrown into consciousness. He is suddenly agonizingly aware of his nerves screaming at him, red-hot and painful, but the only thing he cares about-

 

He cracks open his eye- Obito’s eye-  

 

Nothing. He sees nothing.

 

He blinks, hoping, praying , that the inky blackness will bleed into familiar red.

 

It does not.

 

Kakashi feels faint. He feels sick . Panic coils around his ribs, squeezing so tight he can’t breathe. It can’t be gone, it can’t . Obito’s legacy, Kakashi’s promise to see the future for him, everything is crashing down around him.

 

He’s spiraling, dark and suffocating, dredging up an old grief he hasn’t touched since Minato-sensei’s death. I’m sorry, Obito. I’ve failed you. Failed. I’m so sorry- “Obi-” He chokes and wracking coughs are torn out of his dry throat.

 

His voice sounds like grating sandpaper even through the constant ringing in his ears. He desperately needs water to ease the dryness in his mouth. The coughing subsides, but his arms and ribs ache from his body being jostled by the coughing episode. He flexes his arms held above him, aware of the sharp sting of ninja wire cutting into the thin skin of his wrists. His ankles feel a similar sharpness. 

 

“It’s still there,” a small voice cuts through the haze.

 

Kakashi stills from his spiral, startled that he didn’t notice the chakra signature in the room. Mistake. He tries to open his normal eye, but finds the dried blood from his head wound has crusted it shut. Turning his senses outwards, a cold sense of dread washes over him upon realizing that he can’t feel their chakra at all.

 

He digs into his reserves, nearly wincing at the sputtering of his lightning affinity as it fights against him, as though it refuses to be molded. He pushes harder in his desperation, chakra striking his pathways painfully, briefly flaring in his tenketsu points, only to feel it snap back, like a rubber band recoiling. He sucks in a breath sharply, trying to breathe through the strange feeling. The Copy Nin has had his fair share of experiences in chakra depletion, but this feels different. It’s something more. It’s wrong. Something is blocking access to his shallow reserves.

 

His attention returns to the present as the person in the room shuffles closer, feet dragging softly on the ground, steps echoing lightly. Rock? Is he in another cave? Kakashi suppresses the urge to shudder. God, he hates caves. 

 

“Wha-” he coughs roughly in an attempt to clear his throat, “What did you do to me?” His throat scratches painfully and his breath hitches. In his bout of panic, he lets his thoughts slip, “My eyes- I can’t see.” Kakashi flexes his wrists to test his bonds, stomach roiling when fire races up his arms. His mangled wrist throbs; it’s so swollen that the ninja wire cuts deeply into his purple skin. 

 

“Hm… I-,” the voice pauses. They shuffle closer. The ghost of a breath tickles his face. “I am going to touch your face,” Something clicks for him and Kakashi places the voice as the woman that emerged from the trees before, the sixth enemy. Eri his mind supplies, remembering the conversation before he was kicked unconscious. “Don’t be alarmed.”

 

Despite her warning, the jonin can’t help but flinch against the two sets of fingertips on his jaw. He does his best to stay still – not that he can even move – while his anbu instincts scream. The fingers slowly trail upwards towards his eyes. He stops breathing, heart clenching painfully. Kakashi spirals.

 

Tightness around his throat. Constricting. Can’t breathe. 

 

Can’t breathe.

 

Can’t-

 

Oblivious to his mental spiral, one of Eri’s hands stills upon reaching the scar bisecting his – Obito’s – eye. The other continues, delicately prodding at the blood crusted to his other eye. She hums thoughtfully, and steps away. “I know what it is like to be blind at times,” she shuffles to the other side of the room. Cave his mind barks at him again as he tries to claw out of the darkness. Cave, cave, cave. He fights a shiver of dread that threatens to consume him completely. His head throbs. 

 

She returns to his side, hands on his face again. He feels the cool metal of a canteen press to his lips, and against his better judgement, he drinks greedily. The lukewarm water soothes the rough feeling of his throat and helps to ground his mind in reality. Eri takes it away a moment later, and suddenly there is water dripping onto his face, cascading down his blood-encrusted eyelid. Her fingers work the blood away. They’re soft, uncalloused, and gentle – something the Copy Nin doesn’t experience often. He can tell she doesn’t see combat often, if ever. She stands back. “Try opening it now.” 

 

Kakashi slowly pries open his normal eye, blinking the last of the water away. It's disorientating, dizzying almost, to suddenly be able to see again. Everything is a bit blurry, but he can make out some details. He is, unfortunately, in a cave. A thin crack, high in the ceiling, offers a small amount of distant light, illuminating the empty room and the nin standing before him. 

 

She is small, wearing something similar to the base layers of the Konoha uniform. Her long, dark hair waterfalls over her shoulders, further evidencing his thought that she doesn’t see combat; very few kunoichi are talented enough to allow long hair to flow free. Through a flash of guilt, the jonin thinks of Kushina. The light blue of her top stands out against the cave’s gloom, hinting at coastal roots. Wave Country, he guesses, given how close they are to the border. She… looks like a civilian, which is strange given the situation.

 

Two other things immediately stand out to him. Firstly, she appears to be unarmed, lacking in the traditional weapon holster most ninja carry at their hip. Secondly, a dark blue blindfold is wrapped around her head, concealing her eyes completely. The earlier comment about her blindness clicks into place, and with it, the sharp reminder of his own blindness – Obito’s eye throbs dully.

 

The Copy Nin bites down on the urge to thank her as his wits return, instead asking, “What happened to my chakra? My sharingan?” He whispers the last part, almost afraid to hear the answer. She smiles softly. “It is still there,” she echoes her earlier statement, “Just sealed. Your pathways have also been sealed, though I told them it was unnecessary due to the way it was behaving from your head wound.” The gash on his head twinges to remind him as she mimes an explosion with her hands, “Very volatile. I am surprised you didn’t hurt yourself attempting jutsu last night.” It did hurt , he thinks grimly. 

 

“It feels…” Words escape him and he looks down. Cold. Empty. Wrong. He shudders, ninja wire digging in once more. When he looks up again, she is suddenly much closer. Her blindfold is lowered, settled around her neck. His jaw drops of its own accord as he breathes out in a rush, dusty air whirling around at the disruption. Wait, where’s his mask? The thought slips away as quickly as it came as he stares into her mismatched gaze. 

 

The woman, Eri, had clearly lost her eyes in some terrible accident. Distressing red scars streak across her face, almost ear to ear, like claw marks burned into skin. Though she lost her own eyes, others sit in their place. Veins, puckered from the intense scarring, direct his gaze to the unsettling white of a byakugan nestled in her right socket. The eerie, red glow of a sharingan on the other side is all the warning he needs to not look into that eye. 

 

Eri continues to look at him, stepping around him as her eyes trail over his body in concentration. After a moment, her steps falter and she trips slightly. Sighing, she pulls the blindfold back over her eyes. Kakashi knows the physical signs of chakra exhaustion well, and Eri seems to be suffering from it. 

 

“The seals appear to be functioning properly. I’m sorry they are so uncomfortable. They are the only long-term chakra suppression seals we have that won’t outright kill your sharingan. Implanted dojutsu need a steady stream of chakra to continue functioning, as they can’t be turned off,” she pauses, “As I’m sure you know well. The seals keep your chakra flowing, but out of reach.”

 

This doesn’t make sense. “Why do all this?” he voices his confusion, “Why bother to save the sharingan at all?” Eri’s face turns grim. “I believe the others are hoping it’ll be of some use for them… That- That you might be coerced to turn to their side.”

 

Kakashi nods mechanically. None of this is good. A thought occurs to him. “Your blindfold…” The ghost of a smile crosses her face, though the Hatake can see the fatigue lining her features. “Yes, I must wear this to keep the chakra drain to a minimum.” Eri turns towards the small beam of light filtering through the cave, stepping into it. Her features warm, but the jonin knows the warmth of the sun is too far away. “I miss being able to see the blue of the sky, the green grass,” she sighs mournfully, “As I am sure you are aware, the sharingan sees red, but the byakugan sees black and white. It makes for a very boring, sad life, when what little I am permitted to see can only be colored in the hues of blood and death.” She speaks plainly and honestly. Something tightens painfully in his chest.

 

The Copy Nin swallows, feeling for the woman in front of him. She is an enemy, yet he empathizes with her. She has so far shown him no hostility, even going so far as to help him see again.

 

A thought strikes him, making him feel wrong footed. She reminds him of Iruka; kind and gentle with his team. Though, not so much Kakashi when the teacher is yelling at him for his poor reports. Even then, the Hatake has gained a nice companionship with the chuunin sensei.

 

Kakashi refocuses, asking, “Why am I here?” He is still captive, after all. She turns away from the sunbeam towards the opening to a dark hallway. Steady footsteps echo; someone is coming. “I expect you are about to find out.”

 

-

 

Two figures emerge from the dark corridor. “You aren’t supposed to be in here unsupervised,” snaps one of the nin. It’s the other woman, followed by the large man. The Copy Nin’s eye narrows, flicking between the man and two women as Eri breathily apologizes.

 

Eri and the other woman – Nao, Kakashi catches – argue quietly, tension clear. Nao moves like someone who’s used to being obeyed: measured and deliberate, but something about her feels unstable, as if barely tethered. Her clothing is a patchwork of stolen pieces over coastal blues; bits of Kiri style mesh armor, Kumo chest plating, a torn, sunbleached Konoha cloak shrugged over her shoulders like a trophy.

 

The thought makes Kakashi bristle.

 

The man – Yuto – stands in the entryway, unmoving like a wall. He radiates power, all sharp lines and quiet menace. He wears nothing but ninja blacks and grays, demonstrating that armor is unnecessary for someone of his size. He says nothing, but his presence radiates a heavy intensity.

 

The jonin fails to suppress a sudden tremor at the thought of being trapped in the cave, exit blocked. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it. Pain blossoms at the action. His knees shake, bodyweight falling briefly on his mangled wrists. He lets his head fall, chin to chest, heaving a shuddering breath in an attempt to breathe through the pain. 

 

When he can breathe steadily again, Kakashi raises his head to look into the eyes of the woman now standing in front of him. He fights the urge to sneeze, the dusty air irritating his nose harshly.

 

“Hatake Kakashi,” Nao’s voice is smooth, dripping with something he can’t name, “Still alive, huh? That’s promising.” Tension coils through him and his head throbs, but his voice is steady, “After all the work to get me here, I’d hate to disappoint.” She smiles, walking over to him. Kakashi stubbornly refuses to turn away as she reaches up towards his face. He becomes aware of a bandage on his temple as she fingers at it. It must have been from the nin ordered to patch him up when he was captured. “That’s the risk with investments, sometimes they disappoint; don’t survive the challenge.” She swiftly rips off the bandage. The adhesive pulls, causing the gash in his skin to sharply make itself known, but he keeps his breathing flat. “The bleeding finally stopped,” she says offhandedly. He ignores this, “I didn’t ask to be part of your investment portfolio.” “You didn’t need to,” she replies cooly, head tilting, “I take what I need. If my investments don’t survive my process, so be it.” She brushes her hand over the weapons pouch at her hip, a silent threat. 

 

Not getting a reaction from him, Nao turns, crossing the room. “You’re a cut above the rest, though, so I’d like to see this investment come to fruition.” She pulls a chair over from the small table in the corner and puts it in front of him, settling into it. “What are you investing, exactly?” he asks, fishing for information. She kicks her leg out, crossing it over the other, and takes out a kunai, twirling it around her fingers absently. “Time. In you.” Her eyes bore into him, unblinking, prying. He swallows the nerves away.

 

“I’ve read the reports,” Nao says eventually. Her eyes trail up and down his body. “Son of the White Fang. Cold-blooded Kakashi. The Copy Ninja. Not the sort of man who folds under pressure.”

 

Kakashi stays silent.

 

She stands, leaning forward. “It’s a good trait to have as a shinobi. However, that’s going to be a problem for me,” she now holds the kunai properly, glimmering blade pointed towards him, “I’m not here to break you. Not yet at least.” Kakashi’s mind whirls, fragmented thoughts failing to see the endgame, but finding the situation troubling. “Generous,” he says instead. The longer he keeps her talking, the more information he can gain. 

 

Her blade is inches from his face. This close, he can see the weapon is angled towards Obito’s eye. A bead of sweat trickles down his face, betraying his apprehension. 

 

The cool metal touches the overheated skin of his cheek, just under his scar, causing goosebumps to erupt over his body. He fights down panic and the urge to move . The sharp end of the kunai is too close – far too close – to Kakashi’s precious gift. One wrong move and the Hatake’s promise to his long dead teammate will slip through his fingers. He can’t see the world if the eye is gone.

 

“You’re here to help me reach my goal, but I need you on my side,” she whispers into his ear, “I’m here to offer some clarity for you.” With a slight shift of her wrist, the tip of the kunai breaches the soft skin of his cheek, but only just. 

 

Kakashi can’t help it, his breathing hitches, throat constricting. Panic begins to set in. The cave, the pain, the sharp scent of blood, it feels too familiar. The last time he'd been in a cave like this… It threatens to overwhelm him. His heart pounds painfully and the ringing in his ears intensifies. He closes his eyes in an attempt to ground himself, he can’t let her know how much this is affecting him.

 

“Think of this as a… mental calibration,” he hears her voice despite the blood rushing through his ears, “A taste of what’s at stake if you threaten my… investment in you. I want you focused during our time together, after all. Who knows, maybe you’ll decide to join us in the end, with that pretty little eye of yours.” The kunai slowly travels the length of his scar, breaching the thick scar tissue, leaving a well of blood in its wake. Kakashi can feel himself slipping into a panic attack as the weapon barely ghosts over his eyelid, sparing the sharingan, and it continues the length of the scar. His breathing picks up slightly but believes he otherwise appears outwardly unaffected, holding incredibly still during the process. 

 

The world tilts. His consciousness flickers, not getting enough air. He can feel himself slipping away. A blessing . 

 

Before he falls under, he hears her sickly sweet voice once more. “You’re pretty without that mask. Fear is a good look on you.” Dammit, he forgot about his mask. He’s had his mask removed by captors before, but it never gets easier to have his emotions so clearly on display. It’s one of the reasons he wears a mask – his face has always been more expressive. 

 

And expressive it was. All his emotions were on his face like an open book, despite his best efforts to keep his body from betraying his thoughts. 

 

Blackness consumes him. 

 

-

 

When the Copy Nin comes to, voices filter through the dull ringing in his ears. Eri and Nao speak in low tones, too soft for his muddled thoughts to understand. 

 

His senses return slowly. Sound, then smell. His enhanced sense of smell picks up the scents of the three nin. Yuto, wet earth and sweat. Eri, a floral sea breeze. Nao, steel and vines. 

 

The jonin breathes slowly, taking stock of himself and his surroundings. The pounding of his heart has abated, but the scar on his face pulses. He feels a little hysterical, a laugh nearly bubbling up. Hm, the head trauma is likely worse than he thought. When he feels in control of himself, he lifts his head where it had settled against his chest, limp and unguarded.

 

A cold sweat breaks out on his skin. Two more ninja stand before him. He hadn’t heard them enter. Hadn’t smelled them. Am I losing time? His one-eyed gaze flicks between the cave's occupants, assessing. 

 

The two newcomers are staring at him, while Eri and Nao are well into a conversation about seals or scrolls. Yuto is still standing in the doorway, unmoving. The two new nin step closer, gazes steady yet unsettling, unblinking. 

 

Kakashi subtly tests the wire he can feel wrapped around his ankles. Razor wire instantly breaches skin. Tighter than hell, unfortunately. Not daring to move his injured wrist again so soon, he twitches the fingers of his other hand. They barely respond, bones shifting painfully. Broken. Of course… Likely done when he was first captured to take one-handed signs out of the equation. So no ninjutsu. Minato explained the theoretical concept of signless jutsu before, envisioning the seals and forming your chakra to mimic the flow of the seals internally, but his chakra control is too disrupted for an attempt. 

 

Directing his focus back to the two in front of him, the jonin observes them cautiously. If they tried anything, there’s nothing he could do against an attack right now. As they approach him, they become better illuminated by the pitiful excuse of a sunbeam. His blurred vision adjusts. They’re two boys, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Brothers, if not twins. They’re dressed identically; dark blue civilian rags with oversized mesh armor settled overtop. It clinks faintly as they move.

 

“You killed Sanji,” the left one growls quietly, monotone. “Yes, you killed Sanji,” the right one echoes, mimicking the cadence of the other perfectly. His breath tickles the jonin’s bare face, uncomfortably warm in the already humid room. His nose tells him they share a similar scent of mud and stone. It bothers his sensitive nose. Kakashi itches for his mask.

 

“Ichiji, Niji,” Nao’s sharp voice cuts through the humidity like butter, “Back away. You can do whatever you want once we’re done with him.”

 

Wait…

 

Ichiji, Niji, and…

 

Sanji…?

 

A snort rips out of him, unbidden. Oops. 

 

The left one – Ichiji or Niji, who knows – rears back and kicks him in the shin as snarl escapes his mouth. Nao is yelling, expletives thunderous in the stone room. His ears ring, deafening the loud voices. The kick is probably throbbing too, but the Copy Nin’s mind is elsewhere.

 

“Triplets,” the Hatake says dumbly, his brain to mouth filter failing him. The man – boy – he killed before was the third in a set of triplets. Kakashi’s brain short circuits for a while at the choice of names. One, Two, and Three are not very creative. He thinks of Pakkun, he would find this funny too. And the Hokage’s hawk maybe-glaring at him. Would the hawk find it funny? Are birds capable of emotion?

 

Fingers snap in front of his face. The jonin blinks, coming back to himself. He stares at Nao, who is lowering her hand, a scowl on her face. One and Two are gone. Yuto is still lurking in the doorway. Eri sits behind Nao against the cave wall next to the small table. There are papers scattered on it, clearly a workstation. “You with us, Hatake?” He looks at her. She’s close enough that he can make out the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. “Would be a shame if you broke completely before we could use you,” she grumbles, “After all this work.”

 

Kakashi swallows thickly, trying to center himself. He desperately needs intel. Acquire information, devise a plan, execute the plan . “What do you want with me,” he asks, managing to keep his voice steady. Nao huffs, bringing a hand up to tuck some loose hair behind her ear. “With the Uchiha dead, you’re the next best well of information on genjutsu,” she motions to his eye, “You need to fill in the blanks of this genjutsu scroll for us.” She gestures at the table Eri is quietly sitting at. Even with his vision blurred, Kakashi can make out some seal matrices on the loose papers. “I don’t know anything about seals,” he lies immediately, “Wouldn’t help you even if I did.”

 

Nao snorts, walking over to the table to shuffle through the papers aimlessly. “A student of Konoha’s Yellow Flash not knowing fuuinjutsu? So, what, are you a killer and a liar?” her gaze returns to him, “Oh sorry – or do you only save that for your friends?”  

 

He knows it’s meant to throw him off, but it works. He feels sick. Tension coils through his body, the back of his neck is uncomfortably clammy. They don’t know anything , he tells himself. They don’t- But… it's true, isn’t it. He is the reason his childhood teammates are dead, and he lies to his “friends” and colleagues every day.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Don’t worry about me.”

 

“Can’t, I’m busy.”

 

The slap is sudden and sharp. His cheek is stinging, mind reeling. She.. hit him? Wasn’t she just across the room? Her fingers slip into his hair, tightening, and she yanks his head up roughly. When did my head fall? The skin around his head wound pulls. His vision whites out and the ringing in his ears intensifies. The Hatake can feel his body trembling pathetically, breath hitching. Something isn’t right.

 

“You’ll give us what we want,” Nao says, her voice low and sure. Her thumb drags over the edge of his head wound threateningly, not quite applying pressure. “We have ways of extracting it,” she continues, “No one is coming to save you.” She lets go of his hair, returning to the table. He struggles to keep his gaze on her, eyelid growing heavier.

 

Nao nudges Eri, who lifts her blindfold to peer at Kakashi intently, searching for something. Nao holds up the scroll for him to view, stepping closer upon noticing his eyes squinting to make out the finer details. “Do you know what this is?” she asks.

 

The scroll is old, and has clearly seen better days. There are holes singed throughout the parchment, blocking out a large portion of the completed jutsu script. He recognizes it; it’s clearly the scroll the Hokage sent him to find. He shakes his head in the negative. 

 

“Lying,” Eri says, under her breath. Kakashi eyes her for a moment, feeling grim. With the head wound and seals impacting his chakra control, the jonin realizes Eri is reading his chakra with her eyes – essentially like a lie detector. His chakra will flutter and spark in line with his emotions and thoughts. Anbu interrogation training can only help so much when you have no control over your chakra. This is bad. Very bad. 

 

“Now that you understand the stakes,” Nao sets the papers down and returns to his side, dragging up the chair to sit in front of him yet again, “I expect you to comply.” She glares up at him. He flexes his wrists, once again failing to achieve anything besides pain. “We know this is a forbidden jutsu, and we know it's the stuff of nightmares. However, I don’t know the specifics,” she leans in, “We will be testing what you give us on you. If you give us the wrong information, at best, it will kill you. At worst,” she shrugs, “I guess we’ll find out.”

 

Using an incomplete ninjutsu can cause injuries to the caster. Kakashi has had his fair share of those, especially during the trial and error stage of creating his chidori. Miscalculations, half-finished hand seals, jutsu going haywire. An incomplete seals-based genjutsu , however, can have disastrous consequences to the one it is being casted on. It may not have enough script in the sealing arrays to be cast – making it essentially defunct –, but if there are just enough of the right seals, the effects can be tragic. Like Nao said, it has the potential to kill him. That would be a blessing compared to what happens to those who survive. Your mind becomes scarred as the jutsu rips through it like fire through dry leaves. Your mind can be torn apart, shredded. Some victims may never wake again. Some wake screaming. Kakashi swallows, throat suddenly dry.

 

For the first time in a long time, Kakashi is scared.

Notes:

I've just hit 50 pages of my document for this story. It's taking me a while to reread everything as I go, but I should be able to get the next chapter up in a week!

Chapter 4: Time Passes

Notes:

Finally managed to write up a good fic summary ;P

Kakashi breathes shallowly. His lungs feel too tight, unable to draw air any deeper. Pain radiates through his ribs – mottled purple with bruises, maybe fractured at this point – protesting every breath, every slight movement. An ache lingers as his constant companion, sharp and unforgiving. 

 

When Nao decided she wanted a break in her questioning, the remaining members of the triplets eagerly volunteered to be the hands that guide him on his journey. In other words, they hit a hell of a lot harder than he ever expected. His body aches in ways he didn’t know possible. Still, he has managed to stall the nin through their first few rounds of interrogation. 

 

With careful words, he dances the line between truth and falsehood, vague enough to give nothing of real value, but clear enough not to be caught in a lie. After all, his chakra cannot waver in contradiction if what he says happens to be true. 

 

( “And this matrix here? How would this be completed?” they asked, pointing to the next burned out section of seals. Though very little context clues were available, he knew exactly how it would be completed in this specific type sealing array. Perks of being the Fourth Hokage’s student, I guess. “Maa, there are many ways to finish matrices like that one. You could copy the initial sequence backwards.” Eri’s silence served as confirmation he was not lying. And he wasn’t! They asked how to complete it, not how it was meant to be completed. By finalizing the matrix in the way he described, it would negate the initial part of the script, thus nullifying the effect that only the original caster could break the jutsu. Just one less thing for him to worry about now… )

 

With how viciously the nin have been ripping into him as the day progressed, he found himself wondering if he could endure long enough for someone to notice his absence. A mission like this wouldn’t go more than a few days over the estimated completion date. It’s likely it will be upwards of two, two and a half weeks before alarm bells ring and someone is sent after him. He clings to the possibility of rescue, as distant as it may be. For now, he has no means of escape. And with the state of his body deteriorating with every thrown fist, his window of opportunity is rapidly shrinking.

 

The room is quiet now, save for Eri slumped over the table, breaths echoing softly in the still air. Her head rests against her folded arm, body heavy with chakra depletion. She all but collapsed into her chair after the last round of questioning. Kakashi watches her with a flicker of emotion. Pity? Commiseration? He noticed there is something off about her dynamic with the others. She works with them, albeit reluctantly at times, but they treat her poorly and push her too far.

