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Kakashi is very, very young when he spits out a petal during dinner with his father. He coughs a few times, before he reaches up to his face, pulls down his mask, and doesn’t notice his father’s eyes widen in a mixture of shock and horror.
He frowns at the petal, uncomprehending. He picks it up off of his rice with his chopsticks, and wonders how he could have possibly swallowed it without knowing. The only yellow flowers he remembered from the day were the ones he had passed when he walked by Yamanaka’s flower shop. And even if he had passed more that he didn’t remember, he was still always wearing a mask.
He glances past the petal at his father, who is still staring, and frowns slightly. “Otōsan?” He asks uncertainly, which seems to be enough to pull his father out of his stupor.
“Sorry,” his father says, but is still staring. “What was the name of that girl you said you met today?”
“Nohara Rin,” He answers, not understanding the sudden topic change. “Otōsan, why did I just spit out a petal?”
“And what are your thoughts on Rin?” His father asks, not seeming to hear him. His father does look him in the eyes this time, though, which eases some of the tension knotting in Kakashi’s chest.
He shrugs, and places his chopsticks down, letting the petal fall between them. “She’s okay. She’s nice, though.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“She wants to be a kunoichi.” Kakashi reminds him, but then thinks for a moment. “But she said she wants to be an iryō-nin, so I guess it makes sense.” He shrugs.
His father looks over him curiously for a moment, as if something doesn’t add up. He doesn’t ask anything else, however, and the dinner devolves into silence until Kakashi asks him some questions about jutsus he had read about. His father doesn’t exactly relax, but at least he loses that small look of horror in his eyes, so Kakashi takes it as a win.
He later learns that that petal was from a daffodil, and that it was simply the first of many.
It’s a few months later, and he’s sparring with his father when suddenly he’s coughing and something’s coming up his throat. He rolls to the right to dodge a punch, and kneels on the ground as he pulls off his mask and sees some thin white petals stuck there. He brushes them off as his father closes the distance between them.
“Are you okay?” His father asks, a comforting hand on his back. Kakashi quickly stands up, dislodging the hand. That was stupid of him. If this was a real fight, he would be dead. Too much weakness.
“Yes,” He answers reflexively, ignoring the way his stomach is turning uncomfortably and how his throat feels weird. His father looks at him for a moment, before suddenly he’s kneeling down, wrapping him in a tight hug, and running a hand through his hair.
He’s too surprised to react, and by the time he regains his senses, his father is already pulling away. The hands stay on him, though, strong and supportive. Protective. “Otōsan, what’s wrong? What do the flowers mean?” He asks. His voice is carefully neutral as he pointedly ignores the way anxiety curls within him at his father’s strange behavior.
“It’s not about the daisies,” His father says softly, his eyes flickering to the small pile of white petals. He then sighs, “Come with me, I need to talk to you about something.”
He learns that night about what happens when shinobi love someone dearly. How the chakra inside of them reacts to caring about someone so deeply, but not getting any in return. He is told about how there are plants growing in his body, growing as he does, and how they can eventually grow too large, filling the lungs and crushing other organs.
Kakashi is five years old when he learns that he has already failed as a shinobi before becoming one, because shinobi are supposed to be emotionless tools and the petals that come out of his mouth are proof that he is anything but.
His father thinks he loves Rin, he realizes as he watches the girl laugh from her spot sitting across from him. It would make sense. She is pretty and kind and smart. She is no genius, but she is also no fool. He’s seen her help a classmate with their homework and he’s also seen her beat that same classmate up when sparring. She is emotional, but also capable.
It would make sense for Kakashi to love Rin. It would be easy for Kakashi to love Rin.
He excuses himself to go to the bathroom, and is grateful that it is empty as he throws up roses as red as blood into the toilet. He hacks and splutters. His chest aches and he wheezes for a bit even after it’s all out.
He thinks of the loudmouthed boy that made Rin laugh, with dark hair and goggles and dreams that were bigger than his grades.
It would be easy for him to love Rin, he thinks as he flushes the toilet.
He watches the rose petals spin and disappear, and he doesn't love Rin.
He finds his father’s body in a pool of his own blood and, for a single moment, he doesn’t understand.
And then he does, and his entire world changes and tilts and spins, and before he knows it he has his hands on his father’s (cold, too cold) back and is hoping that this is all somehow not real.
His father’s body slumps over, showing the wound that ended his father’s life. Blood covers Kakashi’s hands and his vision goes blurry from tears.
