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Kakashi Hatake was well known for his unusual spirit. To anyone who didn’t know him, he was a jounin ninja who made his fame off of his cutting cruelty. To anyone who did know him, he was nothing but an arrogant fool, determined to do anything but his responsibilities if he could manage it.
He’d never try to disprove either of these theories, as they both held true to some account. But as he sat in a familiar plastic chair, back aching and legs tender, he couldn’t help but smile at the irony. His reputation had certainly done a number on him, and even as he split into his thirties, he’d probably never be able to drop it. If only those confused conspiracists could see him now, willingly cooped up at the hospital with a novelty book in hand.
He’d been out for about two weeks himself, having spent one too many days surviving off of complimentary cold soup and stale bread. It had taken an embarrassing amount of effort, but eventually he was able to convince Sakura that he was well enough to take his leave. She’d given him her usual lecture about keeping himself in running condition, and almost gave it to him again when he’d showed back up the next day.
While, sure, he spent hours in the west wing of the hospital anyway, he still got to go home and sleep in a comfortable bed. No buzzing fans or shuffling of the medic carts to keep him awake, and certainly no frozen meals to fill his stomach.
After the first few days he fell into a distant routine. Wake up, bathe, eat breakfast, kill time around town, spend the afternoon visiting at the hospital, go home and start the day again. It was only yesterday that his company had even woken up, which was a pleasant change from the surplus amount of time he spent alone in silence. As much as Kakashi loved rereading his favorite books, he only owned so many he could burn through before the nature became repetitive.
Conversation had found itself rather slim since his waking, but Kakashi didn’t mind in the slightest. The feeling of dark eyes roaming him, watching as he adjusted his position or itched behind his mask made him feel secure. It was a feeling well-sunken into his bones, and even if he would normally expect nonsensical chatter when in this particular company, it wasn’t like he’d never hear it again.
Gai’s gaze was focused somewhere outside the window, expression held in an uncharacteristically flat line. Kakashi still hadn’t been able to determine if Gai’s lack of enthusiasm was because of his injuries, or from a more psychological phenomenon. For sanity's sake, he hoped it wasn’t the latter.
“Any estimate on when you’re getting out?”
Kakashi brought his book to his lap, pressed open with his thumb and index finger. Gai rolled his head to the side, meeting his eyes with the slight perk of his brows. He looked so tired, Kakashi thought. Where his pronounced cheek bones would normally look mature, if not somewhat overzealous, they looked sunken. His dark bangs were strung astray and overgrown with all the time he’d spent unconscious. That would be one of the first things on Gai’s agenda once they let him loose. He couldn’t stand it when his hair reached his eyebrows, as Gai put it, “it ruined one of his best features.”
The sight brought something heavy into the pit of Kakashi’s stomach, even if he knew it didn’t mean anything. He had looked quite rough himself lately, it was hard to go back to normal after having your whole world flipped upside down. And he’d always been more sensitive to change than Gai, anyway. However deprived he looked now, he’d look a hundred times better next month.
Gai tried to clear his throat, though the sound came out as more of a whine, and to that he sighed.
“They say four weeks.” He leaned his head further into his pillow, closing his eyes as if to drift off somewhere unlike the present. “They aren’t quite sure yet.”
Kakashi nodded, even if his company couldn’t see it. He’d asked Sakura already, of course, he just wanted to hear it from the man himself. There was little to say. It was far too early in their recovery to use the war as small talk, and he knew Gai too well to try and muster anything conversational. Just having Kakashi there was enough for Gai, he knew that. But what seemed like two days to Gai had been seven weeks for Kakashi, and he had felt unusually lonely in their new Konoha by himself.
“Everything will be alright. You know that.” However odd, it was Kakashi’s way of soothing the stiff atmosphere. He wasn’t an idiot, he understood just how devastating this injury was to Gai. While he’d find a way around it - as he always does - even the legendary Green Beast needed his time to grieve. It was no small token losing everything that made you powerful, Kakashi understood the feeling.