 

“You alright?” he asks, wincing at the raw, dry feeling in his throat. A voice in his head tells him he should really be asking himself that question, but he already knows the answer. “Yes,” she replies weakly, “Just tired.”

 

The Copy Nin sighs through his nose in acknowledgement. His ribs ache. His head hurts. What else is new? He hesitates for a moment before continuing, “Do they always push you that far?” She lifts a hand to rub at her covered eyes, grimacing. Kakashi knows the strain of overused eyes well. He’ll frequently push the heel of his palm into the eye in an attempt to massage away the feeling. “I’m alright. Nothing a good night's sleep won’t fix.” He doubts it. Plus that’s not really an answer. He hums noncommittally, looking around the room again. His eyes fall to the parchment rolled up on the table she's resting at, curiosity burning. “How’d you get your hands on the scroll anyway?” he ventures to ask, “It went missing during the First War, long before your time.”

 

It takes Eri so long to respond, Kakashi almost thought she had fallen asleep. “Nao’s grandfather stole it, back in the day. She told me about it when she planned all this. Some village elders apparently thought the jutsu was powerful enough to spur Wave into becoming a shinobi village, so they sanctioned a mission to steal it. Nao told us he was intercepted by Leaf Shinobi on his way home. During the attack, the scroll was partially destroyed. The seal matrices were too complex and the missing sections could only be completed by a fuuinjutsu master,” she yawns, but pushes herself up against the back of the chair, “Wave has never had one of those. The jutsu scroll was essentially useless after that. He and his family were shunned from the village for his failure,” she tiredly scrubs at her eyes once more, “Nao wants to restore her family’s honor by returning to the village with the completed jutsu. She believes it will strengthen the Land of Wave and she will rise to a place of power for her efforts,” she shifts, stretching her stiff muscles, “And she wants revenge for what the Leaf did to her grandfather and her family, but… I think there’s more to it. Something she won’t tell us.

 

The Copy Nin ponders for a few moments, mind sluggishly making connections. “And what about you? What do you want?”

 

Eri stills in obvious surprise. “I…” She turns towards the door, listening for movement. When none comes, she continues. “I don’t agree with it. If this jutsu really is as powerful as she believes, I think it should be destroyed. Twisting someone’s mind like that…” she shakes her head, “It’s wrong. All of it. I understand she’s upset, but there is no need for vengeance or power like this.” Kakashi wants to laugh. “Vengeance and power are as intrinsic to shinobi as breathing, Eri-chan.”

 

Eri fidgets with her hands, clearly struggling with something unspoken. He waits. Eventually, she speaks. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

 

He should be surprised. She is his enemy after all. But… he feels a sort of kinship with her, being used by others for an eye’s power. Her quiet exhaustion mirrors his own. 

 

He thinks of Gai. His friend has been trying to teach him more about self-worth, encouraging him to rest when things get heavy. Kakashi knows he can put in a leave request if he is feeling especially beaten down by his missions. He knows this. And yet, how can he? It’s his purpose. The shinobi way has defined him from the moment he could walk. He doesn’t know how to step away from it. He doesn’t know who he’d be without it. He is a hardened, battle-tested jonin, Son of the White Fang, retired Anbu Captain, Master of a Thousand Justu, the Copy Ninja, Kakashi of the Sharingan.

 

Friend-Killer. Cold-Blooded.

 

It’s not just his duty anymore, it's part of his identity. He can’t put being a ninja aside. He doesn’t deserve the softness life offers outside of it. He’s not sure he’d know what to do with it. Who would he be, if not a killer? So he endures, continuing on through the weariness, broken and exhausted. Even when it’s hard. Even when he’s tired. 

 

He’s so tired.

 

“I’m sorry too,” he says eventually. Eri visibly startles, sitting up a little straighter and mouth falling open. “It’s clear to me you aren’t as willing of a participant as you’d like me to believe.” She shrinks, wringing her hands once more. 

 

She remains quiet. Time stretches on. Kakashi dozes between sleep and wakefulness, lulled by water droplets falling down the crack in the ceiling. A small puddle grows on the floor, drip by drip. It must be raining outside. 

 

“She saved my life.” Eri’s hushed voice barely echoes inside the cave. “I grew up in a civilian town. I was blinded in an accident. A group of bandits found me after it happened. They had just killed some ninja from the Leaf.” A Hyuuga and an Uchiha goes unsaid. “They held me down while their doctor implanted the eyes into my face with medical ninjutsu. He knew enough to do it, but not enough to do it right,” her voice dips, face tightening, “These eyes hurt, and they leak more chakra than they should, I’m sure of it,” the look softens, “They made me see for them. Track their next victims from far off. I was a civilian girl, what could I do against them?” she swallows, “They pried my eyes open so long, it was killing me.”

 

Eri breathes deeply to calm herself, and smiles softly. “Nao and the others found me. They killed the bandits and took me in. She gave me this blindfold and taught me about chakra. I’ve been with them ever since.”

 

Kakashi flexes his wrists again. His head hurts. “Aren’t they doing the same thing to you though? Using your eyes?”

 

The cave is silent for the rest of the night, aside from a steady echoing;

 

drip,

 

drip,

 

drip .

 

-

-

 

The missing nin have been slowly chipping away at him, piece by piece. Despite his resistance, and refusal to give them the answers they need, they have managed to pry information out of him. The more they broke his body, the more volatile his chakra became. With each passing day, the nin refined their interrogation methods; carefully worded, yes or no questions. Eri could read the faintest twitch in his chakra when he refused to verbally answer. In the end, refused is a strong word when in reality, the Copy Nin is putting up a front of refusing to answer rather than show them he has become too weak to answer at all. 

 

Trial and error has brought the nin farther than Kakashi would like to admit. The burned husk of the genjutsu parchment has been replaced by a freshly inked scroll, with most of the missing sections filled in. It has long since moved on from being defunct. However, they haven’t tested it yet. They’re holding off, trying to squeeze as much information out of him before taking the final step that could potentially kill him. 

 

They unstrung him from the ceiling a while ago, but he can’t say how long he’s been bound to this chair. Kakashi keeps losing time – hours, days, it all blends together, slipping away. How long has he even been here in this cave? It’s always caves. How long ago did he pat his kids on the head and tell them he’d be back soon? Far too long. He hopes someone is coming.

 

No one is coming , a traitorous voice whispers. 

 

His head pounds – a deep ache that digs in sharply behind his sharingan. It makes his head spin and vision swim. Sometimes, it makes him feel very distant, untethered to his painful reality; it takes him away from the torment coursing through in his body, giving him some reprieve in its own twisted way.

 

The muscles in his face spasm. It's been happening for a while now. It’s probably happening all over his body, but the pain he feels overrides other sensations. They spasm again. He feels the scar over his eye – the scar that was reopened by the missing nin – pull painfully. The sharingan throbs underneath in line with his heartbeat.

 

Eri told him before that his chakra is sealed in a way that keeps his dojutsu from dying. The seal itself isn’t causing the pain, rather it’s his own body reacting abnormally. For some reason, his body keeps funneling an excessive amount of chakra into the sharingan. She mentioned the idea that his pathways had been rewritten long ago to accommodate the surge of chakra the eye demands. But now, with the sharingan sealed and no outlet for the chakra to dissipate, the excess has begun to accumulate – gathering in his head, pressure building, feeding a persistent, worsening pain. It has been building into a croschendo, chakra levels climbing higher and higher, and when it peaks… well, he’d rather not know. 

 

Kakashi endures the pain – what choice does he have? – but the frustration is maddening. Each time his chakra trickles into his reserves and starts to refill, they are drained again by the eye. Greedy. He wants to scream, but it’s a cycle he can’t break. Kami, everything hurts .

 

-

 

Kakashi wheezes as Yuto tightens the ninja wire binding him to the chair. The wire cuts deeply into his already battered body, cruelly marking his bare skin. His shirt had been discarded within days of his capture, the thin fabric pointless with how quickly the beatings had escalated. His skin under the bonds is mottled with deep purples and red, oozing in places where he has struggled to get free. 

 

The added pressure on his ribs sends a jolt through his body. Something shifts, bone on bone, puncturing deeper. He coughs weakly – a ragged, wet sound – and the tang of copper splashes on his tongue. The jonin can practically taste the infection starting in his blood.

 

Yuto stands, deeming the wire to be sufficiently tight. “He’s ready,” the giant man says. Kakashi forces open his eye, blearily watching Nao finish the latest brush strokes on her scroll and blow on the drying ink. He can feel his body run cold in anticipation. 

 

Nao looks at him, a wicked glimmer in her eye.

 

This is it. Kakashi will either die today, or he will cease to exist in the way he always has. 

 

Nao stands, scroll in her hands. “Let’s see how this works. If you wake up, you can tell us a little about what you saw, and how the genjutsu functions.” Eri turns away, curling in on herself in the chair. Kakashi closes his eye and lets his head hang as he feels the genjutsu’s cold wash over him, digging its claws into the far corners of his mind.

 

One last thought flickers through his consciousness before darkness takes him.

 

I wish I could see my kids one last time.

Notes:

The next update will be double chapters! One of them is fairly short so it only seems right!

Chapter 5: Phantom Pains

Notes:

Instead of sitting on this chapter and waiting to post a double update, I figured I'd just post this one early. Enjoy!

Kakashi is aware that this shouldn’t be real. But it feels so real. His chakra is locked away, just out of his grasp. He is completely unable to dispel the scene in front of him as his thoughts of reality slip away. 

 

He’s there, in that place. 

 

Kannabi Bridge . 

 

The cave.

 

Kakashi stands there, numbly taking in the scene.

 

Obito lies before him, crushed under rocks. “Obito…” he murmurs, eyes glistening with overwhelming emotion. His voice is small and child-like, high-pitched and crackling. His teammate’s empty eye socket, deep and dark, peers at him, somehow seeing right down into his very soul. 

 

“Why, Kakashi?” Obito gurgles, blood trickling from his mouth to pool on the cave floor, “Why did you do this to me?” Kakashi steps back, tripping over himself. His legs are shorter, like when he was a kid. He lands on his butt, scooting back while holding his hand out – a child’s hand – as if to reach out and take hold of the Uchiha before him in contradiction. The rough rocks under him scrape into his skin. “I- I’m sorry Obitio. The rock, it hit my head,” a sense of deja vu, “I couldn’t move out of the way-” “LIAR!” the Uchiha roars. His fist slams into the rubble, blood trailing under his fingertips as he claws at the rocks pinning him down. “You’re the best shinobi in our age group. A jonin! You should have been able to move out of the way!” Obito sobs angrily, the half of his face that is visible twisting in rage. “It hurts. Kami, it hurts! I don’t deserve this! I shouldn’t have saved you. I shouldn’t have given you that gift!” Kakashi’s eyes screw closed, unable to bear the scene, and brings his fingertips to the bleeding gash over his new eye. His chest aches with guilt, tears mixing with blood, indistinguishable. “ Look at me!” The jonin’s eyes – both of them – snap open to look at the sight before him. “This is your fault!”  

 

Tears burn his skin, scorching hot rivers down his face. His breath hitches, newly implanted eye smouldering like an ember in his skull. He claws at the sharingan, nails drawing blood, but the eye refuses to budge. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he blubbers, “I’ll give it back. Obito- ” 

 

Kakashi feels the icy bite of a kunai slip into his shoulder like butter, severing muscle and tendon. He’s across the cave in an instant, hand grasping at the wound as warm blood flows between his fingers, breathing heavily. His knees shake. In a blink, the scene changes.

 

He’s in a swamp. The cloudy night casts a dark shadow over him. Obito’s half crushed body, now free of the rocks, writhes on the ground in agony, groaning and spitting obscenities. Through his teary vision, Kakashi sees her. 

 

Rin.

 

She’s standing next to Obito, kunai held limply in her hand, dripping blood. Her face is vacant, almost corpse-like. With her other hand, she is clawing at the hole in her chest. “Ka…ka…shi.” The flesh is burned around the edges. Electricity burns. “Maybe- Maybe if you were crushed instead, I wouldn’t have had to die,” she says quietly, voice wet. “Why did you kill me, Kakashi? Why do you kill the people who love you?” Tears stream down her face, yet her eyes hold no emotion. “Rin… I’m- I-” He wants to tell her that he’s sorry, that he didn’t mean to kill her, that he could have helped her if she didn’t jump right in front of-

 

But he did kill her. Stuck his hand right through her chest .

 

“Why, Kakashi?” she asks, a drop of blood trickling from her lips, “Why did you do this to me?” She echoes Obito’s earlier words. 

 

Kakashi scrambles backwards, intending to run. To flee . His chest tightens in his panic. He can’t go through this again, he can’t face these nightmares. 

 

His back collides with an unmoving force. The scene shifts again. He’s on top of Hokage Mountain in the dead of night. Konoha is burning, casting an eerie orange glow over the village, screams echo in the distance. His body feels taller; limbs thin and lanky like a teenager. A cold hand falls to his shoulder, squeezing hard, bordering on painful.

 

The air leaves his lungs, his body trembles.

 

And he knows.

 

He slowly looks up and behind him, now crying in earnest. “Minato-sensei,” his boyish voice cracks.

 

Minato’s eyes hold none of the love they typically did for his youngest student, for the kid he slowly began to see as his own. No warmth, no compassion. Instead, they glare coldly at him, hatred evident. “Hatake.” His sensei’s voice holds the same sharp edge that would be directed at war criminals . “I’m disappointed in you.” Kakashi reaches out, hand shaking. Despite being right next to him, he feels so far away. “Sensei-” “You weren’t there,” Kushina steps out from behind her husband. She’s clutching her stomach, blood leaking around her fingers. Only then does Kakashi notice the mirrored gaping hole in his sensei’s gut. Speared through by the Kyuubi’s deadly claw. 

 

Kakashi retreats stiffly, shock setting in, making it difficult to move his body. Minato and Kushina’s bodies stand in a pool of blood as it slowly leaks from their torsos. “My baby,” Kushina wails, “My baby is alone! Alone and hated . All because you weren’t there!” “This is all your fault, Hatake,” Minato’s tone is cruel, “If you were there, you could have saved us. But you weren’t. We’re dead and our son is a reviled orphan in the village you said you’d protect. I never should have trusted you,” he snarls, “I should have known the son of a traitor would betray us in the end.”

 

Kakashi sinks to his knees in despair. He squeezes his eyes closed, threads his fingers through his hair, gripping the silver locks painfully tight. A sob wracks his body. “I’m sorry!” he howls, “I’m sorry!”  

 

The young Hatake’s body is knocked to the ground by a harsh kick to his ribs. He gasps, hands closing around his head protectively as he is kicked over and over again. “Your fault,” Rin mutters. “Where were you?!” Kushina cries. “Useless, traitor ,” Minato-sensei snarls.  Kakashi soaks it all in, every insult. His most precious people, spitting vitriol at him. It hurts more than the physical blows ever could. He cracks his eyes open, peering through the blood-soaked tears, only to realize he is face to face with Obito, laying there like a corpse. The breath leaves his body once more.

 

It's a grotesque sight. Without the rocks, Kakashi can see the damage on the right side of the Uchiha’s face. His skin has been ripped away to reveal pulsing red tissue, blood trailing down the unmarred side of his face where a gaping hole sits. Kakashi’s eye throbs in depraved solidarity. He almost misses the sight of Obito’s other sharingan, blood red against the crimson flesh, staring at him. 

 

“I hate you,” Obito gurgles. 

 

Kakashi’s heart breaks. 

 

-

 

“ ’m sorry. -give -back,” Kakashi mumbles unconsciously, voice slurred, barely audible, “Take- eye back. Obito, ’m srry.” Nao grins maliciously. “Well would you look at that… The jutsu clearly draws on past experiences,” she purses her lips in thought, “This works great against shinobi, with all the nasty shit we see everyday.” She leans over the limp body. His skin glistens in the low light, damp with sweat. She takes out her kunai and grips his chin, lifting his head to face her. She traces the rough scabbing over his sharingan with the tip of the kunai, causing a few drops of blood to well up along its path. Kakashi cries out in his unconscious state, the pain piercing through the jutsu’s illusion. “He’ll probably break by the time we’re done with him,” she murmurs, “Maybe I should take this eye for myself, when all is said and done,” she looks over at Eri. 

 

Eri has her blindfold off. She is looking at Kakashi, eyes open like slits, barely seeing, barely listening. She is shaking with exertion. Nao scoffs, muttering under her breath, “Nevermind. Don’t wanna end up like you. Pathetic.” 

 

Nao stands with a huff, letting the Hatake’s head fall against his chest. She walks over to the scroll table and sits, facing her prisoner with apathetic eyes.

 

She watches him for a while. He continues to whine and whimper and plead, breathing raggedly. “What did you see?” she eventually asks Eri, who has long since replaced her blindfold. It takes a few moments for her to respond, “His chakra is swirling, like he’s in pain. It’s gathering in his head behind the eye oddly, almost like his body believes… he is using the sharingan.” 

 

Ichiji scoffs as he and Niji enter the room. “Good. Serves him right.” Nao ignores this, instead continuing to watch Kakashi for a moment. The two brothers walk over to the prisoner, jeering at him and poking at his wounds.

 

“Wake him up,” Nao says eventually. “What?” Niji whips around, anger on his face, “Why?” She only grins. “I want to see how the jutsu has affected his mental state. I mean, we know he’s still alive, but is he still all there?” She taps on the side of her head. Ichiji grumbles but obediently places a hand on Kakashi’s head. “Kai!”

 

Kakashi immediately stills, breath ceasing. For a few moments, Nao suspects the Copy Nin has finally died. She begins to stand. 

 

The jonin gasps wetly, head flying up, both eyes open and wide, darting around the room. He struggles desperately for a few seconds, near hyperventilating against the blood leaking from his mouth. His eyes land on Nao. She stares back, unafraid of the chakra sealed sharingan – the three tomoe sit motionless, quiet, unseeing –, and watches recognition slowly bleed back into his features. His breathing calms, becoming shallow, taking on a slight wheeze. Tears stream down his face as he closes his eyes, washing away some of the old blood. His head pounds . “Still with us?” Nao asks curiously, “Tell me what you saw. How did it feel?”

 

The jonin spits to the side, blood and saliva splattering on the stone floor. He coughs weakly, dragging in a painful breath. “Fuck you.” His voice is hoarse, yet still holds a defiant edge. Nao looks at him, eyes trailing his battered body. “Guess that's enough of an answer. Good to know it's effective while still allowing you to retain some of your faculties. Better for interrogating,” she picks up the scroll from the table and tosses it to Niji, “Put him back under. We’ve got what we need from him. We know the jutsu is the stuff of nightmares, but I want to see how far it can go before he breaks.”

 

A look of fear crosses the Copy Nin’s face before he falls under the jutsu’s pull once again.

Chapter 6: Where the Water Runs Red

“Great job kids! Mission complete!” Kakashi watches fondly over the top of his book as Naruto cheers, fist punching the air in celebration. Sakura beams, and even Sasuke – ever stoic – has the faintest trace of satisfaction tugging at his mouth. “Ne, Kaka-sensei?” Naruto asks, “We’re gonna be passing through that hot springs town on our way back, ya know…” The jinchuuriki nudges Sakura with his elbow, and she catches on quickly. “That’s right”, she nods, tilting her head thoughtfully, “Some say the best way to recover from a mission is a nice, long soak at an onsen.”

 

Kakashi lowers his book and looks up into the sky, finger tapping on his chin in mock deliberation. “Hmm. I think I have heard that. Very insightful, Sakura.” He goes back to his book and pretends not to hear the flurry of whispered plotting just ahead. “Yeah, yeah, Sakura-chan is right,” the blonde pipes up, “It’s especially good for people who were, uh, recently held captive- OW!” Naruto yelps as Sakura smacks him, rubbing his head as she shakes her fist in warning. “You can't just say things like that, idiot,” Sasuke growls. “Moron. Sensei is probably traumatized and stuff,” Sakura whisper-yells, “You have to be careful about these things.”

 

Kakashi can feel his students’ worried gazes looking over their shoulders from their group huddle just ahead of him. He raises his book higher to hide his face. Their concern is clumsy, but real. Genuine. They care. The thought settles in his chest, gentle and warm. Kami, he loves these kids. Seeing them again had been like drawing a full breath after nearly drowning. His escape is still murky in places – like morning fog, lifting ever so slowly – but the kids are real. Their presence is real. A tremor ripples down his spine, unrelated to the cool breeze. Maybe a soak really isn’t such a bad idea after all. 

 

The jonin-sensei suddenly snaps his book shut, startling the genin. Three pairs of wide eyes watch as he tucks it safely away in his vest pocket. “Suddenly I’m in the mood for a visit to a hot spring,” he says as if the idea just occurred to him, “Just a thought, though. We don’t have to go, unless you want to.” His eye crinkles into a smile as they yell in triumph. 

 

-

 

Luckily, the onsen they stop at offers swimsuits, and Kakashi rents a private bath for the four of them. He’s already in the steaming water, a small white hand towel tied around his face, by the time the boys come barreling out of the boy’s changing room. They’re both clad in dark blue swim trunks, with the onsen’s logo stamped on the side. Just as they reach the edge of the water, Sasuke casually sticks out a foot, tripping Naruto and sending him flailing forward with a surprised yell and a splash in the water. The Uchiha steps into the water with quiet grace and settles onto the submerged bench next to their sensei as if Naruto isn’t half drowning on the other side of the bath. The jinchuuriki eventually makes his way over, scowling and grumbling to himself, hair soaked. He sits on Kakashi’s other side, keeping the jonin as a buffer between him and his other teammate.

 

Sakura emerges shortly after, wearing a deep blue bikini to match the boys. Her pink hair swept into a tidy bun on her head, a few stubborn strands escaping to frame her face and she is clearly losing the battle to tuck them away. As she slips into the water next to Sasuke, she lets out a pleased groan, nearly sinking down to her chin, now completely ignoring the hair in her face. “This was a great idea, Sensei,” her words burble lightly where her lips are now in line with the water.

 

Kakashi’s gaze drifts over his students one by one, smile blooming on his covered face. As he turns his head, he sees Naruto inching forwards to try to peek under the towel. He reaches up and flicks the kid’s forehead fondly. “Maa, I think it was my best idea yet. You’re lucky to have such a brilliant sensei, my cute little students.”

 

As the steam curls around them and the heat seeps into his weary bones, Kakashi can feel the tension he’s been carrying slowly dissolve. He loves his kids with a quiet fierceness he hadn’t known he was capable of. His pack has grown by three, and he couldn't be happier. Life has been looking brighter recently. This is what love feels like , he can’t help but think. He feels himself smile as he slips into a light doze. 

 

-

 

Apparently his light doze was more of a deep sleep. Kakashi is awoken by a soft splash. He cracks open his eye, only to gasp, both eyes widening in horror. No… The water has turned red.

 

An ambush..?

 

Naruto’s body is still, lying oddly next to the bath with a pool of blood growing underneath him. Sasuke is floating face down in the water. Sakura hasn’t moved, sitting in the same position she was before he fell asleep. She is looking at him blankly, hand clutching her throat. Blood seeps between her fingers. “S-Sensei…” she burbles, blood leaking from her mouth, “Why didn’t you help us?” A single tear cascades down her face, as if her body is too weak to do anything more. 

 

No! He tries to go to her, to help her, but he can’t move his body, his limbs leaden. “Why weren’t you there?” She’s becoming paler as she talks. He wants to tell her to stop talking and save her strength, but the words get stuck in his throat. He feels like he's paralyzed with fear. No, I’m sorry, please, oh god. 

 

Sakura’s eyes turn hard as her hand slips away from her throat, hitting the water with a soft splash. Her voice, once soft, turns accusing, “I trusted you. We trusted you and you let us die.” Then, she dies, with that cold look on her face, staring at him, and her throat leaking sluggishly. A whine escapes his throat.

 

Kakashi feels like a prisoner in his own unmoving body as it slips beneath the surface, the world turning red. He sinks, deeper and deeper, watching the sunlight vanish above him. His kids. Kami, his kids! His pack has been ripped away from him once more. How could he be so foolish? The friend-killer doesn’t deserve to have love, to have a family, so they were stolen from him again. 

 

No, they weren’t stolen, he snuffed them out himself, destroyed his pack with his own hands. It’s his fault it ended like this. He let it happen. He failed them, doomed them.

 

His chest seizes as his lungs scream for air. He gives in, sucking in a mouthful of water. 

