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Kakashi is drenched in blood by the time Kisame's body finally hits the ground. Some of the red was his own, he was sure, but most of it wasn't. Or at least he thought. It was difficult to tell with the disorientation from the battle hitting him hard.
He knows he should get out of the area soon. He needs to.
Shinobi were likely to come by soon to check out the commotion, and he wasn't in any condition to start another battle.
But he finds himself glued to the same spot, his right arm grasping onto the gash on his left, his breathing heavy, his chakra low, and the temptation to hit the ground beside Kisame just to rest was looking rather appetizing.
This was one of the moments he really, really, hated been stuck in his teenage body. Smaller, weaker, less chakra, more prone to emotional outbursts, and overall harder to work with. It made trying to fix the future of this world so much harder, and Kakashi wondered if this was the cruel condition that whatever God had sent him here had cursed him with.
It was only with previous knowledge that he was able to aim at Kisame's weaknesses and eliminate him. Without it, he was certain he would be the corpse on the ground instead of Kisame.
Dragging himself out of his thoughts, Kakashi slowly begins to walk away from the battlefield that tore away several dozens of trees, his legs wobbling as he did. He walks, continuing for an uncertain amount of time until he feels he's far enough and plops down against a comfortable looking tree. It wasn't a great place to rest if shinobi caught onto his trail, but he needed a chance to take care of his wound up at the very least.
An infected wound was something he couldn't afford as a missing-nin. It was easy to take for granted the hospital in Konoha, but being a criminal outside the village meant that finding a qualified medic was both difficult and expensive.
If he saw Sakura again he would make sure to give her a good pat on the head.
Using supplies in his bag, he makes sure to disinfect his wound before stitching it up with his available hand. With the paranoia that he could very well be on a timer, he hurries, the stitches slightly messy as he bandages it up.
He gets ready to quickly stand, holding the tree for support. Suddenly, he freezes.
A familiar chakra is approaching his location.
"Over here!" And Kakashi can only watch in horror as his Father's frame comes into view, accompanied by his pack of dogs.
He needs to get out of here. Now.
But with nowhere to run, hide, or even escape to; Kakashi can do nothing but stare. He doesn't even process when Sakumo and the hounds are surrounding him.
"...Kakashi." His father breaths out, and Kakashi can hear the relief and worry held in the man's voice. He looks just as Kakashi remembers him, albeit, slightly aged; his wrinkles becoming more prominent, his eyes tired, missing the youthful joy it used to have, and his hair longer and messier. When he takes a step towards him, Kakashi can't help but instinctively flinch back, his back hunching up against the tree. He immediately regrets it when he sees the pained expression on his father's face. "Kakashi..." Sakumo says again, his voice gentler this time, as if trying to reassure his son that he meant no harm.
Kakashi doesn't view him as a threat. Not really. Being taken back to the village wasn't the worst thing that could happen, even if inconvenient.
But despite that, there's a part of him that remains anxious.
Perhaps, it was the realization that he did not truly know the man in front of him. Compared to the 6 measly years that Kakashi had with him, this Kakashi had nearly his whole life with him. He had gotten to know him on a deeper level, gotten the opportunity to experience life with a house that wasn't always lonely and cold, with a dinner table and warm food where they could talk about their day, with floors that didn't permanently stain with the smell of rotting blood, with someone who would hunt him down for hugs no matter his protests.
It wasn't him, Sakumo wanted, it was the other him. The him that he had replaced.
Kakashi had long forgiven his father, but in this moment, he couldn't help the bittersweet feeling that rose in him. Because no matter how hard he tried to forget, he could only look at his father and see the man who had tarnished his reputation, spiraling before spearing himself with his own blade. The man who had left him sobbing over his dead body as he begged for his only family to wake up. The man who had left him alone with nothing but scorn from the village to fend for himself for the remainder of his life. The man who was the start to Kakashi's curse; his constant reminder that everyone he loved would leave him eventually. No matter how much he had thought himself to have moved on, it was only well into adulthood that Kakashi realized the scars he had received on that stormy night would never go away completely. They had faded over time, but even then, he could still feel the ghost of them each time he passed by the Hatake Compound.
From the moment Kakashi had gotten his own apartment, till the day he died at the age of 40; not once had he set foot back onto the Hatake Compound.
He had tried, once.
A month after the incident. But he had began to shake so badly upon reaching the door that he fled instead.
He never attempted again after that.
Perhaps he could've, in his older days. But by then, he had lost the need to. He had already spent his whole life ignoring the Compound, what good was it to acknowledge it now?
Till the end, no amount of growing up was ever able to make him face his childhood irrationalities.
He hated that part about himself.
When Sakumo takes another step towards him, Kakashi mentally curses at how vulnerable he feels as he curls into himself more, his knees coming up to tuck into his chest. Sakumo doesn't pause this time, his steps slow, but moving closer until he's directly in front of him, crouched.
