#Timeline: Kaka-Sensei/Part II

[konohagakurekakashi]

An enquiry should be made into the Hidden Leaf’s water supply. I don’t remember Naruto being quite this tall-

-Sooner or later he’ll be right out of hair-ruffle range.

[konohagakurekakashi]

Rinne-Whoops (Who Died and Brought you Back out)

Thread continued from here.

All things considered Kakashi thought that the Yamanaka Clan Head was taking the whole, “living-dead” situation and his half-assed theories rather well, if the flicker within the man’s  narrowed, emerald hues and the incredulous bowing of his brows could be considered as such. At this point in time Kakashi was opting for a “glass half-full” standpoint, seeing as he has yet to be carted off to the Hidden Leaf’s Performance and Psychological Evaluation Unit or at the very least, the tent that now served its function. At the Yamanaka’s cautious query the Copy-nin managed a hum dipped in a confirmative tone and a nod of his head; his calloused digits releasing the curtains to settle back within the nadirs of his pockets. 

“Hai…I’m sure. Should death occasioned the sudden dullness of my senses however, I made a Raitōn clone to cover my…or should I say our…tracks...” After amending his sentence, his stare found the slumbering lump on the Futōn once more, before said gaze flickered up at the creak of cedar, the sliding doors giving way to reveal a sheepish Ino.

Kakashi appreciated the way the kunōichi warned them both of her presence, before physically ‘alerting’ them, despite being off the clock and within her own home. Her clever foresight (while wholly unaware of the seriousness of the situation) a tell of how much the girl has matured since her Chūnin Exam match against Sakura. ‘Kami was that really so long ago?’ Somehow Kakashi felt ancient despite only being in his twenties, another confirmative hum leaving his throat at Inōichi’s pointed glance, before following it up with a friendly eye-crinkle for Ino’s benefit. 

Should he be honest Kakashi doubted that he would be able to stomach tea or the awkward small talk that usually followed it (especially if the tea-sipping event would only involve Tsubaki-san; a retired Kunōichi he’s only ever greeted over a tinned-tomato shelf and her daughter) but Kakashi already breached their doorstep with enough trouble to incite a civil war upon the upcoming war against S-ranked terrorists; he couldn’t very well deject Inōichi’s words and hospitality after requesting his help--not when the tea leaves were already steeped. Kakashi liked to believe that he had some sense of decorum, regardless of what his kids believed.

Plus the glimmer of disappointment evident within Ino’s teal gaze once it was clear that her father would not be joining them, was nothing sort of a B-rank Genjutsu and really, Kakashi did NOT want to add to /that/--Notwithstanding the fact that thinking about his Raitōn clone flared his worry anew. Maa, he supposed that it was a good thing that it was still active and has yet to be dispelled. ‘Glass Half-full mentality and all that’. As soon as the door slid shut once more, Kakashi exhaled through his nose, fingers twitching within his pockets.

“Iie…Your loyalty was never in question, Inōichi-san.” He knew from both the Sandaime, Yondaime and Godaime’s affirmations that few were as loyal as those who formed part of the Ino-Shika-Cho trio; but with the Godaime indisposed and the winds of change tugging at the Hashirama branches, Kakashi just didn’t want to risk putting them in a position where they would have to put old allegiances, before new ones. He didn’t want to force them into a position where a warmonger might brand them traitor for doing a good, solid thing. Yet, Kakashi didn’t voice this. Instead he gifted the elder Yamanaka with the same lazy eye-crinkle he awarded his daughter but a few beats prior. He had no other choice. “…I know you’ll do whatever you can to help sensei…So Gambatte ne...Inoichi-san.” Kakashi then ambled towards the study door without any further input, closing the study door behind him with an audible ‘click’.