 

They say drowning is peaceful – that the darkness comes like a gentle sleep.

 

A lie.

 

All Kakashi finds is pain. Blinding, bitter pain, and the crushing weight of guilt that no water could ever wash away.

 

-

 

He doesn’t jolt awake this time. No ragged gasp, no desperate whines. His eyes simply open – blank, unseeing. There is a pair of sandals in front of him, and someone is speaking close to his ear. “Is that it then? Is that all it takes for a mind to break?” A voice responds somewhere in the room, but his ears are ringing too loudly to catch the words. “Let me know if he becomes lucid.” Footsteps leave the room. 

 

His body hurts and head throbs painfully. He can barely feel it over the gaping hole in his chest, the emptiness in his heart. His kids . A tear slips down his cheek. His kids are dead and-

 

No. No, that isn’t right.

 

They were alive before he was captured.

 

He picks his head up slowly to peer around the room. Unwanted familiarity seeps in. Yeah, I’m still here in this cave. His eyes fall on the scroll table. Genjutsu. Right. 

 

It’s messing with his perception of reality. Even awake, he struggles to remember what’s real. The Hokage wasn’t kidding when he said this jutsu was dangerous. It was forbidden for a reason.

 

“Are you alright?” a timid voice asks. His eyes meet a blindfold. Eri. “Just dreaming,” he murmurs, voice shaky and thick with emotion. He sniffles, lowering his head as the tears come freely, dripping onto his lap. “About my kids,” he whispers. He feels raw, broken.

 

Eri shifts where she is seated in the corner, chair scuffing lightly on the stone floor. “You have kids?” she asks, uncertain. Yes, and I love them . “No,” he says instead, “My students…” his voice fades, swallowed by the stillness of the room. Eri hesitates, then offers softly, “Tell me about them.” A quiet distraction.

 

And so, he does.

 

-

Kakashi confides in her.

 

Not all at once. Not in confessions or grand declarations. But in quiet fragments – scraps of memories between tortured silences and aching bones, shared in quiet darkness. He tells Eri about his precious people, the ones still living and the ones long gone, painting them not with facts, but with affection. He shares pieces of his heart. Nothing that could compromise the village, nothing his enemies would find valuable. But to him, it’s everything.

 

He tells her about Obito’s grin, reckless and infuriating. About Rin’s gentleness, and the ache she left behind. About Minato’s steady hands and Kushina’s fire. He speaks of Gai – his eternal rival – and of Tenzo’s trek beyond a simple subordinate. Of Iruka’s quiet strength and ability to bring warmth to even the coldest places. His genin and the way they’ve taken root in him like stubborn weeds, breaking through his stone exterior.

 

He speaks of the Hatake Clan’s feeling of pack – an unbreakable bond forged not by blood, but by loyalty and love. Even in death, that bond endures. In return, Eri opens up about her own past – her family, her life before her blindness, and the quiet ache that came after.

 

These small exchanges become anchors, something to tether Kakashi to reality when the world is otherwise filled with endless pain; a sense of relief between the mental anguish and the brothers’ bruising hands. They say it’s vengeance for their brother, but Kakashi thinks it’s more than that. After all, hate needs less reason than grief.

 

The line between dream and waking blurs. Kakashi slips often, his mind wandering. His body is growing too damaged to offer resistance to the pull, no longer grounding him in reality. When he sleeps, he dreams, and the dreams bleed red. It’s a trap he falls into again and again.

 

“He really can do it then, your brother?” Eri curiously asks one day, “He can control plants like the Shodaime Hokage?” Kakashi blinks slowly. Oops . He didn’t realize he let Tenzo’s quirk slip, and called him his brother. He doesn’t remember doing it, but the warmth that spreads through him at the thought is undeniable. The Hatake has always thought of him like pack, but vows to let his kohai know how he really feels if he gets out of here. When . When he gets out of here… Right. “Yeah.”

 

Eri hums thoughtfully, clearly aware of his spiraling thoughts. “I’d like to meet him someday. I’ve never sensed wood-natured chakra before. I wonder if it’s smooth like a leaf, or splintery like wood.” Kakashi raises his head to look at her, puzzled by her phrasing. “What do you mean?” He can see her blush spread from underneath her blindfold. “Ah, ever since these eyes came to me, I have been able to sense chakra natures. I suppose the best way to describe it is seeing without seeing.” As if to demonstrate, her chakra brushes over him – a flicker, barely there – and he shivers at its hesitant, probing texture. She pulls back just as quickly. “Your chakra,” she starts, “It’s lightning. Sharp and prickly, but smooth. It’s beautiful, in a strange way. I’ve never felt anything like it.” 

 

Kakashi nods, forgetting for a moment that she can’t see it. “The Hatake Clan white chakra. It’s rare. A unique subset of lightning. Not many know it exists.” “I wasn’t aware there was a Hatake Clan.” He shifts uncomfortably. The ninja wire pulls painfully, but it has almost become familiar, grounding. “A great clan, long ago,” his face turns grim, and he lets his head fall, “Not anymore. Hard to be a clan of one.” 

 

Silence settles over them like a blanket. 

 

-

 

The next time he wakes up, hands are on him. That itself isn’t unusual. The brothers often take pleasure in using him as an outlet for their apparent sadism, even now that Nao has shifted primarily to psychological testing , as she calls it.

 

What is unusual, however, is the gentle nature of the touch. Kakashi opens his eyes, blearily peering at the person next to him. Eri is crouched next to the chair, kunai in hand, sawing away at the ninja wire binding him.

 

She looks nervous.

 

“What’re you doing,” he croaks, voice raw. She startles, kunai slipping and nicking his arm enough to draw blood. “I’m sorry,” she breathes, voice high pitched and frantic. She turns towards the door, listening, before returning to cutting away at the wire. Her arms shake with exhaustion. “I’m sorry,” she says again, close to tears, “They told me they’d let you go once the jutsu was completed. But…” she heaves a shaky breath, “It’s been so long… I heard Ichiji say he’s surprised you’re still alive. They don’t- They don’t need you anymore. But they haven’t let you go, and I-” “Eri.”

 

Eri stills her hands. Kakashi observes the way her body shakes and the dampness that has collected in the fabric of her blindfold. “Eri,” he says again, more gently this time, “They were never going to let me go.” Her breath hitches, emotions warring over her face. “That’s how this works,” he murmurs, “People get used and then thrown away.”

 

Eri resumes cutting with desperate urgency. “You need to get out of here,” she tells him, “I’ve seen your body’s state. I don’t know how much more you can take before-” “You bitch .”

 

Kakashi’s head snaps up, room spinning. Eri spins toward the door, startled. In her panic, the kunai digs into his arm again, but he barely notices. His gaze locks on Nao, now standing in the doorway, eyes burning with unconcealed rage. The kunai falls, the weapon clattering uselessly onto the floor. “I-” “How dare you?” Nao interrupts, “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? By siding with him?” “He’s going to die!” Eri yells, a sudden wave of energy rushing over her, “You got what you wanted from him, now let him go!”

 

Nao crosses the room in an instant and seizes Eri by the arm, yanking her away from Kakashi’s side. “Stop it,” Kakashi rasps through the pain in his head. Nao throws the smaller woman into the corner, head cracking against the wall, and she crumples to the floor in a heap. Eri breathes heavily, unmoving. The world spins – Kakashi loses time again. When his mind clears, a chain is attached to the stone wall. Nao clasps the other end around Eri’s ankle, the click of the iron lock echoing with finality. “You brought this upon yourself,” Nao says coldly, before turning and walking away

 

-

 

Night has fallen. The cave is quiet, aside from the slow dripping of water and Kakashi’s ragged breathing. Darkness creeps into the edge of his vision; he’s slipping again. “I’m sorry,” his voice echoes. The soft clink of chains shifting tells him Eri is still awake, still listening. “It’s like I said,” he fights to stay awake, but his body is heavy and demands rest, however fitful it may be, “People get used.” His eye falls shut, darkness closes in. “And thrown away,” Eri’s voice in the darkness.

 

Kakashi dreams.

Chapter 7: Duty

Notes:

This chapter is meant to be confusing and all over the place. It's a representation of Kakashi's grasp on reality.

He slinks through the dark forest – silent, deadly. His anbu blacks are a familiar second skin, fitting him like a glove, blending him seamlessly with shadows. The tanto in his hand flashes red, catching the moonlight, and the chidori’s crackling electricity rings out sharply.

 

Hound .

 

The mask hides his face, but more than that, it hides the man from himself. Beneath the stylized porcelain dog, Kakashi disappears. Only Hound remains.

 

Shadows swallow him as he glides through the trees. His blade carves a path through flesh and bone, swift and merciless, leaving nothing behind but the coppery smell of fresh blood. The chidori shrieks in his palm, its glow blinding – a violent flare of energy before it plunges into its next victim. The enemies fall around him.

 

It’s easier this way. With a mission objective in the forefront of his mind, he doesn’t have to worry, doesn’t have to think, just do. Take the necessary steps to complete the mission. Missions anchor him, leaving little room for doubt, fear, grief. For Hound, it’s easy.

 

He finds it far easier to push himself aside when the mission involves something important to him. Gai was killed trying to complete this mission, just a few days ago. The thought flickers through his mind – bitter and raw – but Hound’s hand doesn’t slow its arching sweep as it enters a body and comes out the other side. Kakashi didn’t even find out how Gai died. The mission briefing delivered the news like a kunai to the chest, but there was no time to mourn the man who had been by his side for most of his life. His rival and his friend. As Kakashi heard the news and was given the mission for himself, Hound slipped into place like a fog settling over a valley, thick and all encompassing, smothering the ache beneath. Emotions have no place here. He can fall apart later, when the stakes are lower, when he can’t feel eyes watching him – waiting for him to break. 

 

Fighting comes to him as easy as breathing once that mask settles. Hound moves fluidly, gracefully stepping to a lethal dance that no one else knows. Block, grab, sweep, stab, block, jab. Moves rhythmic, he steadily takes out enemies, one after the other. He has been told by other anbu that watching him fight is beautiful, that he should be proud of his skill. Hound feels nothing. Kakashi feels sick.

How can it be beautiful to lose yourself so deeply in killing that you no longer know who you are?

 

His chidori’s chirping song fades out with the last body crumpling to the ground with a dull thud. The enemy nin have been dealt with, the mission is nearly complete. The night is suddenly quiet, save for a faint wheezing behind him. Only then does Hound remember he has a mission partner; he has a vague recollection of another anbu fighting by his side, then lost in the chaos. 

 

His fellow anbu is lying on the ground, slumped beneath a tree. They must have been taken out by an enemy during the fight. He doesn’t know, he forgot they were there. He should probably feel bad about it. Instead, Hound feels nothing. Feelings get in the way.

 

He steps over fallen bodies, shoes squelching in the blood-soaked soil, to approach his comrade to check their injuries. If they can be saved, great. If not – he’ll do what must be done. No witnesses left behind. Not even one of their own.

 

Hound stills once he is standing next to them, noticing a deep, familiar hole burned into the other anbu’s gut. Chidori. The wound is half cauterized by the electricity, but still weeps blood. Their mask is coated in red, completely obscuring which animal mask he was partnered with. There’s so much blood. He must have lost sight of himself, cutting down friend and foe in his haze. He will have to include this in his report. Another failure for Kakashi to deal with.

 

He kneels down next to them, intending to pull off the mask to confirm their identity and finish them off. There’s too much blood. Hound’s fingers just begin to curl around the edge of their mask when they speak.

 

“Senpai,” the anbu chokes, a wet hacking cough shaking their prone form.

 

Hound freezes. One beat, then two. Kakashi returns to himself, emotions flooding in like a tidal wave, throat constricting tightly. “Tenzo,” he rasps. His sudden rapid breaths – filled with panic and horror – feel hot against his face, trapped between clammy skin and cool porcelain. Bloodied fingers come up to rip off his own mask. The sudden rush of cool air does little to stop the sweat beading on his forehead. 

 

“Tenzo,” he tries again, “Did I-” The question dies on his tongue, too monstrous to finish. He looks at the distinctive wound and already knows the answer. Before he can open his mouth again, shouts echo in the distance. 

 

Reinforcements.

 

Hound threatens to take over, clawing at the edge of his consciousness, demanding control. Kakashi can’t lose himself right now. He can’t leave his kohai like this. Tenzo isn’t just another anbu, he’s pack. He won’t abandon him. He pushes down the numb feeling trying to overwhelm him.

 

“Stay with me,” Kakashi pleads, hauling Tenzo upright, propping him against the nearby tree’s gnarled trunk. He rips open his medpack, shaking hands clumsily grabbing all the gauze he can, and shoves it roughly at the bloody mess on Tenzo’s stomach. The wood-user groans in pain behind his mask. He grabs Tenzo’s hands – too cold, too much blood loss – and pushes them into the gauze. “Hold this tight, Tenzo, steady pressure. I know it hurts, but don’t let go.”

 

Tenzo’s arms shake, barely able to put pressure against the wound. The gauze has already turned a deep red and Kakashi is desperately reaching for Tenzo’s medpack on his hip for more. It’s not enough , a voice says in his head. It’s Hound, cold and empty as ever. It's an assassination jutsu for a reason.

 

Friend-killer , a dark thought whispers.

 

Kakashi hears the other anbu mutter weakly, words distorted by the porcelain mask. He shoves the last of the gauze into Tenzo’s hands and pulls off his mask, setting it next to his own, revealing the pale face beneath. The red on the mask smears, gleaming in the moonlight. The stylized cat carving glares back at him. The shouts of enemy nin grow louder, closer. He’ll never be able to move fast enough to escape with Tenzo on his back. He’ll have to fight the converging nin first. Hound growls deep within his mind, something about the mission.

 

“Keep pressure on that. Stay awake while I deal with them, okay?” He fights back tears, “Don’t fall asleep.” Kakashi begins to rise, but a cold hand weakly wraps around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. He turns back to his kohai, eyes grim. “I’ll be back, Tenzo, I promise. I’m sorry-” He heaves a ragged breath, emotions threatening to overwhelm him, “I’ll make this right. I’ll bring you home.” 

 

“Senpai,” Tenzo’s voice is distant, frail. It doesn’t sound like him at all. “The mission… you have to finish it.” He presses something into Kakashi’s hand – a scroll. Oh. Right, the objective. The reason Gai died. The reason they’re both out here, bleeding beneath the moon. It was all to steal this scroll of information from the nin and return it to Konoha to prevent a war from breaking out.

 

Hound barks in a distant corner of his mind to leave him behind, that he’ll be dead soon anyway. The mission comes first.  

 

More shouting. Closer, too close. 

 

“I can’t leave you,” Kakashi whispers brokenly, “You’re pack.” Tenzo’s eyes widen, knowing the severity of that statement. “I-” His eyes turn sorrowful, his rasping voice is barely audible, “I never asked to be.” He coughs wetly. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. Kakashi watches in stunned silence, as the red drop trails down his chin and neck, disappearing into the high neck of Tenzo’s black anbu shirt. “Your pack is cursed,” he continues, “Look where it got me.” He pulls his hands away, revealing soaked gauze over a gaping wound. “Leave me. The mission comes first,” he closes his eyes, “Like you’ve always said.”

 

Tenzo’s ragged breaths cut through the cool night air. He’s not dead yet – he will be soon – but it seems he’s done talking to Kakashi. The plants around them rustle, some of the enemy nin scream. It seems the wood-user is trying to give Kakashi a bit more time to get away to complete the mission, before the blood loss overwhelms him.

 

The silver-haired anbu looks down at his hands, covered in red – Tenzo’s blood – and the scroll that sits in them, parchment slowly staining in his grip.

 

He breathes in, and releases the breath slowly. He feels familiar numbness settle into his veins, pushing his emotions deeply within himself, cold and heavy.

 

Hound stands and leaps into the forest, leaving his mission partner behind. 

 

High in the trees, he looks back only once. His mismatched eyes fall once more on the specks of white and red on the dark forest floor. Their masks. Hound and cat, side by side, almost glowing in the moonlight. The cat, covered in red, while the hound is pristine.

 

A thought flickers into his head mockingly as he turns to flee. 

 

The hound kills the cat.

 

-

 

Hound tears through the darkened forest, a whirlwind of leaves behind him as trees blur past him. The mission objective repeats in his head like a mantra.

 

Deliver the scroll.

 

Deliver the scroll.

 

Deliver the-

 

He comes to an abrupt halt.

 

In the clearing in front of him, illuminated by the moon, sits a building. It’s more decrepit than he remembers, but he hasn’t been there for more than a brief moment since he was a child. The stone exterior and bright red doors are unmistakable. 

 

The Konoha Ninja Academy.

 

Hound vanishes, leaving Kakashi frozen in his place. He takes a step forward, confused, glancing around warily. The dark shadows in the surrounding woods are thick with silence, absent of the sounds of natural wildlife that thrives at night. He looks down at his hand. The scroll is gone. What scroll?

 

What is he doing here?

 

His feet move before his mind can catch up and he makes his way forward, cautiously approaching the front doors to the building. The red paint is chipping, and the doors sit crooked on their rusted hinges. Kakashi reaches forward, almost in a daze, and the doors groan as he pushes them open. He steps inside, enveloped by the shadows within.

 

The academy is empty. It’s an uncanny stillness; the soundless hush of a building that is holding its breath. The corridors, once filled with children’s laughter and the clatter of small feet, are draped in shadow. Each door is slightly ajar, more shadows pour into the hallway from the darkened rooms. Kakashi wanders like a ghost, each step echoing too loudly. He doesn’t remember why he came here, only that his feet brought him, as if following an invisible pull.

 

He turns the corner to see an open door at the end of the hall. Light spills from it like a beacon, warm and inviting. The jonin approaches it in a daze, like a moth drawn to a flame. He stands in the threshold of the doorway and sees him – Iruka. The teacher is standing in front of his desk, smiling softly, like nothing is out of the ordinary. His eyes hold the familiar warmth that always draws Kakashi in, desperate to thaw his frozen heart. After all, he’s cold-blooded.  

 

He takes a step into the classroom, approaching Iruka. He reaches out with a hand, half-raised, eager to feel the warmth beneath his fingertips. The jonin opens his mouth to greet his friend, “Sensei-” He freezes, stopping in his tracks. 

 

There’s blood on the chuunin’s otherwise pristine vest, fresh and bright. He blinks and it's gone. He drops his now trembling hand, mouth suddenly dry. “Sensei?” His voice sounds foreign to his own ears, far away and muffled.

 

Iruka steps forward, placing a hand softly on Kakashi’s shoulder. The hand isn’t the same deep warmth as usual, instead cool. A flash of red, gone once more. “Iruka?” he breathes heavily. Why is he so out of breath? “You did the right thing,” the teacher says, though his smile falters, “You protected the village,” the hand on his shoulder tightens its grip, “You did what you had to.”

 

Kakashi doesn’t understand. His hands feel heavy and warm, while the rest of his body is cold. He looks down. 

 

A kunai, gripped tightly in his fist.

 

Red drips from his hands.

 

He doesn’t remember drawing it, or even using it. But the blood is undeniable. It’s still seeping from Iruka’s side, through his fingers closed over the red stain blossoming through the fabric of his flak vest. The teacher staggers, but stays upright.

 

Friend-killer.

 

His mind is filled with more questions than answers. “What is this?” Kakashi lets the weapon fall to the floor, a sharp, metallic clang echoing through the empty corridors behind him as it hits the ground. Iruka falls to his knees with a grunt – one hand still gripping his side –  and Kakashi follows – the other hand still firmly planted on the jonin’s shoulder, pulling him down. Kakashi leans in close, reaching forward to try and staunch the bleeding with his own hands. His warm hands cover Iruka’s cooler one, adding pressure to the wound. The blood keeps seeping out – thick, red, and endless. “You protected the village,” Iruka repeats, voice hollow. Kakashi reaches for the gauze in his medpack, but finds it empty. 

 

“What are you talking about? What happened?” Kakashi tries again, confused. Did he do this? He tries another pocket of his vest, searching for something to pack the wound, growling when it also comes up empty. The soft smile on the teacher’s face warps into a grimace. Iruka chuckles to himself wetly. 

 

“You did what you had to,” Iruka says again, voice strained, “Only the village matters. You protected the village.” Kakashi’s mind swims at the repetition. “Iruka,” he nearly growls, “ What are you talking about?” This doesn’t make any sense. Where the fuck are his bandages?

 

The chuunin coughs, blood painting his lips. It drips onto Kakashi’s arms. The hand on Kakashi’s shoulder weakens, slipping slightly, but doesn’t let go. “You were right,” Iruka murmurs, almost to himself, “You always were, even back then. The mission, the village, comes first. Connections,” he pauses, “...make us weak. 

 

“No,” Kakashi replies, voice hoarse, “Connections make us stronger . You teach that to your students every day. That’s not what you believe.” Iruka’s gaze lifts to meet his, strangely calm for a man dying on the floor of his own classroom. “But it’s what you believe.” No, not anymore. Not for a long time. “We are shinobi,” Iruka continues, “We endure – we sacrifice – for the village,” his eyes drift shut for a moment, “This is no different.” The jonin can feel the blood under his hands run cooler, lifeforce slipping away. “But it is different,” he whispers, voice slightly muffled through the mask, “This is-” Pack.

 

Iruka smiles again as though he can hear the thought. “That’s why it had to be done. You can’t serve the village if you’re still clinging to personal attachments.” His eyes open again. Though he is dying, there is no fear present in his gaze, rather there is nothing at all. Iruka’s usual golden brown eyes are filled with cool indifference. It looks unnatural; the Copy Nin shivers. “You were made for the village, Kakashi,” Iruka’s face and voice are void of emotion. It’s not like his dear friend at all. “Your duty is to the village, not to anything else.” Or anyone , he hears.

 

A sound behind him – footsteps coming to a halt. He glances over his shoulder, trembling, but refuses to pull his hands away from Iruka’s wound. Tenzo stands there, skin paler than he’s ever seen. A dark hole is punched through his gut, blood visible even on the black fabric of the anbu uniform. He looks like a corpse. The night’s earlier events come flooding back to him. Tenzo lying there, dying from Kakashi’s hand. How could he forget that? “This is your mission,” Tenzo’s voice sends a shiver through the Copy Nin, and he motions to his fatal wound, “As it always has been.”

 

The words strike deeper than any blade and he thinks of his old team, of their deaths. Because of him. Kakashi pulls back, bloodied hands shaking. He wants to scream at Iruka, at Tenzo, to make them make sense . He’s half expecting Gai to come dragging himself through the door, spouting the same nonsense. Did he kill him too, somehow? Is that all he’s good for? Killing people he’s close to? 

 

In the hollow space behind his ribs, the Iruka’s words echo back to him like a mantra he’s heard before – the one he built within himself, a long time ago. 

 

Connections are a liability. Love is a weakness. Only the mission matters. This is the ninja way. 

 

It’s the shinobi code that’s left him all alone, again and again – the one he thought he left behind years ago. And yet here it is, written in blood across the floor of a classroom, in Iruka’s own dying breath, in Tenzo’s hollow stare. A terrible truth Kakashi has always known but never dared to say aloud.

 

Maybe to be strong, to protect the village, he has to be alone. Hound shifts inside of him, itching to be let out. Maybe… maybe Kakashi is the one that was let out, the one that wasn’t meant to be there. Maybe Hound was the real him all along; always ready to put the mission first, as the village demands. 

 

Cut out the weakness.

 

You are a tool.

 

Serve the village.

 

Whispers echo around him as Iruka’s hand finally falls away from his shoulder, limp. 

 

The body before him is cold as it hits the ground, lifeless. He hears a mirroring thud behind him. 

 

The classroom is quiet again. Now, it’s just Kakashi, alone, kneeling in a pool of blood, surrounded by the silence of sacrifice. This is your mission , Tenzo had said. His mission is to be alone? The jonin’s eyes fall to the kunai lying discarded beside him, blade dull. He stares at it, wondering when his mission became this.  

 

The whispers surround him again.

 

Your duty is to the village.

 

My duty is to the village and to my pack .

 

You are a shinobi, a tool.

 

I am a tool for the village.

 

You live for the village.

 

I live for the village… and my pack.

 

Without the village, you are nothing.

 

Without the village, I am… nothing?

 

You will die for the village, and only for the village.

 

I will die for the village… and only for the village.

A new voice, quiet and sudden, but certain. “You hear it too.” It’s phrased less like a question, more like a statement.

