Chapter Text
The cut across Kakashi’s ribs had stopped bleeding hours ago.
That wasn’t comforting.
It hadn’t clotted—the blood had just frozen, soaking through and stiffening the fabric of his flak jacket more than it already was. Would have been annoying, if he were still sensing anything. He wasn’t.
His fingers had gone numb first, followed by his cheeks, his nose and finally, his entire body. In any case, the snow wasn’t biting at his exposed shoulders anymore, so it wasn’t all that bad.
The hunger was still there, though. Gnawing a pit into his stomach, as if meaning to punish him for not packing enough rations. In his defense, the mission should have been shorter; but the weather had had other plans for him, apparently.
His knees sank into the thick layers first, then his hands. Clumpy flakes settled on his black gloves, merging them with the white-covered earth. The sharingan flickered a few times, like it forgot it couldn’t be turned off.
Would they even find his body? Or would it be an empty casket, like with Obito? He’d probably laugh at Kakashi once they met again. ‘You died like that?’ An involuntary smile tugged at Kakashi’s blue-tinged lips.
This was it, then. Starving to death in the middle of a forest. It wasn’t how he wanted it to end, but at least he’d be seeing them again.
He let his posture collapse, head tipping forward with the rest of him. The ground rushed up, a soft, pale blanket, and for a moment, he welcomed it.
Except the softness never came. Instead, something hit him square in the forehead. Hard. His arms snapped up automatically, catching himself. What—
Bread. A loaf of bread, steaming as it landed in front of him. It was deep brown around the edges, like it had just come out of the oven.
“Here.” A low voice cut through the ringing in his ears. “Starving’s pathetic. Take it.”
Kakashi flinched up. The figure towering over him unblurred just enough to make out the yellow slate mask, one hole cut out over the right eye. Not an animal one. Not ANBU. A rogue? An enemy? Instinctively, his hand went to his kunai, hand closing around the hilt weakly as his fingers refused to bend. Damn it. He was in no state to fight.
The figure cocked their head, arms crossed, and took a step closer, boots crunching. “It’s not poisoned. There’s no point in poisoning a dying man.”
“Why—“ The word went over Kakashi’s paralysed tongue with a tremor. “What do you want?” You didn’t help out shinobi that weren’t yours unless you got something in return. Information, resources, a guide. Not…
“Nothing.” The bread rolled over as the man nudged it closer to him. Watching Kakashi’s brows furrow, he sighed, less in pity and more so in annoyance. “I know you. You’re the Copy Ninja. Kakashi Hatake, right?”
So he recognized him. Kakashi wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad.
“You’re supposed to be skilled. Doesn’t suit you—dying like this. It’s not how you’re meant to.” He crouched down and broke the loaf in two halves, then showed off the inside. Strings of dough connected around the air pockets, and a roasty smell drifted up. “See. It’s safe.”
Kakashi’s gaze flicked between the halves, to the man, and back again. His stomach bit harder at the sight of the meal, sending a sharp jolt up into his jaw.
The stranger was right. What did he have to lose, really? If there was something wrong with it, he’d die either way.
His fingers twitched toward the man’s extended hand before he could stop himself, carefully taking the offer. “…Thanks.”
“Don’t.” As soon as the bread was out of his palm, the man stood back up, swiveled on his heel and stomped back. The white swallowed up his silhouette faster than Kakashi could say another thing.
Huh.
His gaze lingered on the spot where he’d disappeared for a few more moments before Kakashi realised he should probably find a better place to eat. Somewhere less exposed, where he couldn’t be surprised so easily.
Holding onto the next best tree for support, he pushed himself up, shaking. Just a few steps; he’d manage that. One foot in front of the other—
His legs gave out immediately. The ground came up much faster than before, his skull hitting against the bark on the way down. Darkness took over the edges of his vision, spreading until he couldn’t see anything anymore. Or feel anything, except the warmth of the loaf against his chest.
Get up. Come on.
His limbs weren’t working. They weren’t even there, as far as he could tell. No matter how hard he gritted his teeth, they wouldn’t move.
He had gotten a chance. He couldn’t lose now. He had to see the future, for him.
Something pulled him up. Arms wrapping around his torso, sliding under his elbows and thighs, hoisting him up like he weighed nothing. A heartbeat thudded next to his head, slow, rhythmically, like a lullaby. Each pulse pulled him downward, deeper into the haze that was creeping through his muscles, coaxing him to relax when he couldn’t.
Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Open your—
“Stupid Kakashi.”