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Kakashi knew he had to do something. But he didn’t move.
The wind carried ash, dust, and distant, muffled screams from the horizon. Far away, the sky seemed to crack under Madara’s relentless blows, and each explosion shook the ground with the weight of some ancient curse. The war was devouring everything… but that wasn’t what terrified him.
It came from him.
Naruto was slumped against a rock, gasping for breath.
His orange jacket was torn in several places, stained with dried mud, sweat, and blood. The bandage around his right arm had slipped down, soaked in red from a cut that wouldn’t stop bleeding. It wasn’t deep—but it wasn’t healing either. It had been like that for hours. Raw. Cruel. A constant reminder that he was no longer the same.
Kurama was gone.
And Kakashi could barely feel his chakra. That energy that had always poured from him like an unstoppable sea… now it was a faint breeze. Dull. Fading. It felt like the chakra of a sick child, not of the boy who once carried the world on his back.
Naruto was breathing fast, his mouth slightly open, lips cracked and dry. Each breath was a visible effort. His chest rose and fell unevenly, like he couldn’t quite fill it. And still—he smiled. That stubborn smile that had defined him since he was a child… but now it looked forced. Hollow.
Kakashi said nothing. He stood there with his arms crossed, pretending to be calm. But inside, something in him was breaking.
He couldn’t let him fight. Not like this. Not with a body that could barely stay upright, with trembling hands clenching fists that held no strength. If he went out onto the battlefield… he would die.
That’s why Kakashi pulled him back. Assigned Sasuke to stay with him. And Sasuke obeyed without argument.
Sakura had noticed something too. Before returning to the medical line, she knelt in front of Naruto and they spoke in low voices. Kakashi didn’t hear what they said—but he saw it. He saw the tears in her eyes. He saw Naruto take her hand. And he saw the hug.
A long hug. Painful. With eyes shut tight and lips trembling.
It wasn’t comfort. It wasn’t affection.
It was goodbye.
Kakashi swallowed hard. Forced himself not to step in.
But his chest tightened with a sharp, violent ache, because hugs like that… only happened when one of the two knew they weren’t coming back.
And then Naruto looked at him.
“I can fight,” he said. His voice hoarse. Barely a whisper. “I still can…”
“No,” Kakashi replied, giving him no room to argue. His voice colder than he felt inside.
Naruto frowned, lips twisting in frustration. He threw a small tantrum, the same as always, flailing his arms as if that could hide the tremble in his fingers.
“I’m not weak! I’m not—!” But the sentence collapsed before it could finish. He gasped. Doubled forward slightly. He couldn’t breathe.
He gave up.
Clenched his jaw, looked away, and went still. Like a wounded puppy.
Kakashi watched him in silence. Every fiber of his being screamed to do something, to stop the world, to tear him away from this war once and for all.
But he refused. Not until he understood what was happening to Naruto. Not while that cut—absurd, small, persistent—remained open. Not while his chakra stayed that faint. He couldn’t sacrifice him. He couldn’t lose him. Not now.
So when Obito appeared, Kakashi followed.
That man—the infamous Tobi—was no mystery to him. He was his old teammate. His friend. His brother.
Obito Uchiha.
And he was also the enemy who had tried to destroy Naruto and Sasuke. Who kept playing with their lives like worthless pieces on a twisted board.
Kakashi followed with his heart in his throat. The air was thick with smoke and static, the cries from the battlefield distant, unreal. As if the whole world had gone silent around him.
Obito started to run.
Kakashi saw him—and heard him laugh. That soft, sinister laugh, like a child playing hide-and-seek while dragging a bomb in his hands.
Before chasing after him, Kakashi turned around.
He cast one last look at his students.
Sasuke met his gaze with unwavering focus, one hand on the hilt of his katana, the other raised, alert. Naruto stood beside him, trying to assume a battle stance… but Kakashi saw it. The tremble in his legs. The way he clenched his jaw. He was standing, yes—but only through sheer will. As if he were using the very last spark he had left.
And still, he nodded. He promised with his eyes that he wouldn’t move.