 

Kakashi barely stirs from where he is kneeled on the floor. His eyes don’t stray from the kunai, blood – Iruka’s blood – cooling on the blade. A figure crouches next to him, entering his field of vision. “Yes,” Kakashi says and finally looks up. His mismatched gaze meets red. 

 

Uchiha Itachi. Another of Kakashi’s failures. Another loss he carries like a festering wound. If he had only noticed the shift in the youngest member of Team Ro, perhaps he could have changed his path. His eyes flick to Tenzo. Not that there’s a Team Ro anymore. 

 

“This was my mission,” Itachi casts a glance at Tenzo’s lifeless form, “The Uchiha or the village. Ultimately, I am a tool for the village. I did what a tool must. I cut out the threat.” Kakashi watches him turn to observe Iruka’s body. His face betrays no emotion, as if the dead shinobi were nothing more than insects that needed to be squished. “Why?” Kakashi’s voice is hollow. He doesn’t understand, yet he understands perfectly. He just needs to hear it said aloud.

 

Itachi looks at him again, sharingan spinning, eyes boring into his soul. “If it came down to the village or your pack… which would you choose?” The question twists inside him, cruel in its simplicity. Kakashi looks away, unable to bear the weight of those eyes –  the eyes of someone he once called a pack member. Once… or does that bond still linger, buried deep beneath the years and blood?

 

Hatake Kakashi was raised to be a weapon for the village, but… he knows the truth. He would do unspeakable things to protect his precious people.

 

That truth is dangerous. He knows his line of thought is a threat to the village.

 

Kakashi shakes his head, breath unsteady, eyes closing under the weight of it all. “Do you ever regret it?” he asks, voice low. Itachi is quiet for a moment. He can feel Itachi thinking, can feel the heaviness of his answer long before it’s spoken.

 

He feels the Uchiha’s warm hands – warm from the blood of those he’s killed – close around his own. The icy bite of the kunai’s hilt sits heavy where it is placed in his palm, fingers closing around it. Itachi slowly pushes the kunai in the Hatake’s grip into his own stomach.

 

Kakashi feels more warm blood coat his hands. His eyelids squeeze tighter, unable to bear watching another he once found precious die by his hands.

 

“Yes,” Itachi’s voice is steady, “Every day.”

 

He keeps his eyes closed, long after the bodies around him have run cold. 

Notes:

This chapter was super challenging to write. I hope it turned out okay!

The next chapter picks back up again from my original outline, so it should be relatively smooth sailing after this :)

EDIT 6/14 : Honestly I’m not really sure how I feel about this chapter. It doesn't feel like the same quality as my other chapters. I wanted to put it in to reference it later, but I might take it out and just put it in when I’m referencing it, like a flashback maybe??? Thoughts? (brutal honesty is appreciated)

Chapter 8: Fraying Thread

Notes:

Surprise lol

Also 20k words! Wow!! Finally made it! 20k more to go! (edit 6/17: I'm sitting at 35k total words rn, and I don't have a single word written of the last 4 chapters beyond the outline, so it'll be well over 50k words in the end lol. so exciting hehe)

Pain always drags him back, like a chain through his very soul, pulling him back to the land of the living. His body has taken on a permanent tremble, the stress of the constant pain, chakra exhaustion, and lack of proper sleep putting a harsh strain on him; Kakashi is wearing thin.

 

The cave is cold, the stone beneath his bare feet even colder. His limbs ache, the kind of ache that feels bone-deep. Even breathing takes effort. Consciousness is thin, a fraying thread threatening to snap with each breath drawn. 

 

There’s blood on his arm – dark and sticky – and his body’s position has shifted slightly in the chair. He doesn’t remember moving; the bonds have been too tight for that. Kakashi’s gaze drifts, heavy and unfocused, until it lands on Eri. Across the cave, she is curled in on herself, trying to get warm without so much as a blanket. Her back rests against the wall, chain clinking softly as she struggles to get comfortable. 

 

Kakashi rests his head on the back of his chair, gazing upward at nothing, trying to remember where he is, the situation he’s in. He swallows down the bile in his throat and blinks away the afterimages of the most recent dream. 

 

Just another genjutsu. Another trick, another lie. Except, he remembers these things happening before. But… they were different from what he remembered. He pauses, worrying at his spit lip, thinking deeply. His mind feels like a jumble of thoughts, a tangled ball of thread, unable to make sense of it all. He remembers two things happening simultaneously. Which one was real? Which one was the dream? 

 

His memory – his greatest weapon, his greatest curse – has never failed him before. Now, to doubt it shakes him to his core. Being unsure of his own thoughts… It's disturbing. 

 

“Eri,” he croaks, desperate for distraction. She stirs slowly, sitting up to rub at her eyes through the strip of fabric. “You’re awake.” “Not sure about that,” he murmurs, eye studying a crack in the ceiling, “Still not.” A long pause. Then, she speaks. “I’m sorry.” He lowers his head to look at her. “For what?” he asks. “For believing them.” Her face is pale, but her voice is steady. For believing they’d let you go .

 

He thinks again about that conversation they had, maybe weeks ago at this point. He really doesn’t know. Silence sits between them again, but it's different. Not hollow like it often is, but tired.

 

“You’re not the first,” Kakashi says eventually, staring back up at the jagged ceiling, tracing that crack. The back of the chair digs sharply into his hairline, but he doesn’t care. “We all want to believe someone will do the right thing.” “But they didn’t,” she whispers. “No,” he agrees. Eri shifts, the chain scraping against stone. “But I will,” her voice loses the steady edge, “At least… I’ll try.”

 

He closes his eye. Not to sleep, just to listen. 

 

In the quiet, his uncertainty is the loudest thing in the room. 

 

He’s dreamt about her – about all the missing nin. He knows he can trust Eri, but he’s having trouble remembering why. He moves slowly, eyeing her critically. She’s lying down again, likely trying to sleep. Did he know her before all this? He… can’t remember. He doesn’t think so, but he’s also not one to trust strangers easily. 

 

He shivers, mind wandering for a moment. His body burns with fever, skin clammy. When he returns to himself, one of the brothers is standing in the middle of the room, staring at him. Kakashi can’t tell which one it is. The boy has a contemplative look on his face, creepy under the circumstances.

 

Kakashi has no idea how long he has been standing there. He also can’t recall if he’s ever seen one of them without the other. “You look like shit,” the brother states matter-of-factly, “It’s pathetic to see a shinobi of your caliber looking like this.” Kakashi blinks, once, twice, and then hears a broken giggle. His eye widens when he realizes it came from himself. The brother frowns, disgust flashing over his features. 

 

Kakashi looks away, eye finding and tracking the lazy path of a small pill bug wandering along the floor. He sniffs. His nose itches; he hates that they took his mask. Despite what everyone believes, he doesn’t wear it to seem mysterious, or to cover some hideous deformity. He really doesn’t know why the kids keep insisting he has blimp lips. I mean, come on. No, he wears it because his sense of smell is too sharp, nearly overwhelming. 

 

Kakashi grimaces. He feels his chakra pathways shriveling, starved and painfully screaming for energy. There’s a small answering flicker in his gut before he feels it sharply shoot to his head. His head feels full – unbearably so – and heavy. His vision blurs, tilting sharply. 

 

He sniffs again. The scent of blood permeates the room – sharp copper hitting the back of his throat – and for a moment, he doesn’t know where he is. His eye flicks open – when did it close? – and he scans his surroundings. Cave. Paired with the smell, he half expects to see Obito lying in front of him, crushed beneath the rubble. 

 

He tries to shift, but the bindings bite deeper, and he realizes someone is watching him. The brother, now standing in the doorway instead of the middle of the room. He looks different – changed his shirt for some reason. “Why are you still here?” he asks, feigning boredom, “Stop staring. Go bother someone else.” He’s been told by T&I countless times to stop antagonizing enemy nin, but it's who he is. Projected boredom is as much a part of him as his silver hair. A bewildered expression crosses the boy's face, looking over at Eri for a moment before looking back at Kakashi, blinking. “The hell? I… just got here?” He turns to Eri once more. “Nao told me to tell you to get ready to use your eyes a lot tomorrow. I think she wants to make a supply run. Something about scanning the forest before she leaves, I don’t know. She doesn’t want you to burn yourself out today, or she’ll have your head.” He leaves the room before Eri can respond. She’s quiet. Kakashi knows Eri’s chakra can’t take much more strain. It’ll likely kill her soon, if they keep this up. 

 

Kakashi watches the doorway that was just vacated, uncertain. He’s uncertain of a lot these days. Nothing seems quite right. He flexes the fingers of his right hand slowly – they barely twitch, but the small amount of movement means that his nerves are likely undamaged. A small victory. It's more than he was able to do after his wrist was initially broken. His left hand is still wrecked – a mess of blood and bruises – wrist raw where the bindings chafed at the skin. If he gets out of here, he’ll have a lot of physical therapy to go through if he ever hopes to make hand signs again. At least it will be a good chance for him to practice signless jutsu. If only he had that skill at the start of all this. It’s difficult – nearly impossible for most – but Minato-sensei always said, if anyone could do it, it would probably be Kakashi. 

 

“You said their names again, when you were asleep.” Eri’s quavering voice cuts through his thoughts, and he looks over at her. She’s sitting cross-legged now, head tilted slightly in his direction. Her attention feels like a spotlight, unwavering in its intensity. Kakashi doesn’t respond. She waits, patient like always, listening to his held breath. “Your students,” she clarifies when he doesn’t speak, “And… something about your father?” 

 

He closes his eye, sighing. “A memory,” he mutters, “Genjutsu… I don’t know anymore.” “Both,” Eri wonders, “They blur together, don’t they. You… seem different lately. More confused,” she pauses, “I’m worried.”

 

-

 

Kakashi hears a snap. Something in his leg gives away. He refuses to look away from that one crack in the ceiling, the one that lets light in from outside – its daytime. He knows if he looks down, sees the state of his leg, the blessed numbness he feels will vanish, and the pain will hit him all at once. He’s sure he’s bleeding pretty heavily – the lightheadedness of blood loss is a familiar feeling, clouding his thoughts. His breath rattles in his chest, shallow and uneven. He bites at his lip, worrying at the split in the skin, something he does often. Even though they feed him, his mouth only ever tastes of blood.

 

In his mind, he watches a thread twist in an unseen wind – a distraction, however strange it is. 

 

A hand grips his hair, jerking his head down to bring it level with another. He blinks slowly, trying to focus on the face before him. A woman’s face, unfamiliar. The throbbing in his skull makes it impossible to think. “Still with us, Copy Nin?” she sneers, voice distorted as though underwater. Kakashi wants to ask who she is, but his mouth is too dry, tongue feeling thick and heavy, stuck to the roof of his mouth. He can feel the eyes of the girl in the corner watching him – why?

 

Pain blooms – sharp and sudden – as knuckles crack across his cheek. The world tilts, head rolling to one side. He leaves it there, staring at the wall of the cave. The rock seems to pulse with the rhythm of his heart. Or is it the other way around? He can’t tell anymore.

 

The thread in his mind’s eye frays.

 

Where am I?

 

The question drifts through his mind like smoke, just barely there. He’s here, in this cave – a prisoner of the missing nin – but he escaped, didn’t he? He thinks of his students, taking them to the hot springs… No, that’s not right. A dream.

 

“Hatake,” a voice calls. Their name is just out of reach. He lifts his head, searching. Another blow lands before he can make sense of it, this one to his stomach. He doubles over – but barely, wire digging into his skin – breath stolen from his lungs, the taste of bile rising in his throat. The cave spins, darkness encroaching.

 

When he recovers enough, he lifts his head slowly, still feeling like he might lose his lunch – breakfast? Who knows . A laugh bubbles up, raw and broken. The nin in front of him – ah right, Nao – looks at him strangely. “You’re losing it, Hatake,” she murmurs, “I can see it.” The words sit heavy in his ears. “Can you, now?” he hears himself ask. He’s definitely losing time. Maybe he’s lost all sense of himself, of reality. 

 

Do they really expect him not to go crazy when they’re just tormenting him for the hell of it? Since they finished the genjutsu, they haven’t even asked him any questions. Not that he’d answer, but at least the beatings would mean something.

 

Oh.

 

Maybe that’s it. Maybe this is all a genjutsu, and none of it is real. Maybe none of this means anything at all. 

 

The thread frays a little more, before snapping completely. 

Notes:

I cooked this out in a day lol. Maybe I'm delirious from lack of sleep but it seemed good to me. Will be editing later!

I'm excited for next week's chapter! What have the kids been up to? o_0 ?

Chapter 9: Broken Promises

Notes:

A sneak peek back in Konoha!

Naruto scuffs his sandal in the dirt as he wanders down the street. His clothes cling to him, damp with sweat from Team 7’s training session. He bites his lip, worrying at the skin in thought. The usually boisterous ninja is quiet for a change, bright energy dimmed. More than one passerby glances at him warily, waiting for some loud outburst that never comes.

 

His hand drifts to the plate of his hitaiate, fingers absently tracing the engraved Leaf symbol. He thinks of what’s underneath – a carving in the metal from his sensei, pressed against his forehead protectively. Kakashi insisted on a protective seal marking the regulation headbands after the disastrous mission to Wave; the mission where Team 7 almost met their demise.

 

Naruto remembers the night well.

 

It was during their first mission outside the village since Wave, a three-day assignment that left all of them feeling uneasy being outside Konoha’s defensive walls. When they made camp that first night, Kakashi settled beside his students, the firelight casting warm shadows on his face. In slow, careful strokes, he carved an inscription into the backs of their hitaiate with a kunai. He spoke to them while he worked, telling a story of his own sensei doing the same thing for him, with his own special seal. With each shift of his hand, metal shavings fell, sparkling in the flickering firelight. “This seal will help you be more aware of the things around you, help you stay alert. As you hone your sensing skills, it will become obsolete.” He has stopped his scraping then, looking up at each of their pink-cheeked faces. “I think that will be sooner than later, but I can’t have my cute little genin going unprotected.” He smiled warmly, eye creasing with fondness. And they understood, even at their young age, what that moment meant – how deeply Kakashi treasured them and wanted to keep them safe.

 

Naruto shakes his head, dispelling the memory. He drops his hand to worry at the hemline of his jacket sleeve near his wrist. It’s fraying, and he absently plays with the stray thread.

 

It's been nearly three weeks since Kakashi-sensei left on his mission. Missions can run long – Naruto knows that. But Kakashi said he’d be back in two weeks.

 

He promised.

 

So he would. That’s what he does; he keeps his promises.

 

But he’s not here. He’s not at home recovering. He’s not even in the hospital. He knows that because Kakashi always comes to check in with them when he returns from missions, or at least sends a note. But he hasn’t seen or heard from his sensei since he left.

 

The jinchuuriki huffs, determination settling onto his features. If anyone knows about Kakashi’s mission, it's Bushier Brows-sensei, Iruka-sensei, or that wood guy.

 

Naruto grimaces. The wood guy – Yamato? Tenzo? Kakashi and the guy keep contradicting each other. Whatever – is kinda weird. Kakashi introduced the team to him one time. He leaned over the kids and grew them each a flower out of his hand, but he had this creepy look on his face. His eyes were wide and dark, and he had a little smile on his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. The wood guy bolted when Naruto screamed in his face that he freaked them out. He feels kinda bad about it, but if he wasn’t so creepy, maybe they’d get along better. So yeah, totally not happening, forget that guy.

 

He scratches at his chin, thinking. Bushy Brows invited Team 7 to train with his team the other day, saying something about Gai-sensei being out on a mission for a couple of weeks. So he’s out too. 

 

That just leaves Iruka-sensei. Naruto grumbles but changes his aimless direction towards the Academy. Classes will be getting out soon and he can intercept Iruka, maybe even get some ramen out of him.

 

He really doesn’t like that his two senseis are friends. He can’t talk crap about dumb Kakashi-sensei to Iruka-sensei, because he’s just going to turn around and blab! When Naruto confronted him about it, Iruka said it is important for Kakashi to know what bothers his kids so he can be the bigger person, learn and grow from it. Sounds like some bullshit. Naruto knows Iruka loves to gossip. It's all a big excuse to be extra nosy. Naruto knows Kakashi talks crap about them too! It doesn’t matter that he said he doesn’t, it’s definitely true! Iruka has referenced stuff before he shouldn’t know about, like that time Naruto’s pants caught on fire on an overnight escort mission. 

 

The blonde sighs, nearing the academy. As much as he loathes the idea of Iruka and Kakashi gossiping about Team 7, he knows – deep, deep down – that the friendship is good for the both of them.

 

Naruto times his arrival perfectly, falling in step with Iruka as he exits the academy. “Hello Naruto,” Iruka greets with a smile. “Hi Iruka-sensei. Got plans after school?” Iruka huffs a laugh. “Grading, mostly. Why? Trying to get a free meal again?” Naruto brightens at the suggestion, as if their meetings don’t always end at Ichiraku. Iruka reaches up and ruffles the kid’s hair before he can respond, earning a loud guffaw. “Alright, alright. Let me drop off my things at home, and we’ll go. My grading can wait.” Naruto smiles widely, giggling mischievously. “If you insist, Iruka-sensei. But you’re paying!”

 

The two ninja make their way to the chuunin-sensei’s apartment. On the walk, they fill the silence with chatter, but Iruka notices a shift. Naruto’s unusually quiet at times, distracted, like he’s working up to something. Normally, the chuunin can barely get two words in. Naruto isn’t often quiet like this, so there must be something important on his mind.

 

They’ve barely made it into the apartment when Naruto opens his mouth. 

 

“Hey Iruka-sensei?” The chuunin turns from where he had been setting his bag by the low table for grading later. Iruka is nervous about the wary look on the kid’s face. Naruto is picking at the thread on his sleeve. I really need to get that fixed for him . “Yes, Naruto?” he asks patiently. The jinchuuriki toes at the corner of the loose floorboard in Iruka's genkan with his sandal. The warped wood squeaks softly. “I’m worried about Kakashi-sensei.”

 

Worry seeps out of Iruka, and he turns back to finish tidying up his workspace. “I’m sure he’s fine, Naruto. He’s probably just resting. Did he seem chakra exhausted to you again when he came back from his mission?”

 

The squeaking stops. “That’s just it. He hasn’t come back yet. It was only supposed to be two weeks.” Iruka’s hands still for a moment. He turns back over his shoulder to look at Naruto, a carefully blank look on his face. “He hasn’t checked in with you all?” Naruto shakes his head, biting his lip. It’s a habit he needs to break, but it only happens when he’s worried about something. 

 

Even if Kakashi fails to check in with the hospital or the mission desk right away, he always – always – lets the kids know he's back from his missions. Iruka glances at the calendar, calculating. His pulse quickens, but voice is steady when he asks, “Naruto, how long ago did Kakashi-sensei leave for his mission?” He already knows the answer, but he hopes to god he’s wrong. 

“Three weeks ago…” A cold wave of dread settles over the chuunin. “He said he'd only be gone two weeks, and I know sometimes missions can run long, but this is long, even for him.” And Naruto is right. Ninja elites like Kakashi rarely go more than a few days over their allotted mission parameters without giving word. Though, perhaps that’s just it. “He could have sent word to the Hokage that his mission was running long,” Iruka says sensibly, trying to keep his own worry out of his voice. “But the old man always lets us know if that happens,” Naruto counters. Iruka bites down on the urge to tell the kid to stop calling the Hokage ‘old man’ and shakes his head. “If it’s a high ranking mission, the Hokage may think twice of giving you that sort of information.” Naruto pouts. “That doesn’t make any sense. It’s not like we’d be asking for classified details or anything. He’s our jonin-sensei , we need to know if he’s going to be late so we can plan more training and stuff.” Dammit, Naruto can really be logical sometimes. 

 

“I’ll tell you what,” Iruka starts as he shoos Naruto out of his apartment and locks it behind him, “After dinner, I’ll swing by the Hokage’s office and see if I can get an update for you guys. Does that sound alright?” They turn towards the road that will lead them to Ichiraku. Naruto squints his eyes, fingers coming up to scratch at his chin in thought. “Hmm,” he starts, “Fine, okay. But just for that, I’m getting two bowls of ramen!” Iruka looks up into the sky in exasperation as the jinchuuriki begins rambling about the toppings he wants. That doesn’t even make sense! I’m doing him a favor, not putting him out!

 

-

 

That evening, Iruka makes his way to Hokage Tower. He waves hello to his colleagues as he passes by the mission desk, brushing off attempts at conversation by saying he needs to meet with the Hokage about something.

 

Eventually, Iruka finds himself stepping into the Hokage’s office. The Third is sitting at his desk, a subtle grumpiness etched into the lines of his face, smoking lazily as he scans through the documents piled before him. “Lord Third,” Iruka greets. The Hokage looks up, face warming upon realizing who it is. “Ah, Iruka-kun,” he leans back into his chair, gesturing to the stool in front of his desk and ignoring the items in front of him for now, “Come, sit. Tell me about yourself. How are this year’s upcoming academy graduates fairing?”

 

Iruka takes the offered seat. They talk for a bit, fluttering from topic to topic. “I’m actually here on behalf of Naruto,” Iruka says after the conversation has died down. The Hokage huffs. “I take it Kakashi has finally turned up? Pesky jonin, I was about to send out a search party for him.” Iruka furrows his brows, uncertain. The Hokage picks up on his sudden change of mood in the resulting silence. “Is it… something else?” he asks, voice already weary. The chuunin swallows, throat suddenly dry. “N-No, not really,” he shifts, “Naruto told me Team 7 hadn’t heard from Kakashi, and he’s well past his check-in window. I came to see if you received word, to put their minds at ease, but from your answer…” 

 

The Hokage brings his pipe to his mouth, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. He exhales, a stream of smoke swirling into the air. “I suppose this is late, even for him.” He opens his eyes and makes a gesture to the corner of the room. An anbu in a cat mask materializes next to the stool, bowing before the Hokage’s desk, knee to floor. Iruka startles, staring wide eyed at the sight. It’s not often that the Hokage speaks to anbu in the chuunin-sensei’s presence. 

 

The Hokage digs around in his desk for a few moments, and Iruka takes the time to observe the anbu. The elite ninja is perfectly still, but his shoulders hold a tension that is obvious to the chuunin. “Cat,” the Hokage addresses finally, slipping a scroll out of hiding, “I want you to follow up on Kakashi’s mission.” The tension in the anbu noticeably lessens. “Find out what happened, why he’s late. Recover the item described here if possible, but Kakashi is your priority. He hasn’t sent notice of a mission extension, so there is a higher probability of rogue nin interference.” He tosses the scroll to the anbu, who stands and catches it in one fluid motion. “You’ll go without the mask, as yourself,” he continues, bringing the pipe close, obviously yearning to breathe in the smoke once more, “If anyone sees a Konoha anbu poking around, someone is bound to get suspicious. That would only complicate matters.” The anbu cracks the mission seal on the scroll, scanning its contents before handing it back to the Third. “Unless you have any questions, you’re dismissed.”

 

As the anbu bows, Iruka leans towards him and whispers, “Come back safely, anbu-san.” The anbu stills in the middle of his bow, turning his head slightly as if noticing Iruka for the first time. His porcelain mask is even with the chuunin’s face. Iruka sees familiar dark eyes through the eye holes of the mask peer out at him, and the sensei smiles. The anbu nods jerkily and stands, swiftly turning and exiting the room.

Notes:

This chapter was a bit shorter, but the next chapter is fairly long.

Chapter 10: The Search

Notes:

This is a longer one! Enjoy!

Two weeks into his mission, Tenzo’s attention is caught by something as he sails through the air, leaping effortlessly from tree to tree. He pauses on the next branch, looking over his shoulder for the source of the distraction. His eyes fall to the ground, on the telltale gleam of sunlight reflecting off metal. It could be any number of things, but given the remote location, it is likely to be leftover debris from a shinobi battle. This isn’t unusual. Shinobi have skirmishes all over the world, after all. The anbu member comes across forgotten kunai and rusted shuriken all the time. Even ninja wire, from traps that never went off. Relics of past violence, left behind to rot. 

 

This feels different; the glint of light beckons him closer, stirring up a sense of familiarity he can’t explain. Tenzo leaps off the tree, sandals squelching in the rain-soaked mud despite channeling chakra to soften his landing. He grimaces in distaste, but continues forward cautiously. 