He would just have to have faith that Shikaku would manage to ward off Danzo’s ‘grabbing motions’ for the Hokage hat and win Tsunade-sama more recovery time via his infamous logic and hereditary Nara deadpan. ‘Glass half-full. Glass half-full’. Incongruously so, his positive mantra shrivelled and died (a quick, embarrassing death) as soon as the Hatake stepped over the threshold into Tsubaki’s kitchen, the vortex of scents and the intensity of her welcoming grin giving the Jōnin pause; afore the matriarch lunged at him with a speed that could rival one of Gai’s whirlwind kicks, then warm hands tightened to haul him into the direction of an expertly set table; a flurry of questions (all involving girlfriends and future, marriage prospects) accompanying each tug at his elbow. ‘Glass half-full? Glass half-full? What Hogwash.’

Viewpoint ☼ skippety ☼ skip ☼ skip ☼

Within the Akimichi compound, Akimichi Chōza was in the midst of simmering a mixture of flour and cooking fat in the hopes of making a thick roux, one of the main ingredients for his clan’s yellow, curry pills. The house was quiet, save for the steady bubble of the lard and the creak of the floorboards each time he moved or adjusted his weight. The lack of bustle was due to the fact that Chōji and Shikaku’s kid were having dinner with Kurenai and his dear wife was still out with her friends from the Haha Rengōgun; the ladies opting in taking turns since the Pein Attack™ to scrunch up and serve meals for those confined to the make-shift, tent barracks. Chōza didn’t mind the stillness while he was working however, the calm from his usually brash household affording him the ability to reflect. Bulky, calloused fingers coiled about a handful of beet chips, whilst the other hand focussed on stirring the roux, swift crunches joining the creak of wood and the bubble-gurgle of fat.

Like most Shinobi of his rank, the Clan Head’s thoughts wandered towards the Fire Capital and like all of the other Jōnin said thought was followed by a deep, weary sigh. He had the utmost faith in Shikaku and would gladly walk into an active volcano to be roasted like a seasoned, pork belly, if the action was penned in one of the Nara’s strategies for the betterment of the Leaf. But the Akimichi also knew Danzō and was one of the few present outside of Tsunade-sama’s tent when the war-hawk started to cajole the other members in the Go-Ikenban into leaving for the Daimyō’s palace. 

The Elder’s hunger for the title of ‘Fire Shadow’ was as infamous as the gluttony of a goldfish and with the title finally within his reach (more so than ever before, at least) Chōza believed that the old shinobi would do absolutely everything within his power to finally clasp onto the hat for real—the wishes of the Jōnin and Clan Council be /damned/ (and oh how they refuted the idea of another timeworn Hokage, even the Hūyga, who usually tended to supplement the decisions of the advisors).

The roux was soon joined by Tonkatsu, soy and a dash of honey, afore the Akimichi paused to grab another fist full of chips. One of the mauve crisps escaped his hold and plopped onto the floor, causing the man to ‘tsk’, disappointed and shake his head, his red mane swaying at the action. “Yare…Yare, making me bend my knees like this. You really don’t deserve to be eaten, I don’t care how good you look, I should just throw you out of the window…” 

Chōza was about to pluck the escapee from beside his feet when the tinge of warm, candle-wax suddenly oozed above the spoor of curry; effectively grabbing the Akimichi’s attention. He shifted, beady hues travelling about the length of his kitchen until his stare settled on the faint glow of orange within the shadow of his wife’s fruit bowl (an anniversary gift from the in-laws). There, only detectable to the one the message was intended for, pulsed Kanji in the unmistakable hand of his teammate and oldest friend. Speak of the devil and he will appear—or in this instance, his Fūin.

急

Still within Capital. Danzō declared official Rokudaime Candidate. Root agent sent ahead. Something amiss in Konoha. Require status report asap.