Kakashi swallowed and turned his eyes forward again.
Obito was flickering in and out of view like a hallucination. He wasn’t going after Naruto. He wasn’t going after Sasuke. Only him.
And that unsettled him more than any direct attack. This wasn’t a normal ambush. It was personal. He was isolating him.
Kakashi moved forward, lungs growing heavier with every step. Exhaustion gnawed at his bones. But he couldn’t stop. Not when he felt something bigger creeping closer.
And then—he heard it.
“Kakashi…” Obito’s whisper at his side, ghostlike.
The Hatake turned immediately, kunai in hand. But there was nothing. Only air. A flicker of shadow.
“What do you want, Obito?” he growled, his voice rough, worn thin. The kunai spun between his fingers out of instinct. Out of habit.
“So many things,” the voice answered, farther this time, drifting through the trees. “For example… the bijuu still beating inside one of your precious students.”
The words cut into him like blades.
Kakashi gritted his teeth and spun in place, searching. The fear was rising up his throat like thick smoke.
“You won’t touch him,” he snapped. The kunai gleamed in his hand. His body was tense. His heart at war.
“Are you going to protect him, Kakashi?” Obito whispered, much closer now. Far, far too close. “How sweet. But you’re not made for that, are you?”
The voice almost laughed. Like it savored every syllable. Kakashi turned violently. And there he was—materialized inches from his face.
Eyes empty. Hollow. Nothing left of the boy he once knew.
“You can’t protect anyone,” Kakashi said, pulse racing. That thing in front of him wasn’t Obito. Not the one he had known. There was no light left in him. No soul.
“Just like you couldn’t protect Rin?” the Uchiha replied, slowly removing the mask, revealing the scar, the Sharingan, and that bitter expression—more wound than face.
“Oh, right…” he whispered, cruelly. “It was you who killed her, wasn’t it, Kakashi?”
Before he even finished speaking, Obito grabbed him by the vest, violently.
Kakashi felt the hate. Not in words, not in movement. He felt it like poison seeping into his chest. The weight of everything still to come hit him like a gravestone.
And suddenly… everything began to dissolve.
Obito’s figure started losing shape. His body broke apart into droplets, as if he were made of water, and those drops fell one by one, splashing against Kakashi’s shoes.
The battlefield disappeared.
He wasn’t there anymore.
The ground shifted beneath his feet. The sky turned to lead. Rain. Fine. Icy. Soaking his hair, his mask, his shoulders—his soul.
He looked up.
A storm. Thunder lit the scene. Tall trees. Fog. Silence. A forest he knew. Too well.
His stomach twisted.
No.
His hands trembled. He knew it before he saw it, before the fog parted. But there it was.
The place.
The mission.
The nightmare.
The mist cleared slowly, as if the memory itself knew exactly how to return.
And then—he saw her.
Rin.
Standing in the middle of the clearing, under the rain, gazing softly. Facing a younger version of himself. Blood on his face. Mud. Eyes wide, wild. His hand raised, the Chidori screaming with lightning.
He drives it through her.
The lightning in his hand. Rin’s body. The blood. The silence.
Rin drops to her knees without a sound. Her body collapses. The rain isn’t enough to wash away the stain spreading beneath her.
“Kakashi…”
Her voice. So soft. So broken.
And in that moment, Hatake broke.
The tears burned their way out without his permission. He shut his eyes tightly. Shook his head. Spoke aloud:
“No. No. Not again.”
But the air reeked of blood. The damp stuck to his face like a whip. He could feel it on his hands. The heat. The weight of her.
Rin. Dead again. Because of him.
He opened his eyes, only to see the scene replaying itself. Again. And again. He covered his ears. But her voice still slipped through. That final word. That damned farewell.
“Kakashi…”
He gritted his teeth. His body was shaking. His breath came in ragged, broken gasps. He no longer knew if he was standing or falling. Dreaming or dying.
And then—the mist began to move again.
A figure approached. Tall. Solid. Advancing through the rain like a ghost.