With his Sharingan gone, it was almost like Kakashi was a normal person. He was practically just another civilian of Konoha, existing solely to purchase produce at the market and gossip about the affairs of the ninja world. There was no way a Sharingan-less Kakashi could be the same one who’d earned himself such an extravagant title as “Friend Killer Kakashi.” And he certainly couldn’t have been an ANBU member, who’s cold heart and swift kills would land him a position close to the most unlikable man in the village.
No, he couldn’t be.
Losing what made Kakashi famous was like a new start, and even if he maybe didn’t mind the proposition so much, he knew that Gai felt differently on the matter. Gai had always felt he had something to prove, and while Kakashi used to share the sentiment, it was something he managed to grow out of. Gai never did. Not really, anyway.
“Of course.” His voice tried to sound optimistic, but Kakashi could make the exhaustion out of it. It put a frown on his face, an unfair and selfish frown, but a frown, nonetheless.
“It could be good for us, you know.” Kakashi mused, aiming for a more playful round over a somber tone. As obvious as it may be, Gai always responded better to whimsical prompts. It made him feel like he had some control over the tone of the conversation, and Kakashi would never rob him of that.
“We’ve had our time.” He caught the expression on Gai’s face and let out an amused scoff. “I’m not saying we’re past our prime or anything, but we’re teachers now. The kids are practically adults with the things they can do.” He dog-eared the page of his book, placing it flat on his lap with a gentle hand. Gai watched him through glossy eyes, as if he didn’t know his rival well enough to map out this conversation on his own.
“I don’t know about you, but I certainly can’t do the things I used to. Maybe after our second war we’re ready to slow down, commit to our students and not ourselves.” He made sure to keep his tone light, not trying to tread on sore territory for Gai.
“Times are changing, and I finally believe that. Suppose the plans that this new Konaha has for us is to take the backseat. No more Sharingan, no more cutthroat Kakashi.” He lightly slapped Gai’s left arm with his book, a subtle smile on his face. “And no more risks. We need to be here for them, you know? We can do that now.”
He let the room pause on them, his message translucent to someone as perceptive as Gai. He’d know what he meant, Kakashi was just worried if he was ready to hear it or not. His rival pursed his lips, gaze hidden behind his drooping eyelashes.
“I know.” He sounded sad, and Kakashi wished he hadn’t said anything at all. “Lee and TenTen need me, more than ever now. I just-” He broke off, giving his head a light shake.
Kakashi wasn’t sitting close enough to reach out and touch him, but with the bend of his brows he might as well have been hugging him.
“It’s hard.” Gai couldn’t talk much at a time yet, his voice was scratchy enough as is, and the nurses had informed Kakashi that too much strain could be risky. But this was Gai, and he’d try to get out as much as he could manage.
“For me, it feels like a second chance.” Kakashi took the weight off of his shoulders and offered himself up for conversation bait, just happy to hear Gai’s voice at all.
“I screwed up so much when I was younger, and since then I’ve always been afraid I’d do it again.” He bit his lip, the habit hidden behind his mask. “But I can’t anymore.”
Gai frowned at him, something bitter intertwined in his expression.
“Kakashi…” Kakashi shrugged, embarrassment quickly heating up his neck. He didn’t mean to make this about him, it was just much easier to put himself out there than allow for Gai to struggle through whatever he was feeling. Emotions didn’t come easy to either of them, despite how much one may assume with Gai.
“I’ve - I’ve made mistakes, too.” He said finally, with such solitude that Kakashi almost believed it.
“You never meant to.” Kakashi added, something in him against the idea of Gai ever doing something with ill-intent. He’d always tried to prove himself, to make something better out of their failed systems. Nothing was ever his fault so much as it was everyone else’s.
“You didn’t either.” He chipped in, his tone terse. It wasn’t threatening, or sad even, just tired. That was almost worse to hear.
“Suppose not.” There was no point in arguing, Gai would never see it his way and he’d never pity himself enough to pretend like he hadn’t been a shitty person. It was part of his history, even if it wasn’t what he had wanted.
