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Kakashi’s never cared enough to worry about whatever bastardization of the afterlife his soul would end up in.
Most shinobi’s don’t as a general rule. How can they when they stain their hands with enough blood to fill hundreds of small basins for a paycheck? Sure, there’s a few like the Hyuga and the Uchiha, whose clan lore glamorizes battle so much they have a clear picture of their soul’s destination. But the general population of nins are more than happy with understanding that wherever their souls go...it can’t be anywhere good, and leaving it at that.
Avoiding the afterlife is a much more pressing, present, concern.
But fuck if the information wouldn’t come in handy right about now. He’s regretted a lot of things in his life. More than he can ever hope to put a number on. He never imagined not being more philosophical would make its way onto the list.
He should have listened to Sasuke when he’d been explaining, in excruciating detail, to Naruto and Sakura just where the departed go, last night while they set up camp. He would have, but the temptation to remind Sasuke that technically, he was oversharing clan secrets, had been at the tip of his tongue and—
Seeing Sasuke start to open up, even if it was over something morose like death, with progress that was downright groundbreaking for him, kept Kakashi from saying anything. He’d never heard the boy talk even a third as much. So what was the harm in him giving away lore.
Sasuke is the clan, it’s his right to decide what gets guarded fiercely and what gets given away freely.
Tuning the kids conversation out, while immediately satisfying, evidently, had been a mistake. Because Kakashi has no fucking clue where he is. Probably not hell? He feels like his soul would be a lot more tormented than it is right now, if it was. Definity not heaven. Not ever heaven. Not after Rin. Or Obito. Or Kushina. Or Minato. Or—
All he knows for a fact is that he isn’t alive anymore. He can’t be. And it’s not the darkness that’s telling him that, not the nothingness or the weightlessness or the cold that seeps into his bones and bites at him harder than the chakra exhaustion that knocked him out had.
No, it’s none of that.
No.
It’s Obito that lets him know that he’s no longer part of the world of the living.
Obito, who’s older than he was the last time Kakashi saw him, who’s his age, which makes sense and doesn’t at the same time. Death, he supposes, gets to make its own set of rules. Whatever they are, aren’t nearly as important as the fact that Obito is here.
Not as the boy Kakashi remembers, who’d been sunshine and summer, warm smiles and endless hope. Or even as any of the variants he’s spent years creating as the answers to half his ‘what ifs’.
No, he’s here and all hard edges. Mangled and torn and cold and so much more beautiful in that he exists. That he’s in front of him. Kakashi has missed him, more with every precious person he’s lost, and the longer he’s lived. Seeing him with his arms crossed, with an orange, swirled mask dangling from his side that screams Naruto, is like stepping back in time. He feels like a genin. Albeit one with slightly more trauma, not to say he didn't already have his fair share than.
The glare on his face is like none of the expressions Kakashi can remember from his friend, but exactly what he always imagined when thinking about them meeting again in the next life. It causes a weird sense of validation to flood him. How could any of the people Kakashi failed possibly do anything but hate him?
Saving Kakashi was the last thing Obito had done, and for what? Him to turn around and kill Rin? For him to shove his hand through her chest and carve out her heart with lightning? Obito loved Rin, in every way he couldn’t. Didn’t want to, for that matter. Kakashi was happy to let her love him, if it meant she was happy and stayed with him. Existing in her life, being her friend, was enough—all he was capable of.
Rin, was a butterfly. She was always destined to outgrow him once she found someone who loved her back, in the way she wanted and not just in the ways he could manage. She deserved to. Rin was amazing and wonderful and worth so much more than team seven.
He’d have been more than happy to let her fly away, if fate hadn’t been a bitch that decided thirteen was old enough for her to die.
“Bakakashi.” There’s a warning in Obito’s voice, his eyes are murderous, and it goes against every single one of Kakashi’s instincts to stay where he is. Not that he thinks he can move much. Apparently dying doesn’t come with a healing session, he still has all his injuries, and he feels just as drained as he did in Wave.
“Obito,” he finally says, he’s doing nothing to disguise any of the complicated knot of emotion that’s had more than a decade to tangle up from his voice. Maybe Obito will hear it and be able to understand them more than Kakashi himself does.
All he knows is that he’s feeling something.
