Chapter Text
The wind felt off today.
Kakashi noticed it as he crossed the rooftops, a subtle drag in the air that made the village feel briefly hollow, as though something had slipped inside without disturbing the surface. He slowed instinctively, fingers brushing the edge of his forehead protector, and for just a moment, the covered eye pulsed with phantom warmth.
Obito's eye.
Always watching. Always reminding.
He extended his senses. Konoha's chakra flowed as it always did. Familiar, layered, alive. But beneath it ran something thin and cold.
Foreign.
Kakashi exhaled slowly. So they're already here.
He arrived to violence already in motion.
Asuma drove forward, trench knives burning with wind chakra as he pressed his opponent back through the clearing. Sparks and water spray burst with every clash. The blue-skinned shinobi laughed as he fought, massive frame absorbing blows that would have felled most jonin.
"C'mon!" Kisame bellowed, swinging his wrapped blade down hard enough to crater the ground. "You Leaf guys are tough. I like that!"
Asuma twisted aside at the last moment, countering with a sweeping strike aimed for the neck.
Samehada peeled free of its wrappings with a shriek, intercepting the blow and biting into the chakra coating Asuma's blades. The hunger in the weapon was palpable, wrong, a living thing that fed on chakra itself.
Asuma leapt back, breath sharp, blood trailing from a gash on his shoulder.
To the right, Kurenai moved with fluid precision, weaving seals as illusion bled into the air. Shadowed roots burst upward around the second intruder, coiling for his legs and arms, thorned vines reaching for throat and wrist.
The man in the Akatsuki cloak didn't move.
He looked at her.
The illusion shattered and reformed. Around Kurenai.
She gasped as her own genjutsu folded inward, senses locking as the world turned unfamiliar. Phantom vines coiled around her throat. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't...
She fought it instantly, forcing chakra through the distortion, teeth clenched, breaking the technique through sheer will and years of expertise.
But her hands trembled.
Kakashi landed behind Asuma, light as breath.
"Sorry I'm late."
Asuma didn't look back. "Good timing would've been ten seconds ago."
"Traffic."
"Liar."
Kakashi's visible eye crinkled despite everything. But his gaze was already fixed on the still figure in the cloak, on the face he'd seen only in bingo books and old mission reports.
Uchiha Itachi.
The name brought with it old blood, a night the world had quietly lost an entire clan, a boy genius who'd become something else entirely.
And those eyes...
Kakashi stepped forward, lifting his headband with practiced ease. The Sharingan slid into focus, the world sharpening painfully into clarity, every detail suddenly razor-edged and too bright.
Obito's gift. Obito's burden.
The blue-skinned shinobi, Hoshigaki Kisame if the reports were accurate, grinned wide. "Well, well. The Copy Ninja himself."
Itachi's gaze shifted to Kakashi.
Their eyes met.
Sharingan to Sharingan.
"Step back," Kakashi said quietly to Asuma and Kurenai. "Uchiha Itachi was ANBU captain at 13. This isn't a fair fight."
"Like hell," Asuma growled.
But they did step back. Slightly. Enough.
Itachi moved first.
His hands blurred through seals. Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique. The flames roared to life, massive and hungry, turning the air scorching hot as they rushed forward.
Kakashi's hands moved on instinct. Water Release: Water Wall. The jutsu crashed together in an explosion of steam that momentarily blinded the clearing.
Kakashi didn't wait. He burst through the steam, kunai drawn, angling for Itachi's blind spot.
Itachi pivoted smoothly, kunai meeting kunai with a sharp ring of metal. They exchanged a rapid series of strikes, testing, probing. Kakashi felt the difference immediately. Itachi wasn't just skilled. He was perfect. Every movement economical, every counter precisely calculated.
He's not even trying yet.
Kakashi disengaged, forming seals. Lightning crackled along his left hand, the familiar weight of Chidori building as chakra concentrated and screamed.
Itachi's eyes widened fractionally. Interest, maybe. Or recognition.
Kakashi lunged.
Itachi sidestepped at the last possible moment. The Chidori tore past him, carving a trench in the earth, the sound deafening.
They clashed again. Taijutsu this time, pure and brutal. Kakashi pushed every advantage. Speed, unpredictability, the Sharingan's predictive ability. But Itachi matched him move for move, and Kakashi could feel it. The stamina drain, the chakra expenditure, the Sharingan burning through his reserves.
I can't win this.
Their kunai locked. They stood close enough that Kakashi could see his own reflection in those crimson eyes.
Itachi's expression remained empty. Unreadable.
Then his eyes shifted.
Mangekyou.
"Don't look at his eyes!" Kakashi shouted to Asume and Kurenai.