急

At the confirmation of his earlier, grave musings the clan head cursed, twisting around to remove the roux from the stove and to switch the appliance off. Without a constant heat-source, the curry would be ruined; but alas, it would appear they had bigger fish to fry and Chōza really didn’t want to add a blazing forest fire to the ever growing list of catastrophes that Konoha seemed to be a steady beacon for. The Akimichi then proceeded to stalk out of his kitchen, crushing the ‘escapee-chip’ underneath his heel and not bothering with concealing the message that was already starting to fade. Taking the Engawa steps two at a time, Chōza then power-walked into the direction of the Nara Forest, hoping that Inōichi would be home and that he or Tsubaki wouldn’t mind the impromptu visit. Damn Nara, how he hated being the bearer of bad news.

Two metres and twelve steps over the forest boundary, Chōza glimpsed the approaching figures of his son and Shikamaru, the first waving what seemed to be a milk-bun back and forth. “Eh, Tou-san? Konbanwa!! Why are you walking so fast, are you trying to lose weight again?” The Elder Akimichi ignored the seemingly innocent query to pin both boys, iie, /Shinobi/ with a leaden stare, effectively halting their strides. 

“Chōji, Shikamaru, I’m on my way to the Yamanaka Compound. Chinatsu-san is not home yet, so I need you both to go to Godaime-sama’s tent. Tell Shizune-san that we’ve received word from the capital. No one should be allowed into the tent, Tsunade-sama’s guard is not to be rotated and anyone trying to gain entry into the tent, especially Anbu, should be detained until either Shikaku or Ibiki can question them. Understood?” To their credit and with a sliver of pride eddying within Chōza’s chest, neither of the boys dared to ask further questions, merrily nodding their heads in the affirmative, before setting off in the direction they ambled from once more.

Chōza watched the boys go for a moment longer, troubled orbs almost staring through their retreating forms, until the cry of a Sparrowhawk overhead pulled him from his reverie and reminded him of his task. He so wished that they didn’t have to see the terrors of war, but really, Chōza surmised that sixteen, care-free years were all a Shinobi and a Shinobi parent could ask for; demanding more would be akin to testing the fates…still. Another, bone-weary sigh followed afore the 15th Akimichi Clan Head started forwards once more. Bearer of bad news indeed.

@senjutsunade @minaa-munch

[konohagakurekakashi]

Rinne-Whoops: Who Died and Brought You Back Out?

Don’t  even ask--Post continued from here

@minaa-munch

@senjutsunade

“Inōichi-senpai?” Izumo murmured as all four shinobi continued to stare at the Kage in contemplation, afore Kakashi nodded (in answer to both Izumo and his yellow-haired, former Sensei) the arm, rubbing at the nape of his neck venturing further upward to tug his forehead protector back into place over his left eyelid. “Hai, he will be the most qualified to help with, Yondaime-sama’s muddled memories.” The Iryō-nin whom had her palms clasped in front of her chest agreed with him in a low hum, dark hues shifting from the slumped Fire Shadow towards the Jōnin. Kotetsu seemed less convinced however, sharing a brief glance with his partner, before his digits came to rest on the juts of his hips. “Demo…would it be wise…to let someone from the Intelligence and Interrogation unit know…won’t they…catechize him, Kakashi-senpai? I get that we can’t exactly keep this type of thing a secret, but maybe just until Tsunade-sama wakes up? I mean…He already seems to be in pain…” The Chūnin trailed off lamely, his own orbs flittering over the shambolic cavern, the edge of his sandal toeing at a scroll fragment.

“…That is exactly why we need to enlist Inōichi-san’s help.”  Kotetsu blinked, looking up to find the Hatake had yet to sever his gaze with the cerulean-eyed Shinobi. “It is as you said, we can’t keep this type of thing secret for long, but we can govern who gets to know of this /first/. Inōichi-san is a loyal shinobi, an avid believer in the Third’s Will of Fire…but he was also a good friend of the Yondaime. I don’t believe catechizing an old comrade would be something Inōichi would do right off the bat.” It was then that the Hatake shifted, a begloved palm landing heavily on the Chūnin’s shoulder. “…If he sorts through Lord Fourth’s memories and ends up putting them back into the right order, I doubt an official interrogation will be necessary. You both did good bringing me here, demo, you can leave now…” His single, visible hue curved in what he hoped to be a show of ‘encouragement’, before he let the other go, deft fingers coiling into the familiar signs of the Tiger Seal. “M-Matte, Kakashi-senpai! What do you mean? You can’t expect us to just do nothing.” Kakashi in turn cocked his head to the side as if ruminating over the other man’s words, mouth twitching underneath the fabric of his mask, though not enough to be considered as a smile.

