Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kakashi wakes simply. There’s no dramatic, slow realization of awareness, nor is there a jump of sudden consciousness. It’s just a simple as he’s asleep, and then he’s awake.

The ceiling above his bed is half-lit by the street lamps outside, but with a creeping of morning sun etching along the far side. A bird outside his window chirps a sharp trill, loud and raking on his ears – no doubt the reason he’s awake. He rolls over from his side onto his stomach, arm automatically stretching out and reaching for the warm body that’s usually curled next to him – only to stop in the cold sheets.

Kakashi sighs into his pillow.

The air is chilled when he sits up, almost frosty on his bare chest and back as he sits up in bed; goosebumps erupt along the skin of his arms, only vacant where scars take their place.

He breathes a deep breath and holds it for a minute, eyes closed and hands fisted in the soft comforter of his bed. Then he exhales, and leans over to grab his mask and hitai-ate, and fixes them over his face neatly.

The floor is cold, even with his thick woolen socks, as if the winter air has soaked into the floor boards themselves. As he stands, his back and hip pop and he groans, huffing another breathe.

“Kami,” he sighs, turning around to fix the blankets. He pulls them up, tucking them around his pillow and folding the edge slightly over. He glances over to the empty side of the bed, double checking to make sure it was still made right, then continues to his closet on the other side of the room.

It’s small, just like the rest of the apartment, but it’s stacked cozily with clothing. Kakashi makes sure his eyes don’t stray over the other half of the clothes in the closet, ones belonging to someone else with an entirely different style. He grabs a thick black shirt, pulls it over his head, then strips his pajama pants in favor for some more comfortable pants, also black. He’s not going to bother with wrapping anything, and forgoes grabbing anything besides a thick scarf that’s tucked into the top shelf.

His footsteps are quiet as he exits his room, the door closing quietly behind him. The door to the only other bedroom in the apartment is cracked open, exposing the blond teen fast asleep under his own covers. Kakashi takes a second to count Naruto’s breaths, double checking for any sign of distress and sees none. The room is messy, dirty clothes strewn across the floor, books and scraps of paper – half of which have partially drawn seals drawn upon- with brushes and ink staining the wooden floor.

For a brief second, Kakashi is glad he bought this apartment, and wasn’t just leasing it.

Kakashi isn’t surprised by the mess, especially not since Naruto is in fact a teenage boy, one who does not have a history of being clean. But it’s been a little worse since the incident, and that’s something that might be worthy to mention.

He pushed himself off the door frame and continues his way down the hall and into the main living area. To his left stretches a small living room, big enough for a large, comfortable couch and a small arm chair in the corner. Pillows adorn both, and a blanket stretches over the back of the chair. A small TV sits on an equally as small table, pushed against the wall across from the couch. A large window stretches across the farther window, easy to open from the inside, nearly impossible from the outside, and armed at all times.

To the right is a kitchen about the same size of the living room. The cabinets are white, simple, and it has a fridge that works. Kakashi knows that in the second cupboard closest to the door, there’s a stash of ramen that Naruto doesn’t think he knows about. A small dining room table outfitted with four matching chairs – the only furniture that Kakashi had argued they didn’t need – sat in the approximate middle between the two rooms.

Kakashi opens the fridge, only to hold back a sigh. Have to add grocery shopping on the list of things to do, he mentally notes. Might have time after the hospital….

Despite the lack of food in the small box-shaped mechanic, Kakashi still manages to find a couple eggs and some peppers.

He cooks them up quickly, adding in the peppers after they’re chopped as finely as he can do safely, then plates it onto two small dishes. He sets one on the table, then quickly shovels his own into his mouth as quickly as he can without choking. He sets the plate and chopsticks into the sink, rising them quickly with a splash of water.

“Naruto?” he calls into the bedroom, making way back over to the opened door. He pokes his head in, seeing the blond hair disappear underneath the blanket. “Naruto, hey.”

Naruto doesn’t make a noise. But he does stick an arm out of the blanket and wave it sleepily.

“I cooked up some eggs, they’re out on the table,” he waits for a moment and then-

Naruto’s head pokes out, eyes squinted. “Food?”

“Yup,” Kakashi nods his head towards the main area. “I’m heading out right now, so be sure to eat.”

Naruto nods, rubbing his eyes as he wakes up a little bit more. Kakashi nods to himself, assured that Naruto will probably not fall back asleep without eating, then turns to leave.

“Say hi to him for me?” Naruto’s voice pauses him, and he lets out a little breath, pressure in his chest. This past month has really been a rollercoaster of emotions he never wanted to feel again.

“I will,” he promises, then heads back to the kitchen, and then to the little genkan. He slips on his shoes, not the Shinobi sandals, but soft leather boots. He grabs the green cloak that hangs right next to his jōnin vest. He’s forgoing it today, intent to be only on personal business today. Then he slips out of the door, and out into the cold Konoha air.

The streets of Konoha are nearly empty this early in the morning; only the occasional vendor is opening up their stall or their store, a few elderly already taking their carts around to gather cardboard and other recyclables. Kakashi passes only a couple people, most of which don’t give him a second glance, but some who nod their head in greeting sometimes a soft acknowledgment on their lips. A couple chūnin on their way to border duty have wide eyes and greet with full formalities, before scampering back down the street, whispers of gossip passing quickly between them. He ignores them.

The warm air of the Yamanaka Flower Shop puffs across his face as he opens the door, the bell jingling a small tune. The front counter is empty, but that doesn’t dissuade Kakashi. Neither did the closed sign on the door outside.

They knew he was coming.

And, like usual, there’s already a vase sitting on the counter with a small note taped to it, reading the same message it has for the past few weeks.

Kakashi sensei, if you leave money one more time, I will sic Gai sensei on you.

- Ino

Kakashi snorts, the threat is actually threatening this time, but he’s already prepared for that. Instead of money, he leaves behind a couple coupons for free ramen tucked underneath the small vase already full of flowers, and grabs the empty vase. He takes his time, carefully selecting a variety of flowers to place in the vase. Red, white, and yellow camellia flowers all find their way in, along with some small bunches of purple iris. Along with a few stems of greenery, the arrangement is done, and to Kakashi, doesn’t look to bad. He may not be as good as the Yamanaka are at floristry, but he’s had a little practice.