But it was already too late for him, or Obito's eye could bail him out.
No...
No time for anything but the sensation of reality folding inward, as if Kakashi's mind had been seized and dragged into a narrowing tunnel of red and black.
The world dissolved.
Tsukuyomi.
Time fractured.
Kakashi stood in a world painted in crimson and shadow, where the sky bled and the ground reflected nothing.
Bodies lay before him.
Obito, half-crushed beneath the boulder, blood pooling from his mouth. His visible eye was open, staring, accusing. The gift. The burden. The moment everything changed.
No. Not again.
Obito, I...
The scene shifted.
Rin stood in front of him, his hand through her chest. Lightning still crackled along his fingers. Her blood was warm. Her eyes were sad, understanding, forgiving.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
You told me to protect them, Obito. You made me promise.
The world tilted.
Minato-sensei and Kushina-san lay together, the Nine-Tails' claw piercing through them both. Minato's hand reached toward Naruto, always protecting, even in death. Kushina's red hair spread like blood across the ground.
Everyone I couldn't save.
Everyone you trusted me to protect.
"Do you see?" Itachi's voice came from everywhere and nowhere. "Do you understand what it means to fail?"
The scenes began to repeat.
Obito crushed. Rin dying on his hand. Minato and Kushina pierced through.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Each death replaying in perfect, agonizing detail. The sound of the boulder. The feeling of Rin's heartbeat stopping. The moment the light left his sensei's eyes.
"Those who break the rules are scum," Obito's voice echoed through the red sky. "But those who abandon their friends are worse than scum."
I abandoned all of you.
I failed every promise I made.
Kakashi tried to move, to look away, to close his eyes. But in Tsukuyomi, even that was impossible. He could only watch, forced to witness his failures cycling endlessly. Each loop brought Obito's words back, that bright determination in his eyes when he'd given Kakashi the Sharingan.
"Now you can see everything clearly... so protect Rin."
But I didn't, Obito. I couldn't.
Pain descended, not from physical torture, but from something deeper. The weight of every promise broken, every person lost, every moment he was too late. The eye in his socket pulsed, warm and accusing.
This is what I deserve, some part of him whispered. For carrying your gift and squandering it. For letting everyone die.
Time lost meaning. Seconds stretched into hours into days. How long had he been here? How many times had he watched them die? How many times had he heard Obito's voice asking him to do the one thing he'd failed at over and over again?
Protect them.
I tried. I swear I tried.
Itachi's face appeared before him, expressionless, eyes spinning with tomoe that carved meaning into the red sky.
"Seventy-two hours here," Itachi said softly. "One second outside."
The world snapped back.
Kakashi collapsed to one knee, breath tearing from his lungs in ragged gasps, vision swimming as the clearing reassembled around him. His hands hit the ground, fingers digging into dirt that felt too real, too solid after the nightmare logic of Tsukuyomi.
Obito. Rin. Sensei.
The images wouldn't stop. Blood and bodies and broken promises cycling through his mind even as he tried to focus on the present.
"Kakashi!" Asuma's voice, sharp with alarm, somewhere to the left.
Kurenai staggered toward him, breaking free of the remnants of her own illusion, face pale.
Focus. Focus. They need you to focus.
Kakashi's hands trembled against the dirt. His vision blurred, red and black still bleeding at the edges. Obito's crushed body superimposed over the clearing. Rin's blood warm on his fingers even though his hands were clean.
Not real. Not now. That was then.
I can't fail again. Not again. Not my team again.
Kakashi lifted his head, forcing his vision to clear, to focus. Every movement felt like dragging himself through water, his mind still half-trapped in that red world. But Asuma and Kurenai were looking at him, waiting, and if he didn't warn them now...
Protect them. That's what you promised.
Red clouds on black cloaks.
Red clouds. Like blood scattered across night sky.
Understanding clicked into place like a blade sliding home, he thought back to the conversation he had with Jiraiya just a couple of days ago.
"Akatsuki," he said hoarsely, the word scraping his throat raw. His voice sounded distant, wrong, but he forced the words out anyway.
The word carried weight.
Asuma's eyes widened. Kurenai stilled, hand halfway to her kunai pouch.
"S-rank missing-nin," Kakashi continued, forcing his voice steady even as his body trembled with aftershocks. The images still flickered behind his eyes. Obito's face. Rin's blood. But he pushed through. He had to push through. "International criminals. You don't travel in pairs for assassination contracts."
His gaze locked onto Itachi, Sharingan to Sharingan once more. The eye burned, Obito's gift screaming in his socket, but Kakashi held the connection.
"You hunt jinchūriki."