 

He crouches down low in front of the item, eyes narrowing. A hitaiate, half buried in the mud. He carefully pulls it free of the offending sludge and uses a small suiton to clear it away. 

 

The leaf insignia stares back at him as if to say, here I am!  

 

A chill spreads through him, eyes refusing to stray from the item in his hands. He’d know this headband anywhere – knows it down to every scratch and gouge in the metal plating. Kakashi’s hitaiate. There’s no mistaking it. The defects in the metal are unique to the Copy Nin. Though the fabric of the headband gets frayed and worn, and needs to be replaced every so often, Kakashi refuses to replace the metal plate. It’s one of his most prized possessions.

 

Kakashi told him why one night, years ago, after they completed their final anbu mission together. Tenzo remembers that night vividly, though it’s tinged with the haze of alcohol. They had just come back from the bar to the jonin barracks. The smell of new paint still lingered in the air of Kakashi’s barren apartment. He moved in a week before, but it still looked like no one lived there; nothing beyond the standard issue bed, table, and chair. 

 

Tenzo had sat in the lone chair, watching as the Copy Nin sat on his bed despite still being caked in mud. Pieces flaked off his skin and clothes as he moved, embedding themselves into his green shuriken patterned quilt. He had pulled off his headband and began wiping away the dirt and grime with his sleeve, treating it almost reverently. Tenzo sat quietly, listening as Kakashi told him the story of how he received his hitaiate from his sensei. A precious gift. The Fourth Hokage’s hiraishin seal is elegantly carved into the back of the metal, and sits pressed against Kakashi’s forehead when worn. His voice, thick with emotion, continued on as he polished the silver metal to perfection. “I have lost a lot of precious people, Tenzo. I will wear it as a reminder for the rest of my life,” his senpai told him in his drunken stupor, “Or maybe to atone.” That last part had been a murmur, so soft Tenzo figured he wasn’t meant to hear it.

 

Needless to say, Kakashi had lived true to his word. Tenzo had never seen him without his precious gift. Yet here it was, tossed away into the mud like garbage. He tucks it carefully into an empty pocket of his vest. This will be returned to its owner, no matter what it takes.

 

The wood-user stands, compulsively straightening the happuri on his face. He doesn’t typically take missions without his anbu mask, but the elongated facial plates of the happuri headband mimic the confines of the mask and help to settle his unease. Its weight is grounding, familiar. A small comfort. He glances around, finely tuned instincts kicking in to observe the area. The recent rain has caused the mud to settle, leaving little evidence behind. Anyone less than anbu would be hard pressed to find information in such a setting. 

 

There was a battle of sorts a short distance away. The signs are subtle, but Tenzo sees them. As he gets closer, he begins to speculate what may have happened here. The ground is disturbed in a semi-familiar way. It looks similar to when Kakashi-senpai bursts out of the ground after using his Hiding Like a Mole technique and doesn’t have time to close the ground back up behind him. It looks slightly different. The ground isn’t as raised as normal, as Kakashi will pull the ground up, around, and out with him for a smoother transition to fighting or fleeing. The stones jutting out of the mud are lower, but sharper, not the typical organized chaos of the jutsu. It kind of looks like when Tenzo pulls vegetables out of the ground in the garden of the Hatake Estate. The thought makes him flush guiltily. Kakashi doesn’t know he’s been tending the garden at his family house. The right time to tell him never seemed to come up.

 

Shaking his head and looking closely at the rocks, Tenzo notices small scraps of fabric and fiber, and the coppery brown of stubborn blood stains that refuse to be washed away by the rain. A grim confirmation. Something – or someone – was wrenched from the earth here, not unlike his vegetables

 

A few feet away from the hole, Tenzo spots something that makes his blood run cold. A distinct shallow divot in the settled mud, one that he has seen countless times. He sniffs deeply, closes his eyes for a moment, and lets out an unsteady breath. Underneath the smell of mud and rotting vegetation is the sour tang of a decomposing body. With shaky hands, Tenzo calls on his mokuton, gently unearthing whoever is buried ahead of him. He’s afraid – so very afraid – of who he might find. 

 

Relief floods through him at the sight of light blue clothing. Kakashi-senpai would never be caught dead wearing light blue. He says it washes out his fair complexion, whatever that means. Tenzo pushes the giddy feeling away to check and rebury the body, and investigate more of the area, looking for clues. 

 

Rockfall draws his eye – too clean, too new, no moss growing in the cracks – telling him that this was a recent collapse. Calling wood forth once more, Tenzo painstakingly moves the rubble away to expose the contents of what was surely once a cave. He shudders. Senpai hates caves. They make him sweaty and twitchy. 

 

He finally unearths the cave floor. The ground in front of him is another familiar sight, the unnaturally smooth layer of dirt of a fully completed Hiding Like a Mole jutsu. A scrap of Konoha regulation green fabric sticks out of the ground. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be part of the standard issue bedrolls, or perhaps the entire thing is buried here?

 

He was attacked while sleeping, likely in the middle of the night . Tenzo hums in thought, mentally cataloguing possibilities that may have happened here. 

 

A Konoha travel pack has also been discarded here. Tenzo unzips the bags and begins going through the contents. Everything inside is standard issue- 

 

A dark blush creeps up the wood-user’s face. He turns his face skyward, as if pleading with the Sage for a moment. He lets out a huff, tucking a dog-eared, well-loved copy of Icha Icha in his vest alongside the hitaiate. Yep, definitely Kakashi’s bag. He stands, leaving everything else behind, and runs through the hand seals to rebury the cave. Everything is replaceable, but knowing Kakashi, his book is a special edition copy, or something like that. Tenzo will give it back to him, and he’ll tell Tenzo that his kohai is getting mushy in his old age. 

 

And he will give it back. Because he is going to find him. 

 

Tenzo looks up, tracking the sun’s position in the sky for a moment. Good, still early in the day. He makes some hand signs and with a pop , three wood clones form. “Split up and pick a direction,” he tells them, “Widen your search radius every hour. Dismiss yourself if you find something, otherwise I will dismiss you all when the sun fully sets. We’ll continue searching through the daylight hours until we find him.” The clones straighten, nodding in affirmation – one actually saluting – and they head off in search of the Copy Nin. Tenzo steels his eyes in determination and sets off in a direction none of the clones chose. I’ll find you, Senpai , he thinks, Just hold on . He really hopes Kakashi is okay.

 

-

 

Days pass before Tenzo finds more evidence of shinobi. He analyzes the area one of his clones discovered. There is a faint warble in the air – jutsu. He squints. It is almost hard to look at, the jutsu telling him Don’t look this way! Nothing to see here!  

 

After some careful investigation, the jutsu only covers a small area – a concealment barrier of sorts. Instead of dispelling the jutsu and potentially alerting those inside to his presence, he carefully pushes his way through the barrier. The air in front of him wavers once more before fading away to reveal the narrow mouth of a cave. He creeps closer and peeks in. The hole in the rockface is deep and dark. Pulling out a kunai and concealing his chakra, the wood-user slowly makes his way in.

 

-

 

Tenzo runs into the first shinobi only a few minutes into his slow, steady trek. He hears footsteps ahead and shrouds himself in the shadows as a large, lumbering man slowly shuffles by; a patrol sent to investigate the barrier’s disturbance.

 

He dispatches the man quickly and quietly, stepping out of the shadows to slit his throat and effortlessly push him down into the ground. It’s a bastardized version of the Headhunter jutsu shown to him by Kakashi years ago. Instead of pulling someone into the ground with you, you are able to have the ground suck up a person and clamp down on their body as they suffocate and die, unable to move even a finger. It is a quick and efficient way to ensure a kill and to bury the evidence. It's a terrible way to go, but Tenzo will not take any chances here, not when Kakashi’s life is on the line. 

 

The anbu member continues creeping down the winding passageways, stealth training coming to fruition.The air grows heavier, thick with dust and humidity. Working to keep his chakra cloaked, he channels some of it into his ears, helping him to hear beyond the standard range. He passes small alcoves and side passages, clearly unused besides a small area with bedrolls set up. Six bedrolls, but one has clearly been kicked into a corner for some time given the amount of dust buildup. He calculates, five – now four – enemies remain. He shivers, once more thinking of the suffocating jutsu. 

 

The further he goes – down, down, deep into the cave – he begins to pick up more voices. A woman and a man. He can’t sense anyone else. His lips tighten. He can’t feel his senpai’s chakra anywhere. 

 

He pauses when he gets close. Based on the echoes, the hallway-like cave continues just around the corner, and leads to a small room. Listen closely, my dear kohai , reminds a voice in his head, Listen closely and gain all the information you can before you attack.

 

The man is clearly agitated. “Dunno why it takes so long for that idiotic oaf to do a perimeter check.” Tenzo can hear him scratching at his skin in irritation. “If you weren’t so chakra exhausted all the time, you could have just looked around to see what animal set the barrier off. You’re so fucking useless.” A heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Niji-san. I’ve been using them a lot lately. Having these eyes, it's hard to-” A sharp slap rings like a crack of thunder down the hallway. “I don’t want your fucking pathetic excuses, Eri.” The woman heaves a shaky breath, and Tenzo’s body coils tighter. “If you actually knew how to use those things properly, maybe I wouldn’t be stuck with you babysitting this- this- gah!” Tenzo can practically hear the man throw his hands up in exasperation. 

 

Eerie quietness, heavy and oppressive, follows for a few minutes. The anbu member decides to creep closer. If he can take one of them out, the other may be able to give him the answers he needs. The answers to find Kakashi.

 

Readying his kunai, and taking a deep, steadying breath, Tenzo steps around the threshold and into the room. He is ready for combat. Whatever it takes to get Kakashi back. 

 

What he isn’t ready for is the sight that greets him. 

 

His eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the cave’s labyrinth. Seeing what is before him, illuminated by a small sunbeam somehow making it all the way down here, nearly takes his breath away. 

 

The man has his back to the entrance, towering over a small woman, using his position to intimidate her into cowering. She is clutching at her cheek, trembling, clearly crying if the wet spots on her blindfold are anything to go by. She is curled up in the corner of the room, chained to the cave wall by her ankle. A prisoner . 

 

She turns towards Tenzo’s direction, mouth parting slightly. Despite his cloaked chakra and her blinded eyes, she somehow knows he is there. The man above her is oblivious, too caught up in his anger. He raises a flat hand, intending to strike her once more, and Tenzo moves.

 

He is across the room and severing the nin’s jugular vein in one swift movement. The man gurgles, hands rushing up to clutch at his throat, and whirls around, terror plainly on his features. He’s younger than Tenzo realized – just a kid – but no matter. You’re never really a kid once you become a shinobi, no matter your age. The young nin opens his mouth, gurgling more, blood streaming from his lips. Tenzo watches without remorse, gaze hard, as the nin collapses. Dead. He stares at the body for a moment, willing his heart rate to fall. Red darkens the cave floor.

 

Tenzo faces the woman. Her chakra is nearly nonexistent; barely a flicker, barely alive. He squats down in front of her, not entirely relaxed. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time an enemy was pretending to be a prisoner to try and gain the upper hand. “Are you alright?” he asks anyway, voice soft. “Yes,” she whispers. She is clearly lying, but who is he to judge. 

 

She lifts a shaking hand to her blindfold, pushing up slightly. The wood-user recoils and looks away sharply, heckles raising. He would recognize the glow of a sharingan anywhere. And was that a byakugan?!

 

She lowers the blindfold quickly with a pained sound, hand now clutching the side of her head desperately. Chakra exhaustion , the other nin had said. 

 

“You-” she raggedly inhales, “You’re the wood user.” Something in her voice sounds… fulfilled. He stares. Though he doesn’t hide his abilities, his face isn’t exactly plastered everywhere… “Your brother spoke of you,” she interrupts his thoughts, “Before…” She trails off weakly. Brother? Brother? He wants to cry. “Kakashi?” he rushes out. Tenzo is closer, when did he get so close to her. “If you know anything-” A whimper, quiet but still undeniable. From right behind-

 

Tenzo whirls around, putting himself between the woman and the sound, kunai at the ready, and falters. 

 

The clang of his kunai hitting the ground echoes off the stone walls.

 

He falls to his knees.

 

Kakashi is tightly bound to a chair against the far wall, bruised and bloody, head hanging low to obscure his face.

 

Tenzo pushes his senses out, sharpening their intensity with his chakra. He feels… nothing. Despite the sound he heard, the wood-user can’t feel anything coming from the man in front of him. Dead? No, he can’t be. He can’t. Tenzo stops breathing, reaching out a trembling hand. Senpai…  

 

The silver-haired man sucks in a gasping breath, ragged and uneven. Tenzo breathes with him, mouth gaping and eyes wetly peering at the body before him. Because that is what Kakashi looks like. A body. A corpse . 

 

Relief is short lived. Tenzo is on him in an instant, squatting in front of him, hands hovering, unsure where to put them first. “Senpai?” No response. “Kakashi.” “He’s under a genjutsu.” The woman’s voice is faint, barely there even in the small room, “And something else… his chakra- it’s hurting him, but I-” Her breath is shallow, far too shallow, “I didn’t know how to help him.” His anbu training doesn’t allow him to miss what she has said, but she seems like little more than background noise. Tenzo is too busy processing the scene in front of him, cataloging injuries.

 

Kakashi’s shirtless body is littered with cuts and bruises, tight binding wire digging painfully into purple ribs. The terrible scarring and dark redness around his ankles indicates that they were restrained – tightly – for a long time. Weeks old blood is dried in rivulets down his torso. Kakashi’s arms bear the evidence of repeatedly being sliced open and crudely treated to prevent too much blood loss. His hands – oh god, his hands – are varying shades of purple, with his right wrist looking lumpy and unnatural. “Senpai.” No response.

 

Right. Genjutsu.

 

Kai!

 

Breaking the genjutsu elicits no response from the Copy Nin. “Kakashi?” Tenzo asks again, voice unsure. He squats down lower to get a better look at his face.

 

The first thing he notices is the mask is nowhere to be seen. Tenzo’s frown deepens, knowing Kakashi’s nose is too sensitive to go long without it. Deep bruises sit below Kakashi’s eyes, whispering of the horrors he has gone through. There is a painful looking laceration on his forehead that looks very concerning, even to someone without proper medical training like Tenzo. The wood-user startles at the harsh scabbing over Kakashi’s facial scar, and looks away quickly, blinking wetness from his eyes. 

 

The whole thing is so gory, and Tenzo’s stomach roils in protest. Anbu training means nothing when you are seeing your friend – your brother – here in this way. He reaches out again, but feels nothing from the man in front of him. He’s no sensor, but- “I can’t even feel him,” he says to himself, shock evident. 

 

“Shinobi-san,” the woman’s voice is barely a whisper, but Tenzo jumps, forgetting she was there. She holds out her hands weakly. “H-Help me to him.”

 

Against his better judgement, Tenzo rises from his crouch and walks over to her. Something about her makes him want to trust her. She seems too weak to do much of anything anyways. He picks up his forgotten kunai and swiftly brings it down, chakra enhanced, onto the chain connecting her ankle to the wall, shattering it instantly. 

 

The wood-user helps her over to Kakashi, where she settles on the ground at his side, too weak to stand. She lowers her blindfold, squinting and hissing sharply, clearly in pain, to pitifully gaze at Kakashi’s head. Chakra exhaustion , Tenzo’s mind supplies once more. He can barely feel her presence… she must be nearly chakra dead.

 

Completely exhausting your chakra is very dangerous for any shinobi. With implanted dojutsu, however, exhausting your chakra completely will kill you. Implanted eyes cannot be turned off, so by drying up the well of chakra, the eyes will turn to something else to keep them alive. The heart of a shinobi, the soul.

 

Tenzo is well acquainted with the concept. Kakashi has come close to complete chakra death more times than Tenzo dares to think about. But he always pulls through. His senpai is tougher than most, and has a strong Will of Fire to propel him forward. The anbu’s eyes flicker to the woman. She… does not.

 

The woman smiles, peace spreading through her features. “There is still hope,” she says quietly. She turns to Tenzo and closes her eyes, but the blindfold remains around her neck. “He is alive, but you haven’t much time at all. Go, take him from here and never return,” her voice wavers, barely a whisper, “Tell him I’m sorry, and I hope he can find peace again.”

 

She slumps to the floor with a dull thud, dead, like a puppet with its strings cut. Tenzo stares.

Notes:

For the user that commented they were interested in Eri's story, sorry. Her fate was sealed the moment I created her character.

UPDATE 6/6: sorry for the delay getting the next chapter up! I’ve been pretty busy and have been editing when I can. These last few chapters will take a little longer to get up than my other ones have, but they will go up!

Chapter 11: Carry Me Home

Notes:

Sorry this chapter took so long to come out! The next few ones are likely going to take a little longer than normal. I'm doing a lot of back and forth between them as I find time to work.

Tenzo can still smell the harsh smoke.

 

It clings to him, seeping into the fibers of his uniform – acrid and heavy. The aftermath of fire always feels final, and yet all Tenzo feels is empty. The cave system, once crawling with eerie shadows, had collapsed behind him in a roar of flame and falling stone. Whatever the enemy nin were doing – the scattered jutsu notes on the table, the symbols foreign and strange – was gone. Everything was ash now. He didn’t have time to examine the cave more thoroughly. Couldn’t afford to, not with Kakashi bleeding out on his back. So he let the cave burn; set it ablaze with a whispered katon. 

 

Kakashi’s blood is soaking through Tenzo’s flak vest. He can feel the warm, wet spot on his back growing larger as he runs with his senpai’s weight on his back. Despite using chakra to adhere the man to his back to stabilize him, Tenzo knows Kakashi will continue to bleed until there is nothing left.

 

The warmth grows, creeping steadily. Tenzo shivers. 

 

-

 

The wood-user makes a split second decision. Mid-leap, he shifts course with a sharp twist of his foot, veering north. There should be a town in that direction – small, civilian, perfect for two shinobi in no condition to fight – about a 40 minute trek, given his current breakneck speed. 

 

The Land of Fire border is close, but not close enough. They’re still in enemy territory – exposed and vulnerable. Kakashi’s breath rattles in his ear and Tenzo knows if he slows, if he hesitates, Kakashi will die. He has to gamble proximity over protocol. 

 

Tenzo fights off his anxieties and focuses, channeling more chakra in his feet to propel him forward. He runs.

 

-

 

They arrive just before sunset.

 

The town is small enough where there is unlikely to be any shinobi passing through – a town barely worth mentioning on the region’s map – but large enough to have a hospital for the local civilians. Said locals stare as the Leaf nin barrels down the main street, uncaring of the trailing dust behind him. All he cares about is that Kakashi’s breath against his ear has gotten shallower, wheezing slightly.

 

Tenzo bursts through the front doors of the hospital. The doors crash against the inside walls, rattling on the doorframe, startling the medics and front desk attendants. “Help him!” he all but cries, “Please, help him!” Immediately, medics are in motion swarming the two shinobi, ever the professionals, uncaring of the Leaf hitaiate Tenzo wears. In an instant, gloved hands are lifting Kakashi off Tenzo’s back with practiced efficiency and onto a waiting stretcher. As they run to an operating theater, questions come rapid fire. What happened? Where was he hit? How long has he been unconscious? I don’t know . He tells them. I don’t know. I wasn’t there, I don’t know what happened to him!

 

A nurse stops him at a pair of swinging doors, and Kakashi is whisked out of sight. Operating Theater 2 , the sign says. “I’m sorry shinobi-san. I can’t let you go any further. We will do our best to help your friend. Someone will be out to update you as soon as possible.”

 

And then he is alone.

 

Tenzo staggers backward, numb. His legs give out as he collapses into a waiting room chair, breath uneven through clenched teeth. The weight of the situation is nearly unbearable. The cooling blood on his back – Kakashi’s blood – itches and burns at the same time, like a brand. He clenches his fist, knuckles whitening as he grits his teeth to fight back the scream that threatens to escape his throat. The oppressive silence of the waiting room presses down on him, and he curls into it, fingers digging into his palms until they tremble.

 

He should have been there. He should have been there.

 

All the time Kakashi spent trying to pull Tenzo out of the dark, to get him to feel like a person again, and Tenzo couldn’t even be there when it mattered most…

 

Kakashi thinks of him as a brother.

 

What kind of brother is he to leave him behind?

 

The sun dips low on the horizon, bathing the room in soft orange light. The warmth fails to chase away the chill in the air. Tenzo stares at the floor, trembling. He isn’t used to feeling such an influx of emotions. They feel foreign, strange in a way he knows they shouldn’t. When the silence grows too thick to bear, he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees and hands over his face – and finally, quietly, allows himself to cry

 

-

 

The room is too bright.

 

The wood-user sits, defeated, in a small chair at Kakashi’s bedside. The chair is uncomfortable, and his legs are dead weight beneath him, numb from hours of stillness, but he refuses to move. His fingers are curled feather-light around Kakashi’s bicep – one of the only areas of skin not covered by sterile white bandages. The pulse beneath his touch is faint – frighteningly so – yet it beats on.

 

The medics said they stopped counting how many stitches they put into the Hatake’s body. He stares at Kakashi’s gauze-covered form; he looks like a ghost. His skin, usually pale, has turned a shade of gray that makes Tenzo’s stomach twist. The bandages cover nearly every inch of his body. The only visible parts of him are his face, a cruel irony considering how guarded he’d always been with it. Tenzo’s eyes flicker to the wrappings over the scar over his sharingan – reopened, infected , so very cruel – and the plush dressing across his forehead – the troubling head wound. As soon as they brought him into the room, after countless hours in the operating theater, Tenzo asked the exhausted medics for a medical mask. The light blue mask, now settled on Kakashi’s face, looks back at him mockingly. Tenzo wonders if the color really does wash his senpai out. It's hard to tell, with his fair skin paler than normal. 

 

The door to the room slides open. Tenzo’s fingers tighten reflexively around Kakashi’s bicep, but his eyes refuse to stray to the newcomer, instead staying locked on the Hatake’s face. Senpai would be mad at him, there are still enemies on the loose after all. Tenzo didn’t cover their tracks very well in his panic – he’s sure there’s a trail of blood and frantic footprints leading straight here. 

 

“Well, damn,” the voice says – feminine, yet housing a deep undercurrent of incredible power, “I was hoping I was too drunk last night and hallucinated the runt bleeding all over the road outside the casino.”

 

Only then does Tenzo tear his eyes away. In front of him, arms are crossed over massive - oh. It’s one of the Sannin, Lady Tsunade. He vaguely recalls Kakashi mentioning his father was friends with the Sannin… The anbu looks at her blankly. He doesn’t feel like talking – too drained to react properly – instead focusing on the cool skin beneath his fingertips. He should ask the nurses for another blanket . 

 

Tsunade, realizing that the man isn’t going to speak, steps forward and snatches Kakashi’s medical chart from where it was hanging at the foot of the bed. She flips through it, brow furrowing and frown growing deeper as she reads. After a few moments, she sighs, returns the chart, and approaches Kakashi’s bedside. Her hands – slender, yet calloused – glow green as she slowly runs them along Kakashi’s body, starting at his feet. The Copy Nin’s face twitches, faintly giving a distressing whine in his unconscious state. He has been doing it sporadically since he got out of surgery. 

 

“What are you doing?” Tenzo croaks out, voice scratchy from crying and disuse. “Diagnostic jutsu,” she replies stiffly, but not unkindly, “The medics here are civilians. I’m checking their work and seeing what they missed.” Tenzo returns his gaze to Kakashi’s face while she works. Her face is pinched in concentration as she slides her hands up his legs and torso, fingertips barely ghosting the cloth dressings. After surgery, the medics told him that they were able to stop Kakashi’s internal and external bleeding, but there wasn’t much else they could do. The state of his hands and head were above their skill level. They did their best to wrap the injuries, but that is all. 

 

Tsunade stills when she reaches his head, green glow flickering for a moment in surprise. “Kami…” Tenzo just looks at her, not trusting his voice. “The build up of chakra in his brain is unbelievable,” she continues, voice breathless, “What happened to him, shinobi?” She looks at him, eyes hard. “Screw protocol. Report .”

