Loss
Barefoot, Kakashi padded softly over the cool floor, the faint echo of his steps resonating through the darkened house. Every now and then, he sniffled quietly as he made his way toward his father. Outside, the night was at its deepest, and only the moonlight filtered through the windows, casting everything in a gentle glow. When he reached the bedroom door, Kakashi stretched up to grasp the handle and carefully opened the door. Silently, he crept into the room, his eyes fixed on the bed where his father lay peacefully. Without hesitation, he climbed up onto the bed and nestled close to him.
No sooner had Kakashi reached the bed than Sakumo suddenly opened his eyes. Without hesitation, he sat up slightly, his forehead creased with concern. "Kakashi? Is everything all right?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with worry, as he drew the boy tenderly onto the bed beside him.
Kakashi snuggled up close to his father, pressing his face firmly into his side, as if seeking shelter there. Sakumo gently wrapped an arm around his son and stroked his small back in a soothing motion. For a while, silence fell over them, broken only by the faint sounds of the night outside. Then, in a soft voice, Sakumo whispered, "Did you have a nightmare?"
Kakashi nodded silently, a quiet sniffle escaping him as he pressed his face even deeper into Sakumo’s side. His father remained calm, his hand moving gently and steadily over the small back, offering comfort in the darkness. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
Slowly, Kakashi pulled away from his father’s protective embrace and sat up, his eyes still red and glistening from crying. "You… you weren’t there anymore. I was all alone," he explained, his voice breaking, as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
Sakumo softly brushed a strand of hair from Kakashi’s face and gave him a reassuring smile. "I’m here, and you’re not alone," he said in a calm, warm tone.
Kakashi pressed his face once more against Sakumo’s side, his small hands clutching tightly to the fabric of his sweater. Sakumo held still, pulling his son gently closer, as though shielding him from every darkness in the world. A stillness hung over them for a while until Kakashi finally raised his head, his voice quiet and uncertain. “Will you promise to always stay with me?” he murmured, almost pleadingly.
Sakumo hesitated for a moment, his gaze softening before he finally nodded slightly. "Of course, Kakashi," he whispered gently, "I’ll stay with you as long as I can. I’ll never leave you."
Content, Kakashi nestled close to his father, feeling the warm closeness and the comforting strength that radiated from him. “I love you, Dad!”
“I love you too, Kashi!” Sakumo replied with a tender smile, wrapping his arms protectively around his son. "Now sleep, little one. I’ll be here when you wake up."
**********
Kakashi's eyes shot open. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, and his breathing was shallow and uneven. For a moment, he stayed motionless, then slowly sat up and took a deep breath. He ran a hand over his face, letting it fall back down to rest limply in his lap as he gazed at his hands. After a steadying breath, he glanced at the alarm clock by the bed—a gift from Minato.
For nearly two weeks, Kakashi had been staying at his sensei's house. Deep down, he was grateful not to be alone. Together, they had spent the past few days planning the funeral and arranging everything that needed to be done. Minato’s presence offered a sense of security, yet Kakashi had already made up his mind: after the funeral, he would return home. He didn’t want to be a burden on anyone, even if the thought of being alone again unsettled him.
Slowly, he swung his legs out of bed and headed to the bathroom to start his day. Outside, it was still pitch-dark, and he knew there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. Since Sakumo’s death, nightmares had plagued him nightly, tearing him from sleep, and not a single night had passed without them. The exhaustion weighed on him, making his insides feel heavy and dull. But he showed no sign of it—he was a shinobi, after all.
Arriving in the bathroom, he began his morning routine. Mechanically, he washed and changed into fresh clothes, his hands working on autopilot as his mind drifted. When he was finally ready, he looked up and met his own gaze in the mirror—a face that looked hollow, almost unfamiliar. Today would be no ordinary day, as today was Sakumo’s funeral.
A barely visible shiver ran through him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt fear like this. How many people would come? Probably not many, he thought bitterly.
Taking a deep breath, Kakashi tied on his hitai-ate, glanced around the bathroom once more, and stepped out. He decided to prepare breakfast; Minato would likely wake up soon. His sensei left his bedroom door cracked open every night—a silent sign that he was there if Kakashi needed him.
Kakashi always insisted that he didn’t need anyone’s care, that he could manage alone. But inwardly, he felt a deep gratitude for Minato’s willingness to take him in. The warmth and calm his sensei brought to the house grounded him, even if he’d never admit it.
In the kitchen, Kakashi began gathering everything for breakfast, even though some things were out of reach. But he was a chunin—small obstacles could be overcome. Carefully, he set the table and then began chopping ingredients. The soft, rhythmic tapping of the knife filled the still kitchen.