Silence stretched between heartbeats.
Say it. Warn them. Before it's too late.
"You're here for Naruto."
Kakashi straightened as much as he could, using the motion to mask how badly his legs shook. His chakra felt thin, stretched, the Sharingan's drain multiplied by the trauma still echoing through his system.
Naruto. They're after Naruto.
"You won't get him," Kakashi said, and meant it with every fiber of his being.
Itachi regarded him for a long moment, expression unchanged, unreadable as still water.
Then, without emotion, he turned his head slightly toward Kisame.
"Capture Kakashi. Kill the others."
The words landed without heat. Without hesitation.
Kisame's grin widened, sharp teeth gleaming with delight. "Now that's what I'm talking about! You know, Kakashi, most jonin would still be drooling after what Itachi just put you through. But here you are, even making threats." He laughed, a booming sound that scattered birds from nearby trees. "The Copy Ninja really does live up to the hype! This is gonna be fun."
Asuma moved instantly, launching himself between Kisame and Kakashi before the sentence had fully settled, trench knives flaring brilliantly with wind chakra as he forced the larger shinobi back. "Like hell!"
Their clash shook the clearing, wind chakra screaming against raw strength, Samehada shrieking with hunger as it tasted Asuma's chakra and wanted.
Kurenai rejoined the fight without a word, weaving seals with trembling fingers, layering illusion over motion. Not targeting Itachi directly this time, but the space around him, trying to fracture his perception of distance and depth even knowing the likely futility of it.
Kisame broke from Asuma with a laugh that held genuine delight. His hands blurred through seals.
"Water Release: Water Prison Technique!"
Kakashi saw it coming. His body screamed at him to move, to dodge, to do something.
He tried.
His legs wouldn't respond fast enough. The Tsukuyomi had left him too drained, too slow. His chakra pathways felt sluggish, unresponsive, as if they'd been scraped raw from the inside.
Move. Move!
But before the water could reach him, Itachi was there.
A hand on his shoulder. Firm. Unyielding.
Kakashi's body locked. Not from water, but from pressure points struck with surgical precision. His arms went numb, legs refusing to respond. Itachi's chakra pressed down on him, suppressive, absolute.
"Don't struggle," Itachi said quietly. "You'll only injure yourself further."
Kakashi's jaw clenched. He tried to pull chakra, to break free, but his pathways stuttered and died under Itachi's control.
Can't move. Can't fight.
"Kakashi!" Asuma shouted, launching himself toward them.
Kisame intercepted him with a gleeful laugh, Samehada swinging in a wide arc that forced Asuma back. "Uh-uh! Your fight's with me, remember?"
Kurenai tried to flank, weaving genjutsu desperately, but Itachi didn't even look at her. His Sharingan dispelled it with a glance.
"Asuma." Kakashi forced the words out through gritted teeth, fighting against the paralysis. "Kurenai. You need to go. Get back to the village. Warn them about Akatsuki."
"We're not leaving you!" Asuma snarled, dodging another strike from Kisame.
"You're our comrade," Kurenai said, her hands shaking as she formed seals. "We don't abandon our comrades."
No. No, they don't understand.
Kakashi looked at them. At Asuma's bloodied determination. At Kurenai's fear masked by loyalty. The way they both stood ready to die rather than retreat.
Just like Obito. Just like Rin. Always choosing to fight. Always choosing to stay.
And I let them die for it.
Not again.
Kakashi's hand twitched. Itachi's pressure points had been precise, but desperation gave Kakashi what skill couldn't. Pain lanced through his arm as he forced it to move, every nerve screaming in protest.
His fingers found the edge of his forehead protector.
Itachi's grip on his shoulder tightened. "Don't—"
But Kakashi had already unclasped it.
The metal plate slipped from his fingers and struck the ground with a sharp clang.
The wind picked up, cutting through the clearing. Kakashi's silver hair fell forward, no longer held back, obscuring part of his face. The strands moved with the breeze, wild and unbound.
Carried away, he thought distantly. Just like everything else.
Itachi's eyes widened fractionally. Surprise, quickly masked.
Asuma froze mid-strike, staring at the headband on the ground.
"I'm not part of the village anymore," Kakashi said, each word deliberate, never breaking eye contact with Asuma. "So you don't have to die for me."
"That's not how it works!" Asuma's voice cracked. "You think a piece of metal changes—"
"Please," Kakashi said quietly. Simply. "Go."
"No." Asuma's hands trembled on his trench knives. "No, we're not—"
The water struck.
Kisame's technique, delayed but not forgotten, surged forward and wrapped around Kakashi in an instant. The sphere formed with brutal efficiency, sealing him inside before he could even gasp. The world turned watery and distant.