“Kakashi… Kakashi,” they called.
It wasn’t Rin.
It was Obito.
His eyes sought him through the fog. But Kakashi couldn’t see clearly anymore. Everything was red. Rage. Pain. Madness.
Despair.
He screamed without sound, and his right arm rose. The Chidori exploded from his palm with a shriek that split the rain in half. A blue, furious light.
And he ran.
He ran with all the hate. With all the pain. With all the years of guilt burning in his chest.
He ran to kill his past.
He ran.
With tears blurring his Sharingan. With his teeth clenched so tight his jaw screamed. His breath was a wild animal caged inside his ribs. And there he was—in front of him. A step away. A heartbeat.
The Chidori roared in his palm, a deafening screech, blue lightning slicing the air like a living blade.
And then—he drove it through.
The impact was instant. Brutal.
He felt his arm tear through cloth, through flesh, through bone. The wet sound of a body being pierced. The sensation of muscle giving way. Hot blood spilling instantly, soaking him to the elbow. It splashed across his face, burned his skin beneath the mask. It wasn’t an enemy. It wasn’t a clone.
It was a real body. Flesh.
“Ka… Kakashi-sensei…” a voice whispered. Fragile. Human.
The world stopped.
Not as a metaphor.
It stopped.
The battlefield vanished. The noise, the wind, the lightning. Everything. Only that voice remained, floating in the void. The warm body trembling around his arm. The blood dripping, falling in soft plop sounds on the dry ground.
Kakashi slowly raised his eyes.
And met those blue ones.
Wide. Trembling. Innocent.
Filled with confusion, not resentment. With pain… but also trust.
Everything had changed.
They were no longer in the forest. There was no mist. No storm. The genjutsu had vanished.
Reality hit him like a punch to the gut.
He turned his head down, trembling.
His arm was still inside his student’s chest.
Naruto was wearing his black mesh shirt—his vest had been discarded. And right in the center of his torso, there was a hole. A damned hole made of electricity, rage, and mistake.
The chakra of the Chidori still crackled inside his body. Blood poured out in hot, thick waves—impossible to stop.
Kakashi pulled his arm out with a shiver. Slowly. Far too slowly. As if being gentle could undo the damage. As if time could forgive him for being careful only at the end.
But it was already too late.
Naruto’s body trembled. The color was starting to drain from his lips.
Kakashi could barely stand. He was gagging. The smell of iron filled his lungs. His fingers were stained red. His chest rose and fell with difficulty, as if his own body was punishing him for what he had done.
“No… no… no… Naruto…” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. It cracked like old glass.
And Naruto looked at him. He looked at him with a softness Kakashi didn’t deserve. As if he still believed in him. As if he still forgave him. As if he was still his sensei.
Something inside Kakashi shattered forever.
Naruto gave a faint smile. The kindest, sweetest, and most cruel expression he could’ve worn.
“It’s okay… Kakashi-sensei… everything will be okay…” he murmured, barely audible. Then he coughed. Blood spilled from his mouth, splashing Kakashi’s face like a sentence.
And still… the idiot smiled.
He smiled.
The blonde collapsed seconds later.
Kakashi froze, paralyzed in absolute shock. Feeling his student fall was an endless torment. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. And he knew—with a dull, crawling terror—that if Naruto touched the ground, it would be over.
But then, a pale body appeared.
Caught him.
Sasuke’s eyes—burning red—were locked on Kakashi. It wasn’t just anger. It was pure fury, a storm contained like never before.
Carefully, with determination, the Uchiha drew Naruto close to his chest.
Kakashi still couldn’t react.
“Get Sakura,” Sasuke demanded, voice sharp, steady, unshakable.
“Now!”
Finally, Kakashi's body obeyed. Trembling, he turned around and began to walk—then run—toward the place he knew his student was, still holding the line, protecting the others in the middle of battle. He let the tears blend with the rain and the wind as they blurred the edges of his vision.
When he arrived, he cried out desperately:
“Sakura!”
He didn’t care that his voice cracked, or that other shinobi turned to look at him in surprise.
