Chapter Text
It's a fight for his life.
He's emotionally and physically drained and he's tired. He's light-headed, covered head-to-toe in bruises and deep scratches, some causing him to bleed a deep red. They're outnumbered and there doesn't seem to be backup coming very soon.
The last thing he remembers is watching Naruto die. A sharp sword plunged deep inside of his chest, the deep blue hue of his eyes turning hollow, and the deadly pale face of what radiated joy. The only thought resting on his mind was how he had failed Minato and done a crap job of looking after Naruto.
There's a deep sinking feeling that anchors itself down in his chest and he's scared. For himself or for Naruto, he doesn't have time to process because in a split second, there's a flash before him, dark eyes that are void of any pupils and a sharp feeling in his gut as he soon follows to death, after Naruto. The feeling is painful, but the process isn't.
Everything's a blur, he doesn't register the sharp pain when he faintly notices the sword being forcefully pulled outside of him. Everything's flashing white and danger signs are ringing everywhere, and then white suddenly turns to black.
He's dead.
When he comes to, his eyes are shut tightly and it's pitch-black in his sights. He doesn't want to open his eyes.
Momentarily, he reels in his memories. It's coming back to him in a flash. Naruto dying. Him watching with shock and a quick feeling of defeat. And him dying, himself. And with that thought coming back to him, he's confused. Wasn't he supposed to be dead? Had backup finally arrived and he was rescued by medic nin? Was Naruto okay?
He forced his eyes open and he was met with a white plain ceiling. Was he in the hospital? After all, the medic tents that they carried around sure as hell hadn't carried ceilings with them.
But as time passed, and he analyzed the situation a bit, it was increasingly being unlikely that he was in an actual hospital.
He was laying down on a futon. Hospitals were fulled with beds, no matter how uncomfortable they were. Not to mention, it was eerily silent, absent of all the familiar chatter that the usual hospital held. Old grannies gossiping after getting their daily check-ups or examinations for any hip or back pains. Many ninjas being rushed in after being fatally wounded, little kids crying for breaking a bone, mothers talking among themselves.
Not to mention, he hasn't seen a single soul since he had woken up. The only thing he saw was the white ceiling.
Slowly, he turned his head towards his left. Strange. This definitely wasn't the hospital. No, it was a room. Well, somewhat a room. It was an particularly empty place, more spacious than it should've been, based on the lack of furniture and personal belongings, but at the same time, it was a cramped and small room. But despite how empty it was, it felt familiar. Like he had been here before.
When he got up from laying on the bed, he seated himself and looked around further.
Kitchen, futon, a glass cabinet full of dish and silverware, a small hallway leading to two doors (most likely the bathroom or something), and a bookshelf full of books. Though, there was mountains of books outside of the bookshelf, seeing as how said-bookshelf was already filled with more than enough books.
It took him a moment, but it finally clicked.
He had awoken up in a familiar room, the all too-familiar scent of strong lavender lingering in the air, and the huge stacks of books surrounding his tiny futon, his familiar furniture.
This was his old room. The very first apartment he had rented after his father's death. The current one he resided in was his third apartment. His second apartment had been more spacious than the first apartment, but his neighbors had been quite loud during the night and he hardly could cram some sleep inside him for his missions the next day.
Forcing himself up from his sitting position, he was quite confused. What was he doing here? Wasn't there another inhabitant living in this room? Everything was exactly the same years ago. Why wasn't he at the hospital? Where was Naruto? When he stood up and walked, he felt a bit off, as if some sort of ninjutsu was cast on him or something similar, but he paid it no mind.
He dragged himself to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. After all, if he was in his old place, why not? He was already intruding enough. He was dizzy and frankly, a bit out of it, so might as well get himself together before visiting Naruto in the hospital. Most likely where Naruto would be, definitely not in his apartment as Kakashi, himself, had landed in.
The bathroom door was already open so he entered it. The first thing when he reached to flicker on the lights were, he was short.