As expected, Minato entered the room shortly afterward. Kakashi glanced over his shoulder briefly and frowned—Minato looked exhausted. For a moment, a pang of guilt stirred in him; he knew his sensei hadn’t been taking much time to rest because of him. But he brushed the feeling aside. Minato had chosen to wake up this early, after all.
“Good morning, Minato-sensei,” Kakashi greeted, his voice calm and with a brief nod before he returned to his work.
Suppressing a yawn, Minato moved to Kakashi’s side, watching him chop. “Good morning, Kakashi,” he replied with a gentle smile, crossing his arms. For a moment, a comfortable silence settled between them until Minato finally spoke, breaking the quiet. “Isn’t it a bit early for breakfast?” he teased lightly, though the tiredness was still evident in his eyes.
Kakashi merely shrugged and continued his work, unfazed. He had woken up even earlier today than usual—the thought of lying in bed any longer had been unbearable. “You can go back to sleep if you want,” he replied dryly, keeping his gaze fixed on the cutting board. “I can handle it.” His tone was steady, almost cool, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed more than he intended.
Minato hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head back slightly. “I just thought you might still be tired,” he finally said in a calm tone, his gaze settling back on Kakashi. “You haven’t slept much the past few nights.” His words were gentle, without reproach—just a quiet observation.
Kakashi heard the concern in Minato’s voice but showed no reaction. “I’m fine,” he replied curtly, not looking up. He paused for a moment before adding, “Besides, today is an important day. I can’t afford to be late.”
Minato regarded Kakashi silently for a moment, then gave a soft smile and said, “I’ll get ready quickly, then we can have breakfast together.” Without waiting for a response, he turned toward the door, as if this shared routine was a given—a silent promise that Kakashi wouldn’t face the day alone.
Kakashi watched him go, then turned back to the breakfast he was preparing. The routine helped him organize his thoughts. Part of him was relieved that Minato was simply here, without many words, without the crushing weight of expectations.
A little while later, Minato returned to the kitchen, now fully awake and with a friendly smile on his face. He sat down at the table, watching Kakashi in silence as he finished up. “Looks good,” he finally remarked, tapping the tabletop lightly.
Kakashi sat down across from him without a word. They ate in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
“Today will be hard,” Minato eventually said softly, without looking directly at Kakashi. “But we’ll get through it together. Whatever happens, you don’t have to carry this alone.” Kakashi nodded but stayed silent.
His gaze remained fixed on his food, his fingers gripping the chopsticks tightly. He just wanted to get through the day, to shed the weight of it and go home as quickly as possible. It was better this way, he told himself. Minato had already done more for him than he could ever ask. The last thing Kakashi wanted was to be a further burden.
Yet, despite everything, he felt a faint, contradictory stir within him—the desire to hold on to this quiet comfort and his sensei’s closeness just a little longer.
***********
Kakashi stood motionless in front of the fresh grave, his gaze fixed on the dark earth. The Hokage spoke to the few mourners gathered, his voice clear and composed, but the words barely registered with Kakashi. His mind was trapped in the images replaying before him—memories of his father's lifeless body, the coldness and silence that had enveloped everything.
He struggled to push the images away, but it was harder than he had ever expected. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt, but he steadied himself, determined not to show any weakness. He was a shinobi—and today, that meant staying strong, even if everything inside him hurt.
As expected, not many had come to the funeral. A few shinobi stood silently behind Kakashi, their presence quiet and respectful. Some civilians had also gathered, but their glances and hushed whispers revealed they were here for other reasons. They came to vent their frustrations, and their quiet, cutting words reached Kakashi's ears like poison.
He tried to ignore them, to focus on those who were truly there to say goodbye. But the muffled murmurs burned within him, making the ache in his chest even heavier. The remarks about his father—and about himself—cut deep, yet he forced himself to lift his chin and keep his gaze fixed on the grave.
Beside him stood Minato and Kushina, silent, yet their presence radiated a warmth that offered him a glimmer of comfort. Their quiet support helped ease some of the pain, reminding him that there were still people who cared about him.
But deep within, Kakashi felt a loneliness that even their closeness couldn’t dispel. Every part of him longed to have his father back, to simply go home with him. But this wish was fleeting, a bittersweet thought.
The Hokage finished his speech and slowly approached Kakashi, who instinctively tensed up. He met the Hokage’s gaze, ready to resist any further expression of sympathy. But the Hokage only gave him a gentle smile and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“My deepest condolences,” he murmured softly, giving Kakashi’s shoulder a light squeeze. “And don’t hesitate to come to me if you ever need support.” His voice was warm, filled with genuine care. With a final, encouraging smile, he released Kakashi and walked away.