“I’m somewhat thankful, however bad that probably is. For both of us.” Kakashi let his eyes drop to the floor, aware of just how fragile this topic was for Gai at the moment. He wasn’t afraid, more-so he didn’t want to make matters worse for his rival. There was so much to consider after the war, and even if he was trying a positive outlook, it could prove overwhelming.
“I don’t know what I’d do if you died, Gai. I really don’t.” He caught Gai flinch at that, shame quickly washing over his stone expression.
“You did the right thing, you did -” He caught his breathing, trying to slow the pulse that felt as though it was about to break the surface of his skin. “But you’re too brave sometimes.”
It was ironic. Gai had done everything that younger Kakashi had hoped to see out of him. He’d abandoned any afterthought of emotional inequity and handed himself off to the grim reaper as yet another soldier to die in war. It’s what a smaller him had once thought mattered in a ninja career, the only thing that mattered in any career. The one flaw he’d thought his rival to have in their childhood was his lack of - and frankly, confusing - understanding of the ninja world. He was loud and emotional, too sensitive when it mattered. And yet, he was the bravest ninja he’d ever seen. Far braver than himself.
And Kakashi hated it. Not out of jealousy or petty childhood flare, but because he couldn’t stand the idea of Gai suffering the same fate as his father. He didn’t deserve to be buried among the other faceless ninja of the village - all of whom would gain some half-hearted praise from whatever authority volunteered. He couldn’t stand the idea that he’d have to add another name to his burial rounds, pick up a different set of flowers for yet another person who died without him. It was torture knowing that what he thought made Gai safe, what he naively hoped would keep him alive only made his will to die that much stronger.
So, he’d have to forgive himself for feeling relief when after the dust settled, Gai couldn’t fight anymore.
“And too damn stupid.” He fought off any urge to move and forced himself to stay settled in his plastic chair, hands tucked tightly beneath each elbow.
“Rival-”
“I've never been so... You’d threatened to take your own life before, but I never thought you’d do it.” He dipped his head, warding off Gai’s eyes. “Consider us both lucky Naruto was there to save you.”
He could feel Gai’s attention on him, likely phasing through every number of people that Kakashi had lost before. His father, Obito, Rin, Minato, Kushina…Trying to decipher what it is he meant, and the severity of his anger.
“I couldn’t let anyone else die, Kakashi.” A pause, as he tried to find his voice. “You know that.”
Kakashi’s shoulders went limp, all of the spite and adrenaline pumping in his veins suddenly evaporating into the air and out of him. He frowned, unsure if apologizing was even worth it.
“Still, Gai. What about your students?” He didn’t dare include himself on this hypothetical list, there was too much emotion bubbling in the room already.
“Well…Like you said. Consider us lucky.”
There was a long break before anyone said anything else. Gai’s attention was fixated on his own feet, two small mounds beneath the heap of blankets he was enveloped in. Kakashi was watching the monitor by the bed, every inch of it was unreadable to him other than the tranquil jumps of green that he had to assume were normal. It would’ve been peaceful if they weren’t both biting their tongues, anxious to say more but deciding against it.
“You would’ve been fine.”
Gai’s voice chimed against the blank walls, flat and gentle in an artificial way that wasn’t his own. Kakashi met his eyes at the sound, faced with something akin to both grief and sympathy in iris’s that normally shone bright.
“Hm?”
“If I died. You would’ve gotten on with it. You’re strong, Kakashi.”
The copy-cat ninja bit back a sigh. This wouldn’t have been the same. I was so young then, too young. But I know what it feels like now. To be happy. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to go back to those years, full of nothing but blame and misery.
“No. I don’t think I’ll ever be strong enough to handle something like that.” He admitted, something swimming in the depth of his gut that might’ve been disappointment. Shouldn’t Gai know better than to hold him to such worn out ideals? They’d grown too old for that by now.
“I would’ve wanted you to…So you would have.” Kakashi sighed at him, the sound of it almost amused.