 

Tenzo unwillingly stiffens in his seat, back suddenly ramrod straight. His fingers never leave Kakashi’s bicep. He almost voices that she is not an authorized party to receive such information, but remembers he’s speaking to a Sannin . “I was dispatched after Hatake Kakashi missed his check-in date for his solo reconnaissance mission in the Land of Rivers,” he begins, exhausted yet precise in his wording, “I found Hatake prisoner in a cave run by missing nin. Two enemy bodies dispatched on site. One civilian casualty, presumed to be a prisoner as well.” Is someone with two implanted dojutsu considered a civilian? “Hatake was tortured by the nin,” his voice doesn’t waver, but he can feel his body trembling, “Jutsu notes were left behind, so I can only assume they were prying him for information on the subject. Given Hatake’s state, I prioritized setting fire to the cave system over gathering further intel. The other prisoner mentioned something about a genjutsu and another affliction affecting Hatake’s chakra before her death,” he takes a deep breath, “Estimated four weeks of imprisonment, though it could be upwards of six.”

 

The anbu member visibly deflates in his seat, head suddenly heavy, and allows it to rest on the edge of Kakashi’s bed near his arm. 

 

A silence follows, heavy and still aside from the quiet hum of Tsunade continuing her scan of Kakashi’s head. 

 

“You’re friends with him, aren’t you?” she breaks the silence softly, “He’s not just a mission assignment to you.” Tenzo says nothing, but he tightens his grip on Kakashi’s bicep, mentally apologizing for any pain he may be causing. He feels wetness gather at the corner of his closed eyes. That seems to be all the confirmation she needs. Tsunade hums, “I thought so.” The Slug Princess pulls her hands away and heads for the door, fiddling with something momentarily before sliding it open. “I’ll bring food in a while,” she says over her shoulder, “Try and get some rest. You look like hell.” Tenzo feels the flare of protective wards go up as she closes the door – like a warm blanket being draped over the room. He didn’t realize how on edge he felt without wards watching out for the missing nin. Tenzo exhales, releasing tension for the first time in hours. He sends up a silent thank you to the Sannin and falls asleep with his forehead pressed against Kakashi’s arm. 

 

-

 

Tenzo wakes to the wards rippling. He lifts his head from the bed, instantly awake, but regrets moving so quickly. His body aches from falling asleep in a strange position. Though it felt like he merely closed his eyes for a moment, he can see the pinkish orange of the morning sky peeking through the window shades. He has been asleep for hours. 

 

Tsunade steps through the door, followed by her assistant, Shizune, who is carrying some paper bags and a… small pig? Tenzo rubs the sleep from his eyes and looks at Kakashi worriedly. The jonin hasn’t shifted at all throughout the night. Aside from a slight pinching of his brows, he looks exactly the same, skin pallor not having improved in the last few hours. 

 

“Any changes?” Tsunade asks as she pulls out a chair from the small table in the corner. Shizune joins her and begins unloading the food. It’s a small mix of bakery items and cold food from the hospital cafeteria. Tenzo stands, stretching the ache from his body, and joins them at the table. He angles his chair so he can see Kakashi better. He shakes his head as he grabs a yogurt cup and a small muffin; he can feel the gaping maw of his empty stomach, but is too worried to have much of an appetite. “No, I haven’t heard any nurses come in.” The Slug Princess glances at him, a smug look on her face, before returning to her own breakfast. “They did. I keyed some of them into the wards. They’ve been in and out all night. Guess you needed that sleep after all.” The wood-user keeps his gaze trained on Kakashi and continues picking at his food, choosing not to answer. 

 

After finishing breakfast, the medic puts her glowing hands on Kakashi, using a diagnostic jutsu once more. Tenzo returns to Kakashi’s side, fingers ghosting over the now familiar spot on his arm. “There’s… a seal,” she pauses for a moment to key her chakra into making the seal visible, and her voice turns uncertain, “Jiraiya is the seals expert, not me. Are you familiar with seals, shinobi?” “Ten-” he clears his throat, “Yamato, Lady Tsunade. And no.” The medic hums, deep in thought, and Tenzo continues, “My talents lie elsewhere. I didn’t need anything beyond the basic seals training because Kakashi-senpai is so well versed in the subject.” She looks at him absently. He glances around conspiratorially before continuing in a loud whisper, “We were on the same team before his retirement.” He mimes a full face anbu mask with his hand, and she rolls her eyes. “Hound,” she mutters, amused, “Konoha’s worst kept secret…”

 

“It’s some sort of chakra interference seal.” Tenzo and Tsunade’s eyes snap to Shizune, who is now standing at the foot of the bed, studying the visible seal on Kakashi’s face. She holds the small pig in her arms, and her face is pinched in concentration. “I can’t really tell you anything beyond that.” Shizune looks up to find the two staring blankly at her. Her face heats up in embarrassment, and her grip on the pig tightens. It grunts contentedly in response. “I’ve picked up a thing or two that you haven’t been able to during your meetings with Jiraiya, my lady.” Tsunade pouts, picking up the clear hint that she was likely, erm, mentally indisposed during these particular meetings (i.e. drunk off her ass).

 

The Slug Princess releases her chakra, and the seal fades into nothingness. “Alright,” she sighs, “Let’s get him ready for transport. We’ve got a long road ahead.” Tenzo squeezes Kakashi’s arm absently. “Transport?” he asks dumbly. Shizune pops out into the hallway, barking orders to the staff. Tsunade looks tired suddenly. “We need to move him. The seal on Kakashi is above my paygrade. I’m hoping Sensei will be able to take it off, or call Jiraiya back from wherever he is to take care of it.” “And you’re… coming with?” Tenzo doesn’t think Tsunade has been back in the village since she left during the Third War. It has been years , and yet she is returning voluntarily. “Well someone needs to keep the brat alive. The medics here did an okay job, but I can heal him further with medical ninjutsu on the way.” The wood-user’s throat constricts, but he barely manages to get out a quiet, sincere thank you .

 

-

 

They travel – quickly, silently, restlessly – until the moon has reached its highest point in the sky.

 

The group is sitting in a small clearing, catching their breath and preparing the area for a good night’s rest. The moonlight casts soft shadows below them. They will arrive in Konoha around dinnertime the next day, having taken extra stops along the way to give Kakashi’s body more time to heal. 

 

They take off their packs and adjust Kakashi’s prone form comfortably on a spare bedroll. His skin is pale, his breath shallow. Shizune begins foraging the surrounding area for fire kindling, while Tenzo studies the recent small game trails. Meanwhile, Lady Tsunade completes her near-ritualistic scan of Kakashi’s body. She kneels beside him and frowns at the tangled mass of chakra in his head under her fingertips. He whines in his sleep, not unlike his ninken. She cards her fingers through his soft hair in absent comfort, thinking deeply for a moment, before standing. “Shizune! Yamato!”

 

The two shinobi are at her side in an instant. The wood-user decides he doesn’t like the grim look on the medic’s face. “We should make our stop brief,” she begins, “Take a few moments to rest up and eat. Be ready to run through the night.” Tsunade’s eyes flick to meet Tenzo’s before returning to the body lying before them. “The brat… Kakashi likely won’t survive another day.” Tenzo’s body erupts in goosebumps, skin suddenly cold. He feels sick. “No…” The breath is stolen from his lungs. “Lady Tsunade-,” Shizune is interrupted as the medic continues. “Kakashi’s chakra reserves are depleting faster than they’re replenishing. They’re refilling at a very slow rate, likely due to the trauma his body has suffered. In any other case, this wouldn’t be an issue, as an unconscious shinobi doesn’t use chakra. Given that the implanted sharingan is a constant drain to his system, and there are unknown seals at work, more chakra is being taken than his stores have left to give. His body won’t hold out”

 

“Soldier pills?” Shizune wonders aloud. Tsunade shakes her head. “That would kill him even faster, with the state he’s in.”

 

No, no, no.

 

“What-” Tenzo’s voice cracks, he clears his tight throat, “What about a chakra transfusion. That’ll give him more time, right?” He thrusts his hands out, palms up, not waiting for an answer, “Take some of mine. As much as he needs. Please .” Tsunade takes Tenzo’s hands in one hand, covering them with the other gently. Condolence tactic , his mind supplies. She shakes her head. “Chakra transfusions can only be done between like-natured individuals. Even if you were a lightning type, the Hatake white chakra is rare. Finding a donor in the time we have that meets both criteria here in Fire Country is impossible. You can’t help him.”

 

Tenzo shuts his eyes, drawing his hands back slowly. You can’t help him. The phrase echoes in his ears, ringing painfully. He takes a deep, ragged breath. If the best medic in the world says it’s impossible, then it must be true. 

 

In the dead of night, under the light of the moon, the shinobi finish their rations, pack up, and set a grueling pace back to Konoha in the hopes of reaching the village before Kakashi’s well runs dry, and chakra death sets in. He thinks of the woman who died of it, back in that horrible cave. Who was she? Did it hurt? Would it hurt Kakashi too?

Tenzo’s chakra burns and his body aches, yet he pushes forward. He can’t help but gaze at the moon – Kakashi’s unmoving weight a reminder against his back and soft intermittent whimpers in his ear – and wonder why .

Notes:

Kakashi is finally on the road to recovery!... Or is he?

EDIT 6/14: Still working on the next chapter! Every time I think it's done, I get a new idea of something to add. Sitting at 6500 words rn, but still adding more!
EDIT 6/15: Sitting at over 8k rn. Doing some final edits. Should have it up in the next few days!

Chapter 12: The Quiet That Follows

Notes:

Thank you for your patience!! This chapter is a doozy! I nearly split it into two, but because both halves of this chapter are happening simultaneously, I decided to leave it as an extra long chapter. Enjoy!

Team 7 stands shoulder to shoulder in front of the Hokage’s towering desk. The room is filled with anxious energy. The jinchuuriki pouts, nearly grimacing with restlessness, fists clenched and twitching at his sides.

 

“Come on, Jiji!” Naruto bursts, hands coming up to pull at his blonde hair in frustration, “We’re going stir crazy here!” His teammates shift on their feet, both noticeably uneasy. The trio has been growing steadily agitated and anxious, waiting for news on their sensei. Waiting. Always waiting. With every passing day, their worry for their missing sensei grows. It takes something bad to delay an elite ninja like Kakashi, and the thought sits heavily in their minds.

 

So they wait.

 

The silence of waiting is beginning to rot their insides.

 

-

 

A week earlier, things started to crack. Dark humor had become a staple in Sakura’s conversations with the boys. She had said something disturbing about Kakashi’s disappearance and Sasuke had blinked at her, unsettled and freaked out, which was saying a lot. 

 

Just that morning, they’d reached a new low. They had collapsed onto the training field after yet another training session of brutal sparring, sprawled out in the grass on their backs, breathing heavily. Sweat soaked through their clothes, making the grass and fabric stick uncomfortably to their skin. They’ve been trying to stay busy – extended training, picking up dumb D-rank missions – anything to distract themselves from the glaring hole in their team roster.

 

Naruto had stretched his arms out wide, panting in the sun’s heat, and promptly smacked Sasuke in the face. The Uchiha barely had enough energy to shove the offending arm away. “Get off me, idiot,” he grumbled, “Tch. You smell worse than Kakashi’s dogs after a mission in the rain.” Naruto flipped him off. “I’m downwind of you, Sasuke-teme. You don’t smell much better.”

“When I get up, I’m kicking your ass.”

“Yeah? Try it and I’ll send you flying.”

“Like hell you could.”

“Like hell I couldn’t. ”

“Boys.” Sakura groaned, flipping onto her stomach, and propped her head up on her hands, elbows digging into the soft soil below. She looked at them both critically, eyes sharp. “If you don’t shut up, I’m kicking both your asses and feeding you to whoever took Kakashi-sensei. You’re being annoying.” That shut them up. Both boys lifted their heads to stare at her, and shared a glance between themselves. They’d danced around theories about Kakashi’s disappearance – whispers and half-hearted jokes – but none of them had said it so plainly, that someone might have taken him, that he might not come back.

 

“Sakura?” The Uchiha’s voice was careful. “Yes, Sasuke-kun?” “That was… kind of messed up. Even for you.” Sakura halfheartedly punched Sasuke’s ankle, the only part of him within arms reach. Naruto sat up suddenly, moving swiftly despite his exhaustion. “You know what we need?” His eyes sparkled. “A brain?” Sasuke offered, earning a loud, embarrassing snort from Sakura. “A mission!” They blinked at him for a few moments before Sasuke finally said, “You’re an idiot. We’ve already been going on missions.” “Yeah, D-ranks. Gross!” He stuck out his tongue and pulled down the skin under his eye with a finger, making a face. “Cleaning out gutters and rescuing cats from trees isn’t helping. What we need is a real mission, a C-rank! Something really good to get our minds off of-” The blonde huffed and leapt to his feet, dragging the others up with surprising strength for someone who was nearly immobile on the ground 30 seconds earlier. “Come on. We’ll go make Old Man Hokage give us a really good one. Ya know, to… distract us, or whatever.”

 

-

 

The Hokage was, predictably, not thrilled about their plan. 

 

“Come on, Jiji! We’re going stir crazy here!” 

 

The Third took a long drag of his pipe and promptly blew it in the blonde’s face just as the boy opened his mouth for another plea. Naruto sputters, coughing violently. As he tries to recover, the old man starts speaking. “Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura. I understand you’re all very worried about Kakashi, and I know how valuable distractions are to you right now, but I can’t allow a squad of genin to go off on a higher-ranked mission by themselves, even if you have grown stronger.” The three teens visibly deflate at his words, shrinking into each other. “That being said,” the Third leans back, tapping his pipe into an ashtray, “Iruka-sensei has been looking for help with the academy’s taijutsu classes. I’m sure he’d be glad to have some former students return to assist out in the school yard.” Team 7 doesn’t have to know that Iruka, in his worry, specifically went to the Hokage with a list of things the kids could do once they got tired of D-ranks. Having them help around the academy means they could keep busy, and Iruka could keep an eye on them. 

 

The Third is in the middle of explaining this year’s taijutsu curriculum when all three kids jerk upright at once. They stiffen in shocked surprise, looking around wildly. Their strange and unexpected behavior prompts the Hokage’s anbu guard to uncloak himself, now standing next to the Third in mild alarm.

 

“Is that-”

“Do you feel-”

“It’s gotta be-”

The kids speak at the same time, then stop, blinking at each other. They shift in place for a second and the Hokage can feel their meager sensing abilities wash over him as they search for something out in the village. All three of them reach up to brush their fingers over the hitaiate resting on their foreheads, eyes wide in wonder. 

 

Naruto’s face splits into a blinding smile. He grabs his teammates’ hands in his own, dragging them with him toward the door. “It’s Kakashi-sensei!” Naruto yells over his shoulder at the Hokage as he passes the doorway and enters the hallway with his team in tow. The old man raises his eyebrows in surprise. “The wood guy is taking him to the hospital, I can feel it! Bye, Jiji!” The Hokage vaguely hears Sakura, “His name is Yamato , Naruto,” followed by Sasuke, “I thought it was Tenzo.” Their voices fade down the corridor, lost in the echoing rush of footsteps. 

 

The Hokage turns to his anbu guard, who looks back at him with an air of astonishment. How on earth did the kids manage to sense that? “I’ll… be at the hospital if anyone needs me.” With that, he stands from his desk and gracefully exits his office.

 

-

 

Sasuke shoves open the doors of the hospital. Naruto and Sakura run into him in their haste with enough force to send the trio falling in a heap in the doorway, swearing and groaning at each other. “There!” Naruto shouts from the top of the pile, arm pointing wildly at the head of silver hair disappearing behind a pair of swinging doors. Their sensei was lying on a rolling gurney, whisked away before they could so much as look at him. 

 

A brown-haired man that was following the gurney freezes and spins around, surprise clearly on his face. Naruto immediately recognizes him as the wood guy. As the kids fight each other to stand, elbows and curses flying, Tenzo glances over his shoulder, watching Kakashi through the small window in the door as he is wheeled away into another room with Tsunade and her apprentice. He looks back at the kids to see them charging forward. He steps in front of the door, blocking their path, and they come to an abrupt halt. Naruto skids to a stop first, with Sakura bumping into his back, and Sasuke bumping into hers. Sasuke rubs his nose where it smacked into the back of Sakura’s head, and Sakura whacks Naruto on the shoulder for stopping so suddenly. 

 

“Hey, what gives?!” Naruto yells, “Let us through!” “Let us see Kakashi-sensei!” Sakura barks, hands on her hips. “He’s our jonin-sensei,” Sasuke says sagely and crosses his arms. Tenzo drops to one knee so he is eye-level with the kids. He swallows thickly, throat tight. He’s seen and done a lot of things, but facing these kids – Kakashi’s kids – while carrying the phantom weight of Kakashi on his back, is quite possibly the hardest thing he’s ever done.

 

He must look like he’s struggling, because the kids stop arguing and stare at him owlishly, worry spreading over their features. “Is Kakashi-sensei okay?” the pink-haired girl asks, voice small, “Can we see him?” Tenzo hesitates, hands curling into fists against his knees. He breathes deeply, trying to pull himself together. “You can’t see him right now,” he starts, trying to find the right words, “Kakashi is… he’s badly hurt. It’s very serious. There’s a chance… he might not make it.”

 

The silence that follows is suffocating. Tears well up in Sakura’s eyes, lip trembling. She turns towards Sasuke, burying her face into his shoulder. Sasuke blinks, unsure, and mechanically wraps an arm around her in absent comfort. Tenzo sees it, the blankness settling in Sasuke’s eyes as he processes the situation – deep and dark, holding no emotion, a void of nothingness. Tenzo remembers that the young boy is an Uchiha, the last of his clan. He can’t imagine what it must feel like to have another precious bond be threatened by death when he has already lost so much. 

 

Naruto looks lost, eyes desperately searching for any trace of a lie on Tenzo’s face. Then, something sparks behind those blue eyes, and the boy’s fists tighten, nails piercing the skin of his palms. “He will make it,” his voice is small. Then, louder, “He will make it!” Sakura steps back as Sasuke drops his arm, and she wipes the wetness from her face. “Naruto-” “ No!” he interrupts her, “This is Kakashi-sensei. As long as we believe in him, he will make it.” His voice, now quiet, cracks on the last sentence. “Believe it,” he whispers. Sakura reaches over to grab Naruto’s hand, squeezing it tightly. 

 

“I’ll… let you know when you can visit him,” Tenzo interrupts softly. They look at him and he plasters what he hopes is a reassuring smile on his face. The Uchiha nods stoically, reaches over to grab Sakura’s free hand, and drags them all away, like a human chain, to the front door.

 

Tenzo stands, watching them go. He makes a silent vow to watch out for the kids from now on, even if things somehow return back to normal. Kakashi’s little family includes him and the kids, and so by extension, the kids are Tenzo’s family too. 

 

-

 

The Hokage arrives quietly at the hospital, his presence causing barely a ripple as he slips into the private room. Inside, the air is thick with urgency. A handful of nurses scurry around the room as they follow the brisk, exacting orders barked by none other than the Slug Princess herself. Tsunade stands in the center, commanding the room like a battlefield, her expression hard.

 

The Copy Nin lies pale and unmoving among a tangle of linens and bandages. He has been mostly healed, aside from the continuing work on his arms and head. The small bones of the hand and wrist are difficult to work with and the neglected, half-healed skull fracture on top of the concussion requires the most precise care. His body needs to be treated gently, otherwise risking the delicate medical work.

 

The moment Tenzo entered the hospital room, he dragged over a chair and positioned himself close, his hand returning to the familiar spot on Kakashi’s bicep. There, beneath his fingertips, was the faint, rhythmic warmth of life – fragile, but real. He clung to it like a man drowning. His legs ache from the desperate run back to Konoha, muscles knotted with fatigue. But it is nothing compared to the ache in his chest, and his reeling mind from his conversation with Team 7 in the hallway. 

 

“The village is already in quite the fuss,” the Hokage says as he shuts the door behind him. He sends the extra medics out with a wave of his hand. “Lord Third,” Tenzo greets faintly, barely glancing up. His attention remains fixed on Kakashi. The Hokage looks at Tsunade with a carefully blank face, emotions unreadable. The medic gazes back at him, her exhausted look slightly defiant. “Imagine my surprise when I hear Kakashi-kun has returned unconscious with my old student in tow.” She takes a step forward. “Sensei-” He raises a hand. “Nevermind that now, Tsunade. Tell me, what has happened to Kakashi? What has happened to bring you back here?” “I’m not back ,” she bristles immediately, and deflates just as quickly, coming back to herself.

 

“He was tortured,” she says before Tenzo can speak – the wood-user is grateful. She steps to Kakashi’s side, brushing the hair away from his forehead and pulling down the bandages to reveal the seal. “He was nearly dead, even before I found this. I don’t know enough about seals to remove it. I couldn’t just let Sakumo’s son-” Tsunade cuts herself off and turns away quickly.

 

Tenzo is reminded again that the White Fang and the Legendary Sannin were friends. They trained together, fought together. Tsunade wasn’t here as a duty to the village. She was here out of guilt.

 

“What was he out there for?” Tsunade asks, trying to redirect the conversation to something safer. The Hokage’s eyes flick to Tenzo critically, mentally weighing his clearance level, before making his decision to speak. He sighs. “We had a lead on the forbidden genjutsu scroll I sent you and Jiraiya after years ago.” Her eyes snap towards him, suddenly wide. “Surely not that mission to..?” The Third’s lack of response serves as confirmation, and Tsunade explodes . “Sensei, you know how dangerous that jutsu is! What could have possessed you to send a single shinobi after it?!” Her voice booms in the confines of the hospital room. Kakashi doesn’t so much as stir. 

 

The Hokage glances out the window, unnamed emotions warring over his face as his student yells at him. “From the intelligence we received, the missing-nin involved were weak. Kakashi is one of our best. There was no reason to believe he couldn’t handle it,” his wrinkled face pinches, “It was a… miscalculation on my part.” Tsunade scoffs. “A miscalculation? A mission involving something this dangerous involves more risk than one man can handle.” She pauses, gesturing to Kakashi’s prone form, at the bandage wrapped around his head. “Look at him. This head wound is over a month old. An enemy doesn’t have to be strong to get one over on ninja like Kakashi. They just need a lucky shot, right at the beginning, Hokage-sama .” Her anger is nearly stifling in the small room.

 

Tenzo does his best to ignore their conversation. He thinks of the missing nin he encountered in the cave. They weren’t that strong. He was able to dispatch the two nin with relative ease, even after making multiple clones a day for days in a row. He’d been able to surprise them, yes, but even so, they didn’t demonstrate much awareness or skill. The anbu member had suspected Kakashi received the head wound when he was ambushed during the night. The cave collapse . It makes sense. He’ll have to remember to include his theories in his report draft. He grimaces. Kakashi never stood a chance, with a head injury like that right at the beginning of the fight. It’s no wonder he was pulled from the ground not far from the collapse; his chakra control must have been impacted, making him travel slower than normal. He wonders if the girl with the dojutsu had something to do with it, as sensing a shinobi beneath the ground is difficult; she wouldn’t have had any issues seeing him. 

 

Tenzo returns his awareness to the conversation as the Hokage shuffles closer to the bed. “You’d make a good Hokage, Tsunade,” the village leader says mildly, “I’m old, I’ve been in this position far too long. Evidently it’s impacting my ability to keep my shinobi safe.” Tsunade shifts, more clearly on her mind, yet she bites her tongue. 

 

“I’ll have a look at the seal.” The Hokage steps forward to examine the marking on Kakashi’s forehead. He pulls a small notebook and pencil from the folds of his robe, meticulously scratching away to copy down the fuuinjutsu. “It causes some type of chakra interference,” Shizune says as he works, “There is a dangerous build up of chakra in his head, likely a result of this seal.” Once his sketch is complete, he makes his way over to the small visitors table in the corner. He sits down and begins making notations in an attempt to decipher the mystery seal. 

 

Tenzo nearly falls asleep, body slumped and eyes closed, to the sound of rhythmic pencil scratching and the faint hum of medical jutsu, before the Third’s voice breaks the silence. “I wish, now more than ever, that Minato and Kushina were still alive,” he heaves a heavy sigh and rises from the chair, old joints cracking loudly. He slowly makes his way towards the door, leaving his notes behind. “I am not unfamiliar with fuuinjutsu, but I am no expert. There is nothing more I can do here.”

 

“You can send for Jiraiya,” Tsunade says quietly, eyes closed in focus as she continues healing. Over the past few days, she has tried many methods to try to soothe the chakra build up in the jonin’s head with little success, but he has yet to awaken. It doesn’t stop her from trying, though. “I cannot,” Lord Third replies as he reaches the door, “He’s deep undercover. He would never make it in time.”