He’s not aware again until he’s sitting in some hard, plastic chair and a kind nurse is trying to talk to him while washing the blood off of his hands.
He realizes later, much later, that his father died thinking Kakashi loved someone who could love him back. His father died thinking that Kakashi could be saved, could be cured.
Kakashi’s father died thinking that his son would not die from the plants growing inside of him.
His father died thinking a lie.
Because Kakashi is not blind. Kakashi had watched the boy with orange goggles enter the Academy late every morning. He had seen him be chastised by teachers, and fail all the tests. He had seen the boy laugh and shout and cry.
Kakashi had watched Obito.
Kakashi had watched Obito fall in love with Rin.
Sensei tells him after the last D-rank of the day that there are plans to add two newly-graduated genin to their team. Kakashi listens and nods and replies at all the right points, and then heads home to a too-quiet apartment that he wishes he could fill with the laughter and loudness of Uchiha Obito.
He curls up in bed and coughs up honeysuckle and lets it sit on the floor with the pile of petals that is already there. He lies there and he struggles to breathe and keep his dinner down and he wonders why he was doomed to love a boy who loved girls instead.
Obito and Rin join the team, and by the end of the first day sensei has a steady hand on his back as he kneels down on the grass and a mixture of throw up and gardenia. He thinks of Obito’s laugh and Obito’s smile and the way the boy just won’t give up even though the world screams against him.
He rasps out an apology after he’s done. He feels frayed and tense and exhausted. He’s shaking slightly, and suddenly sensei’s pressing him into his chest in what he realizes is a gentle but firm hug.
“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Sensei murmurs, and his voice sounds strange. He lets go, but keeps his hands on Kakashi’s shoulders as if he’s afraid the boy will fall without support. “When did this start?”
Kakashi is quiet, for a moment, before he decides there’s no avoiding or sidestepping the question. “When I was four,” He answers softly. “But it’s fine, sensei. I…I’ll be fine.”
“Kakashi you’re-“ Sensei cuts himself off, unable to say dying. Because he is, he knows. Kakashi’s dying of love. Instead of finishing his sentence, sensei tightens his grip and gives Kakashi another hug. “Who is it?”
Kakashi stays silent, but unconsciously starts thinking of warm smiles and adorable scowls and dark eyes that show only kindness where in most shinobi it would be steel and-
He yanks himself out of sensei’s grip and gags. He spits out several calla lily petals before he has a grip on himself one more and chokes down the rest. “I’m fine,” He says, waving sensei’s hands away. “Don’t worry.”
“Kakashi…” Sensei says, his voice soft. “This isn’t something to be ashamed about. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
“Shinobi are emotionless,” Kakashi says, his voice hoarse but firm. “We do not feel, we do not love.” He pulls up his mask. “I can deal with this myself.”
He leaves, and sensei lets him.
Sensei goes home to warmth and smiles. He embraces the one he loves - a beautiful, strong kunoichi who has hair the color of the carnations Kakashi coughs up when he thinks about the boy he loves.
Sensei doesn’t forget, but Kakashi learns quickly how to avoid the questions. He knows it might seem odd to Rin and Obito that suddenly he starts going home at the same time as them rather than sticking around to try and train more, but he doesn’t care.
(It’s a blessing and a curse, in the end. He gets to spend more time with Obito - gets to see his bright smiles and cute scowls and the adorable way his face scrunches up when he’s thinking hard about something - but in return he spends more time hunched over at home, hacking up signs of love and adoration and imminent death.)
Part of him hates Rin.
Not her, exactly, but everything she represents and the way she was easily handed the only thing Kakashi has ever wanted.
He hates how his father thought he loved her and how easy it would have been if he did. He hates how easily she’s able to encourage Obito and how she always knows the right things to say to bring a smile to his face. He hates how everyone loves and cares for her because she is able to do the same to them. He hates how she can move around freely without the burden of the name Hatake or the title of prodigy.
He hates how she has Obito’s entire heart and doesn’t seem to even want it.
Part of him hates her.
He hates how he can’t properly hate her, because he can’t ever hate someone who causes Obito such happiness, such joy.
He hates Rin, but he can’t.
And he hates her for that too.
So he continues to bury his emotions, bury himself, behind the stone-cold, unfeeling wall of shinobi rules and regulations.
It wasn’t like Obito would ever love him back, anyway. He has too many shadows for the sun.
The mission to Kannabi Bridge comes, and does not leave quietly.
Rin is taken - captured by Iwa-nin and gone before he or Obito could do anything.