Whether it’s a good something remains to be seen.
Though, he doubts that he can be part of any something that’s good.
Naruto, Sakura, Sasuke, they’re proof of that. He’d worried so much about them getting to keep their childhoods, he hadn’t actually prepared them for the reality of shinobi life. Despite team 7’s history of cursed C ranks, he’d let them take this mission with nothing more than academy skills and D ranks under their belts. Fuck.
And now he’d gone and died on them. He’d left them behind in the middle of Wave with no one.
Desperately, he hopes they have the common sense to terminate their mission and return to the village.
Realistically he very much doubts they do.
“Pay attention to me, God damn it,” Obito hisses at him, voice sharp-edged and dripping with venom. He’s standing at Kakashi’s feet, kunai angled toward his throat. When did he get there? It’s hard to focus in wherever the fuck they are. “I guess some things never change, huh?”
“That’s not true,” he answers, he can’t stop himself. It’s Obito. No amount of post mortem introspection is going to prevent him from being at least a little bit of a bastard to him. “I’m taller than you now.”
Obito’s breath catches. He freezes, goes impossibly still, his fingers curling around the hilt of his knife so tightly his arm shakes. “You don’t get it, do you?” That’s not his angry tone. No, Obito's beyond that. This is his furious one. The one Kakashi never actually heard but always assumed he had. “Unbelievable. Fifteen years. After fifteen fucking years, here I am, a living corpse standing over you with a knife to your God damned throat and you still won’t take me seriously.”
“That’s not true,” Kakashi says, only, his words come out thick, slurred together around his tongue and the black spots thickening in his vision. “I always pay attention to you.”
How could he not?
Above him, Obito looks seconds away from dismembering him. He says...something. All Kakashi can hear is the rush of blood in his ears. Whatever cutting remark that Obito has to say—that Kakashi deserves to hear—is lost over the sound of his breathing.
He doesn’t want to pass out. Not when he’s just gotten Obito back and there’s a good chance he’ll wake up somewhere else, alone. He doesn’t know how this whole afterlife thing works. He’s terrified that if he closes his eyes, he won’t have the chance to find out.
It doesn’t seem to be up to him, though. The darkness keeps slipping into his vision, the cotton clouding his brain getting thicker with every second he forces himself to stay conscious.
The last thing he sees before he's swept away in the waves of chakra exhaustion is Obito’s face, hovering inches from his own with something that might have been concern flashing across it.
Kakashi’s next return to the land of the not so living (purgatory?), is a bit easier. There’s less of the bone-deep cold from before and more of the floating sensation. Like he’s stuck somewhere with just enough gravity to keep him steady in one place. He doesn’t hurt as badly, the only aches he feels are the ones he’s always had. It would be stranger for him to wake up with them gone, so he counts himself fully healed.
He pushes himself up into a sitting position, his muscles stiff and protesting even with the simple movement. His side is tender, but, considering Kakashi remembers his ribs being broken by that fucking overgrown sword, it’s nothing more than an inconvenience.
“It’s not the same if you roll over and die,” a quiet voice says, off to his left. Kakashi blinks, his mask is gone, so is his hitai-ate. All he can do is run his hands over his face and blink the last bits of sleep from his vision. Obito’s breath doesn’t catch when he turns to look at him, which makes sense, assuming he was the one to take his mask off in the first place. And really, who else is there to do it? “I have to be the one to kill you.”
“Sorry,” he manages after what feels like a small eternity. His brain hasn’t caught up with his tongue just yet. “You can. If you want to.”
Keeping his shoulders intentionally relaxed, his movements loose and lazy in a way that takes effort, Kakashi reaches toward his thigh, grabbing the tanto still strapped there. For a moment he weights the blade in his hand. It's standard issue, the same one given out to all jounin. Nothing remarkable about it.
Handle out, he offers it up to Obito.
And Obito stares, for a long endless moment that stretches into the next. Around them the landscape echoes the tension in his shoulders, the dark grey nothing rising up into jagged peaks, sharpening with every fraction of tension that makes its way into his frame. “Just like that. After everything, you’re not going to fight back?”
“I would,” Kakashi says, looking away first. “If it was anyone else.”
“Then why?” Obito asks, searching.