Kakashi is tensed up, his back creaking slightly at how hard he's pressing himself up against the tree. Despite this, he doesn't move as his father's hand slowly comes up to cup his cheek, his thumb gently caressing just under his eye.
"Pup." The man says again, and there's a rumple in his throat as he does. Sakumo's other hand gently snakes its way to the back of his neck, and before he knows it, he's pulled onto his knees and into his father's embrace, arms wrapping around him as his face is pushed to rest on Sakumo's shoulder.
For a long moment, Kakashi is frozen, his mind incapable of forming a coherent thought. But when he finally breaths in, as deep as he can; something in him snaps.
Kakashi is eight. The rain pouring onto him as he stands at his father's gravestone.
He doesn't look up from the stone for a long time, not even as his body is shielded from the rain, an umbrella hovering over him as a presence joins him at the stone.
"You'll get sick, Kakashi-kun." Kakashi just shakes his head. "What's on your mind?" He's silent for a long moment before he finally speaks.
"...Minato-sensei, have you ever forgotten what someone was like?"
Kakashi remembers the way Minato frowns from the corner of his eye, his eyes softening as he clearly understands why his student is asking.
"I have."
"Did you know them well?"
"...It was one of my teammates on my genin team. We grew up together."
There's a tinge of curiosty in Kakashi's dull tone. "...What did it feel like?"
"Losing them?" Kakashi shakes his head.
"Forgetting."
Minato exhales, a solemn look passing over his face. "Like I had lost them a second time."
And that answer is what makes Kakashi finally turn his head toward at Minato, his face disturbingly blank.
"...The house use to smell like him." Kakashi says quietly. "Even when he was gone for long periods of time. I could smell him on the doors, the kitchen, the laundry room, the bathroom, his bedroom..." His gaze drops to his feet. "They're gone now. His scent. It has been for a while. And...And it's not a big deal...but –"
"You're afraid." Minato supplements for him. And Kakashi, who was so young at the time, shook his head. He refused to be anything but the best.
"M'not afraid."
He remembers the slight chuckle that escapes Minato.
"It's okay to be afraid, Kakashi-kun. It's okay if you don't want to forget." Minato places a hand on Kakashi's shoulder. "A person who admits their fears is stronger than a person who hides them. If you hide every single thing that makes you vulnerable, the weight of it all will eventually crush you."
Because of course, Minato always had to find a way to turn everything into a lecture.
"But it's stupid. I shouldn't be..." so weak. The words don't come out of his mouth as he trails off instead. He swallows the lump in his throat. " I'm a genin now, I should be focused more on training instead."
"It's not stupid. Your fear isn't because you're too immature, or too young. No matter the age you get to, losing someone will always be one of the scariest things in life." And Kakashi almost looks disgusted at the thought.
"It'll always feel this way? Even when I'm older?"
Minato sadly shakes his head. "Perhaps, you'll have a better way to cope with it. But no, it'll never get any easier. Not when you're a shinobi."
There's a pause.
"...Minato-sensei, I...I don't want to forget." He looks away, trying to hide the tears that threaten to roll down his cheeks. "First it was his scent, then it'll be his voice, his laugh, his face; and...and people say I look like him, but anytime I look in the mirror I only see –" he's cut off when his voice breaks into a sob. He hadn't fully registered the way tears come streaming down, nor the way he's shaking, or how he had pulled down his mask unconsciously to breath. He hadn't been able to finish his sentence, but the image of his father's lifeless eyes pass through his mind nevertheless. Before he knows it, the umbrella is on the floor, and Minato's knees are touching the wet dirt, his arms holding Kakashi tight.
When Kakashi is 18, he remembers the scene vividly. He remembers the warmth from Minato's embrace, the way the man had shut his eyes as he held Kakashi tightly, as if vowing to protect him from the world around them, the way his hands ran circles across Kakashi's back to soothe him, and the mumble of reassurances he had muttered into Kakashi's hair. He remembers the way his younger self buried his nose in his teacher's neck, inhaling, and it's with emptiness in his stomach that Kakashi realizes he can't remember Minato's scent.
In his father's arms, Kakashi breathes in, and it feels like he had regained something he lost. The smell of ivory and ash – something he doesn't even register until the nostalgia hits him and – Oh.
That's what his father had smelt like.
With the scent, comes the memories of his short-lived childhood with his father. He can't stop the sobs that come quickly after that as he claws at Sakumo's clothes, grasping onto them as if the man could disappear at any second.
Without thinking, he harshly yanks down his mask, as if to imprint his father's scent in his memories so that he could never forget again.
It felt like the first time in decades that he could admit to himself that he had missed his father. When he feels tears drop on his back, where his father's head lay, it's with a burst of hope that he realizes his father had missed him just as much.
Maybe it wasn't him that Sakumo missed. But just this once, he could pretend that it was.