“Iie…I never suggested that…Domo, a lot of time has passed. The two of you should return to Shizune, though stop by the Ikayaki tent on your way; maybe consider a side-order of fried rice, brown. When Shizune asks for Tsunade-sama’s files just confirm that you met me half-way and that I offered to get it in your place, as I was already on my way to the outer-rim. My chakra imprint is all over this cavern, but yours aren’t. Plus I’d be willing to wager my signed copies of Jiraiya-sama’s special anniversary addition of Icha Icha Paradise that neither Shizune nor Sakura have left Tsunade-sama’s side to eat something decent since she’s collapsed. Nothing quells ire or an array of unwelcomed questions quite like a nice, warm meal…ne?”

Kakashi’s leaden gaze flittered towards the Kunōichi. “As for Hakui-san…It’s best that you return to the medical tent before you’re missed. With skills like yours and with construction accidents on the rise, I’m certain that your chakra will be needed to do a lot more good.” Kakashi then proceeded to mould his own chakra, the mauve energies, bubbling and pitching, before divvying into half—an exact clone appearing at his side amidst a puff of smoke. “It’s a hassle…but my Raitōn Clone will look for the Godaime’s papers while I’ll make sure Minato-sensei gets to the Yamanaka Compound…luckily it’s not far from here…That’s the plan for now at least. I don’t need to stress that neither one of you were here. At all. Yes?”

The Chūnin chorused their accord, before slowly meandering their way toward the corridor, unable to find fault with the Jōnin’s nippy reasoning. Only Izumo hesitated for a beat longer, his visible hue skimming over the mess of wood-chips and paper. “Not gonna lie, Senpai, I feel bad about leaving you to deal with the dirty work, even just your clone…” Kakashi gave an evasive wave of his palm, sucking in a long, impassive breath. “..It’s fine…It’s fine…Though I could use your bandana…bandana yes…give it here, Izumo.” Izumo’s dark orb blinked, digits rising to fumble with the navy material, but found nothing but a mess of chocolaty strands as the Jōnin already nicked the accessory from off his head, shoving the man towards the corridor at the same time. “Arigato, Izumo-kun, your sacrifice was a very noble one, best not keep Shizune waiting any longer. Bye-bye.”

Turing on his heel Kakashi inclined his covered chin at his clone to get him to work, before his gaze settled on the form of the Kage once more. For the first time the two of them found themselves alone, Kakashi’s gaze assuaging at the soft echoes of ‘please’ and the sheer helplessness cleaving to the Kage’s form like a second shroud. Not wanting the man to suffer from the onslaught of his own thoughts and memories any longer, the Hatake moved to crouch in front of the rock lip. “I’m not ‘gonna put you under, Minato-sensei…but I am going get you some help….Just…” The Jōnin paused to peer at the pallid, pained features of the Yellow Flash, before he leaned forward to hide the distinguishing, yellow spikes with the Chūnin’s pilfered bandana, careful not to rub against the red, inflamed scrapes and nail indents visible along the sides of his temple. “….Trust me?” The Jōnin then lifted the Kage’s arm, wounding it about his neck, while his own limb curled about the man’s middle, heaving him upward and out of his sarcophagi.

