Chapter 9
He moved his fingers a few times to draw attention to himself. He couldn’t tell how long he had been lost in the sleep that had taken him almost immediately after Inoichi had left his mind. Fortunately, the ninken were still by his side, raising their heads in response to his movement. He signaled them briefly:
"Kunai."
The ninken whimpered. Pakkun licked Kakashi’s hand and rested his head on it as if trying to block his only means of direct communication. But he knew well that this clumsy means would not delay the inevitable. Kakashi slowly pulled his hand away and raised it, though the movement cost him a great deal of pain. Such a small action, yet it sent a shudder through his entire body, making his breath quicken. He could use another chakra transfusion—his reserves seemed to be evaporating from him, even though all he had done was sleep. He wasn’t sure if he could carry out what he had planned in this state. He flashed another sign.
"Please, my friends."
Pakkun felt his heart grow unimaginably heavy. He hung his head in resignation and used his short paw to write on Kakashi’s hand:
"Alright, Kakashi-kun."
"Kakashi-kun," he thought. No one has called me that in ages.
It was nighttime, and the hospital was silent. Pakkun and Shiba cautiously left Kakashi’s room, sniffing the air. They peeked into the neighboring rooms, searching for shinobi patients, and quickly found a backpack full of shuriken and kunai, left on a chair. Shiba stood watch while Pakkun silently selected one of the knives. Unnoticed by anyone, they returned to Kakashi’s room and leapt onto his bed. When he felt them place the kunai on his stomach, he was relieved.
The dogs huddled around him, shifting on the bed. Unable to sit up, he tried to at least touch the ones within reach. He took deeper breaths, gathering his strength, causing his oxygen mask to fog up. He felt the stifling warmth of his own breath. He tried to remove the mask, but his weakened muscles refused to obey him—he could only imagine how uncoordinated his movements must have been. Encouraging licks from several warm tongues on his other hand spurred him on. At last, with a trembling hand, he pushed the mask aside, and a bitter smile flickered across his lips at this small victory.
Was this what the rest of his life would look like? Deprived of most of his senses, permanently confined to a bed, almost entirely cut off from the outside world. How much time had passed since that mission? How long had he been imprisoned? How long had he been in the hospital? He had deliberately not asked Tsunade these questions.
Was he supposed to selfishly rely on a daily medical chakra transfusion just for a few fleeting moments of consciousness? A waste he couldn't afford. He could endure pain, but the thought of becoming a useless burden was unbearable. Fortunately, he didn't have to explain it to anyone.
He began to concentrate chakra in his hands. His reserves were dangerously low. Cold seeped through him from the inside as he directed his energy to one place. The effort was enormous; sweat trickled down his neck and back. His breathing grew heavier. His hands were sweating, too. He grasped the kunai in his right hand, trying to keep his grip steady. With his left, he flashed another sign to the ninken:
"You don’t have to watch this."
But the ninja dogs, determined not to leave him until the very end, placed their paws on Kakashi to let him know they were with him. Pakkun licked his hand again and traced a message:
"We will stay, friend."
Kakashi thought about how lucky he was to have them be so loyal to him. He flashed one last sign:
"Thank you."
Forcing himself, he raised both trembling hands as high as he could above his chest. Clumsily, he formed the seal of a technique that had preceded the deaths of many of his enemies.
Raikiri flared with a blinding blue-white glow.
Hatake poured his last strength into driving the sharp kunai deep into his own heart.
The light of the Lightning Blade flickered out along with Kakashi’s life.
The pack of ninken disappeared into a cloud of smoke, vanishing in complete silence.