The nurses know him by name, although he’s not sure who’s fault that is exactly. His, his injury prone team, or the past month of him visiting practically every day.

They all greet him, some peppy and bright – obviously fresh on the shift, other who’ve been there the night just nod. He knows the way by heart, and doesn’t even need to look at the helpful signs on the wall to find his way to a private room in the quieter part of the hospital. The part of the hospital where ‘long-term patients’ stayed.

Long-term patients usually never stay that long.

The door slide open before he even reaches it, and a nurse steps back into the hall. She had a clipboard held to her chest, her scrubs clean and a light green. She smiles at Kakashi when she turns to face him, pristine white teeth sparkling.

“Ah, Hatake-san,” she greets with a small bow. “I was wondering if I would catch you this morning.”

Kakashi returns the bow, eye-smiling. “Good morning Naname-san,” he glances into the room, lowering thought he small window of the sliding door. He sees him, ever so still in the bed as he has been for the past 28 days. “How is he?”

Naname smiles brightly. “His vitals actually picked up a little,” warmth and a dash of hope spread through Kakashi’s chest. Maybe, just maybe…. “Although I can’t say anything for sure, I do believe he is still fighting.”

Kakashi huffs a pained laugh. “Of course he is,” he clears his throat. “It’s kind of his thing.”

Fighting despite the odds. Fighting despite the chances.

Fighting despite the fact he should run instead.

It’s what got him into this mess in the first place.

“I was about to give him a sponge bath,” Naname continues. “But since you’re here….”

Kakashi smiles. “I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

“Of course!” she chirps. “I’ll bring some water and a cloth in a minute.”

Then she hurries off, most likely to go check on another patient. Kakashi knows the nurse is busy, and he’ll be here for a while, so it doesn’t matter to him when she brings him the supplies.

He slides the door open, quiet despite the lack of necessity, and closes it behind him.

The room is private, unlike much of the other hospital rooms, so it only has one bed. The only window is large, the curtains pulled open to allow the growing morning beams of light scratch across the still form in the bed, and further onto the small couch tucked against the wall. There’s not much else in the room besides a small table next to the bed and a wardrobe tucked in the corner. Kakashi places the vase of flowers on the table, the only color in the room except the white walls and blue bedding. Then he pulls the chair closer to the bed, drapes his cloak over the back of it, and sits down with a sigh.

For a long minute, he says nothing, and there’s no sound in the room except the soft puffs of air from the man in the bed, and the slow drip of liquid in the bag held above the bed. Tubes sneak from the bed to the back of his hand, secured by a piece of white tape, giving the man the only nutrients he has received for the past month. The screen that shows his vitals is silent, programed only to go off with drastic changes in condition.

Kakashi leans forward and grabs the pale hand that is devoid of anything, monitors or tubes, or even life, and he carefully brings it up to his mouth. He kisses it, gently, pressing his masked mouth the skin that he knows would feel cold.

“Hey, Ryuto,” he says. No matter how many times he does this, his voice still quakes. “Naruto says hi.”

He looks at the Ryuto’s face, at the thick red hair that sits limp around his head on the flat pillow, at the bandage that still wraps around his head, at finally almost faded bruises that had marred most of his face, at the sallow cheeks and wane skin that used to be warm and full of life.

He tears his eyes away and finds himself just staring at his feet. He takes Ryuto’s hand and moves it to his forehead, just to feel the skin.

“I miss you.”

Naname comes back about half an hour later, carrying two small basins of warm water, a new bar of soap, and a clean cloth.

“Are you going to need any help?” she asks, like she does every time. And, like every other time, Kakashi shakes his head.

“I’ll manage,” he replies. She nods and heads back out, with a reminder that Kakashi shouldn’t forget lunch.

He places the basins on the small table, careful to not knock off the flower vase, then sets about on his task.

He starts with Ryuto’s right arm, carefully washing the skin with water, then soaping it up gently, then wiping away the suds with the water from a different basin. He’s gentle, mindful of still healing bones as he carefully shifts the backlash gown down to expose Ryuto’s chest and stomach. He washes over scars, some old and some new, and over the tattooed seals on his right arm.

It takes him maybe 20 minutes to wash down the rest of Ryuto, after which he carefully places the basins of dirty water by the door. He pulls out a soft towel from the wardrobe and dries Ryuto’s skin, then places the gown back over his body and carefully ties it back into place.

This is routine, something he’s been doing for the past few weeks, every other day, but he doesn't think he’ll ever get used to it.

He doesn’t want to get used to it.

He clips Ryuto’s nails, uses a soft lotion on his hands and feet, then slowly starts to run his fingers through the shouldep length hair.

It used to be long, used to nearly brush Ryuto’s hips when he wore it down. But after the incident, Tsunade has to cut some of it so short that it was nearly bald. She has suggested the idea that they cut it all that length, but Kakashi had freaked.

It has been only hours since his life came crashing down, and the only coherent thought at that time was that Ryuto would hate his hair that short.

Tsunade relented, but they still had to cut it as it was interfering with other medical practicing.

“It’s three weeks until Christmas,” Kakashi says, voice loud in the silence of the room. He grips Ryuto’s hand again. “Naruto wants me to buy him a new set of shurikens, and I think I might. I think I’ll buy you that tea that you really liked when we visited Sunagakure. I’ll have it shipped and everything, it’ll be really expensive and I-”

He cuts himself off, choked. He blinks through the tears that burn behind his eyes and breathes in a deep breath.

“But that’s okay. It’ll get here when you wake up, right?”

Ryuto breathes and exhales in steady, soft puffs of air. His eyes don’t move around, and his body doesn’t twitch. He just breathes.

Alive, Kakashi’s brain tells him. He’s still alive as long as he’s breathing.

“Kakashi.”

Kakashi’s gaze flickers from Ryuto’s chest to Tsunade, who’s standing in the doorway with a gentle expression on her face.

He knew she was there.

“Hokage-sama,” he greets, giving a half hearted wink.

Tsunade smacks the back of his head and she rounds by him to look at Ryuto’s monitor.

“Brat,” she mutters, eyes scanning the numbers Kakashi still doesn’t understand. “How’s Naruto and Sasuke doing?”

