Ichi - One
The sunset illuminated the dark forest with its rays of sunshine, it casting its colorful light onto the dark tree leaves as the squad tread through the green bushes and scattered grass, while the light crunching of the sandals on the ground made the remorseful silence less bearing.
“Are we going to make it to Konoha in time?”, asked the certain young twelve year old, trying to light up the mood while treading lightly on a few loose branches that were scattered everywhere.
He turned his head towards the twelve year old and shook his head, his silver hair shaking in the process.
The silence was still deafening even when the birds and leaves rustling made white noise. The silence of compunction, a slight regret over the lives that were killed off for the sake of a village. Their village to be exact.
He didn’t want to kill them, but you have to reap what you sow. The situation was dire and even if Kakashi could have avoided it, he knew he would have to face another nightmare of his. The chidori, the stabbing of someone’s chest.
They didn’t call him coldblooded for nothing, even “Friend-killer Kakashi” was far worse, but it was a rewarding title. For his actions, his mistakes, his slip-ups.
If he hadn’t prepared the chidori, could he have avoided her death? If she didn’t jump in front of the target, would she have still died? All the if and hopes were not helpful and the negative thoughts swam in his head. He killed her, it was his fault. Kakashi shook the thoughts out of his mind and stared off into the distance.
The walk was long, and running wasn’t an option, base on how low their chakras were. If they were to use their chakra, they might collapse out of exhaustion.
But that was in the realm of possibilities, so he might exhaust that. What’s the harm in risking his life? It’s not like he had anything left to return to, and in his opinion, dying was a cowards way out. Fitting for him.
“Captain?”, came a sharp voice slicing through the clouded thoughts of the leader, this pulling him forth from stuff he deeply thought about.
He hadn’t realize it, but the sun had set a long time ago, the moon taking its place in the night sky.
The eyes that stared at him were already familiar, and they waited on his answer to the question. The clear exhaustion was visible on their faces, their clothes were tattered, teared and some parts tainted with the crimson color of blood.
Sighing, the white-haired man turned to his teammates, who were now looking for approval. Their eyes fixated on him, like they knew that something was up and bothering him.
“We will camp here.”, he stated, his voice heavy and direct, but his eye wide and unfocused. His finger drew a few circles upward, dismissing them. The team knew better than to question him about such trivial stuff; whatever he says goes.
They started to build up camp, which merely consists of futons of each individual, and a campfire that will illuminated the dark.
Kakashi felt compelled to take off his uniform, which was stained crimson, as it was irritating his skin. The stains could wash off in this case, but those stains? They could never. It won’t ever wash off, and he knew that from experience.
A slight hiss was barely audible, but Kakashi heard it. Slowly, he raised his head, only to see Itachi fumbling with a deep laceration, his pained gasp quiet in the air. The twenty year-old approached the young Uchiha and kneed down without a word, while examining the laceration with as much energy he could muster, for he hadn’t slept in three days.
“I can’t see anything, can you lie down?”, he asked, his voice cold as it has always been. The question was less than a question and more of an order, and Itachi did exactly what he was told.
The Uchiha lately had been much more careless than usual, and his stress lines were more visible than ever, his eyes seem dark, empty - distant - and lately Kakashi started to worry a bit. Very little. Itachi Uchiha never made and will never make such careless mistakes, so a laceration was certainly not in the field of possibility.
Kakashi took off Itachi’s uniform to get a better view and took the med kit that was passed to him from Tenzo and started sterilizing a needle. He’s seen this injury a thousand times before, and he always had it under control. Hell, he even had it on himself, numerous times. On purpose.
“Don’t be surprised.”, he etched out, spraying some disinfectant on his wound, Itachi instantly scrunching his face up in pain, yet he tried to hide it.
The needle dug into his skin and Kakashi, precise as a surgeon, started to tie up the wound. It wasn’t that visible after that, maybe the dark did help with it.
“You need to rest a bit, to not rip the stitches open till they actually hold the scar close.”, he said handing Itachi a bandage roll for him to wrap around his abdomen.
“I should go…check the perimeter.”, etched Kakashi out, standing up. He knew it was a horrible excuse and surely the rest knew too. But he just wanted some alone time to process a bit. To process what, he didn’t know. It was better not to know. Maybe the fight. Or reminiscing the past.
He excused and found himself treading along an unused trail that lead directly to a water current. A river. The smalls landscape was free, grass covered the ground and the river reflected the clear night sky, the stars shining out of this world.
His body collapsed on his knees at the edge of bank tired and limp and he didn’t have the courage to stand up anymore. His hands guided across his face and delicately pulled off his mask, uncovering his guarded layers as he continued looking down into his reflection, silently hating himself. He hated everything this life has had to offer, all of it. And he was tired of wandering through intentionless, tired of running, tired of the falling down from whatever positive - good - happens in his life. Tired of…everything. Life itself.
The hands dip into the cool water of the river and cupped a bit of water up, splashing his face to get rid of the burning shame that lingered all over him. He ran his wet hands through his crimson stained grey hair, trying to clean of the blood as good as he can. As good as he knew, as good as he could. But the blood was always going to be there, all over his hands, all over his face.
His eyes glazed over his face and intentionally starred at the zagged scar of his left eye. A slight gasp escaped from his lips and he intently stared at the sharingan, that was staring back at him, hopelessly, disappointed.
A strong feeling bloomed in his chest, and it started to rip his partially healed heart all apart again, in revenge, in self-loath. He didn’t deserve to live. He didn’t had to courage to continue. He didn’t want to live anymore. His life was a mess.
The breaking of a branch nearby pulled him back out of thought and his head turned towards the sound, and there was a fox. Forget redemption and all that meaningless shit, regret was nagging at him.
His form straightened and he on reflex pulled his mask back up, wanting to hide the ugly part of himself. He’s worn it since his childhood, as a way of keeping private matter to himself, and ever since his father committed suicide, the mask has held its meaning. To hide the ugly part himself, where everything he’s done wrong hid.
He stood up, carrying himself on again through his regretful life. But after he left that place, something stuck at him. Gnawed at him. A lingering feeling. It wasn’t feeling of doom, it was a different one. One Kakashi hasn’t had felt in a long time, or even felt before.
It didn’t feel good.