Kakashi cuts him off before he can continue. “Because you deserve to. Obito, I’m the reason you died, if anyone has the right to run a blade through me it’s you.”
Long, spindly fingers curl around the handle of the blade, and even though they don’t touch his skin, Kakashi can feel the phantom sensations of them across his hand. “I’m not killing you for me, dumbass.”
Kakashi swallows hard around the lump in his throat. He still doesn’t turn to face him. It’s weird seeing Obito with only a single Sharingan flashing red in his face. In a way, it’s a bit like seeing his own reflection mirrored back to him, and Kakashi has never been good with looking at his own face. “I know, and if Rin or Minato or Kushina were here I would let them kill me, too. But they’re not.”
“So what,” Obito scoffs, harsh and cruel as he throws the tanto sheath. “I’m the consolation prize? A get out of jail free card? I’m here so I might as well absolve you of your guilt like a convenient little escape-goat, is that right? Do you even care?”
Obito laughs. It sounds like a sob. Like something wretched from a wounded animal that’s hurting and has been hurting for so long it’s forgotten how to feel any differently. Kakashi hates that sound, he really really hates it.
Before he can help himself, Kakashi turns, grabbing the hand not clutching the blade between them in a white-knuckled grip that looks painful, and pulls. The tanto goes chattering forward and Obito is mashed against him into something that might resemble a hug and what feels more like a lifeline.
“Of course I care,” Kakashi says into the crown of Obito's hair. He smells like clay and metal and something not quite natural that doesn’t matter nearly as much as his warmth against his chest. “You’re not an escape-goat Obito. You’re the one I owe the most to. I’m sorry I couldn’t find some way to make it up to you before I died and ended up here.”
Against him, Obito stiffens further, pushing away with bony elbows that dig into his stomach until clawed fingers make their way into the skin of his shoulders. Obito holds himself there, arms-length away and propped up enough for Kakashi to have to crane his neck to make eye contact. “Wait. What? Kakashi, where the fuck do you think you are?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Kakashi says, doing his best to make his voice come out breezily. “I don’t know anything about the afterlife”s geography.”
Obito pinches his side, hard. “You’re not—Bakakashi—I’m not dead. Neither are you.”
“Wait, what?”
“How you—this whole time you thought you were dead?” Obito shakes him, throwing his whole body weight into moving Kakashi’s upper torso. “You were going to let me kill you a second ago!”
“In the metaphorical sense.” Kakashi raises an eyebrow at him, the confused look on his face natural with not even a bit of exaggeration. “I figured after you got your justice, I’d move on to whatever hell comes next.”
“You were bleeding when you came here. You’re sitting in a patch of dried blood right now.”
“I haven’t died before, I don’t know how death works.” Kakashi shrugs.
For all he knows the afterlife could just be a really bland version of...well life.
Maybe if he wasn’t recovering from the after-effects of what he now knows for a fact had originally been a concussion, he’d be a lot more suspicious. Probably not though, because even without the head injury he’d have a lap full of Obito and there is absolutely no way he could be skeptical about his living or dead status with his arms around the ghost of a boy he watched die.
“My heart's beating, you idiot.” Obito protests, reaching down and placing Kakashi’s palm flat against his chest. On reflex, Kakashi tries to jerk it away, the only time he ever touches anyone's chest is when he’s tasked with carving out their heart. Obito’s grip is crushing, though. He holds his hand there firmly in place, not allowing even a fraction of give. “Don’t you think It would be a lot more still if I was a ghost.”
Kakashi wants to say he doesn’t know. Wants to point out that he can’t feel Obito’s heartbeat through the overwhelming panic that's nipping across his skin—and fuck, if he didn’t already have enough triggers, he should have expected to have a little trauma surrounding this. He can’t get the words out of his throat, though. Not through his breathing, that’s coming out in harsh pants. Not over the panic attack that had no business ruining this and is a good chunk of time past due.
For his part, Obito just watches him through it. Immovable as he keeps his grip welded around Kakashi’s wrist.
Eventually, after however long time takes to move here, he forces his mind to steady itself and compartmentalize this into the little boxes in the far-off corners labeled do not revisit. When he finally does feel, not okay, he’s too shaky for okay, but solid, he makes the effort to feel what Obito’s trying to show him.