Kakashi hums. “As well as you’d expect, I think,” he says, leaning back. He doesn’t let go of Ryuto’s hand. “Naruto feels guilty that he didn’t stop it, and Sasuke feels guilty he didn’t know what to do after it happened.”

Tsunade tutts, and sighs, turning fromm the monitor. “Those kids….”

Kakashi sighs as well. “Tell me about it.”

They sit in silence for a bit, before Tsunade starts back for the door.

“How much longer are you going to do this, Kakashi?” she asks, back turned to him. It’s a conversation they’ve skirted along the edge of for a while. Kakashi’s surprised she’s actually bringing it up.

“What so ever do you mean by that, Hokage-sama?” he leaves an edge to his voice, letting her know this is dangerous territory she’s stepping into.

But it’s Tsunade, and also his Hokage, she she responds just as sharply back.

“How much longer are you going to watch him just wilt away in this room?” Her voice is pained, and for once she’s showing some of her real emotions. “How much longer are you going to force Naruto to watch his only relative become nothing more than just a body with a mind barely left?”

“Tsunade,” Kakashi’s voice breaks. “I’ll be here as long as he still is. I’ve told you this before, and I’ll say it again,” he looks over at her, surprised only for a second to meet eye-to-eye. “Until he takes his last breath, I’ll be here. If that’s in five years so be it. I’m not letting him go.”

Tsunade looks at him for a while, before he turns sharply back towards the door. Without another comment, she’s gone.

“Don’t blame her,” he says, looking out the window at the dreary sky, at the sun slowly being suffocated by the clouds forming. He’s not sure who he’s talking to anymore.

Chapter Text

It had been an easy mission, barely something that was even ranked. It was supposed to give Ryuto, Naruto, and Sasuke to have some air after everything that happened. It was supposed to be a three day mission, one day of travel there, on day to observe the prospective land for the potential of a Shinobi outpost, then one day for travel back.  

Kakashi had seen the three of them off at the gate, accompanied by Sakura, the both of them leaving with explicit instructions to stay safe. He wasn’t worried, and he'd told Ryuto as much when the redhead had held his face in his hands gently.  

“It’s okay, ‘kashi,” Ryuto’s breath had been warm on his ear. “I’ll be back before you even notice.”  

Kakashi hadn’t responded, instead leaned his head onto Ryuto’s green flak vest, and breathed a deep breath of ocean-sunshine-earth. Then the three of them were off, a gentle wave from Sasuke and an excited cheer from Naruto echoed through the villages gate. Ryuto hadn’t looked back.  

Two days later, Kakashi had been getting lunch with Iruka and Asuma at Ichiraku’s – an interesting combination of companions (Kakashi felt strangely like a third wheel) – and was enjoying a bowl of hot miso. Nothing was amiss, the clouds had cleared and the sun was about, making the growing cold air abate a little, and Iruka had laughed at a joke Teuchi made.  

Thinking back at a later time, that’s the last thing Kakashi really remembers clearly of the rest of that day.   

A shout had echoed through the streets, and Kakashi had taken a minute to realize it was his name. He doesn’t quite remember who it was who came for him - Kotetsu or Izumo, or maybe even another chūnin who was assigned gate duty – because the first thing he sees when he turns around is blood. So much blood.  

“It’s Naruto!”   

Kakashi’s on his feet before he can even realize it, chakra infused steps forcing him down the street as fast as he can.  He thinks Asuma is trailing behind him, Iruka and the other shinobi not far behind, but he’s not paying that close of attention to them.  

He makes it to the gate quicker than he thinks he ever has, heart pounding and acid in his throat, repeating what he’s just been told. Naruto, Naruto, it’s Naruto….  

No mention of the other two.  

Just Naruto.  

Kakashi doesn’t know if that’s good or bad, until the scene in front of him unfolds.  

Shinobi are already filling the open area, a mixture of green flaks and other clothing in the mix. Kakashi is sure he sees Kurenai, Shikaku, and Inoichi among the ones gathered closer to the gate itself. Kakashi pushes through the crowd, to where he can see several mednins, and can hear the shouts of a familiar blond.  

Blood, again, is the first thing he notices. Much like the chūnin, but much worse, blood covers Naruto’s clothes and skin. Bloody handprints and smears stretch across the fabric of his orange jacket. His hands are covered in it, his face has several smears across his cheeks, some even stains the tips of his hair.   

The mednin surrounding him are holding him down, pulling desperately at his clothes to find wounds, to find the source of the blood. One is attempting to calm the blond down, another holding his shoulders down as the teenager flails under their ministrations. Another is holding a hand onto a deep slice on his thigh, green chakra flowing brightly.  

“Naruto!” Kakashi’s voice cut through the crowd, and immediately Naruto’s head snapped towards him.   

“Sensei!” Naruto exclaimed, somehow looking more determined to push the mednin holding him down off.   

Kakashi found himself on his knees next to the prone body of his student, hands hovering.  

“Kaka’ sensei,” Naruto cried, and oh Kami, he was actually crying.  

Kakashi quickly shushes him. “Naruto, let the mednins do their job, okay?”  He gently lays a hand on Naruto’s blood covered arm. His eyes scan the body of his student. “Where else are you hurt?”  

“It’s not mine sensei,” Naruto continues to cry, although the fight seems to have left his body. “Ryuto, you-you have to help him, sensei please .”  

Kakashi’s breath stutters just as Iruka kneels next to him.   

“Watch him,” he tells the chūnin teacher, and then he’s up and quickly making his way towards the group of jōnins he saw earlier.   

“Kakashi!” Kurenai calls to him the minute he’s back in their line of sight. Asuma stands beside her, Inoichi and Shikaku checking their gear behind them. “Your ninken!”  

Kakashi is summoning Pakkun without a second thought, feet picking up speed until he’s full on running out of the gate, the rest of the impromptu team falling in ranks behind him.   

“Boss?”  

“Ryuto,” Kakashi leaps from the ground into the trees, taking only one step off the trunk. “Find him.”  

Pakkun leads without another word.  

They find them a little after the sun had set, tucked underneath a tree that looked to be recently uprooted, tipped over with roots pointing in the air, dirt still fresh.   

Sasuke is leaning against it, head forward with his chin resting on his chest. His hair covers his face, but it’s pretty clear he’s not awake anyways. Hands limply lie of the chest of the man leaning against Sasuke, one near his neck and the other looking as if it fell from being splayed on his chest.  

