Chapter Text
“Talking”
’Thinking’
Flashbacks
13 days. It had been 13 days since the explosion and seismic event that rocked Konoha. 13 days since the Hokage had sent him out to investigate. 13 days since he found the man deep in the middle of a smoking crater over a mile wide.
The village was safe, and besides a few anxious civilians, did not suffer any major damage from the explosion.
Explosion? Earthquake?
Even the Hokage wasn’t exactly certain. The only thing they were able to tell for sure was that a large amount of chakra was used, and that there were signs of battle beyond the crater. Along with a disturbing amount of blood.
Kakashi could still remember the pang of horror he felt finding someone alive in the middle of all that destruction. Still as death, a pool of blood rapidly forming underneath ripped and burnt clothing. How there was still a pulse, he couldn’t fathom. A sick part of him whispered that he could finish filling the crater with blood, all the people he’d killed already, all the bodies would surely be able to fill-
He quashed the voice.
The man pulled from the crater wasn’t a prisoner, not really, but he was the only person who could answer their questions. What happened, and why? Outwardly it didn’t seem like it was an attack on the village, but you could never be too sure. Nobody wanted a repeat of the last war…
Right?
It was 13 days, before he finally woke up.
Kakashi sighed and looked over from his perch on the window ledge, orange book unopened and away from his hands for once, but closed and resting at his side. He was assigned to watch over-
Not guard, he wasn’t a prisoner…but that could change.
After he was brought back from the brink of death, and his wounds were treated. Lady Tsunade said to not expect him to wake up for a while. But Kakashi had grown bored of waiting, and had taken observing his would-be charge instead.
The first thing you always notice entering the room was his hair.
Red. The color of blood, and spider lilies. Cropped nearly to the skin on the sides, and longer on the top. For some reason he couldn’t discern, Kakashi was certain that if it didn’t belong to a person who’s been in a hospital bed for over a week that it would be fluffy and soft to the touch. At the moment it was oily and slicked back away from his face, untouched. It invoked an odd feeling that he didn’t care to examine at present.
One leg swinging off the inside of the window ledge, he looked back down at his book. He had opened it again placed gently in his lap, but hadn't turned a page since. He was getting impatient. Lord Hokage put him in charge of monitoring the stranger since he’d been hospitalized. It made sense at the time considering Kakashi was the first one on the scene, and the one to carry him to the medics saving his life, but he couldn’t help that it was starting to feel more like a punishment. Everyday the stranger didn’t wake up was another day doing nothing, and even with his famous lazy persona, he was starting to tire of Icha Icha.
Around the 8th day he’d finally closed the little orange book and let his curiosity for the man take over. He was obviously a shinobi, but to which village was anyone’s guess. There was no headband found on his person, if he had one it was likely destroyed in the explosion that landed him here.
A missing nin then? Mob affiliation? It was anyone’s guess at this point.
Honestly though, he couldn’t imagine him not being recognizable to someone. The man stood out, whether it was on purpose or not.
Tattoos, so many he didn’t care to count. Only his arms and shoulders were visible under the top they had him in, the hospital blanket covered everything else up. The majority appeared to be seals, this of course had captured Lord Hokage’s attention immediately, resulting in him spending much of his infrequent breaks from paperwork to observe and catalog them. Seals after all were his specialty, and you don’t see a ton of shinobi reaching further than a paper scroll for seals nowadays.
Kakashi was no Fuinjustsu master, but in this moment he shared in Lord Hokage’s interest…but perhaps not in the same way. He, admittedly, was fascinated.
They weren’t all the same color, black was the most common, but mixed in were deep blues, orange, and peaking out from under his shirt, red. Red like rust on an old weapon, red like dried blood.
He could have spent days just sitting there cataloging them, some with thick confident brush strokes others small and thin, hesitation marks obvious in the beginning. Or even the scars, a long thin line going through the right side of both lips — in such a way that he knew when he frowned it would pull at the scar tissue — and all the way down before disappearing beneath clothing, another deep almost purple and jagged over an eyebrow…
His breathing was even and face relaxed in his sleep.
