Chapter 10
Not even a minute had passed when the door to the hospital room opened, and three people entered. Without turning on the light, Tsunade, Gai, and Tenzou approached the bed.
Gai pulled the kunai from Kakashi’s heart, wrapped it in a piece of cloth, and tucked it into his pocket. Tsunade placed her hand over the open wound in the silver-haired jounin’s chest and sent her chakra to close it. She changed the bandages to wipe away any trace of fresh blood. Tenzou turned off the monitors and removed the oxygen mask from Kakashi’s face—it had only been pushed up to his forehead.
The three of them worked methodically, freeing his body from IVs, tubes, and wires. When they were done, they stood side by side, keeping silent vigil until dawn.
Shortly after sunrise, Shizune entered the room. Tsunade, her voice weary, simply said:
"Kakashi Hatake is dead."
Shizune’s eyes filled with tears, which she quickly wiped away. Though she hadn’t known him very well, she had always admired him and liked his uniquely casual—yet not entirely careless—way of being. She understood what the Fifth expected of her and didn’t ask any questions.
Still silent, Gai and Tenzou left, weighed down by the unbearable burden of loss and the duty they still had to fulfill. Tsunade followed.
Maito headed to Naruto’s apartment. Tenzou went to Sai. Tsunade made her way to Sakura’s family home. They didn’t need to discuss it—each of them knew what had to be done.
Sakura’s parents were initially surprised by a visit from the Hokage herself, but they quickly understood the circumstances that had brought her there. The family had just been about to have an early breakfast—their household rhythm had been disrupted. Since returning from the mission, Sakura hadn’t been sleeping well. And ever since Kakashi-sensei had come back, she had barely slept at all.
The moment she saw the Fifth standing at their door, she burst into tears.
Tsunade pulled her into a firm embrace, as if trying to give her strength. Then she gently passed her into the arms of her parents, who held her close, whispering soft words of comfort. The Hokage stepped inside, closed the door, and remained there until Sakura had begun to calm down. Her parents led her to her room and left her with Tsunade, who sat beside her on the bed. She stroked her pink hair, offering a sad smile.
"He told me he was very proud of you, Sakura. He believed in you deeply. Just as you grieve now, feeling that you couldn’t help him recover, he tormented himself, thinking he hadn’t done enough for you—he saw your potential. He asked me to apologize to you on his behalf. I promised him I would take care of you, Sakura-chan. But you know, I would have done it even without that promise. We need each other. There is no cure for loss. It’s hard to comprehend failure when you did everything in your power to prevent it. But we will carry this with us for the rest of our lives. You and I, Sakura-chan."
Tsunade spoke as gently as she could.
Sakura couldn’t utter a single word. Her throat was too tight, her heartache too overwhelming. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to talk. She sat motionless in her mentor’s embrace, letting her stroke her back and hair. It struck her that sometimes, even adults—even those as strong and wise as Tsunade-sama—didn’t have all the answers and couldn’t stop everything bad from happening. She was strong too. She knew that.
Just… not today. Not today.
Today, she was the girl whom Kakashi-sensei had once trapped in an illusion, praised for her chakra control, scolded for being unkind to Naruto. The girl he had annoyed with his silly excuses for always being late. Today, she wanted to go back to those moments.
She couldn’t understand what Kakashi-sensei could possibly have to apologize for. She would never forget the incredible time she had spent under his guidance in Team 7.
Sai opened the door before Tenzou even had a chance to knock. The sight of Yamato-taichou standing outside his apartment didn’t surprise him.
All it took was one look into those deep, grief-stricken eyes, and Sai didn’t need to ask any questions—he simply knew. He knew what would happen from the moment Kakashi-senpai had ordered them to leave the hospital room. It had been inevitable.
With a small gesture, he invited the taichou inside.
Neither of them spoke a word as Tenzou removed his sandals. In silence, they walked into the room that served as Sai’s living room, bedroom, and kitchen. He lived modestly. Aside from the essential furniture, his space was filled with stacks of notebooks, sketchpads, scrolls, ink pots, and cups brimming with brushes and pencils. Many of them were now scattered across the table, floor, and bed.
All night, Sai had been obsessively sketching—scenes of the last battle from a bird’s-eye view, the Leaf Village, the hospital, the bloodstains on the floor. In the drawings depicting the fight, the warriors’ faces were absent. The streets of Konoha were deserted. The same emptiness lingered in the hospital corridors. The beds in the rooms were unoccupied. Everything—except for a single bloodstain on the floor—was devoid of color.