She lifted her head—and in the blink of an eye, she was already by his side.
“What is it, Kakashi-sensei? Are you hurt?” she asked, her voice trembling, eyes wide with fear and panic. Eyes Kakashi knew he didn’t deserve.
“Naruto… he’s hurt,” he said, barely able to speak.
Sakura’s eyes widened in horror. She shook her head in disbelief and bolted forward without another word.
He followed—stumbling, unsteady, but fast.
She was already pulling supplies from her bag as they ran, her lips moving in silent prayers.
When they finally reached him, Kakashi’s heart shattered—bit by bit—until the pain in his body felt like mercy compared to the pain in his soul.
Sakura froze in place, horrified.
Naruto lay covered in blood, the gaping hole in his chest a raw, pulsing wound.
He was cradled in Sasuke’s lap, the boy’s hand stroking his hair with such gentleness, with such fierce protectiveness, as if touch alone could hold him to life.
“Naruto! Oh god, Naruto!” Sakura screamed, immediately kneeling down, her hands glowing bright green as she channeled her healing chakra.
“Sakura, tell me you can save him,” Sasuke said, never taking his eyes off Naruto. His voice was taut, strained, breaking under the weight of it all.
Naruto seemed to drift in and out, his strength slipping through his fingers like sand.
Kakashi no longer knew what to do.
Or where he was.
The world faded.
Time unraveled.
His eyes blurred.
And his mind—
His mind began to fill with fragments.
Blurry pieces of a life that flickered and vanished like old film.
But in every memory…
There was always a flash of blond.
A presence.
A name.
A reason to keep going.
“Is Kakashi-sensei okay?” asked a soft, innocent, childlike voice.
A small Naruto, cheeks flushed pink, sat beside him, legs dangling and eyes lifted toward the starry sky.
Kakashi blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. They were back from the mission with Tazuna. Haku was dead. Zabuza too. And he…
He had remembered Rin.
That was why he had walked away from camp. That was why he was staring at the stars. But his student had followed him. Of course he had.
“Yes, Naruto. Why do you ask?” Kakashi answered gently.
The boy hesitated. Lowered his gaze. His hands twisted nervously on his knees.
“Because you look sad… and I don’t want to see you sad,” he whispered, barely audible.
Kakashi turned his face and looked at him. His cheeks were red—maybe from the cold, maybe from shyness. But those eyes… those eyes were full of sincere affection.
He felt something inside him soften.
He reached out and pulled the little boy close to his side. Naruto let out a surprised squeal—half laugh, half startle—but didn’t resist. He curled up against him naturally, as if he’d always belonged there.
Kakashi felt that warmth, that childish weight against his arm, and knew he wasn’t alone.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, in silence. Until the child’s blinking slowed, and his breathing evened out.
He had fallen asleep.
The Hatake lowered his gaze, gently stroked his hair, then lifted him into his arms and carried him inside. He laid him down carefully, covered him, and stayed looking at him a few seconds more, as if that moment could save something he’d lost years ago.
And he remembered.
The sudden bursts of affection. The unexpected hugs. Naruto’s overflowing love—love that Kakashi never quite knew how to handle.
“Kakashi-sensei! It’s great to see you!” the blond boy exclaimed, running toward the training field.
The sensei barely raised an eyebrow, already knowing what was coming.
“Naruto…” he began to warn, but it was too late.
The boy threw himself at him, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck. Kakashi leaned back to keep from falling over, caught off guard by the sudden embrace.
“What are you doing?” he asked, laughter in his voice as he tried to regain balance.
“Hugging you, Kakashi-sensei. What else would it be?” Naruto said, his face buried in his neck, voice vibrating against Kakashi’s skin.
Kakashi hesitated.
“I know what a hug is, Naruto. I meant… why? Why do you do it?”
And then the boy let go. Lowered his eyes. Played with his fingers.
Silence.
Kakashi watched him, fearing he’d broken something.
“Because I love you, Kakashi-sensei,” he said finally, softly. “It’s simple. Don’t you want me to hug you?”