Moving the former Leader was far from an easy task, the man practically a dead-weight, slanted into Kakashi’s side and still wrecked with uneven breaths and the occasional cough. But Kakashi expected as much as he maneuverer the both of them through the chamber towards the passageway the others disappeared through prior. The plus side was that they met no resistance along the snaking, narrow warren; nor did the Jōnin feel the flecks of any prying chakra signatures. Years of experience advised that in itself wasn’t enough of an indicator that they weren’t being watched and/or followed, so Kakashi remained alert, muscles starting to twinge with how tense he held himself—and as the dimness began to lift, the faint tinges of afternoon sunlight signalling the exit up ahead, Kakashi adjusted his hold on his former mentor, before urging forward once more, pace perpetually slow.

“The Exit is up ahead, it seems to be late afternoon still, so you might want to…shield your eyes.”

Kakashi didn’t check to see if Minato complied by fluttering his lids closed, choosing instead to alter his intent stare down the rough iron steps and into the crater where everyone was still bustling along like little, carpenter ants. Any minute now people would start to pack up their tools and wander towards their respective tents, the barracks, their homes; increasing the chances of being spotted by a weary individual or two (not to mention the receptive ANBU Platoons, as Kakashi has it on good authority that Ibiki upped the patrol roster in lieu of the Pain attack) As such Kakashi called on his chakra reserves (those violet swirls not tasked with keeping his clone within this plain of existence) to haul both of their forms from the Hokage Mountain in a concise body flicker to appear once more at the foot of the steps.

Sure, it might not be the best tactic when supporting a severely /disoriented/ resurrected, but the Hatake reasoned that cleaning chunky spew from his flak-jacket and standard-issue blues, would heavily outweigh the panic and outright bothersome questions he might have to consider answers for /if they were caught/ not to mention the datum of time, time which they did not have. The silver-haired shinobi could not put his finger on it, but there was a nagging feeling at the back of Kakashi’s skull that caused him to constantly shoot a narrowed hue over the swell of his shoulder. A feeling like he failed to take something important into account, that he /missed/ something, though re-examining his chosen actions thus far failed to provide further elucidations. It only urged the Jōnin forwards that much faster and placed a heavy hope on the shoulders of his Raitōn clone. Kakashi hoped that he would be thorough whereas Kakashi was heedless.

They made their way passed the off-turn which lead toward the Hattori Clan Ruins, the towering Hashirama and Ginkō trees passing by in blurs and blotches of green and brown, a tell-tale that they reached the boundary leading into the Nara Clan Forest. If Kakashi wasn’t certain that Shikakū was still in the presence of the old war-mongerer; he might have consider cutting through the deer forest towards its compound neighbour, but as the current Head was still indisposed, the Jōnin thought better of chancing his luck via trespassing. The two shinobi continued to travel along the borderline, Kakashi stopping only twice (once to avoid two Akimichi huddled around a cluster of brightly coloured mushrooms, the second to avoid the kids who were once Kurenai’s Genin team) afore they finally made it to the outskirts of the Yamanaka Clan Compound. The clan dwelling was the most centred of all of the Konohagakure Clans, a fact evident in the vast amounts of dirt and debris littering what used to be fields of wild Lavender and Tiger Lilies, the depository houses the Hatake knew to have contained many herbs and flowers of all shapes and usages, all but destroyed.

As Kami would have it, the main estate seemed to be mostly intact, save for a few missing roof-tiles and the windows on the west side of the house that were replaced by a see-through, green tarp. Kakashi ambled forward, praying that the elder Jōnin was home and in a particularly benevolent mood, while his digits flexed against his mentor’s side. Despite being an active shinobi since the tender age of five (many of said years spent within the sombre underbelly of the ANBU) Kakashi only ever worked with the Head of the Yamanaka clan once or twice where a mind-probe proved an ineffective interrogation method thanks to tricky conscious seals and the Sharingan was required as an alternative. As such Kakashi wasn’t as versed in the Clan Head’s habits and methods as he was in the ways of the man’s two teammates. Yet the Yondaime’s laboured breaths urged him to swallow any uncertainties (those he never dared voice to the three Chūnin) as soon as it dared to flicker into existence.