Okay, he wasn't exactly the tallest, really. He had been the shortest in his years of ANBU, being as he was quite young, but he was average for his age. So when he reached to flicker on the lights, first thing he noticed was, it wasn't there. He trailed his fingers upwards on the wall to try finding it and it wasn't until a good inches away from his original spot did he find it.
And he's not talking one or two inches. He's talking eight inches. A good solid eight inches.
The lights flicker on and he's left staring at his left hand in surprise. In the midst of his shock, he notices how quite small they are. He feels conflicted and almost feeling his heart edging into panic. He quickly rushes towards the mirror and widens his eyes.
What the actual fuck? He's young. Not teenager young, but pre-teen young. His heart beats rapidly against his rib cage and all thought process are coming to a quick halt as he just stares at his reflection in surprise for a good few minutes. When reality floods back into Kakashi, he resists the urge to scream. He's a grown ass ninja, he can take a shrimp version of himself.
He had to be calm about this situation. It was a genjutsu. Like Naruto and Sakura had once experienced. He makes the familiar sign and shouts," Dispel!" And after a good few moments, nothing happens. Okay, so maybe it's not as simple as that. He can't feel any chakra disturbances and he can't see any unusual charka flow activity. Not when his sharingan in missing━
Oh god, his sharingan was missing. He really was in his old body. Sharingan couldn't be fooled by genjutsu and if he didn't have sharingan, this meant this definitely and positively wasn't a genjutsu and he was screwed over at the moment.
His small, bony fingers trail over to his left eye. Sure enough, it was the same black obsidian color as his right instead of the bright flaring red of the sharingan with three black pupils.
This can't be real. It's not possible. Time-travel isn't a thing, this is a dream, he's delusional, his real self is safely tucked into a hospital bed, void of any fancy nancy time-travel self. That is a definite thing.
But there's a nagging voice in his head, it's hopeful and suggesting that maybe, he is in the past, where his comrades were alive and maybe this was some sort of second chance from God. He tries to ignore it. He's Kakashi, who was he to get a second chance, after all? He definitely was just dreaming this with his conscious intact while he was dreaming about some stupid thing.
Prove it. Prove to yourself that it's just a dream.
There's that voice again. The hopeful part of him. Screaming at himself inside his head, he tries to prove it. There's a kunai sitting innocently on the rail next to the bathtub. He reaches for it and slashes it deeply into his left palm.
He cries out at the sudden pain and looks at the crimson red blood that's flowing freely from the deep wound. In retrospect, maybe he shouldn't have slash so harshly against his skin. The logical and reasonable side of him tells him, if this meant this whole charade was real, he should bandage up his wound and walk outside, analyze his surroundings, try to make note of the specific date and time period it was.
But the sentimental side of him wins over and he rushes out of the bathroom, out the door, opening the handle with his good hand and jumping on the roof, running towards the regular training spot he and his team regularly met up with.
He hopes, he prays, that he's gone far back enough to have breathing, functioning, and alive teammates. Never mind the fact that this should be impossible, most likely a forbidden jutsu if it actually was possible, all that was on his mind was his teammates.
After a few minutes of jumping on roofs, which would've took longer if he hadn't rushed his way over, he finally arrives in front of the forest. He's memorized their place like the back of his hands and he's jumping on trees this time, rushing towards the all-too familiar spot. When he jumps down from the last branch, the usual branch he always sat on, heads turn towards his way.
"Kakashi? You're late it something wrong?"
There's a warm bubbly feeling inside him, very out-of-character for him, even to himself. He stares at them, as if in a trance, wanting to burn their faces into his memory, even though they've already been burned into his memory.
"You okay, Kakashi? You seem a bit- oh! You're bleeding horribly, what happened? Rin, did you bring your medical kit?"
"Yes, teacher."
The rest of the conversation it drowned out in favor of Kakashi's raging thoughts. It feels as if he's biting back sobs and trying hard to not cry. A few pangs in his gut as he watches their movements.
This is real.