Kakashi felt a lump rise in his throat. The words hit him like poorly thrown kunai. He’d always been an idiot about these things. Always built walls to avoid feeling. And now… now he had this child before him, giving him his whole heart in such a simple gesture.
He knelt, coming level with him. Smiled with his one visible eye.
“It’s okay, Naruto. And yes… yes, I like your hugs.”
The smile that lit the boy’s face was so pure, so bright, that Kakashi felt everything was worth it.
He knew that, as his sensei, he should tell him not to show his feelings so openly. That in the shinobi world, vulnerability is digging your own grave. Showing affection, care, tenderness… is exposing yourself.
But that night, he said nothing.
He let it all happen.
He let those small arms wrap around him tightly. He felt Naruto’s warmth against his shoulder and gave a gentle pat on his back. A simple gesture. Intimate. Almost paternal.
In that moment, the rules of the ninja world didn’t matter. The war didn’t exist. There was only that child and his overflowing heart.
And he—Kakashi—decided, for once, that he could let him be happy.
He remembers it… he remembers it even now, with wet eyes, with blood still fresh on his arm. He remembers seeing him again after three years apart.
Three years without that whirlwind of energy. Three years without his high-pitched voice, his loud greetings, his spontaneous hugs.
And the reunion…
Kakashi was dragging his feet toward the Hokage Tower. He wanted to lock himself away to read, to forget, to pretend the world didn’t hurt him.
He sighed heavily, annoyed with life. Tsunade had called. Maybe it was news about Naruto. Just maybe.
Three years had passed.
Three damn years.
And he missed him. Like the first day. Like the last.
He jumped to the window, as he always did. He didn’t expect anything different. But when he looked out, he froze.
There he was.
Naruto.
Standing inside the office.
His hair longer. His features sharper. No longer that kid in the loud orange clothes. Now he wore a black vest with orange accents, his face more defined, forehead bare—no headband. His hair fell freely, in messy strands.
But his eyes… his eyes still shone like when he was twelve. Like when he called out, “Kakashi-sensei!” and ran to hug him without thinking.
Kakashi watched him from the window frame.
And for a moment, he wanted to cross the room just to hug him too.
He remembers it fighting. So agile. So fierce. That determined smile. The fire that never went out. Naruto was that: strength and tenderness. Determination and love.
And he also remembers that day, after Pain.
Kakashi had returned from the dead. Literally.
He had seen the village destroyed.
He walked through the rubble searching for familiar faces. He crossed paths with Sakura, who gave him a tired, broken, but alive smile. He returned the gesture and kept walking.
He knew where to find him.
He knew Naruto would be in the forest. Not with applause. Not with congratulations.
With the trees. With the silence.
And there he was. A few steps away. Clumsily leaning on the trunks. No longer wearing the sage mode cloak. Exhausted. Half awake. Shaking.
He ran.
He caught him just as he was falling.
Naruto wrapped his arms around him, and his legs too, like a koala too weak to hold himself up. He clung to him like a lifeline.
He rested his cheek on his shoulder.
“Kakashi-sensei… you’re here…” he whispered, barely audible.
And Hatake felt his soul overflow.
He said nothing.
He just held him tighter.
And walked. Step by step. Back to the village. Back home.
He already knew. He had known for a long time, even if he never said it out loud.
He would always be there for Naruto.
That boy with the impossible dream, who shouted to the skies he would become Hokage, who refused to give up even when the whole world pushed him to the abyss. That child had made his way without asking permission and had settled in the hardest, most sealed corner of his heart.
And now… now he didn’t know how to let go.
He didn’t want to. He couldn’t.
Kakashi knew he would give his life for him. That he would kill without a second thought. That he would protect him with his body, with his soul, with whatever was left of him.
Because Naruto Uzumaki was not just his student.
He was much more.
He didn’t know what it was like to have a child. He never had, never even dreamed of it. But every time Naruto rested on his shoulder, with that calm smile, that blind faith in him… he felt he already knew. That this had to be it.
A love that needed no words. Just presence.