Tenzou picked up a few of the sketches from the floor, flipping through them before neatly stacking them on the table. He moved methodically, falling into a kind of trance, paying no attention to Sai. Lost in his own thoughts, the younger shinobi also seemed to forget the taichou’s presence, staring blankly out the window.
"Draw him the way you want to remember him, Sai-kohai. The way you’d want others to remember him," Tenzou’s gentle voice pulled him from his reverie.
The young ninja turned away from the window. Tenzou was sitting at the table, holding a sketchbook open to a blank page. Sai sat across from him, meeting his gaze.
"I don’t know if I can, Yamato-senpai," he admitted. "Every time I try, something slips away. I can’t capture the full complexity of who he was. I used to see him so often on these streets, even before I met him. His presence in our Village felt so naturally constant that now… now this place seems entirely foreign, abandoned, unrecognizable. And because of that, he no longer feels like himself here. The only way I can express him is through absence. It’s only in his not being here that he exists."
Tenzou and Sai sat together at the table as if they did this every day, as if such conversations were completely normal for them. Maybe that was what Kakashi had seen in them—the similarity. Both had come from Root. Neither knew their origins. Neither had ever had a real family. For years, both had been forced to suppress their emotions, only to later learn how to find them, understand them, and express them. Kakashi Hatake had belonged to their world—and yet, at the same time, he hadn’t.
Maybe that was why Sai couldn’t quite capture him. He didn’t know how to explain any of this to the taichou, so he didn’t even try.
Tenzou picked up a small brush, dipped it into an ink pot, and began painting on the blank page with short, deliberate strokes. He wasn’t an artist—his lines were simple, his imagery obvious.
As he finished, he spoke:
"Whenever we go on missions and stand side by side in battle, we trust each other completely. Yesterday, senpai said that he entrusted his life to you without hesitation, Sai-kohai. You never failed him. And you won’t fail me. I’m not saying this to comfort you—I’m telling you so you won’t doubt yourself. You were an important part of his team. And you are my comrade. I will always hold you in high regard, just as senpai did."
He gave a faint smile—utterly weighed down by the past day’s events, crushed under the weight of personal loss. Then, he showed Sai his drawing—a very childlike depiction of a scarecrow standing in a field.
Sai returned the gesture with a similarly lifeless smile.
Naruto wandered aimlessly around his apartment when he heard a knock on the door. Surprised by the early hour—it was only just sunrise—he opened it to find Gai Maito standing in the doorway.
"Gai-sensei, what are you doing here?!" Naruto's tired eyes widened in shock.
Gai was fully aware that his task would be the most difficult. He didn’t believe that Naruto would ever figure out the whole truth about Kakashi’s death, and it was better if no one ever told him. Sakura would understand in time, once she gained more knowledge and experience in medical ninjutsu. She would then realize that while Tsunade-sama had indeed saved Kakashi’s life, she had no cure for a lost will to live. Sai, on the other hand, probably knew the truth. He had been nothing but a shinobi since childhood—just like Kakashi. Both had, for a very long time, seen themselves as mere tools. Gai suspected that, in some way, Kakashi thought of himself like that until the very end. Training in Root and ANBU had been brutal; there was no place for the weak or sick within their ranks. Decisions about voluntary death were made during missions, but Kakashi, in his irreversibly hopeless state, would never again be able to take part in one. Sai understood that—Gai was counting on his discretion.
Naruto Uzumaki was entirely different. Such a radical solution would never have crossed his mind. Gai wished, more than anything, for Naruto to stay that way forever. But he doubted that kind of innocence could last long in the shinobi world.
The jounin shook off his flood of thoughts. He had a painful task ahead. Steeling himself, he asked:
"Can I come in, Naruto?"
The boy noticed that Leaf's Noble Green Beast was speaking unusually quietly for him, his voice devoid of its usual energy, as if he hadn’t slept all night—just like Naruto. He stepped aside, letting the jounin in. Maybe Hokage-sama sent him? he wondered, a bit nervous. After all, he hadn’t yet been punished for his actions during that mission. In fact, no one had even brought it up. Hardly anyone had spoken to him since their return. And after Kakashi-sensei’s supposedly successful rescue, it was as if everything around him had fallen silent.