When he does, he’s met with the steady thump of a heart beating under his hand. It feels like a bird, beating its wings—and that’s enough of the fragile animal metaphors for today, thank you very much. “Oh. Oh you’re real.”
Obito blinks at him, and the final bits of anger that have steadily been falling away, drains out of him. “Yeah,” Obito breathes, letting go of Kakashi’s hand, finally, and slumping forward, back into his arms. “Yeah, Kakashi, I’m real.”
“You’re alive,” Kakashi whispers. His grip must be painful, but he can’t stop himself from tightening his hold. Afraid that Obito will slip away as some figment of his imagination the second he eases up. “You’re alive.”
“Come on now,” Obito huffs. Something hot makes its way to the crook of Kakashi’s neck. He can’t be bothered to check and see which one of them is crying. “You didn’t think I’d actually let Iwa kill me, did you?”
Yes.
Yes, Kakashi very much did. If he had suspected for even a second that Obito was still out there, somewhere, alive and whole, he would have hunted him down with enough vigor to make his ninken jealous.
But saying that feels cheap when actions speak louder than words and enough time has passed for anything along that vein to ring as hollow platitudes.
Kakashi thinks Obito expects him to get angry at him, to demand to know where he’s been for the last fifteen years. Don’t get him wrong, Kakashi wants to know, he really desperately does. But the answer isn’t nearly as important as the fact that Obito is alive and whole and with him, so instead he settles on asking, “Where is here, then.”
Obito lets out a breath, slumping impossibly more against him. “This is a part of Kamui. Somehow when you exhausted yourself, you managed to find your way into the pocket dimension created by the Sharingan. Since we share the same set, we can access the same place. You’re lucky I was already here. You really would have been dead if I wasn’t.”
“Oh,” Kakashi says, simply. He supposes, in a way it makes sense. Their Mangekyou can banish objects, it has to have a place to send them to. Maybe he caught himself in the reflection of Zabuza’s water prison.
Kaskshi closes his eyes, content to just hold Obito there. It’s not like he’s gotten the chance to be close to anyone recently, physically or otherwise. So while he’s hyper aware of every inch of skin Obito is touching, it feels good. In a reassuring, alive, kind of way.
They lapse into a comfortable silence, the only sounds around being their combined breathing which quickly takes the place of white noise.
Obito’s the one to break it, turning his face against Kakashi’s chest and looking up. “Hey, Bakakashi, if I asked to kill you right now, would you let me?” His voice is soft without the venom in it, with nothing to hide the uncertainty.”
Kakashi doesn’t have to think about his answer before he responds, “Yes.”
He’s not his father, he’s not about to throw himself down on his own blade just to run from his ghosts. But, he thinks if one of his ghosts, the one that’s not quite dead yet, wants him to be, that’s okay. It’s different.
“You’d really give me your life, just like that?”
“Just like that,” Kakashi agrees, because it really is that simple. For him at least.
He hopes though, that Obito will want to wait just a little bit longer to kill him. Kakashi’s waited so long to see him again, he’d hate to have to wait until the end of Obito’s life to do it. Though, that would be fitting, in an ironic sort of way.
“In that case,” Obito starts, moving to stand up. Kakashi helps him the best he can, supporting him with a gentle hand against his back even if he misses the warmth instantly. “Will you come with me?”
Part of Kakashi wants to ask Obito what he means, won’t he come back with him? Back to the village, to Konoha and….and a stone carved with the name of almost everyone that made the place a home.
A larger part of Kakashi, the part that makes him bite his tongue, reminds him that Obito’s had fifteen years to make his way back to the leaf. Back to him. If he was going to return to the village it would have happened by now. No. If they’re going anywhere it’s going to be on Obito’s terms.
This time it’s Kakashi’s turn to chase after him.
So he doesn’t have to think about it before responding, “Okay.” The only thing truly holding him back is….Naruto, who won’t get another instructor who will look at him as anything but a monster and fuck, he can’t abandon him again, not after finally being allowed to see him. And Sakura who’s going to be flushed out as a paper nin, which is a complete waste of her potential. And Sasuke, who’s going to be snatched up by Danzo’s grimy hands the second he comes back to the village with no one to keep him in the light and away from the shadows and— “But I have some kids I need to pick up first.”