Orange book abandoned next to the window, untouched for days. There were stories written in this man's skin, and he wanted badly to read it.
It had been 13 days. And as Kakashi stood over his bedside, he watched the man open his eyes.
Shit.
That was the first thing his brain could conjure coming out of a long sleep. He didn’t know how just yet, but he was certain that he fucked up. Heightened senses picked up things before his brain did, groggy and slow; the squeaking of rubber soles on ceramic floors, a rumble of small wheels, the cloying smell of of antiseptic and bleach, the low murmur of voices, a rustle of faraway leaves.
Shit.
Without opening his eyes there was no doubt he was at a hospital, the question was…which one? He disliked them all equally. Spend long enough, or as many times as he had in medical tents on the battlefield, and it’s no wonder he avoided them like a plague.
The last thing he remembered was tracking something…no, someone into fire country. A place he tried his utmost to avoid, at least for now. It was hard to think, hard to remember…just how long had he been out for? His brain felt like slow moving molasses attempting to un-thaw.
Eyes still closed he calmed his breathing, getting worked up in this moment would solve nothing. He remembered tracking the chakra signature through Amegakure and followed it into Fire Country. It was only the second time he had picked it up, and he had started to worry it was impossible. In his eagerness he had gotten too close and was forced to show his hand. The creature grotesque and colored black and white split down the middle, did not take kindly to being hunted. The last thing he remembered before darkness took him was a sneering voice under a swirled orange mask.
“How pathetic.”
His eyes snapped open. Silver was the first thing he saw. He tasted bile in his throat.
Shit.
Silver hair and grey eye behind a lopsided headband with the symbol of a leaf.
Double Shit.
Kakashi — because it could be no one else — looked surprised. Perhaps he wasn’t expecting him to wake up.
Not speaking yet, he gave a cursory glance at his surroundings. Hospital room, a familiar one that had nostalgia swelling in his chest.
‘It’s the same room…’
Green walls, and brown floors. Bandages on his face and over the bridge of his nose, a flash of chakra and a loud thump outside that left the building shaking. Excitement ran through him as he yanked open the window, wind rushing past, wild white hair framed by the sunset with a shit eating grin. The toad below him snorting.
“Pervy-Sage!”
“Hey kid!”
Blinking himself out of the memory, he sat up too quickly, his hand going over his mouth. Kakashi had backed away a fair distance at this point, whether it was to give him space or have room to move if he turned out to be a threat he wasn’t sure.
As elated as he was to see him. Looking at his old Sensei’s face was doing the opposite of help right now.
He pushed the sick down as much as he could, taking a deep breath in through his nose. Forcing his brain to take stock of his body and injures instead. His chakra felt normal, well as normal as his was going to get. Arms and head were unbandaged and felt fine to move, traveling down he could feel a heavy weight around his leg. A cast then, fantastic, what else could go wrong.
Glancing over at Kakashi, he finally spoke.
“How long?” His voice came out rougher than he expected, his throat impossibly dry.
Kakashi’s single gray eye held his gaze for a long moment, “It’s been 13 days.”
Shit.
He brought a slow hand up from his mouth to run though his hair, a nervous habit he was never able to rid himself of. Cringing when he found it tangled and oily.
“Why am I here?” Why am I alive?
“Lord Hokage has questions for you.” he said making a few hand seals, and a shadow clone was on the way out the window.
“He asked to be notified as soon as you woke up, I suggest you don’t try and move until he arrives,” Kakashi said, grey eye narrowing into one of his typical eye smiles. Though you’d be a fool to see it for anything other than what it was in this situation, a threat.
He said nothing back, dropping Kakashi’s stern gaze. This was the last thing he wanted to happen, the last place he wanted to be. The last few years had given him time to slowly work through everything that needed to get done…
Everyone who needed to die.
He’d started getting sloppy lately, his brain and body burnt out beyond repair and screaming to just stop finally. He didn’t have time for this, everything had to be done soon. Or would have all been for nothing. Knuckles clenched white around the hospital blanket.
He was running out of time.