 

Time… what a fickle thing. A precious commodity. Always too much when you’re waiting, never enough when you need it most.

 

Tenzo surges to his feet, anger bubbling, face suddenly red. “You can’t just do nothing!” The words erupt from him without warning, his voice sharp with desperate, frayed emotion. His mind whirrs desperately to make sense of the situation. He’ll fight for Kakashi – for his brother – since he can’t fight for himself while laying in that sterile bed. He’ll do whatever it takes, even if it means yelling at the Hokage. “You can’t just give up on him!” But really… yelling at the village leader, what the hell is he thinking? The anbu’s eyes burn in a way that has become familiar in recent days. For a moment, he braces himself for punishment, but the Third merely looks at him with something soft and knowing in his old eyes. “Someone better qualified will be sent by soon,” the Hokage says to the room, eyes still steady on the wood-user. “You can delay your formal report by a day. Be here for Kakashi. When you come in, I’ll fill you in on the specifics of the jutsu he was investigating and likely hit with, what you should expect going forwards.” A soft look falls over the harsh lines on the Hokage’s face. “The Will of Fire burns strongly within you, Kinoe.” Without another word, he breezes out of the room, door sliding closed softly behind him. Tenzo collapses into his chair, chest tight with emotion. Embarrassment, rage, worry, it all swirls together in a confusing storm inside him. 

 

As if on cue, Kakashi’s face twitches, and a soft whine fills the room. Tenzo leans forward, hand returning to his friend- brother’s bicep with a light squeeze. “You sound like Bisuke when it’s bath time, Senpai.” The lack of retort further unsettles his nerves. 

 

-

 

A little while later, there is a knock on the door. “Pardon the intrusion,” says a soft voice as the door slides open. A windswept figure steps past the threshold, a shinobi in the standard Leaf uniform with a weathered messenger bag slung over his shoulder. His flak vest – its shade of green indicating the rank of chuunin – is properly zipped according to regulation. He looks familiar, but Tenzo’s frazzled brain can’t immediately place him. The man walks over to the table and plops his bag down on a chair with the loud thump. Clearly this bag is full and well-loved. He turns to the group, first eying Kakashi warily, then Tsunade, who looks at him with vague interest. “Lady Tsunade,” the shinobi greets with a light blow, “Shizune-san.” Finally, he turns to the anbu. “Tenzo-san. Glad to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

 

Tenzo’s brain misfires once, twice- Oh . It’s Umino Iruka, the academy teacher and mission desk worker. He has been dragged to Ichiraku’s once or twice with Kakashi and Iruka. Apparently, Iruka unmasked the infamous Hound years ago during a fierce battle – Iruka called it a childish prank gone sideways, but Kakashi refuses to tell the story that way. Against all odds, the two had become friends over the years after Kakashi’s retirement from black ops. “Iruka-san,” he says finally, “Of course, but… why are you here?” 

 

Iruka blushes, facial scar darkening against his cheeks. His hand comes up almost absently to scratch at it. “Ah, right. It’s not very well known, but I am somewhat proficient in fuuinjutsu.” “You were the old bag’s student,” Tsunade interrupts suddenly. She laughs heartily, and continues, “I thought she was lying when she said she found a delinquent to teach,” she squints, somewhat conspiratorially, “If she wasn’t dead, I’d finally have to cough up her winnings…” 

 

Tenzo blinks. “What?” he says dumbly, looking between the two. 

 

Iruka pulls a small bouquet of get-well-flowers from his bag and begins puttering around the room. “Lord Third thought I needed some direction when I was younger, that my pranking was getting out of hand, so he sent me to a long-retired fuuinjutsu specialist.” He fills a cup with water, placing the flowers inside, and walks to Kakashi’s bedside. “She refused to take students in the past, but for some reason decided to teach me. Miko-san died many years ago, but the knowledge she passed on to me has been invaluable,” he continues speaking while he positions the flowers on the beside table just so, “When Jiraiya-sama is unavailable, the Hokage asks me to fill in on anything seals related.” He says it so casually, as if the contents of his words were not earth shattering. “You must be a full seals master then, if you fill in for a Sannin,” Shizune states, stunned.

 

He waves her off. “I wouldn’t call myself a seals master. I just… help,” he shrugs, taking a seat at the table. He begins looking at the Hokages notes and pulling out various complex scrolls and textbooks from his bag. Tenzo doesn’t buy it; no one who ‘just helps’ gets called in as a stand-in for the Toad Sage. Tenzo has heard from Kakashi that the man is humble about how incredible of a teacher he is, so he very much doubts that Iruka is anything less than a seals master. 

 

-

 

Tenzo’s theory proves to be correct. Iruka works diligently to break down the seal on Kakashi’s chakra, writing down notes and flipping through textbook references. Tenzo watches from the bedside as the teacher works to unravel the intricacies of the seal with focused precision. Despite his unwillingness to leave Kakashi’s side, Tenzo eventually finds himself sitting next to Iruka. He watches the chuunin breeze through explanations of the seal, its history, and even drawing up more references when Tenzo asks questions, answering every one with clarity and patience. “It’s really fascinating actually. With all these scripts combined together, you get something that functions like a chakra suppressing seal, but instead of fully suppressing it, it drags the chakra to a certain point to be used for something. In this case, it keeps the sharingan from chakra death. Quite complex. Under different circumstances, I’d love to meet with the creator to find out more about their process.” Even with the oppressive air of Kakashi’s condition weighing down on them, Tenzo can’t help but smile at the passion brightening Iruka’s features. He was clearly born to teach. It is suddenly obvious to the anbu why Iruka and Kakashi are friends. Kakashi is surrounded by a lot of darkness, but, as demonstrated in this very hospital room, Iruka has a talent for cutting through that darkness, like a beacon of light dissolving stubborn shadows. Whether he is aware of it or not, Iruka has changed Kakashi for the better; he jokes more, smiles more, laughs more, he has a twinkle in his eye more often than not. Tenzo now realizes why. It's Iruka’s infectious enthusiasm and sincerity. 

 

He is brought back to the issue at hand by a harsh whine. Tenzo is at Kakashi’s unconscious side in a flash, squeezing his bicep lightly. “Senpai, you are in Konoha,” he whispers softly, hoping the Copy Nin can hear him, “It's okay now. You’re safe.” After a few moments of careful whispering, Kakashi seems to settle.

 

Tenzo is aware of the silence. With Tsunade out of the room for a moment, no longer filling it with the dull hum of healing jutsu, he is aware of just how eerie the lack of sound is. He looks over his shoulder at Iruka, who has gone still, observing the two of them with a small frown on his face. The teacher’s pencil is pressed to the paper, but he is no longer scratching away with it. He appears to be warring with himself, face pinched slightly. 

 

The chuunin hesitates, then puts down his pencil and stands up, making his way to the chair at Kakashi’s side opposite to Tenzo. He sits there, looking at Kakashi for a long while. 

 

Tenzo sometimes forgets that there are people besides himself and Gai who care for Kakashi. After the deaths of his team, Kakashi was in a very dark place. The two of them were barely able to keep their friend afloat. Now Iruka is there, in Kakashi’s heart, along with his genin. His kids , he calls them. It's cute. And good for him. Kakashi has always been protective of his precious people, and it's a wonder to see that protectiveness grow stronger the more people weasel their way into his heart. 

 

Eventually, Iruka speaks, voice low. “Lord Third… He explained some of this to me,” he starts, “I-” he pauses, scratching at his scar absently, “I know I technically have the clearance to know mission details… As much as I want to know what happened to him, I won’t put you in a position to betray his trust.” Tenzo’s heart clenches. “Iruka,” the teacher’s gaze snaps to him, “Kakashi is very lucky to have a friend like you.”

 

-

 

Team 7 sits at Ichiraku’s bartop and are absolutely not sulking after getting sent away from the hospital. No way. Not even a little.

 

Okay, maybe a little.

 

Sakura pushes away her empty bowl and swirls around the melting ice cubes in her water cup, the clinking sound thin and sharp in the quiet of the food stall. The chilled condensation on her hand does little to distract her. She stares into the mostly empty glass as if it holds the answers she needs. Beside her, Sasuke is slowly following some stray noodle toppings with his chopsticks as they slip around his second bowl. His mind orbits the visual of their sensei lying on the stretcher, motionless. Naruto sits hunched over, unusually quiet with his brow furrowed as he stares at the bottom of his second bowl – licked clean of course. He taps a chopstick against the rim, the soft clinking chime of wood on ceramic filling the silence between them.

 

“Kakashi is probably going to be out of commission for a while if he makes it out of this,” Sasuke mutters, still stirring his ramen distractedly. Naruto glares at him, though there isn’t a lot of heat behind it. Sasuke rolls his eyes. “ When he makes it out of this,” he corrects himself. “He’s gonna be really bored,” Sakura sets her cup down, spinning herself to face the questioning looks of two boys to her right, “Haven’t you noticed? He’s always doing something whenever he’s stuck in the village. D-ranks, reading, walking his dogs. I’ve never seen him sit still unless he’s passed out,” she shrugs, “Not sure what he’s going to be able to do, since he’s really hurt.”

 

“You could help him out, make things easier for him.” The three kids startle at the voice. Teuchi, a notorious eavesdropper, waves his hand in apology as he wipes down the counter. “Couldn’t help but overhear your predicament.” “What do you suggest?” Sakura asks. “I know people who are sick and injured sometimes get get-well-gifts, but we don’t have any money,” Naruto starts, then jabs a thumb at Sasuke on his left, “Except maybe Sasuke. He's probably got a lot of money.” Sasuke scowls at the blonde, but there is no heat behind it. 

 

“You don’t need money to be thoughtful,” Teuchi offers with a grin, “You could do something nice for him, something practical.” “Polish his ninja tools?” Sakura suggests. “Wash his dogs!” Naruto yells, then frowns, “Oh, but I guess he’d have to summon them first, so that wouldn’t work.” The kids are quiet, pondering while Teuchi takes their finished bowls. “Clean his house,” Sasuke says simply. When the others turn to him, a light dusting of pink spreads across his cheeks. A bit awkwardly, he adds, “It’s what we did in the compound when someone was sick or injured. We’d tidy up, cook, things like that. Made things easier for them to come home to.” Teuchi returns, setting down three small candies in front of them. “That’s a fine idea, Sasuke. Thoughtful and practical. I’m sure your sensei would appreciate the help,” his smile grows, “Lunch is on me. Tell Kakashi ‘get well soon’ from me, yeah?”

 

The trio gives the ramen guy their thanks and exit the shop, popping the hard candies in their mouths as they leave. Naruto walks with his hands on top of his head, kicking up dirt under his sandals. “Sooo,” he starts, loudly sucking on the candy as they walk down the street, “Does anyone know where Kakashi-sensei lives?” 

 

“And what are you up to this time?” Naruto yelps dramatically at the hand that drops onto his shoulder, whirling around to face none other than Iruka. The red faced chuunin is clearly in a hurry for something – he looks like he’d sprinted halfway across the village – with windswept hair and a bulging bag thrown crookedly over his shoulder. As Naruto recovers his breathing, Sakura speaks for them, “Hi, Iruka-sensei. We’re just wondering where Kakashi-sensei lives. He’s finally back and in the hospital, and we wanted to do something nice for him, so we’re going to clean up his house for him. We just realized we don’t know where he lives.”

 

Iruka’s frenzied expression smooths out as she talks, a small smile resting on his face. “That’s very kind of you kids. He is in the jonin apartment block, fourth floor, apartment 4D. It's on the corner.” He shuffles around in his bag for a moment before pulling out a small piece of paper with fuuinjutsu scrawled on one side. He hands it to Sakura, knowing the girl won’t lose it. “Activate this on his door when you get there. It's an emergency bypass seal I’ve been working on to deactivate any traps and wards that are set up,” he pauses, a blank look passing over his face, “Um. Don’t tell anybody about that,” he shakes his head, turning to walk away, “I’m on my way to see Kakashi now. If I can give you any updates, I will!” Iruka waves over his shoulder and continues hurrying down the street in the direction of the hospital. Sasuke frowns in thought, watching their sensei leave. 

 

-

 

Tracking down the jonin apartment complex wasn’t difficult once they started asking around.

 

It loomed before them soon enough – four stories of clay-colored walls and crooked windowsills worn smooth by sandaled feet of eccentric jonin slipping in and out through them instead of the doors. To any passerby, the building appears nondescript. To a shinobi, it's clear this is a ninja apartment complex. Subtle tracks of footprints crisscross the exterior walls up to the roof, evidence of hurried missions and their unconventional exits.

 

Sasuke points up at a window on the very top floor, on the corner. “That’s got to be it.” The windowsill of that particular window is sagging significantly more than the rest, boasting of its frequent use as an entrance. There is a built-up smudge of a mix of dirt, blood, and who knows what else on the left side of the window casing, clearly a repeated handhold for the jonin when arriving at the window after a mission. It tells a quiet story of hard work, the details of which are unknown to many.

 

The staircase was surprisingly pristine, the concrete steps lacking the scuffs of regular use. The kids turn down the open air hallway on the top floor, enjoying the slight breeze this height above the village provides. The doors they pass are nondescript. No welcome mats, no nameplates, no defining features whatsoever. Makes sense, given the level of paranoia present in Konoha’s jonin population. 

 

The door to apartment 4D looks like all the rest, painted a muted green, with the door hardware still looking brand new. The window next to the front door looks in better shape than the ones in the hallway; obviously Kakashi favors the window on the side of the building to the one at the front. Perks of having a corner apartment. 

 

Sakura takes the seal out of her pocket, wincing at the new wrinkles, and passes it to Sasuke. The dark-haired boy places the seal on the door and pulses his chakra into it. The seal glows brightly, activating – a series of clicks and bangs resonate from within the apartment and the kids look at each other warily – then returns to normal before disintegrating. “I hope it got everything,” Naruto mutters, reaching for the doorknob. With great trepidation, he twists.

 

The door is locked.

 

Sakura smacks her forehead, groaning. “We didn’t think to ask about a key!” “Um. Do either of you know how to pick a lock?” the blonde questions, hopeful. Sakura continues to moan in frustration while Sasuke stares at the door with a pensive look on his face, thinking. 

 

“A key, you say?”

 

Naruto yelps for the second time in an hour. The kids follow the sound of the voice, peering over the hallway railing to find someone looking up at them from the floor directly below. “Oh, hi Gai-sensei,” Naruto greets, the noise of terror now forgotten. 

 

“Trying to infiltrate my eternal rival’s residence? A youthful challenge indeed!” “Do you know where he keeps his spare key?” Sasuke asks before Gai can go on one of his rants about the power of youth. The older man looks thoughtful for a moment. “Hm. Kakashi thinks of you three as his own, but I’m not sure entering his apartment without his permission is wise,” he smiles widely at the sudden pink cheeks on the trio, “My rival is the best in the business when it comes to at-home traps! I wouldn’t want his precious genin to be accidentally hurt, even during a quest to improve your skills in breaking and entering!”

 

The kids stare at him as he hits them with a thumbs up, teeth somehow visibly sparkling through his grin. 

 

“He’s in the hospital,” Naruto voices, “We’re trying to clean up his place for him for when he gets released. Iruka-sensei gave us a-” Sakura smacks him in the head to keep him from spilling Iruka’s secret about the seal. She smiles sweetly at Gai, ignoring Naruto’s sputtering. “His protective wards and everything are down, we just forgot to ask about his key.”

 

A series of emotions cross Gai’s features – surprise, sorrow, joy, worry, determination. In a blink, the jonin disappears, then reappears, standing next to the kids on the fourth floor, tears streaming down his face despite his smile. “Such devotion! Kakashi has truly fanned the flames of youth in you all!” He digs into his vest, procuring a small key, and hands it to Sakura. “He gave this to me to help take care of his precious Mr. Ukki when he is away on missions. I am happy to use it to help his fiery students!” He strikes his nice-guy-pose once again. “Leave the key under my doormat when you lock up if I am not home. I live directly below!” Before they can ask wait a second, who the hell Mr. Ukki , Gai jumps onto the metal railing, now facing out into the village. “I will see if I can visit my eternal rival as he heals. And then I will run one hundred laps around the village on my hands in his honor! No, two hundred! Yosh!” They watch as Gai-sensei launches himself off the railing to the closest rooftop and disappears.

 

“...Of course Gai-sensei would have a doormat,” Sakura mutters.

 

Team 7 enters Kakashi’s apartment warily, but nothing springs out to attack them. Iruka’s seals are nothing if not effective. They close the door behind them and take in their sensei’s apartment for the first time. 

 

It’s… sparse. Not sterile or unlived in (though it's close), but undeniably plain. Practical. Functional…ish. As the kids toe off their shoes, they grimace at the red staining in the genkan – a testament to the many times Kakashi returns home worse for wear from difficult missions. 

 

The studio apartment is small, a single room for a single jonin. The main room is a long rectangle; bed against the far wall under the side window, a small table and chair near the front window – empty of personal items – and a modest kitchen in between. No photos on the walls. No scrolls or mementos. Nothing but silence and dust. Sakura throws open the window over the table, disturbing the thick layer of dust settled over the apartment and letting in some much needed light and fresh air, followed by the one over the bed. It looks like Kakashi put his bed under the window so he can fall onto it when coming back from missions. The thought makes Sakura’s nose wrinkle.

 

The kids spread out, inspecting their sensei’s home. There are two doors, one opening to a closet, and the other leading into a small bathroom with a laundry unit. The kitchen area is also small, consisting of some cabinets, a sink, and a small stove with an oven. Naruto kneels on the counter and peeks through the upper cabinetry, drawn to the prospect of food, and frowns. They’re nearly bare, housing a few plates and bowls, some silverware, cups, and a mug. The mug’s garish colors make it stand out among the otherwise utilitarian dishware. Naruto grabs it carefully, inspecting it closely.

 

It's painted by hand, evidenced by the crudely made artwork. There are four people on the mug, one with blonde hair towering above the others. One of the smaller ones is clearly Kakashi, his silver hair and mask making it obvious. The other two are a mystery to the boy. Next to the figures are the words World’s Best Ninja Team! in curly letters – nothing like Kakashi’s messy chicken scratch. Naruto flips the mug over and gasps. “Hey! Come look at this!” The other two come over as he hops back down onto the floor. The three gather closely, looking at the bottom of the mug. “To Team 7. From Minato-sensei,” Sakura reads almost reverently. Naruto flips the mug back onto its side for his teammates to see. “Is that… That’s not the Fourth Hokage, is it?” Sakura ponders. “It’s gotta be,” Naruto replies. “Don’t you think we would have known if Kakashi’s sensei was the Fourth Hokage?” Sasuke asks. Naruto frowns again, climbing back up onto the counter to put the mug back, “We don’t really know a lot about his past.” “We know he was in anbu!” Sakura chimes in. “Nah, we only know that because of the front gate guy.” Sakura huffs out a laugh as she wanders back out into the room, heading in the direction of Kakashi’s closet, “Genma-san is a big gossip. Everyone knows that.” So is Sakura. I mean, come on, who goes through someone’s closet for no reason?

 

Naruto looks through the rest of the upper cabinets, finding half a bag of white rice, some expired mission rations, and a box of anbu issued soldier pills that are mostly gone. The lower cabinets reveal a surprising amount of miscellaneous cooking supplies. “Kakashi-sensei must really like to cook,” Naruto muses aloud. Sasuke finishes tying off a trash bag from where he was throwing away expired food from the fridge and approaches, crouching down next to Naruto to peer into the cabinet. “You’re probably right. This is a very impressive collection.” Since Sasuke lives alone, he has learned to cook decently well. That being said, the sheer amount of cookware speaks of someone who not only cooks a lot, but enjoys doing it. 

 

“I figured out who Mr. Ukki is,” their other teammate calls from the other side of the room. The boys approach as Sakura points to a small plant settled on the front windowsill. The green, leafy plant sits in an orange terracotta pot with Mr. Ukki written in definitely-not-Kakashi’s handwriting on the front. Next to the plant is a small piece of paper with detailed, handwritten instructions – this time by Kakashi – on how to care for it, probably left behind for Gai-sensei. “I’ve never seen him write so clearly. Water on Mondays and Thursdays,” Sasuke reads off the list, “Rotate pot once a week, fertilize on the first of the month… read to him? What the hell?” Sakura giggles behind her hand. “Kakashi-sensei almost takes better care of this plant than us,” Naruto jokes, wandering towards the bed.

 

As he approaches the bedside table – heh, green shuriken patterned bedspread, how silly – something crunches under his foot. He looks down, noticing an overturned picture frame. He leans down to pick it up, wincing at the sound of broken glass falling out of the frame, and turns it over. Their team photo looks back at him. “It must have fallen. We’ll need to get a new frame,” Sasuke voices as he approaches Naruto’s side, “Sakura, see if you can find a broom in there.” She calls out an affirmative from where she is finally digging into the closet and the two boys look at the picture for a moment, lost in thought. 

 

Sakura squeals a few minutes later. “It was the Fourth Hokage!” She picks herself up, broom in one hand and a loose photo in the other, and rushes over to the boys. She sits down on Kakashi’s bed, springs squeaking loudly, dragging them down beside her. “Look!” The three kids huddle closely once more, staring in awe at the picture. 

 

The photo is nearly identical to Team 7’s. Or rather, Team 7’s photo is nearly identical to this one. Nazimake Minato, the Fourth Hokage, stands smiling behind three kids, his hands resting on the heads of two boys with a girl sandwiched between them. “I’ve never seen a picture of the Fourth being so young,” Sakura furrows her brows suddenly, lifting to hold the photo up next to Naruto’s face, “Weirdly, you kind of look like him.” Naruto preens at this while they go back to observing the photo.

 

The young boy on the right sports silver hair, a mask, and an irritated expression. “Wow! Seeing Kakashi-sensei with two of the same eyes is so weird!” Wonder laces Naruto’s words. “So cute!” Sakura squeals loudly. “He was really small for a genin,” Sasuke points out. Sakura is making a comment that the purple markings on the girl’s face are also cute when Sasuke’s breath hitches. Naruto and Sakura watch their dark-haired teammate attempt to school his expression, failing, and he points to the boy on the left. “That’s an Uchiha.” Naruto turns back to the photo, squinting. “Huh? How do you know?” Sasuke scowls, annoyed. “I can tell.”

 

Sakura lowers the picture onto her lap, suddenly pensive. She thinks of Kakashi’s sharingan, unsure. “Sasuke-kun,” she starts, “Do you remember any Uchiha that only had one eye?” He pales. “No…”

 

The girl stands, shooing the boys off the bed as she sets the photo on the bedside table next to the other frame and begins stripping the blankets and sheets. “I’ve heard rumors,” her voice is apprehensive as she works, “People call Kakashi-sensei cold-blooded.” “Friend-killer,” Sasuke adds, dusting off the table and chair, “I’ve heard the same.” 

 

Naruto walks over to the kitchen sink, filling up a cup of water for Mr. Ukki, as his soil looks a little dry. “Wait a minute,” he shuts off the water and walks over to the plant, “Don’t just go assuming stuff about Kakashi-sensei, okay? Sure, he’s a little weird, but he’s a really good guy.” Sakura hums, shoving the bedsheets into the washer in the bathroom, calling out, “Well, you are weirdly good at knowing when to trust people, so I guess you’re right. Plus I think he’s proved that to us since we’ve known him.” “We should ask someone about it. His eye and the rumors, I mean,” the Uchiha clarifies, dragging the trash bag to the door so they remember to take it out when they’re done, “He must have some friends that know about it.”

 

Naruto takes the broom from where Sakura left it and begins sweeping up the broken glass. “I don’t think he really has a lot of friends. When he’s not with us, or Gai-sensei, Iruka-sensei, or Yamato, he’s always alone and reading that stupid book… His team?” Sakura blanches as she walks back into the room, “I mean the Fourth Hokage and the Uchiha… And I would have remembered seeing a ninja with purple markings like that, they’re very unique.” Sakura’s memory recall is impeccable, further fueling Kakashi’s suggestions that she should look into medical ninjutsu. “He is at the memorial stone a lot…” she comments quietly. The boys pause their chores, glancing at each other knowingly. “We really don’t know much about him, do we?” 