Naruto was his world.
His anchor. His refuge. His light.
The only constant in his monotonous, tired life marked by death.
And suddenly, his mind came back. Came back like a whip to the chest. His heart hurt. It hurt with a sharpness impossible to ignore. He brought his hand to his chest and squeezed hard, as if he could stop the invisible hemorrhage overflowing inside him.
He deserved it.
He deserved every stab of that suffering.
Because he himself had extinguished that light.
Had destroyed with his own hands the only source of happiness he had left.
He saw the scene from years ago again… the damned scene.
But this time it was different.
Rin had been his companion. His friend. An important part of his childhood, yes…
But this was Naruto.
The blue-eyed boy who always looked at him with admiration.
The golden-skinned child who ran into his arms without asking, without fear. The one who hugged him tightly, with affection. The one who clung to him as if he were home.
His most beloved student.
His strongest bond.
The one who had become his most loved person, without him fully realizing it.
And now… now he had gravely hurt him.
It had been his hand. His chidori. His mistake.
He watched in horror as Naruto’s vest was soaked in blood.
His blood.
The blood of that boy who called him “sensei” with a smile.
Of that boy who always believed in him.
He lifted his gaze, drowning inside.
Sakura was shattered.
Her face was a mask of tears, of despair. The marks of the Byakugō shone brightly all over her body. She was using everything she had, and Kakashi felt it…
He felt it wasn’t working.
He felt how his chest broke more with every passing second that Naruto didn’t respond.
And then he saw it.
Sasuke held him so carefully… with broken calm. Naruto, barely conscious, raised a hand. With effort.
He placed it on Sasuke’s cheek.
And the Uchiha, without saying a word, held it with his own, lips pressed tight, eyes bloodshot red.
The hand fell.
And something inside Kakashi shattered into a thousand pieces.
Not with a blast. Not with a scream.
It broke silently. Like thin glass breaking underwater, where no one hears it. But the pain… the pain was deafening.
Naruto’s body sank softly into Sasuke’s arms. His neck gave way. His head turned gently, as if the last thread holding him to the world had been cut. And with him, Kakashi was cut too.
The sound that came from his throat was not a scream.
It was worse.
A broken, dry gasp, as if his soul was escaping through his mouth. He took a step back, staggering. His hand clutched his own chest as if his heart was about to escape through splintered ribs.
“No… no… no, no, no…” he whispered, barely audible. He didn’t know if he was saying it or thinking it. He just knew that “no” was not enough.
His vision blurred. Tears burned in his eyes, hot and salty. His visible eye was covered in water, but the Sharingan also trembled inside his mask, distorted by the shaking of his body.
As if the pain pierced his very soul.
Sakura cried. She cried with soaked cheeks, lips parted from repeating his name so much. Her hands still on Naruto’s chest, palms covered in blood. She was calling him as if her voice could bring him back.
And Kakashi… couldn’t move.
Couldn’t even breathe.
All sound disappeared. The battlefield faded. The chaos, the screams, the jutsu, the trembling ground… everything went silent. Only a hollow remained.
An abyss.
And he on the edge, feet dangling, waiting to fall.
“I failed him,” he thought.
“I failed him as a ninja. As a teacher. As a human being. As whatever he needed me to be.”
He had promised. Repeated it to himself on a thousand silent nights: that he would protect Naruto with his life. That he would never let him suffer again. That if someone had to bleed, it would be him.
But now…
Naruto’s blood was on his glove.
On his arm.
On his mask.
On his neck.
And it burned. It burned like fire.
And there was no way to wash it off.
Not with water.
Not with forgiveness.
Not with years of redemption.
Not with anything.
His legs buckled.
He collapsed to his knees with a dull sound. The earth beneath him felt colder than ever.
And for the first time in years, he cried like the boy he had been.
Like the boy who lost his father.
His friends.
His teacher.
Everything.
Like the boy who never knew how to hold anyone, even though he gave everything trying.
But this time… this time no one was going to hold him.
Because the only one who ever did… was dying in front of him.