‘Maa, a shinobi should never second guess his actions, huh.’

The Hatake found himself uttering with some amount of discontentment, while calloused fingers rose to rap twice against the door. It took a moment, but soon Kakashi’s ears picked up the steady thuds of feet and the door opened to reveal a tired Ino still smudged with the sweat and grime of a hard day’s work. Periwinkle orbs widened as they fixed upon Kakashi’s hunched form, before they shifted briskly towards the other shinobi slumped against the Jōnin's side, his chin dipped toward his chest and obscuring any features from the girl’s keen inspection.

“Aa…Ino…Is your Tou-san home? I would really like to speak to him, it’s a bit of an emergency, you see…”

[konohagakurekakashi]

Thread continued from here

—“Good…Good…” Kakashi tuttered as he continued to mix all of the wet ingredients together, only pausing to add some salt and pepper once the eggs, milk and a dash of rich soy was thoroughly mixed. For a few breaths it was silent between them, the silence only broken by the occasional scraps of steel against the cutting board and the sizzle of  butter hitting the pan (a new, smaller one from that of Tenzō’s attempts, mind) seeing as the original pan was still soaking within the Anbu’s sink. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, the two shinobi being too familiar with one another for lapses in conversation to ever become annoying or awkward. No, it was more companionable in nature, both of them too engrossed in their respective tasks to bother to fill the void. Once the Hatake made sure that the yellow fat coated the pan evenly, he proceeded to add some of the omelette mixture, grey hue lifting from the bubbling liquid to the diced veggies to check on the other’s progress. True to his former subordinate’s nature the vegetable cubes were even and precise, spurring another coy tug at the Copy-Nin’s lips. 

“See…Tenzō, cooking isn’t so bad, mh?”

Kakashi followed up the sentence with one of his trademark eye-crinkles, afore he scooped up a handful of the vegetable cubes to add to the thickening mixture within the pan. Once the mixture was completely set and fluffy, the Hatake started on the second layer of Tamagoyaki. “I expect a surprise bento of these after our next Team Kakashi training session. I bet Sai-kun would be an excellent Judge of your kitchen skills.” 

Thinking about the kids they were both in charge of caused the Jōnin pause however, before he recollected himself enough to jab a thumb at the pan, a signal for Yamato to add another handful of his diced veggies to the egg-mix. “Say…Tenzō. Do you think you will ever retire from the Anbu officially…That you would maybe like to try something else?” @dirt-ninja​

[konohagakurekakashi]

Rinne-whoops: Who Died and Brought you Back?

Continued from here~

@minaa-munch @senjutsunade

Heavy thuds resounded about the chamber as Kotetsu ran back the way they came, the flat tone in Kakashi’s instructions leaving little room for argument. Izumo in turn hovered over the Jōnin’s shoulder for a few seconds as he moved to slash at the unctuous, linen strips; though one, /pointed/ blink of the man’s hue in his direction had him up and scrambling to check on the tombs of the other Kage, albeit reluctantly.

Finally left alone with his new reality, Kakashi’s stare gravitated and settled on the faint, little scars littering his fingers, the weight of the weapon within his hold and the way it nipped and tore at the fabric casing—anything other than the two, blue pools that radiated familiarity. He couldn’t allow himself to think of this…this person as Minato-sensei, couldn’t allow sentiment and the way in which his heart tripped over its harried beats, to influence standard procedure. He was first and foremost an elite soldier of Konoha and they were on the precipice of yet another War.

Steeling his nerves and swallowing back his anxieties, the Jōnin quickly unravelled the binding up to the man’s midriff, all to enable his lungs to full with crisp, stale, air and for his ribs to expand proper. This close the scents of Higanbana and Sumac wax proved completely overwhelming and clung to every inch of Kakashi’s hunched frame, though he didn’t allow the sickly sweetness to hinder his task. The removal of the first layer of linen revealed messy, yellow spikes, pasty, sunken cheeks and a hint of intricate Kanji not unlike that of a younger blonde he has come to know, though it wasn’t the tells the Jōnin would have come to expect that decoyed his gaze right back towards the man’s own, rather the breathy, hoarse whisper of his name.