Slowly, Kakashi let the tension drain from his body, watching the Hokage for a moment before turning his gaze back to his father’s grave. Around him, the other mourners began to move.
Some walked by silently, giving him quick, sympathetic glances, while others whispered their thoughts, little more than a faint murmur, but clear enough for Kakashi to hear. Each glance and whispered comment reignited the pain in his chest. His hands clenched into fists, and the grief threatened to overwhelm him like a wave.
Suddenly, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, gently pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up into Minato’s eyes, filled with compassion and quiet encouragement. A gentle smile played on Minato’s lips as he softly asked, “Shall we go?”
Kakashi let his gaze linger on the grave one last time before nodding slowly. The thought of staying here any longer was unbearable. Every part of him longed to return home—even though he knew that much awaited him there.
Since his father’s death, the house had been neglected, dust settling over every surface, especially in the study… The thought of going in and tidying it felt painful, but he knew he’d have to face it eventually. He also needed to check the supplies; there were probably a lot of things he’d have to restock.
They left the cemetery in silence, Kakashi walking a few steps ahead of Minato and Kushina. He could hear their quiet whispers behind him, though the words were too soft to understand—and, honestly, he didn’t care. He could guess they were discussing his decision to return home.
In recent days, Minato had tried multiple times to talk to him about it, to convince him to stay a bit longer, but Kakashi had already made up his mind. Going back felt like the only thing that made sense to him. He didn’t want to be a burden to anyone and was determined to find his own way back to life—however hard it might be.
At the end of the road, Kakashi stopped and turned to Minato and Kushina, who paused immediately, looking at him attentively. For a moment, Kakashi hesitated, then took a deep breath and bowed slightly.
“Thank you…” he began softly but firmly, “for letting me stay with you these past few days, Minato-sensei. And thank you both for being at the funeral today.” He straightened up, meeting their eyes with steady resolve. “But now I have to go home.”
He noticed Kushina giving Minato a light nudge, an unspoken encouragement. Minato took a step closer, his eyes filled with warmth and resolve. “At least let me walk you home,” he said gently.
Kushina nodded, smiling warmly. “I’m sure there’s a lot that needs doing in the house,” she added kindly. “I could pick up some groceries and restock the kitchen. An empty fridge won’t help anyone.”
Kakashi immediately shook his head. “Thank you, but it’s really not necessary,” he replied quietly but firmly. “I can handle it.”
He was determined not to burden them further, resolved to handle things on his own—just as he always had.
Minato opened his mouth, but Kushina stepped in with a determined look before he could speak. “Don’t be so stubborn,” she said firmly, placing a warm hand on Kakashi’s shoulder. “Minato will walk you home, and I’ll handle the groceries. I’ll come by later.” Her smile was full of confidence and kindness, and her words left no room for argument.
“And don’t you think for a second that you’re a burden to us,” she added, her eyes gentle yet unwavering. “We’re happy to help you.”
Before Kakashi could even think of a reply, Kushina turned, threw him an encouraging smile over her shoulder, and set off purposefully toward the village.
Kakashi watched her in silence, knowing it would be pointless to try changing her mind. A soft sigh escaped him, but before he could sink too deeply into his thoughts, Minato’s calm voice brought him back. “Come on, let’s go,” he said gently. Kakashi nodded without a word, and together they started toward his home.
**********
Soon, they reached the house, and Kakashi felt a tight, painful tension settle around his chest. Every part of him screamed to run away, to avoid confronting the memories, but he knew he had to face them. He forced his emotions deep within and continued forward without hesitation.
Together, they crossed the small front yard and reached the door. Kakashi paused for a moment, took a deep breath, then reached out, gripped the handle, and opened the door. With a soft creak, the house revealed its silent, empty interior. Kakashi stepped inside, with Minato close behind him, silent and patient.
Slowly, Kakashi took off his sandals and placed them neatly to the side—a near-mechanical act that helped him maintain control over his rising emotions. He stepped into the hallway, his gaze drawn to the closed door of the study. A suffocating feeling settled around his chest; his heartbeat quickened, and he felt his stomach twist painfully.
But he knew he had to enter that room—the place frozen in time, waiting to remind him of everything he had lost.
Standing in front of the door, Kakashi could no longer suppress the tremor running through him. Slowly, he lifted his hand, fingers brushing over the doorknob before finally wrapping around it. Yet, in the final moment, he hesitated. His hand shook, his knees felt weak, and each breath was labored as his heart raced painfully.