Kakashi knows where the blood came from now. Ryuto is covered in it, head and neck, down his shoulder and falling down his fingers.   

A kunai handle sticks out an inch or so above his ear, blood coating the cloth wrapping it.  

It sends him to his knees, rocks digging sharply into his pants, his breath stuttering in his chest. No, no, no no no…..  

The rest of his team fall in quickly from behind him, brushing past Kakashi’s still form and immediately surround the two injured shinobis on the ground. He watches Asuma and Inoichi carefully shift Ryuto’s body off of Sasuke and onto the open ground a few feet away, Kurenai immediately stooping down to check on Sasuke.  

He doesn’t move, frozen in his spot as he watches Asuma’s frantic hands scramble under the collar of Ryuto’s flak jacket.   

For a moment, it’s not Ryuto lying in the ground.  

It’s Kakashi’s dad.  

It’s Obito.  

It’s Rin.  

It’s Minato and Kushina.  

“Kakashi!” the barking voice of too many cigarettes snaps his attention back to the present, and he meets the eyes of Asuma. “He’s alive.”  

It's the first time Kakashi had cried on a mission in a long time.  

After they get back to the village, Sasuke secure on Kakashi’s back, and Ryuto tied into a stretcher held carefully between Asuma and Inoichi, Kakashi is gently pushed into a chair of the hospital waiting room. A cup of water gets handed to him by someone, but he can’t stomach more than a couple of sips.  

There’s a spot on the wall across from him, dark brown in color and almost symmetrical in shape. The maybe-mud-maybe-blood stain keeps Kakashi’s attention for far longer than it should, as his brain slowly packs the vivid memories of the past few hours into a carefully curated box. His eyes track the edges, taking in every detail with the precision of a trained ninja, memorizing the shape to the forefront of his mind. There’s ridges on the edges, hinting more towards a splatter mark, and not the mark of something hitting the wall and leaving residue. It’s almost a perfect circle, besides a slight deformation on the top right side, where the blob stretches a little past its borders.  

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, doesn’t know how long the rest of his friends have been sitting with him.  

Gai, next to him, hasn’t said a word. Kakashi’s unsure when the man even returned from his own mission. Asuma leans in the wall across from him, and almost drags his attention away from the blob, but Kakashi refuses to glance away. Iruka sits next to Sakura, and her quiet cries bounce softly off of the sterile white walls. Kakashi should comfort her, he should go and give her head pats and tell her that those boys are too stubborn to let this take them down, but he can’t. It’s almost like the life has been sucked out of him and left an empty shell sitting in a hospital chair behind.  

Asuma leaves at some point, saying something about Kurenai and departs with a squeeze to Kakashi’s shoulder. The others stay, with a few occasional others popping in for a few moments at a time. Shikamaru comes to check on their conditions, but gets turned away with no update. Ino sits next to Sakura, and somehow convinces her to go home the minute they get word on her teammates, which comes shortly afterwards.  

Sasuke and Naruto are stable, they are told, and are resting in a room together. No visitors until the morning are allowed, no matter how much Sakura argues as Ino starts to pull her home. The blonde and pink-haired girls disappear down the hallway. Then it was only Iruka, Gai, and Kakashi remaining.   

It's a while then, with no update.   

Kakashi works to take steady breaths, trying his best to not burst into tears in the chair he sits in. He knows that neither Iruka nor Gai would care, as they have both seen him in some of his worst and inebriated moments, but he refuses to break until the words that everyone is thinking of are said.  

The words that he swears he can hear from where he sits, even in the almost empty hall.  

He’s dead.  

No one can survive an injury like that; smaller things have done worse.  

I wonder what they are even doing in surgery, if there’s anything they even can do.  

He swears he hears a nurse walk by mutter something pitying, but the static comes roaring back into his ears and he can’ remember what’s true anymore.  

He looks down from the wall, only to press his face into his hands, a weak groan escaping his throat. Gai’s hand lands gently on his shoulder, and it’s about as comforting as one would expect.  

They’re there until the suns starts to slowly crawl along the tile flooring from a window on the far side of the hall. Kakashi thinks he slept a little, but he’s not too sure what exactly he was doing in those fits of unawareness; if he was sleeping, or his mind just turned off for a moment. Iruka is gently snoring from where he sits, slumped down in his seat with his arms crossed and head back. Gai has his eyes closed, but Kakashi knew better than to assume he was sleeping.  

Asuma and Kurenai come by, carrying some fried rice and tea, both of which Kakashi barely can stomach, but he thanks them anyways.  

“Any word?” Kurenai asks, sipping her own cup of tea and taking the seat next to Iruka that Sakura was occupying the night before.  

Gai answers. “Not yet,” his voice subdued.  

Kurenai hums. “I suppose no news is good news.”  

Kakashi sighs, deep and shuddering. He supposes she’s right. After all, he is legally Ryuto’s husband, they would let him know the minute it ended. Which means that Ryuto, despite the odds, is still alive.  

Still alive, Kakashi repeats to himself. Still alive, still alive.  

“ Ryuto is probably the most powerful shinobi I have ever known,” Asuma says, taking the seat opposite of Gai. “He’s strong.”  

Kakashi nods.  

The look on Tsunade’s face when she enters the hall makes Kakashi’s heart stutter to a stop. He’s out of his seat before he realizes, words on his lips as he pushes by a standing Asuma.  

“He’s alive,” she says, cutting off any chance of him getting a word in. But those words are like heaven, and Kakashi almost collapses right then and there. Her expression falls a little, and Kakashi feels tension fall back into his shoulders. “But, Kakashi...”  

“I want to see him,” Kakashi demands, trying to push her off. No, he does not, cannot, listen to any bad news. Ryuto’s alive, nothing can damage that.  

She gestures to the door she came from and he’s gone.  

Mednins are still busying around the room, cleaning up equipment or filling out charts, but Kakashi doesn’t let his attention stray too far from the man on the bed.  

Overall, Ryuto doesn’t actually look too bad. Besides the pale skin, bruising beneath his eyes, and the white bandages the wrap around his head tightly, he looks as if he was just sleeping. His hand is cold as Kakashi gently takes it in his own, but there’s a pulse underneath his fingertips and his fingers fumble around.    