“We have to go after them,” Obito says, and Kakashi wants to argue that that’s not the mission. He wants to hide behind the heartless walls of shinobi rules. He wants to resist the determined fire in Obito’s eyes and forget all of Rin’s kindness.
He wants to hate. He wants to be petty. He wants to succumb to bitterness.
But the petals are stuck in his throat, and he has no choice but to nod. To agree. To relent.
He simply cannot kill his heart after he’s already given it away.
So he spits out primrose when Obito’s back is turned, and he plans.
He can barely breathe the rest of the mission. He replies to all of Obito’s words in clipped sentences, either cut off by the need for oxygen or flowers forcing their way up his throat.
He fights, but it’s hard. It’s hard to focus on his kenjutsu when his lungs ache. It’s hard to focus on an enemy when your body screams for you to focus on it.
But no, not now, he can’t falter now. He doesn’t have time, he doesn’t have an opening, he doesn’t have oxygen.
He stumbles, and suddenly his field of vision is cut in half.
He reels back, clutching his eye in one hand, and holds up his tantō defensively in front of him. The blade is shaking in his hand, but he doesn’t know if that’s from too much adrenaline, his wound, or lack of oxygen.
His eye burns and bleeds, but he can’t stop now. He told Obito he’d play distraction while the boy freed Rin. If he’s defeated here then they’ll be up against two jōnin.
He can’t lose. He can’t lose.
He can’t breathe.
He is about to calculate how long he has before he passes out, but his mind is moving sluggishly and the enemy is right in front of him, so he charges instead.
It’s stupid, it’s reckless, it’s emotional.
Just like the boy who took his breath away.
His mind doesn’t process what happens next - it’s all pure instinct. He swipes and dodges and ducks and manages to get a good stab in before the black spots start taking over the majority of his vision.
He’s rewarded with a blade in his own chest for his efforts, but he doesn’t care. The enemy is weakened, hurting, wounded. Obito is more capable than people tend to think, and Rin is able to steel herself more than most would believe. With the nasty wound in the Iwa-nin’s side, they’ll be able to seize the advantage.
His last sight before he is forced into unconsciousness is the Iwa-nin removing his blade and sneering at him.
He wakes up slowly. His entire body aches, his throat scratches, his left eye screams, and his stomach tosses and turns violently.
He keeps his eyes closed and his breathing steady, and reaches out sluggishly with his senses to discern that the chakra signatures are friendly.
The two hands he feels on his side that are spreading warm medical chakra through his body is Rin. Her signature is as strong and steady as ever, so she wasn’t hurt badly.
To his right, kneeling close by, is Obito.
As soon as he thinks the name, his breath catches and he’s suddenly turning on his side to hack up flowers. He forgets that he still has his mask on, so there’s a moment where he fumbles and accidentally dislodges the hands on him. His chest yanks and burns around his stab wound, and he detachedly realizes he probably just undid whatever treatment Rin gave him.
There are sounds around him - Rin is talking to him, he realizes vaguely - but he can’t hear anything. He’s still so tired, so weak.
He slips back into unconsciousness with orchid petals still stuck on his lips.
When he wakes up again, sensei is sitting beside him. The man’s heads snaps toward him the second his eyes - eye - opens, due to an alertness that only comes from a ninja on watch.
“What happened?” He whispers hoarsely. His mind seems to be stuck in a fog, his vision is halved, and his chest and stomach are so, so sore.
Sensei smiles at him reassuringly, but there’s more sadness and tenderness than usual. “Do you remember anything?” He asks, shifting his own position to look over Kakashi better.
He thinks for a minute, and then suddenly there’s petals spilling out of his mouth instead of words. It’s not a lot - his body is worn out and his chakra is depleted, so there’s little fuel for the plants in his lungs - but it’s enough to irritate his aching lungs and chest wound. He feels nauseous, his stomach churning angrily at the disruption.
He stares at the petals. Daffodils, like the first time. Back when his father thought it was some girl that Kakashi stood a chance with.
“I’m sorry,” He says, unable to look sensei in the eye.
For some reason this makes sensei get sadder, and the man puts an arm around him, pulling him into an extremely careful and gentle hug. He doesn’t acknowledge the apology verbally, but the embrace feels like an answer in itself.
When sensei pulls away, he finds the strength to look into those bright blue eyes, “Did you...tell them?”
Sensei opens his mouth to answer, but suddenly there’s footsteps and Kakashi turns just in time to see a blur come to a halt beside him.