A sense of powerlessness overwhelmed him—a familiar, crushing swirl of fear and loneliness. In moments like these, it had always been his father who gave him strength, a steady, calming presence to soothe the turmoil within him. But now he was alone, and the cold grip of fear held him tightly as he struggled to regain himself.
Just as Kakashi felt he was about to completely lose control, Minato knelt beside him, gently placing his hands on Kakashi’s shoulders and carefully turning him around. His touch was firm, yet warm and reassuring.
“You don’t have to go in alone,” Minato whispered, his voice calm and certain. He held Kakashi’s gaze, his eyes filled with compassion and strength. “And you don’t have to go through this alone.”
Kakashi bit his lower lip, his gaze drifting back to the door. “I have to go in,” he said finally, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed a hint of uncertainty. His tone was resolute, but a storm raged within.
He looked at Minato, the words heavy on his lips. “I’m not entirely sure why,” he added quietly, “but… it feels important.”
Minato sighed softly, his gaze dropping as if searching for the right words. After a moment, he lifted his head again, a quiet determination in his eyes. With a gentle nod, he said calmly, “I’m here with you.”
Kakashi swallowed hard, turning his gaze back to the door in front of him. Beside him, Minato rose from his crouch, standing close at his side.
With a deep breath, Kakashi finally reached for the handle, pressed it down, and opened the door. The room lay still and unchanged before him, frozen in time. As he took his first step inside, memories hit him with full force—images and emotions almost overwhelming him.
He forced himself to stay strong, pushed the wave of emotions back, and moved further into the room. Each step felt heavy, yet he knew he had to walk this path.
To his surprise, the room was immaculate, as if untouched by pain or sorrow. No trace of the darkness that once lingered here. Kakashi glanced at Minato, who stood beside him with a look of understanding.
“I hope you’re not upset,” Minato said gently. “Kushina and I cleaned everything up. We thought it might be best this way.” His gaze was steady, filled with compassion and a desire to help Kakashi however he could.
Kakashi shook his head silently and walked to the center of the room. There, he slowly sank to his knees, placing his hand on the floor exactly where his father had lain. The cool touch of the wooden floor seemed to bring the memories to life, and a flood of emotions surged through him: deep sorrow, loneliness, painful despair—and even anger.
His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white as he fought the storm within. He knew he had to move forward, that life continued despite everything. But the thought of it nearly tore him apart.
The loss of his father had left him alone. Their savings wouldn’t last forever, and the cold, distrustful gazes of the villagers still haunted him. He knew they spoke his name with his father’s in the same breath, that they believed he’d fall to the same failures. But he was determined to prove them wrong.
He would show them that he was different—that he put the village’s well-being above all else and was willing to make any sacrifice. Kakashi understood that he could never make the same mistake his father had. From this day forward, he was on his own, and he would do whatever it took to prove himself and earn the trust so often denied him. He promised himself he would never let anyone down again.
“When do we start training again, Sensei?” Kakashi’s voice was cool, almost distant, his gaze fixed on the floor. “It’s time for me to move on.”
Minato stepped closer, his voice gentle but firm. “Kakashi,” he said quietly, “no one expects you to move on immediately. You don’t have to prove your strength by simply pushing all of this away.” He let the words hang in the room's silence and placed a hand on Kakashi’s shoulder. “Take the time you need to grieve. It’s not weakness.”
Slowly, Kakashi stood and looked directly at Minato, his eyes filled with determination that formed a shield around his vulnerable soul. “I’ve grieved long enough,” he said, his voice steady but filled with an iron will. “Please, Sensei… can we begin again?”
Minato was silent for a moment, his gaze seeming to drift into thought. Finally, he took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said softly. “We’ll begin training tomorrow.” His words granted permission, though Kakashi could sense the hesitation behind them—Minato wasn’t fully in agreement, and the concern was clear in his eyes. But Kakashi was undeterred.
He no longer wanted to retreat or remain frozen in grief. He was a shinobi, a chunin, and there was a war. He had a purpose, a duty that helped bring order to the chaos inside him.
Kakashi nodded and stepped resolutely out of the room. “Tomorrow morning, at the usual time?” he asked with a quick glance over his shoulder. His voice was steady, though the countless emotions he’d pushed down still churned within him.
“Tomorrow morning, same time,” Minato confirmed, standing still as he watched Kakashi with a thoughtful gaze. Kakashi gave a brief nod and then turned decisively toward the kitchen. There was much to be done, and these tasks offered him a way to regain control over his thoughts and emotions.
He no longer wanted to dwell in the darkness of his grief. Instead, he would look forward and carve out his own path—a path that would free him not only from his pain but also from the weight of the past.