 

The kids return to their chores, working hard to clean Kakashi’s barren apartment. After a few hours, the apartment is nearly sparkling. With some elbow grease, they managed to get the stain out by the front door. Team 7 also completed a very important mission: shopping. Kakashi’s cabinets are filled with non-perishables, and his fridge is full of nutritious food – the kids decide that if Kakashi is not out of the hospital by the time the food is ready to expire, Sasuke will try putting their sensei’s multitude of cookware to good use. They even purchased three new plates, bowls, and cups – colored orange, pink, and blue – as a subtle nod that they’d like to come over for team dinners and have Kakashi cook for them sometime.

 

As Sasuke finishes refilling Kakashi’s nearly bare medical kit stored under his bed, Naruto positions two photos on the bedside table, admiring the new frames they purchased. Sakura finishes filling a vase of hardy flowers with water and sets them on the table. The girl had insisted on getting something colorful to brighten up the space and make it more cheery. She then fills up a cup with water, bringing it to the windowsill. She pours water into the small navy pot that now sits next to Mr. Ukki. The plant looks like a big four leaf clover, leaves colored a soft green with pink veining. The florist said it’s low maintenance and rare – native to a remote region in the Land of Iron – and promises good luck.

 

Naruto rummages through one of the shopping bags, pulling out a sheaf of paper and a box of colored pencils. He lies down in the middle of the room on his stomach, spreading the supplies out in front of him, and kicks his legs out, humming to himself as he works. “Hey, idiot,” Sasuke wanders over, finished with his work, and pokes the blonde’s shoulder with his foot to get his attention, “What are you doing?” Naruto folds a piece of paper and picks through the colored pencils briefly before upending the whole box onto the floor for better access. “What does it look like I’m doing?” He selects a bright orange pencil and begins writing, “I’m making a get well card for Kakashi-sensei.” The other members of Team 7 join him on the floor, each making their own cards for their sensei. 

 

-

 

The sun has completely set by the time the kids leave. It looks more homey than when they arrived, more alive. They lock up the apartment and walk downstairs, knocking on Gai-sensei’s door. They let him know that they’ll be holding onto Kakashi’s key so they can water his plants and keep the place tidy for him, and maybe just hang out a little. Predictably, Gai bursts into happy tears. He offers them the extra chairs in his apartment since they will be spending more time there, knowing the lack of chairs in Kakashi’s own apartment. The kids agree that it’s a good idea and bid him goodnight. 

 

They walk quietly till they reach a fork in the road, pausing to look at each other. “I really hope he’s okay,” Sakura says quietly. Sasuke nods, “He will be.” Naruto smiles softly, “Yeah, I believe in him.” They wish each other a goodnight, promising to meet at the hospital in the morning to see Kakashi and drop off their cards. Sakura keeps walking straight, towards the civilian district, while Sasuke heads left to the empty Uchiha compound and Naruto goes right towards his shitty apartment by the river. They carry with them the hope and determination they worked into every cleaned dish, every stocked cabinet, and every carefully scribbled word resting in the cards in their pockets. 

Notes:

As always, I hope to have the next chapter done in a week, but my writing for this story has proven to be very chaotic, so we shall see!

Chapter 13: Deep Breaths

Notes:

It was hard to write everything I wanted to in this one, but still make it flow nicely. Hope you enjoy!

He’s floating.

 

It’s nice. 

 

There’s something he’s supposed to remember. He’s sure of it; the voice at the back of his head is screaming at him, but he can’t make out the words. The warped voice slips away like mist. For now, he’s content to simply exist in this warm, buoyant stillness.

 

He breathes.

 

In.

 

Out.

 

Fabric, soft yet somewhat rough from use, drags comfortably along his chest with every breath.

 

His breath is warm against the skin of his face, he is wearing a mask. The fabric rubs comfortingly on the bridge of his nose, grounding him in its familiarity.

 

Kakashi cracks open his eye. The world swims into slow, hazy focus. There’s a dull burn deep in his muscles, a telltale ache of rapid and excessive healing, but it remains on the edge of his awareness. His consciousness is sluggish as he peers around. He floats in the space between sleep and wakefulness.

 

Oh .

 

He vaguely recognizes the white walls around him when his eye finally clears enough. His gaze slowly shifts across the room, pausing on a framed print of the Leaf Village skyline hanging on the wall. Ah, the Konoha Hospital. 

 

His eye continues its trek, lazily trailing across the room. Something glinting on his bedside table catches his attention, nestled among fresh flowers.

 

His eye goes wide, breath catching.

 

His hitaiate .

 

Memory strikes, sudden and unrelenting.  

 

The cave.

 

The genjutsu.

 

The echoing screams. His own voice, strained and rough.

 

Kakashi swallows hard, suddenly very aware of how dry his throat is. There is a glass of water with a straw beside his hitaiate, condensation forming a puddle beneath. He tries to lift his hand to reach for it, but his limbs feel like lead; its a losing battle. His body screams of fatigue, noticing for the first time that his limbs are wrapped tightly in thick bandages. He stills, staring at his immobile hands.

 

Is he… out of the cave?

 

Tears sting his eye. He closes it tightly, squeezing so hard that the wounds on his face pull painfully.

 

It has to be another dream. He can’t bear to hope that it's not.

 

He’s had his fair share of twisted dreams tricking him into thinking he got away; cruel visions that whispered safety only to dissolve into agony. Wakefulness always drags him back to those cold stone walls eventually, with blood under his fingernails and the stench of stale air.

 

Kakashi lays there for a while, eyes closed. It feels more real for some reason, yet he knows it’s just his mind. So he waits, all too aware of the dryness in his throat and the aching of his body, for the dream to break, to fade back into his twisted reality. His thoughts drift, thinking about everything and nothing. 

 

“Eri?” Kakashi’s voice cracks roughly. Maybe he’s awake now and doesn’t realize it. He needs to hear her voice, the calm distraction she provides. “Senpai?” Ah, he’s still dreaming. He sighs, suddenly exhausted. He hears a body move closer and nearly flinches at the feeling of fingers closing around his bicep. “Kakashi?” Tenzo’s voice is less hesitant, pushing for a response. 

 

“Maa, Tenzo,” his voice is painfully weak, “Don’t you know it's impolite to interrupt someone's dream?” There is no reply for a few moments, and Kakashi would be convinced that the dream-Tenzo had disappeared if not for the heated hand still tightly grasping his arm.

 

When he feels warm droplets on his skin, he finally opens his eye, blinking away some lingering wetness. Kakashi turns his head – it throbs painfully, though it’s not as sharp as usual – sight now adjusting to the blurry silhouette illuminated by the bright window. He squints until the shape solidifies into Tenzo, who is wiping his eyes roughly, tears streaking down his face.

 

Tenzo sniffles deeply, and scrubs harshly at his face one last time. He lowers his arm, looking at Kakashi with red eyes – so full of worry and hope.  

 

Kakashi opens his mouth to ask the dream-Tenzo what he’s crying about – none of this is real – but coughs as his throat catches roughly. His whole body seizes, and the dull ache becomes a painful roar. Not-Tenzo seems to realize the issue and reaches over to grab the water glass at his bedside. Some icy droplets of condensation fall on Kakashi’s exposed skin, causing him to shiver, but soon the plastic straw is pushed under the bottom of his mask and past his lips. 

 

His body settles as he drinks slowly, the blessedly cool water soothing his aching throat. Cold, real, anchoring. It calms the storm inside him somewhat. He drinks half of the glass, knowing of the stomach ache that lurks if he finishes the whole thing. Tenzo pulls the cup away as he clears his throat and looks around, taking in more of the room. His eye falls once more on his hitatiate lying on the bedside table, looking pristine and polished. “You found it,” he says slowly. “Yes,” Tenzo’s voice is wet, “Ah, here.” Kakashi watches him reach into flak vest and pull out a very familiar orange book. He holds it up sheepishly, a blush growing in his cheeks, before reaching over to set it on the bedside table. “Found your pack-“ in that cave, the one where you were ambushed, I wish I was there to- , “Figured I’d… keep it safe for you.”

 

Kakashi smiles wistfully at Tenzo’s embarrassment. He misses his kohai. “I miss you,” the thought slips out. The wood-user stares at him while he continues, “I wish we spent more time together…” Tenzo watches patiently while Kakashi struggles with his words for a moment, “I know this isn’t real,” Tenzo frowns, “But… I still want to say, you really were like a brother to me, before-” He cuts himself off, eye flickering to Tenzo’s midsection. He envisions the hole in Tenzo’s gut, the cold words he spoke as he died. Did he die? He hopes not, but… he thinks he might have. Was it a memory or dream?

 

Tenzo stares at Kakashi as the jonin’s eyes glaze over, recalling what the Hokage told him a few days ago when he delivered his formal report of the rescue.

 

Three days earlier, Tenzo had reported to the Hokage’s office, body still sore from the desperate race back from the Land of Rivers. He had barely gotten any sleep, too keyed up and worried to properly rest.

 

When he left Kakashi’s side – unwillingly, but duty calls – Tsunade was doing the last round of healing for that day. Iruka was bent over a sealing scroll, beads of sweat on his brow as he scribbled furiously. The chuunin-sensei was miraculously able to break the seal stealing away Kakashi’s chakra the day prior, just barely saving the jonin from chakra death. Tenzo cried on Iruka’s shoulder, thanking him profusely for his help. Neither spoke of the incident after the fact, sparing the anbu some embarrassment, and Tenzo was eternally grateful. A blessing, that man . 

 

Despite the seal being broken, the chakra hadn’t dispersed, instead lingering in Kakashi’s head. Iruka worked tirelessly for a solution. The answer came in the form of a brand new seal, never before created. The developing idea was that it would safely reintegrate the excess energy back into his system, restoring some of his slowly replenishing chakra stores. The chuunin was nearly finished when Tenzo left to deliver his report.

 

After giving his report, the Hokage told him to sit, and filled him in on the situation. Based on the information gleaned from the quick glances Tenzo had taken of the notes in the cave system, they surmised that Kakashi was indeed put under the forbidden genjutsu. Lord Third’s face was grave as he told the anbu member what to expect of Kakashi’s psyche, if he were to wake. 

 

And he would wake. Iruka said he was likely still unconscious due to the accumulation of chakra in his head, and his injuries. He would wake up. He had to.  

 

The genjutsu was simple, yet catastrophic. It was designed to target the victim’s sense of memory and reality, turning trusted truths into lies. It would take the certainties in someone’s life, and twist; designed to break high ranking shinobi – shinobi like Kakashi – and weaken enemy forces during times of war. It was both dangerous and horrifying, hence why it was forbidden. The Third’s warning was chilling, that Kakashi would likely have difficulty distinguishing illusion from reality, and Tenzo needed to be prepared. 

 

Prepared for what exactly , Tenzo had wondered. Now in the hospital room, he understands. He presses his lips together tightly, watching Kakashi’s eye fade in and out of focus. Prepared for this ; this other version of Kakashi, the one that doesn’t know he’s been rescued. 

 

“Senpai,” Tenzo starts, unsure of what to say. Kakashi’s steel gray eye focuses on him, deep and wondering. “I know-” he sighs deeply, scratching at the back of his neck, “I know you probably won’t believe me, but you’re not there anymore.” He grips Kakashi’s bicep tightly, suddenly finding himself fighting back tears again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. I’m sorry you had to go through that. But you’re here, in Konoha. You’re home .” 

 

Kakashi watches Tenzo look at him expectantly. He… doesn’t know what to think. On one hand, this feels very real. On the other hand… He knows he can’t trust what he sees. Kakashi wants to believe it, he wants it so desperately . He flounders for a moment, mouth opening and closing, trying to piece together what he wants to say. His head aches as he struggles to think; his mind feels warped and slippery. Suddenly, he feels a bit of energy return to him – adrenaline of the unknown. He shakily lifts his left hand towards his face. His heavily bandaged fingers find the edge of his mask, and he pulls .

 

His strength is nonexistent, and his fingers are trembling too much to be of any real use, but he manages to inhale through his nose deeply before the elastic slips and snaps back, pulling the thin fabric against his face once more. The skin of his nose stings. 

 

His eye widens and he looks at Tenzo like he’s finally seeing him. 

 

Earthy sun-warmed cedar, fresh moss, and iron-rich soil. A smell unique to his kohai.

 

Kakashi can feel his body shaking violently – trembling in hope and fear and uncertainty. His mind has been unreliable, twisted. One of his greatest assets, suddenly useless. But his nose – his nose doesn’t lie. It doesn’t smell like death and damp caves, but rather something familiar.

 

He’s distantly aware that he’s hyperventilating. The lights are too bright, Tenzo’s voice is too loud, there are too many gloved hands on his oversensitive skin. He can’t see properly through his haze. He feels a faint prick in his arm, sharp and grounding, and everything blessedly goes dark.

 

-

 

When Kakashi wakes next, the hospital room is empty. His tired gaze trails over the room, taking everything in once more. The light is softer now, with the evening sun barely cresting Hokage Mountain, illuminating the distant silhouette through his window. He shifts, noticing that his body doesn’t feel as heavy as before. It’s lighter and feels more like his own, less like a prison. His aching hand – finally obeying his commands, though stiff and trembling – is brought up to absently scratch at the bandage over the sharingan; the scar itches in a way it hasn’t in years, a telltale sign of healing skin. His fingers move down, catching the edge of the hospital mask to pull it down for a moment, breathing deeply. He savors the smell of his pack lingering in the air.

 

There are personal belongings thrown all over the table in the corner, and he swears the hospital doesn’t usually have that many visitors chairs in each room. A textbook with a scroll tucked inside as a page placeholder, a small stack of empty instant ramen cups, pencils and loose papers, a stray shuriken on the floor under the table. Kakashi sits up, slowly adjusting the back of the hospital bed to sit higher, and then looks over at the bedside table, ideally to find another glass of water waiting for him. His chest feels tight and his eye becomes wet with the sight that greets him. 

 

The bedside table overflows with signs of life. A fresh set of flowers – different than before – have replaced the previous ones in the vase. A few smaller arrangements and wildflower stems are settled in cups and glasses on the tabletop. Handmade cards featuring small dogs and crudely drawn stick figures are propped up, displaying the artwork proudly, all boasting some variation of “get well soon”. His hitaiate is resting on top of his worn mission copy of Icha Icha Paradise. A small notecard is leaning up against the water glass he was searching for, thankfully filled. With a little bit of effort, he lowers the mask and reaches for the water. He half expects it to vanish, but it remains in his two-handed grasp. Real. It spills a little as his hands shake, but he drinks half of it before replacing the mask. He sets the cup down and grabs the notecard, holding it close. It’s a little waterlogged from the cup’s condensation, and the ink is slightly smudged, but the words are unmistakable.

 

Kakashi–

You’re in Konoha. You’re home. Everyone is okay.

You will be okay.  

 

The tightness in his chest spreads to his throat, and his bottom lip wobbles precariously. He breathes deeply to center himself, holding the notecard as tightly as his fingers will allow. Kakashi’s eye remains fixed on the note, reading it again and again, committing it to memory even without the sharingan open. The handwriting is undeniably Tenzo’s – tight, angular, deliberate strokes with the occasional shaky line. A tell; Kakashi knows his kohai well enough to read his emotions through his handwriting. He must’ve written this quickly, with trembling fingers. Or maybe he was just that tired. Maybe both.

 

Kakashi brushes his thumb over the words. The pressure behind his eyes returns, sharp and sudden. He doesn’t remember crying so much before all this. He used to be good at holding things in. Now he just feels like a wet rag, rung out and useless.

 

-

 

Kakashi only half-registers the sound at first – the muffled rise and fall of voices in the hall  filtering through the closed door to his room. He pauses his repetitive reading of Tenzo’s note, shinobi senses tingling. One hand still curls loosely around the paper, thumb brushing along the edge rhythmically. In the hall, someone is arguing, that much is clear. They steadily rise in volume and before long, Kakashi can clearly make out the voices. He winces as a dull throb pulses behind his temple. The near-migraine he’s been nursing since he awoke spikes like a kunai driven sideways behind his eye.

 

It's unmistakably Naruto, loud and insistent, arguing with a woman. Probably a nurse, if he had to guess, though he doesn’t recall any nurses that will yell that loudly in the hospital. Not that he spends much time there anyway. Naruto’s voice carries, full of impassioned frustration, “I just want to see him! He’s supposed to be awake, isn’t he?” The nurse does not yield, “Absolutely not. You’ve already caused enough of a scene. Come back tomorrow.” There’s a yell of shadow-clone jutsu! followed by the room actually shaking from the force of something.

 

Kakashi groans under his breath and lets his head fall gently against the pillow, staring flatly at the ceiling. He counts the seconds of silence that follow – five, ten, fifteen – until the hall falls quiet again.

 

When the door finally slides open, he turns his head just enough to see who it is. The sight that meets him makes him freeze. He’s thankful for the mask covering the fact that his jaw is hanging open in shock. 

 

Senju Tsunade steps inside with all the poise of someone who hadn’t just beat the crap out of someone mere moments ago. Her golden hair is pulled back in that same loose style he vaguely remembers, and despite the years, she looks almost exactly as she did the last time he saw her – on the road outside the village with his father, when he was still small enough to hold Sakumo’s hand.

 

“Tsunade-obasan.” The words tumble past his lips as she slides the door closed. Their eyes meet, both sharing twin expressions of surprise. Kakashi’s face heats, the words suddenly registering. He hasn’t seen her in almost twenty years, yet he just called one of the great Sannin auntie . “I-I mean-” He flounders for a second before she takes pity on him, crossing the room with a small laugh. “Hey, runt,” she greets warmly, “Been a while. Glad to see you’re lucid. How do you feel?”

 

The nickname punches the breath from his lungs for a moment. He doesn’t know what to say to that. Some part of him, very small and quiet, wants to cry. No one has called him that in years, not since he was a kid. Scrawny and small for his age, the nickname had stuck with the adults around him. The only one that hadn’t called him that was Minato-sensei. After that, he had gone out and made a name all for himself.

 

The absurdity of the situation dawns on him, and he eyes her critically where she is now perched on the chair at his bedside, flipping through his medical chart like it’s any other day in her long, chaotic career. His eye flicks down to the paper still grasped in his hand more than once, re-reading the words written there. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I,” he says hollowly, more of a statement than a question. The tightness in his chest returns at the possibility. Tsunade stops, mid flip of a page, and looks at him. “Why do you say that?” she asks, genuine curiosity on her face. Kakashi purses his lips under his mask. His scar pulls funny at the movement; he’ll have to get used to stretching out the stiffening scar tissue again. “You’re here,” he says dumbly, “In Konoha. You’re never in Konoha. So,” he lifts one shoulder in a weak shrug, “Dream.” 

 

Tsunade blows a quick stream of air out of her nose in a small laugh. She rests the clipboard in her lap, disregarding it for now. “I wouldn’t be,” she says, “if you’re little anbu friend hadn’t picked the one civilian town I happened to be in to drag your unconscious ass through the main street.” He immediately recognizes she is talking about Tenzo. He’s the only real friend he has in anbu who is still alive or not an international terrorist. It also confirms that he’s alive , he didn’t die in the forest on an anbu mission by his own hand. Assuming this is not a dream, anyway. A knot inside him loosens ever so slightly at the thought. “What’s the deal with his name, anyway?” she breaks through his musings, “I’ve heard him be addressed two or three different ways at this point.” Kakashi huffs a dry laugh, bringing his hand up to scratch at his facial bandage again. “Maa, he’s a man of many names,” he pauses his scratching, “Tenzo is his favorite, but he won’t admit it.” He lets his hand drop and looks out the window, watching the last of the sun’s rays dip behind the jagged crest of Hokage Mountain. Kakashi stares toward the window, struck by how warm the light looked, even if he couldn’t quite feel it on his skin. After weeks in darkness, even the memory of shadow hurts. He shivers.

 

Tsunade notices. Of course she does. “Tell me, kid,” she says quietly, “How are you doing? That genjutsu… it must’ve been hell.” 

 

Kakashi doesn’t answer. He can’t. Not in any way that makes sense. His eyes stay fixed on the window, on the fading light of dusk. The medic sighs – disappointed but unsurprised – and picks up the clipboard, once more flipping through the pages. “Your body is mostly healed,” she begins rattling off a list of clinical facts, “I put your ribs back together. You’ve lost weight, nothing a few weeks of real food won’t fix. The wrappings on your hands can come off tomorrow, but the right one needs a split for a little longer to help align everything.” She keeps her tone light, casual, like she’s talking about the weather. Maybe it’s easier that way, for both of them. “I’ve been putting in the work to heal those things, but you’ll need physical therapy to get rid of the tremor. Going that long without medical treatment has lasting consequences.” He nods along, recognizing his unfortunate need for extra visits to the hospital. “Given enough time, you’ll be back to performing jutsu, and eventually at your usual speed.” He frowns. Not being able to do jutsu, not being able to protect himself… He flexes his trembling fingers absently. “Your skull fracture was bad, but nothing I can’t fix. You’ll have lingering effects of the concussion for a while yet, but given that you stick to my instructions, I’m not too worried. You’re very lucky you don’t have lasting brain damage, though.” Kakashi isn’t too sure about that; something in his head feels broken, though not physically. “Your chakra pathways have atrophied, so you’ll need to be careful that you don’t overload your system. You have to rebuild your chakra control slowly. I’ll write up some meditation exercises for you to help with that.” He is distantly reminded of the same thing he wrote up for his kids before his mission. He hopes they’ve been practicing. “Your sharingan is what I’m worried about.” He stills, eye falling on her, and feels a cold sense of dread. “It’s been overloaded with chakra for over a month. Almost your entire body’s supply had been redirected to the eye with no outlet for release,” uncertainty crosses her face, “I’m not sure what the lasting effects will be. This isn’t exactly a common occurrence. I don’t want you to even consider opening it until Iruka says so.”

 

Obito’s sharingan, threatened once more. Why is it so damn hard for Kakashi to keep promises to his precious people? How can they both see the world together if one of them can’t see at all?

 

He processes what she said. “Iruka?” Kakashi stares at her blankly hand coming up again to scratch at the bandages over his sharingan. Tsunade nods, batting his hand away lightly. “He’s the one who wrote the seal.” He tilts his head faintly, confused. “What seal?” She narrows her eyes and swats away the fingers creeping towards his cheek. “ That one . The one on your face. Stop touching it.” She levels a steady look at him and he lowers his hand slowly, sheepish. “There was a foreign seal connected to your chakra system in your head,” she explains. “The chakra wasn’t dispersing even after the seal was removed, so your friend Iruka made a new seal that will slowly integrate everything back into your system.” Kakashi hums thoughtfully, mind going a little fuzzy. “I gave him some of Minato-sensei’s old notes.” He recalls Minato’s leatherbound journals, ink-stained and worn from use. “I remember seeing a section on chakra integration. I didn’t know he’d actually… find a way to use them.” He turns to look at her again, eye growing heavy, to find her staring at him. “Well, it saved your life. He knew what he was doing.” Kakashi flushes, feeling small. “I’ll have to thank him. And Tenzo, too, for finding me,” he meets her gaze, eye smiling through the tired droop in his eyelid, “Thank you, Tsunade-obasan.” The medic’s face turns red at the name and she turns away, grumbling. “Yeah, okay. Get some sleep, kid. I’m sure you’ll be tired of all your visitors tomorrow.” With that, she leaves the room, and Kakashi is left in silence. 

 

He feels the soft sheets beneath his fingertips, and the plushness of his pillow. He breathes in the smell of muted antiseptic through his mask. He has always hated hospitals, but it’s oddly comforting. He lets his thoughts drift, not towards the cave, or his pain, or the echoes of ghosts, but here, now. I’m in Konoha. I’m home. Everyone is okay, and so am I. His breathing slows and he drifts off quietly, sleep blessedly dreamless for the first time in weeks. 

Notes:

Next chapter is currently in big chunks. Just have to find a way to bridge them. Knowing me, I'll be adding more chunks along the way :P

ALSO my draft for this fic is currently sitting at 50k words o_O and that’s with nothing written for the last FOUR chapters wow (some of which will definitely be suuuuper long). This has just been so fun. I love experimenting with how to implement all my new ideas

 

EDIT 9/1: sorry about the delay! I was out of town for a while. I will be rereading my fic from the beginning and going over my notes to make sure that everything still flows smoothly before posting the next chapter. Thanks for your patience!