It’s Obito, looking at him with wide eyes that look red from crying. His goggles are gone, making the boy’s face seem more emotional, more vulnerable.
Kakashi gags, but nothing comes up. He doesn’t have the chakra or energy.
“You jerk,” Obito whispers. “Why didn’t you say anything? You’re-“ he bit his lip. “You’re dying, Bakashi. You were there and you were bleeding so badly and Rin looked over you and you weren’t breathing.”
“I know,” Kakashi rasps out, trying and failing to muster up an annoyed glare. “It’s fine.”
“Fine?! Nothing is fine with you dying!” Obito nearly yells. “I thought you were supposed to be smart. Nothing is okay about you dying!”
“Well, what do you want me to say?” He wheezes out. He coughs, his lungs squeezing slightly and he has to turn to spit out the petals. His vision is so blurry that he can’t even it make out. He’s dizzy, he realizes distantly. “Shinobi aren’t meant to fall in love. It’s too dangerous. I broke the rules and I’m scum now and I’m paying for it.”
Obito looks at him. “Those who break the rules in the shinobi world are seen as scum.” He says, his voice adopting a strange tone. “But those who deny their humanity have to be worse than scum. People can’t… You shouldn’t be expected to...to kill your heart just to be some tool!”
“I can’t kill it,” he says. He feels stuck in a fog. He’s so, so tired. He’s in pain and he’s light-headed and he’s exhausted.
“I already gave it to you.” His voice is slurred, he’s struggling to keep his eye open. Actually, why is he even trying anyway? There’s no reason to.
Just as his eye starts to close, though, there are hands on his shoulders, shaking him firmly. “Kakashi, you idiot. You’re not allowed to die.”
“Obito,” sensei says, but it sounds distant. If he says anything else, Kakashi doesn’t catch it. He actually forgot the man was still there.
But Obito must ignore sensei, since suddenly there’s a bit of a weight on his chest. It’s Obito, he sees when he opens his eye. The boy’s trying to hug him and has rested his head right over where Kakashi’s heartbeat is. He’s also somehow carefully avoided his stab wound.
He’s crying, Kakashi can see. He wants to ask what exactly the boy is thinking, but his mind isn’t working right.
“You idiot,” Obito repeats softly, “You’re an idiot. You can’t die. You can’t die. I love you. I love you. You can’t die.”
Kakashi’s brain stutters to a halt, but Obito doesn’t stop repeating the words just loud enough for Kakashi to hear.
He freezes.
Then, he convulses. He definitely tears open his wounds. Obito sits up quickly, and he’s aware of both sensei and Obito looking at him in panic.
He turns on his side, and he heaves. He has his mask on the first time, but a hand - he’s not quite sure whose it is - pulls it down quickly. His body is shaking, and sensei carefully helps him into a better position to throw up since all of his limbs have lost their strength. He’s partially propped up against Obito, but the boy doesn’t move away.
He throws up not just petals, but whole flowers. He throws up stems and leaves and roots. It comes up and up and up and he can’t breathe but at the same time it feels like his lungs are being cleared.
And then suddenly there’s nothing left to come up, and it’s just him leaning on Obito in the middle of the forest. Sensei’s there, off to the side slightly, and Rin (when did she wake up?) comes over quickly to start re-healing his stomach wound.
He feels absolutely awful. There’s no energy left in his body, and the only reason he’s even partially upright is because of Obito. His body is trembling, and there’s a wetness in his eye that he wants to wipe away but simply doesn’t have the strength to do it.
Obito and sensei carefully help him lie back down, but Obito doesn’t leave his side. The boy curls up next to him, similar to a cat, and rests his head against Kakashi’s shoulder.
Kakashi hates people close to him. He hates it and Obito’s head is uncomfortable and the boy’s too warm and is getting tears on Kakashi and he’s so, so close. He hates people close to him, people touching him. He hates idiots and rulebreakers and crybabies.
It would make sense for Kakashi to hate Obito. It would be easy for Kakashi to hate Obito.
He carefully dislodges an arm and wraps it around Obito, and takes a deep breath. He can breathe better than he has been able to in a long, long time. There’s no restriction, no petals. He exhales and the only thing that comes out is air.
He thinks of the boy who arrived late to every single practice, every class, every event. He thinks of the way the boy’s eyes crinkle when he smiles and how he sometimes snorts when he laughs.
It would be so easy for him to hate Obito, he thinks as he closes his eyes.
He feels the boy shift slightly in his arms, pressing closer to his side, and he doesn’t hate Obito.