“Afraid it’s not that simple, Gai.” A new thought crossed his mind - one that made his lips twitch. Perhaps Gai was just projecting onto him what he was telling himself. He had lost one of his students, after all. Neji of the Hyuuga clan. He was strong and swift, and worse yet someone akin to Kakashi. He’d never really gotten the chance to know Neji, he avoided all of Gai’s planned team activities when he could, and would barely spare Kakashi so much as a glance whenever they saw one another.
Still, nothing meant more to Gai than his students; and knowing that made Kakashi feel ill. He’d grown quite fond of Lee and his counterpart, TenTen, himself. The idea that neither of them would ever see Neji again was a difficult concept to understand.
“It gets easier with time.” He said at last, the words so quiet they barely left his lips. Gai gave a brief nod, sniffling as he ran an arm beneath his nose.
“I’m sorry, rival…I’m not myself.” Kakashi agreed with the sentiment. Gai’s hair had lost its shine, he was growing dark circles beneath his usually gleaming eyes, and his skin appeared to wear him rather than be worn. And obviously, the more noticeable behavioral difference. Suppose it should’ve been jarringly, world-shatteringly shocking, but as time would have it this wasn’t the first time he’d seen Gai at an all-time low. They’d known each other far too long for that, what with their shared bad luck in life.
“That would make two of us.” He put on one of his genuine smiles, backed with more than just the crease of his eye. “But it’ll be okay. You didn’t die, and I didn’t lose you.” He leaned forward in his chair, leaning into the bed with one of his hands just an inch or so away from Gai’s. There was no contact, but they both understood the message.
“You saved a lot of people’s lives, you know. Mine included.” Gai smiled modestly, turning his head as an attempt to hide his flush.
“Your life was not endangered, Rival! You’re quite capable of keeping yourself intact.” As the words split the tension, they both laughed on cue.
“Oh yeah? Tell that to my Sharingan.” He winked with his newly average eye, the feeling of it still odd in his skull. While, sure, there wasn’t anything physically different to feel, he could tell the difference between this eye and the one he’d grown up with.
“It would take more than that to defeat my esteemed rival! At least both eyes gone - no, both of your arms!” Kakashi laughed at that, enjoying the feeling that had been lost on him for so long.
“Well, I’m thankful to have two eyes and both of my arms intact, thank you. You ought to be given position as Hokage instead of me, you’re the one who saved everybody.” A familiar grumpiness had woven its way into his voice. Remembering his new job was a good way to snap him out of whatever else was happening, what with how demanding it had been since the moment he stepped out of urgent care.
Gai made a face, considering the job for himself. It seemed they both shared a rather strong distaste for political placement.
“Oh, no. I could never suit a position like that…” Kakashi wasn’t sure if the drag of his sentence was intentional, but he drawled on it anyway, leaning back into himself to recline.
“It’ll be good for you, Kakashi. Give you some discipline.” He shrugged his shoulders, looking over at his rival rather fondly.
“Well, I’ve certainly had worse jobs.” They both made gestures of agreement to that, a decade's time finally bringing them to the same page about the ANBU.
Gai startled in his bed for a moment, a rather odd noise working from his throat.
“I still have to get you flowers!”
Kakashi couldn’t help but smile, the room warming just at the sight of Gai’s typically animated spirits. He’d always been reliable, even when his body was but a wrecked vessel, even with a late student, and even when Kakashi had spent their entire childhood being a dick. There was something familiar about them, nostalgia following them everywhere they went, like the memory of their younger selves.
Kakashi certainly felt disconnected from the child he was, but Gai was undoubtedly the same determined - if not overly stubborn - kid he once knew. Perhaps he’d grown into his looks a bit, matured his emotions, and developed a more sensible side. It was still him, through and through.
The memory was bittersweet. Gai had done everything for him growing up, he’d devoted so much of his own time just to make sure Kakashi was okay. And while he’d never been cruel, Kakashi hadn’t appreciated those gestures enough in the moment. They were all he had, and they might’ve been all Gai had too.
He’d truly be lost without him.