Alive.  

Chapter Text

Darkness. 

Floating. 

Breathe. 

Darkness. 

Floating. 

Breathe. 

Darkness. 

Floating. 

Breathe. 

(Breathe?) 

Darkness. 

Floating.  

(Heavy. He’s heavy, and it hurts.) 

Breathe. 

Breathe. 

Breathe. 

ALIVE  

He snaps into awareness softly. Going from a moment of darkness, floating, breathe, to heavy, pain, and bright in a matter of stages. 

One is not usually aware of how heavy they are, because they are usually able to carry their body weight with ease, but lying wherever he is, he is suddenly aware of just how much energy it takes to lift an arm. Or even a finger. Or to even let his ribs expand to give his lungs room let air in. 

For a while, that’s all he can do – just sit there motionless and expend what little energy he has to breathe. 

In. 

Out. 

In. 

Out. 

In. 

Out. 

He breathes, a continuous pattern, in and out, and just lies there – wherever he is. It’s quiet, and it’s peaceful, and he almost wants to just sink back into the darkness that was enveloping him before he came aware of himself, but there’s something stopping him. 

Something just barely out of his reach.  

He wants it, wants to pull it towards him and yell at it to just let him sleep, but he’s just so heavy...  

Warm and heavy. 

And tired. 

That something comes by again, and he can feel it, but he still can reach it. He tries, tries to lift the arm that feels like stone, but to no avail. 

He tries, and he tries, again, and again, until he’s tired himself out to the point where it can’t keep him awake any longer. 

He slips away again. 

Talking is the next thing he’s aware of. Low, rumbling words of someone talking in a hushed voice, but loud and resounding in his skull. Their voice is soothing and, even though he doesn’t recognize it, warmth spreads through his chest.  

He’s still floating, although this time it’s more like he’s floating down a river instead of in the center of a lake. More... directional. 

He feels a little lighter as well, not as weighed down on the surface he lies. He tries again what he so effortlessly failed at last time. 

Arm, arm, arm, he thinks, trying to move it just an inch. Any success at this point would be monumental. Hand ? Even that was still too difficult. 

Finger , he decides, focusing his entire being into the pointer finger of his left hand. In doing so, he thinks he feels that thing from last time, and with a jolt (mentally), he realizes he’s not alone. 

Someone else is there. 

Help me , he thinks fruitlessly. Please help me I’m stuck.  

Nothing .  

Finger, he tries. Finger, finger, finger..... 

The voice that had become the background noise in his mind suddenly stops, leaving only and echo of silence behind. It rings in the emptiness. 

No, wait, he thinks, once again trying to just move , please don’t leave me, please help me, please...  

The voice is back, suddenly rearing loudly that strikes painfully in his skull and just like that – everything is suddenly dialed to 100. 

His body aches, head sending sharp shoots of pain through his neck and shoulders, and his muscles throbbing down to the bone. His mouth is dry, tongue feeling as if it takes up the entirety of his mouth, and his lips feel as if they would shatter if he so much as parted them. Parts of his body are oddly numb and tingling – his feet, lower back, right knee, and others throb in time with his strangely loud beating heart. 

His vision, which used to be solid, pitch black, now shines with a brightness that has him flinching away, turning his face into the soft fabric, then groaning as pain explodes in his head and neck. 

“Ryuto,” a voice, the same voice from before, mumbles softly, voice oddly hesitant. Warmth skirts along the cheekbone that was not currently mushed into the flat pillow under his head, and a weight settles gently on his upper arm. “Ryuto, can you hear me?” 

Ryuto, at least that’s what he assumes his name is, opens him mouth a crack and winces. His tongue, despite feeling as dry as a desert, pokes out to wet his lips just slightly – and above him a soft laugh. Open your eyes, he tells himself. He needs to talk to whoever is here with him, needs to demand to know what happened and where he is and... 

Everything really. 

He attempts to open his eyes, prying open the crusty lids only to groan pitifully as light burns into his eyes. A gentle shushing noise comes from the side, and the warmth – fingers, he realizes – curls gently around his neck. 

“Don’t move, alright?” the voice says. “Just sit still, the nurse is coming.” 

Ryuto doesn’t move, turned slightly on his side, with half his face squashed, in a strange daze of numbness and pain. The hand on his neck squeezes with a comforting pressure, keeping him tethered to the real world even as a wave of tiredness washes over him slowly. He just breathes, in and out, and focuses hard on the sound of his heart beating. 

Some sounds happen around him, and some voices speak, but they don’t seem to be turned his way yet, so he elects to ignore them. Instead, he tries to open his eyes again, this time, a little slower. One lid hesitantly raises a little bit, just enough to let a little light peek through, only to slam back shut again. 

It’s too bright. He can’t do anything about that in his condition, but maybe the warm voice can. 

It takes enough effort that it should be embarrassing for Ryuto to open his mouth and attempt to croak the words out. He works the syllables in his throat, shapes his mouth and forces the air out his lips. 

“Iss bri’,” is all he manages, throat dry and voice cracking lowly. The conversation between the warm voice and a new one - a woman – stumbles to a stop, and the hand on his neck tightens slightly. 

“Ryuto-san?” a gentle voice, clear and deliberate, ask. “Can you hear me? Can you repeat that?” 

No. No he cannot, but he tries anyways. 

“Iss bright,” he groans. 

“Oh, of course,” the voice exclaims, a tad bit too loud, and suddenly it’s much darker. 

Ryuto exhales in relief, the pounding in his head lessening exponentially, and once again tries to open an eye.  

This time, he can actually keep it open for more than a second. He peers out at the blurry forms in front of him, blinking to try and clear his vision. There’s a man sitting in a chair next to him. He’s handsome, Ryuto has to admit, with sharp features, broad shoulders, and a strangely charismatic vibe to him. His only exposed eye is slightly crinkled with a smile hidden behind a mask, and it keeps flickering back and forth between Ryuto and someone shuffling things on the other side of the bed.  

“Hey there,” the man says, scooting a bit farther forward in his chair. “How are you feeling?” 

Ryuto just blinks up at him, not having the energy to continue his speech. 

“Ryuto-san?” the clear voice is back, and another face pops into view. A woman, wearing green scrubs – a nurse. “Can you tell me your name?” 