The Yondaime—No—'The man’s' eyes were foggy, like he was still caught in the trappings of a too real dream; mind attempting to discrete fact from fiction; what was real from fantasy. He attempted to move once, twice; with a chunk of his bindings now pooled at Kakashi’s feet. But with the old Fūin pulsing firmly in place and the other half of his body still encased, the shinobi (for surely that was what he was- cruel guise aside) didn’t get far passed a sore-sounding, head thump and a half-hearted glower at Kakashi’s person.

Seeing as the man could be a member of The Akatsuki (cloud Haōri recurrently sighted all over the continent) or an entirely new ‘unknown’ intent on taking advantage of the Hidden Leaf (while it was without its true leader and at its weakest) Kakashi felt that /he/ was the one entitled to a scowl (The proverbial icing on the cake being that the unknown dared to take on the face of someone Kakashi cared about—And really, this close the Hatake couldn’t deny that the blonde looked exactly how Kakashi remembered him looking, right when everything went to shit).

With Izumo’s distrait mumblings echoing further within the ante-chamber Kakashi breathed a disconcerted sigh, a hand rising to rub at his covered lid (as if already weary, maybe placating) until he pushed the material aside with the heel of his palm. A measured blink revealed that this was not a horrible, horrible Genjutsu; though he did note a strange irregularity within the man’s chakra, mainly lurching toward the imprint of ominous sable still peeking through the thread-bare yukata. Pale brows furrowed, having only seen such contrasting, dense churns of energy within a Jinchūriki, not something one could simulate. At all.

Kakashi regarded the blonde for quite some time, face impassive, while he chewed over his words. He didn’t know if the other was in a position to speak, much less form coherent explanations; but with Kotetsu’s dillydallying he’d have to at least try to get some answers (answers he wasn't really willing to hear) as the shinobi looked about ready to fall into a coma. Iie maybe he was the one trapped in inertia.

“We’ve sent for a medic, they should arrive shortly…”

A Pause as the Hatake, slipped both Izumo's Kunai and his palms into the confines of his pockets, shoulders hitching up in question.

“Do you know who you are….Where you are? What is the last thing that you remember?”

[konohagakurekakashi]

How does it feel knowing it was all your fault? If you had moved out of the way of the cave in. If you had died instead. If you have saved Obito. If you had protected Rin. They'd all still be alive and happy.

Kakashi barely suppressed a flinch at the blunt tone, grey hue cutting to the side, whilst his fingers coiled into fists within the depths of his pockets. These bitter words weren’t new to the Jōnin, seeing as they were all things that he had thrown at his own reflection on late nights and early mornings, whilst soapy-suds nipped at his well-worn skin. 

He thought about it every time that he was forced to lift the fabric of his headband, left eye casting the world in the muted colours of chakra signatures—and all the more when the twitters of a thousand birds resounded from his palm. It wasn’t just thoughts that made themselves known whenever he was forced to make use of the Chidōri, the Sharingan or Kami-forbid; his bathroom mirror. They were little wisps of guilt and self-doubt that wriggled their way into his everyday tasks, thinking that Obito would have jumped at the opportunity to try out the new Omurice vendor within the Market District; that Rin would have made a much more patient and doting, Sensei. 

As such the thoughts and feelings associated with his former teammates have become so commonplace, he doubted he’s be able to function without thinking about it, about them and what could have been, at all. Hearing those same ‘what if’s’ hissed by someone other than himself was new, however and caused the Shinobi to swallow, afore lifting his gaze to lock onto any possible escape routes. 

“I would have changed things for the better if I could…”