Gai removed his sandals and followed Naruto further inside. The apartment was immaculately clean—no dirty dishes, no leftover food scraps, no unwashed clothes. The floor had been scrubbed, the bed neatly made, the air thick with the scent of cleaning products. Naruto suddenly felt self-conscious, though he had no reason to. He walked over to the window, opening it, and hurriedly, unnecessarily, began explaining:
"I couldn’t sleep last night, Gai-sensei… and, well… I just started cleaning… I even found a few good packs of ramen—I mean, only slightly expired ones… maybe you’d like some? I haven’t had breakfast yet, have you?"
Words tumbled from his mouth as he fidgeted around the room, as if trying to delay not just a serious conversation but the catastrophe he could already sense coming.
Gai Maito’s gaze was solemn, his tone filled with sorrow and sympathy as he placed a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder and suggested,
"Why don’t you sit down, Naruto?"
The boy immediately dropped into a chair, as if it were an order.
Gai hadn’t prepared any speech or chosen specific words. The blood-soaked knife, the one he had pulled from his best friend’s chest just hours before, felt unbearably heavy in his pocket. He lowered himself onto the chair beside him, staring into the wide blue eyes of the boy who had been more than just a student to Kakashi, who had been his hope. Then he said very quietly:
"Kakashi is dead."
At first, Naruto seemed not to hear. He leaned toward Gai-sensei as if expecting him to repeat those terrible words. But soon, he broke the heavy silence himself, whispering in a hoarse voice:
"That’s impossible. Hokage-sama promised me I’d speak with him today."
The color drained from his face, sweat forming on his forehead, as if accepting the truth required an actual physical effort. Gai had no intention of arguing with him, as if he were a child. No one could deny reality.
Naruto suddenly jumped up from his chair, heading for the door, but Gai caught his wrist before he could get around the table.
"Impossible! I was supposed to see him today! I was going to ask for his forgiveness!" he shouted, struggling against the grip of the strongest jounin in the Leaf Village. Tears streamed down his blue eyes. He thrashed, so Gai wrapped his powerful arms around him and held him tight.
They stood there, silent, for several minutes, still facing the doorway. The jounin’s large hands, clasped around Naruto’s chest, were wet with the boy’s tears. Through his sobs, Naruto asked:
"Why? Why didn’t he let me say it yesterday?!"
Gai had not come to explain Kakashi’s decisions. He could only grieve with his student, who now carried a burden that would weigh on him for the rest of his life. No one could help him bear it. All Maito could do was be here, just as he had been there for Kakashi all these years, as his friend had drowned in his own guilt.
The jounin breathed steadily, calmly—as if in defiance of the grief that was tearing through his heart. And soon, Naruto seemed to take on that rhythm. His shaking gradually ceased, and his sobs quieted. At last, Gai spoke, his words firm:
"He said that you are a magnificent person, and that he learned a lot from you. You draw people to you, Naruto. Kakashi believed in you until the very end—so do we all. You were truly someone special to him."
"I’ll never forgive myself, Gai-sensei," Naruto whispered.
His shoulders slumped, his back hunched, his head drooping until his chin touched his chest.
Gai loosened his hold but did not step away. For a moment, Naruto clenched his fists. Finally, he said:
"Gai-sensei, I’d like to be alone now."
The jounin hesitated for a second. As a shinobi and the Nine-Tails’ jinchuriki, Naruto could endure a great deal. He wasn’t a child anymore, but not quite an adult either. Despite his strength, he was still only a teen. Gai decided to partially grant his request.
"I’ll stay close by if you need me, Naruto."
The boy did not watch as the jounin left, put on his sandals, and stepped outside. He stood frozen in place, head hanging limp, when the door shut softly behind Gai.
Outside, Maito took a deep breath. After walking a few steps, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He did not move when the sounds came—Naruto’s raw, animalistic wail, the crash of overturned furniture, the shattering of thrown objects and breaking dishes. Only when silence fell did Gai stir from the numbness that had taken hold of him. He could not afford it yet. There would be time later for grief. Maybe he, too, would destroy something, grind it into dust—he had a deep urge to do so. But for now, he was needed.
He pushed off the wall and touched the pocket over his heart, where the bloodstained knife lay hidden. At last, he wiped the tears he could no longer hold back since stepping out of Naruto’s apartment—and returned to the grieving boy.