She’s looking up at something beyond his sight, marking things down on a clipboard in her hands.  

More questions I don’t know the answer to, he thinks as he turns his face farther into the pillow. He just wants to go back to the dark, back to the silence.  Stop please.  

“ Ryuto, open your eyes.”  

Huh, he didn’t realize he had closed them again. But he thinks he’s okay with that, because the dark is blessedly comfortable. He can feel the claws of heaviness coming back, wrapping around his legs and arms and slowly pulling him back into the mushiness of sleep. 

A sharp pain in his foot has the darkness receding. A whine escapes his throat as the pain doesn’t stop, as the darkness starts to dissipate into a painfully bright awareness. Weakly, he drags his leg up a little, trying to escape the pinching pain on his toes, and peels an eye open again.  

The man is gone, replaced by another person in green scrubs, who’s focus is on someone else in the room, and Ryuto groans. 

An undiscernible time (and many tests of people asking him question after question, to which he answered each one with a shrug or a mumble of ‘I don’t know) later, Ryuto is sitting up in his hospital bed, positioned upwards by an abundance of pillows stacked behind his back. Lady Tsunade, a woman with blonde hair and a green robe, is sitting in the chair that Kakashi had been occupying, a serious expression on her face. In her hands, are a myriad of pictures that they’ve been cycling through.  

He currently has one in his hand that contains him – a face he doesn’t recognize, blue eyes, red hair, and tattoos crawling up his neck – and a younger boy, blonde hair and blue eyes, with scar-like lines etched into his cheeks. He doesn’t recognize the boy, can’t bring up any memories or a name, but a certain warmth spreads in his chest, much like it did with Kakashi. 

“Do I-?” he licks his lips looking up at Tsunade. “He’s important to me, right?” 

Tsunade nods, tilting her head and quirking a small smile. “That brat, Naruto, is your nephew, of sorts. Related through his mother’s side.” 

Ryuto nods, finger swiping gently over the boy’s face. 

“He’s older now,” Tsunade continues. “That picture was taken when you first arrived to Konoha, back when he was still a Genin.” 

That’s also what they’ve been talking about, Ryuto’s past. 

Tsunade told him they won’t tell him everything, to try and make sure his memories come back correct and not unintentionally manipulated – if they come back, he reminds himself. 

Apparently, he waltzed into this town one day, and came to the hokage – Tsunade, he’s told, but the older one, explaining that he had been wandering around for a while, asking for refuge. The hokage gave it, something about an old friendship between their villages, and he then worked his way through the ranks. A ‘very-skilled’ shinobi, and he’s good at sealing.  

“So,” he hands the picture back to Tsunade, and takes another one. “What about that guy in my room?” 

The picture he now holds is showing a group shot of Ryuto, the man, Naruto, and two kids about the same age as Naruto – a girl with pink hair and a boy with raven black. They are all smiling at the camera, the kids all squeezed in the frame by both the man's and Ryuto’s hands. 

“Kakashi is your partner,” she explains, breathing out heavily. “You two filed your marriage about 8 months ago, and you live together with Naruto in your care.” 

Ryuto’s mouth dries quickly, and he lets out a quiet oh. His fingertips drag across the picture in his hand, over the masked face of Kakashi and – for some reason – the only thought that comes to mind is the wonderment of if he’s seen Kakshi’s bare face yet. A hysterical bubble of laughter threatens to escape his throat, but he swallows it down drily.  

“Is it weird that that doesn’t feel weird?” he asks, now looking at Naruto and trying to imagine the three of them living together. It’s difficult, especially because he hasn’t even met Naruto yet, but he thinks they might live a sweet, domestic life. 

He hopes. 

“It’s not,” Tsunade says, a hand coming over to gently wring around Ryuto’s thin wrist. He looks up at her, meeting her soft yet strong gaze. “Things may feel weird for a while, Ryuto, but I promise I’ll do everything I can to help. And so will everyone else.” 

He nods, emotions bubbling in his gut that are too confusing to unscramble. He’s grateful that he’s got people on his side, he supposes, even if he has no idea who they are. 

Kakashi comes back a little while later, after Tsunade finished going over the photos and Ryuto had taken a short nap. Ryuto opens his eyes to see Kakashi and Tsunade talking quietly with each other, and he can’t help but just stare for a moment. Kakashi was wearing different clothes, and Ryuto thinks he might have slept for a little longer than he thought, but he supposes Kakashi may have also just gone home and changed. 

Kakashi is the first one to notice Ryuto awake, and he eye smiles behind his mask. 

He looks at Ryuto, gives him an up and down glance, before scooting his chair just slightly closer. “How are you feeling?” 

My husband, Ryuto’s brain reminds him and he gives a weak smile back. “Okay, I guess. A little sore, and a little hungry.” 

Kakashi immediately looks over to Tsunade. 

“He’ll be off of solid food for the rest of the week,” she starts off, reaching back behind her to grab a random clipboard from a small table. “Broth, pudding, some okayu near the end. Then we’ll start him on some easy to digest food. Lots of water and he can have some tea, but I’ll get you a list of ones to avoid.” 

Kakashi nods, and Ryuto blinks. For some reason, it had not occurred to him that Kakashi would be the one taking care of him. It makes sense, now that he actually thinks about it, especially because they are partners and live with each other.  

“And I’ll get some painkillers sorted out,” she writes something down quickly. 

“When can he come home?” Kakashi asks, crossing his arms. Ryuto sits up slightly, eager for the answer. He’s only been awake for a little bit, but he already feels uncomfortable in the bed he’s in, and he would kill for a shower. 

Like, actually. 

Tsunade seems to contemplate the answer for a moment, looking over the sheet for a moment.  

“Well, he’s already showing great improvements cognitively, but we still want to run some tests for sight, hearing, and reflexes, which we should finish up by tomorrow evening. So, hypothetically, you’ll be able to bring him home the day after tomorrow, if everything goes well.” 

Kakashi nods. 

“But we may decide to keep him a little longer if needed.” 

Kakashi asks some more questions, but Ryuto’s eyes are feeling heavy again, and he starts to doze off once again on the mount of pillow behind him. 

Ryuto just wants to go home, even if he doesn’t remember where exactly that is. 