Itachi released his hold, stepping back as the water prison took over the task of restraint.
"Well," Kisame said cheerfully, his hand maintaining the sphere, "that was touching. Really. But we've got a schedule to keep."
Kakashi couldn't respond. The water pressed against his lungs, heavy and suffocating. He could only watch through the distortion as Asuma's face twisted with rage and grief.
"Damn it, Kakashi!" Asuma snarled, and lunged at Kisame again.
A burst of motion cut through the clearing like a green meteor.
"MIGHT GUY HAS ARRIVED!"
Guy landed hard between Asuma and Kisame, stance wide and perfect, eyes blazing as they took in the scene. Asuma injured and wild-eyed, Kurenai unsteady and pale, Kakashi suspended in a sphere of chakra-infused water.
Kakashi trapped.
"Kakashi...!" Guy's voice held an edge Kakashi had heard only a handful of times, the sound of Guy's eternal optimism meeting something it couldn't smile through.
Guy's gaze snapped to Itachi, to the Sharingan eyes, to the relaxed posture that promised terrible violence.
Kisame's grin widened impossibly as he looked Guy up and down, taking in the green jumpsuit, the perfect taijutsu stance, the barely contained power radiating from every muscle. "Well, well. Now this looks promising. Let's see what you got, idiot?"
"No," Itachi said simply.
"But..." Kisame's grin didn't fade, but there was genuine disappointment in his voice. "Look at him. He's strong. I can feel it. This one would actually be fun."
"We're leaving. We are not here for war."
Kisame's shoulders slumped slightly. "You never let me have any fun." But his grip on the water prison remained absolute, and when he looked back at Guy, there was promise in his eyes. "Another time, maybe."
"If you pursue us," Itachi said in that same even tone, addressing Guy directly now, "he dies. Immediately."
Kisame tightened the water prison just enough to make the point, pressure increasing until Kakashi's ribs creaked and his vision started to gray at the edges.
Kakashi's mouth opened in a silent gasp, water rushing in. He choked, body convulsing as his lungs tried to expel what they couldn't. The sphere constricted further, crushing, suffocating. His hands clawed uselessly at nothing, fingers scraping against the chakra-infused water that held him like iron.
Blood leaked from his nose, dispersing in red threads through the water.
Guy's eyes went wide with horror. "Stop! You're killing him!"
"That's the idea if you follow us," Kisame said cheerfully.
Kakashi's struggles weakened. His hands fell still. Eyes rolling back.
"Stop it!" Guy's voice cracked, raw with desperation. "Stop, I—we won't follow! Just stop!"
Then released slightly.
Breathing room. Just enough.
Kakashi sucked in a desperate breath through the water, coughing, shaking. Alive but barely.
Guy's fists trembled, his whole body coiled like a spring wound to breaking. "Guy," Asuma said hoarsely, grabbing his arm with a bloody hand. "Guy, we can't. We can't."
"But..." Guy's voice was raw. "Kakashi is my... he's my..."
Rival. Friend. The person who's been there since we were children.
Kakashi looked at Guy through the water, through the exhaustion, through everything they'd shared over decades of friendship.
He closed his visible eye once. Slowly. Deliberately.
This is the right choice.
Don't follow. Protect them. That's all that matters.
Itachi nodded once to Kisame.
The world blurred.
They moved through the forest in silence, traveling fast and efficiently through techniques Kakashi's exhausted mind couldn't fully track. The water prison stayed solid around him, Kisame's chakra maintaining it effortlessly even while moving at speeds that would have drained most jonin.
So this is the power of Akatsuki, Kakashi thought distantly. This is what we're facing.
Itachi led without looking back. His presence was a void in Kakashi's senses, chakra controlled so perfectly it barely registered, a ghost in a stolen body.
The wind shifted as they moved, carrying Kakashi away from Konoha.
Away from his students, his friends.
Away from the village he'd bled for, killed for, lost everything for.
Naruto, he thought, and felt something cold settle in his chest. They're going after Naruto.
And I can't protect him...
The Sharingan pulsed in his socket, warm and foreign and Obito's. Obito who'd died believing in something better, who'd given Kakashi this eye and told him to protect his friends, to be the person Obito couldn't be.
I'm sorry, Kakashi thought into the void where Obito's voice used to live. I'm sorry. I failed again.
The trees became a blur. The sky darkened overhead, clouds gathering as if summoned by the weight of what was coming.
Real clouds now, gray and heavy with rain. Not the red clouds that had stolen him away.
And the wind...
The wind carried no answers.
Only the faint, copper taste of blood and the distant promise of rain.