Chapter Text

Kakashi takes Ryuto home 3 days after he wakes up.   

It’s a chilly, foggy morning when Kakashi steps out of his apartment, jacket on and a bag of clothing in his arms. The air nips slightly at his nose, and his breath fogs up when he calls out a returning ‘goodbye’ to Naruto – who is at the stove in the kitchen, cooking up a batch of chicken and vegetable broth. It’s early enough in the morning that the sun hasn’t risen, and there’s no one in the street beside a few drunks and some shinobi patrols.   

The hospital is quiet, the waiting room containing only a few non-emergency patients, and a few nurses busying about tiredly. Kakashi greets the few he passes, and receives kind smiles back, as he makes his way to Ryuto’s room for the last time.   

While this week has been a wild ride of emotions, elation with Ryuto’s awakening, then the horrifying realization that Ryuto didn’t remember him. And now, a strangely numb-yet-hopeful feeling of ‘just keep moving forward’. Tsunade had told him that keeping a positive attitude towards things would help Ryuto in the long run, even if he never regains his memories – which hurts Kakashi to his core.  

Naname is right outside of Ryuto’s room, a clipboard in hand as usual, and she smiles kindly as Kakashi approaches.  

“I just woke him up,” she says, tucking the clipboard under her arm. “And we’ve got all the discharge papers filled out, so you are free to take him anytime.”  

“Thank you,” he says, bowing deeply in gratitude for all the nurse has done.   

She chuckles. “Take care of him, alright?”  

Ryuto is sitting up in bed, idly wiggling his feet side to side as he pages through a small book. He glances up when Kakashi slides the door open, and gives a smile. It’s gentle, and very much the same soft smile Kakashi bared witness to the night they first really met, and it’s one he can’t help but return.  

“Feeling up for heading home?” he greets, lifting up the bag in his arms. Ryuto immediately brightens, smiling a little more widely.   

“Really?”  

Kakashi nods, coming to sit at the foot of the hospital bed, and gesturing to the door. “Got the all clear from the docs.”  

“Good,” Ryuto sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “I really want to take a shower.”  

Kakashi can’t help but crack a smile, chuckling a bit.   

Getting Ryuto is easier than Kakashi thought it would be. Even with his memory problems, Ryuto didn’t seem to be embarrassed as he was stripped out of the backless hospital gown and helped into boxers, sweatpants, and a shirt. Even when Kakashi kneeled down to pull on heavy socks over his feet, Ryuto just stared down at him through ruby eyelashes and an almost-blank expression. It gave Kakashi hope, blooming beautifully in his heart, that maybe not all was lost.  

As Kakashi pulled some sandals over the socks, Ryuto tilted his head and hummed softly.  

“How exactly are we going... home?” he gestured down to his legs. “There’s no way I’ll make it all the way there walking.”   

Kakashi stood and brushed off his pants. “I’ll carry you.”  

Ryuto’s head snaps up, red hair flying over his shoulder. “Oh! You don’t have to! I bet I’m pretty heavy. I’m sure they have a wheelchair or some crutches around somewhere....”  

Kakashi shook his head, pulling out the last item from the bag – a heavy winter coat. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve carried you out of here.”  

Interestingly enough, that is what has heat flooding to Ryuto’s cheeks, burning red blotches. He makes a noise, something like a squawk, but Kakashi ignores it and starts leading his arms through the coat’s sleeves.  

Neither of them says anything more as Kakashi fusses with the clothing, making sure the redhead was tightly bundled, and Ryuto sat still with his hands in his lap. Once he was sure that Ryuto would be warm enough for the walk home, Kakashi stands back and places his hands on his hips.  

“Ready to go?”  

Ryuto just smiles slightly.  

On the walk home, Ryuto points out store fronts and empty stalls, and asks what they sell. His arms are wrapped around Kakashi’s neck, loose and yet tight at the same time, and his legs are supported mainly by Kakashi’s hands. His breath is warm on the back of Kakashi’s neck, especially when he rests his head on Kakashi’s shoulder. One glance told Kakashi that Ryuto’s energy was waning.  

It was a change, definitely one of the bigger ones, that Ryuto was now sleeping for most of the day. Unlike before, when it sometimes took effort for the man to actually fall asleep, usually leading to late night tea brewing, it was an effort to actually keep the man awake.  

“That one?” He gestures over to the right, hand falling back down and resting on Kakashi chest.   

“Flowers,” he cracks a smile, despite Ryuto’s inability to see it. “That’s run by the Yamanaka clan.”  

Ryuto hums. “Are they your friends?”  

Kakashi thinks of Ino, blonde, opinionated, and sassy, and can’t help but snort. “Oh yeah,” he agrees. “They’re yours too.”  

Ryuto is silent for a while after that, and Kakashi is almost sure that he’s fallen asleep until he speaks up once more.  

“Hey, Kakashi?”  

Kakashi glances over and sees Ryuto peering out at the town around them, head still resting on Kakashi’s shoulder. “Huh?”  

“How many friends do I have?”  

Kakashi’s brow furrows, but he keeps going forward steadily. “Why do you ask?”  

An ‘ I don’t know’ sound comes out of Ryuto’s mouth, and he breathes out a heavy breath. “’m just, wondering.”  

Kakashi sighs shortly, leaning his head back as he thinks. He thinks of all the people that Ryuto hangs out often, about Kakashi’s own friends that hang out with Ryuto or have taken him under his wing, about the people Ryuto has helped and saved.  

“A lot,” he answers finally as they near their apartment. Thankfully, they’re on ground level, so there are no stairs to manage. “Some are closer than others, but, yeah... You’re kind of a popular person Ryu.”  

“Oh,” Ryuto says. Kakashi waits for more of a response, but none comes.  

“This is it,” he says, coming to their door, and gesturing at the plainly painted wood. “A beauty innit?”  

He’s pleased to hear a small chuckle behind him, albeit tired and quiet.  

“Usually, there’s traps and alarms set up,” Kakashi explains as he opens the door and steps into the small genkan. “But I disabled those this morning before I left.”  

Kakashi gently helps Ryuto sit down on the small bench tucked against the wall, and toes off his shoes. He waits to see if Ryuto will need help with taking off his own sandals and pushing on the slippers that are nudged his way, but he seems to be able to do it himself.   

“This is it," he gestures farther into the apartment. Thankfully, it looks like Naruto tidied up a bit like he asked the previous night – the pillows are on the couch, the chabudai has been cleaned off, and the sink is empty from dishes. A crock is sitting on the counter, a towel underneath, no doubt holding the soup Naruto had been busy making.  

Naruto himself isn’t there, Kakashi knows, but is probably at the Uchiha’s place, hanging out with Sasuke and Itachi, maybe Obito if he’s gotten back from his shift. He’ll be back later, and Kakashi’s not too worried.  

It’s strange, a weird echo of longing and loss in his chest, as Kakashi watches Ryuto’s eyes rove around the apartment that was theirs, that was filled with life and memories one half gone. Ryuto’s eyes focus on personal touches, an ugly glass vase sitting on the bookshelf, the framed pictures on the wall behind the couch, the mismatched hand embroidered towels hanging from the rack above the sink, and he gives Kakashi a soft smile.  

“It’s nice,” he says, and Kakashi smiles back.  

Kakashi supports Ryuto as he walks down the hall, knees wobbling and muscles shaking, and they take one break on their way to the bedroom.  

“How much physical therapy did Tsunade say I needed?” Ryuto breathes heavily, leaning his head against the wall.  

Kakashi can’t help but smile painfully. “Four times a week, for the next 2 weeks at least. You have a high healing factor, so you might bounce back quickly.”  

The other man sighs and leans a little heavier on the wall. “Great.”  

“Come on,” Kakashi chuckles, pulling on Ryuto away from the wall, and taking most of his weight. “Let’s get you to bed.”  

The bedroom is cooler than the rest of the house, and Kakashi, after depositing Ryuto on his side of the bed, grabs another comforter from the small closet and places it on the foot of the bed.  

“So,” Ryuto starts. Kakashi looks up to see him curiously looking around the room, hands entangled in the blanket he’s sitting on. “This is our room?”  

Kakashi nods.  

Ryuto hums to himself and looks down at the blanket, so Kakashi turns away back towards the closet. He pulls out a couple items of clothing, and leaves them folded on the small desk for later.  

“This must be hard for you," Ryuto says suddenly, breaking the stupor that the room had fallen into. Kakashi looks over his shoulder, words on his lips but pauses. Ryuto’s attention is on the bedside picture across from him, the one sitting on the window sill on Kakashi’s side.  

For a while, the picture had been turned down, had been too painful of a reminder for him during those weeks where Ryuto’s life was hanging by a thread. But now it sat sitting up, in the small wooden frame with the kanji of both Kakashi’s and Ryuto’s names carved into it, a date, Kakashi knows, is written on the back. The picture is both of them on the night of the Kitsune Festival, the first year after everything had settled down – the first year after they had settled down. Ryuto is wearing a sky-blue kimono, Kakashi in a dark grey one, and his haori is stretched over Ryuto’s shoulders. Ryuto had managed to convince Kakashi to wear a kitsune mask instead of his normal cloth one, and both of their hair is down. Ryuto is leaning over onto Kakashi in the snapshot, his shoulder against Kakashi’s chest and his lips pressed onto the right cheek of Kakashi’s mask. Kakashi’s eye is bright, and his skin crinkles around it with an obvious smile. There’s a little bit of shouyu on the corner of Ryuto’s mouth, leftover from the dango he had shoved in his mouth seconds before Kurenai had taken the photo.  

Ryuto’s eyes are a little lost as he looks at the photo, his mouth a small frown. The dark circles under his eyes and the light pallor of his skin brings Kakashi back a bit, to when they first met and Ryuto seemed to be just a husk of a person.  

“It is,” Kakashi confesses, taking a few steps and sitting down on the side of the bed. He reaches over and grabs one of Ryuto’s hands, gripping his thin fingers with heavy pressure.  

“Kakashi, what, what if I never get my memories back?” Ryuto’s voice is quiet and hesitant. “What if those other things Tsunade mentioned happen? Like, personality change, or forgetfulness, or maybe I’m suddenly really dumb!” His voice climbs higher with panic, and he turns his eyes back to Kakashi. “What if I never turn back into the person I used to be?”  

Kakashi takes a deep breath and collects himself for a moment, because those are thoughts that he’s had himself many times over the past couple days.  

It’s true, any one of those things could happen, except the last one – they've already tested his intellectual skills and he passed the same tests he had in the past. But deep down Kakashi knows that the Ryuto he knew, the Ryuto he went into battle with and fell in love with, the Ryuto he used to wake up next to and cook breakfast for and kiss goodbye, the Ryuto he spent his most lonely and most intimate times together? That Ryuto is gone. That’s fine, he reminds himself, because he’s still here. It’ll be different, to love another person who is the same and yet will be nothing alike Kakashi’s first love, but that won’t stop him.  

“Even if those happen, Ryu,” the nickname slips out without thought. “I’ll still love you, if that’s what you want.”  

Ryuto still looks pained. “I’ve missed a year of our relationship, more even. I don’t even know! How many birthdays have I forgotten, how many anniversaries? Our first date, our first kiss, the first time we shared a bed? When we moved in together?” He gestures around the room, only to take his hand from Kakashi’s grip and wrap his arms around himself. “I’ve not only forgotten me, Kakashi, I’ve forgotten us .”  

He takes a shuddering breath. “And that hurts more than I think you know.”  

Deciding he can’t hold himself back any longer, Kakashi scoots farther onto the bed and reaches a hand up to Ryuto’s face. He cups the red-head's cheek softly, and lifts his lowered head to meet his eyes.  

“We’ll start over,” he says, working through the lump in his throat. “We’ll have those firsts again. A first date, a first kiss.... If I could forget everything so we could do it for real, I would.” Ryuto leans into his embrace. “But we’ll have to make do with what we’ve got.”  

The weak chuckle that Ryuto breathes out lifts a weight on Kakashi’s chest that he wasn’t aware of, and they both smile gently at each other.  

“Okay?”  

“Okay,” Ryuto breathes back.  

Chapter Text

How have I not updated this in a year? I'm so sorry everyone :(

I loved this concept but I fell out of love with how I was writing it. I'm not going to mark this complete, but I will leave it up until I get something rewritten for it.

Expect something new in the next coming month or two.

Thank you all for your love and support!