Chapter Text
He feels the connection before his mind catches up, blinking a millisecond too late. Shit. He should have known. He should have known not to look up. And now he can’t look away. Despite all the training in the world, Kakashi can’t help the way his breath hitches in his throat at the sight of his ex-kōhai. He can almost still see them, children under the masks, the red tattoo on their arm only matching the bloodshed imposed on them far, far too young. The genius, the darkness within. So many secrets... Uchiha Itachi, the one he should have been able to understand. The massacre he should have been able to prevent. The man who had just tried to stab him in the back. What is he doing so close to the village? Why now? Kakashi doesn’t waste another second.
“Don’t look into his eyes!” he hears himself say. “Close your eyes! The second you look, you’re done for!”
Both standing behind him, Kurenai and Asuma are quick to follow his order. Kakashi hears the subtle shift in position, the way they grow quieter, all senses on high alert. He can smell the blood dripping from Asuma’s arm all the way down to the water surface, where their chakra buzzes to keep them afloat on the river. Kakashi can’t break the spell, but he can try to resist it. His left eye is starting to sting, along with the phantom pain of his shadow clone exploding a minute ago, but he knows he must concentrate. Itachi is right, this body isn’t built to wield and withstand a sharingan the way a Uchiha can. The Copy nin knows this too well, having been stuck with the limitations of his graduation gift for over a decade now.
He blinks. Shit. Around them, time passes slowly. A second, then another. He blinks. Kakashi is in hell. He barely registers the words on Itachi’s tongue. Infinite..? He tries to remember what he knows about the jutsu, rummaging through years of knowledge. Infinite Tsukuyomi. Can only be stopped by another powerful sharingan. Time and space dilatation. A torture technique. I’m no Uchiha. He recognizes it, the helplessness. In the real world, Kakashi’s hands start to shake and his eyes widen.
The skies turn to rust, shadows consuming him as he feels his balance thrown upside down. He tugs at his binds, hands and feet suddenly secured to a giant wooden cross. The others have disappeared, and he only hopes that Kurenai and Asuma are strong enough to fight Kisame. Shit. His sharingan spins out of control as the panic starts to creep over his senses. Kakashi has been tortured before, way too many times to count. Classified. He knows what to brace for, what to expect and how to suppress his reactions. But this is Itachi. In the distance, the missing nin is explaining the intricacies of his genjustu, and Kakashi tries not to listen. He tries to drown out the words and feel the river he knows is beneath him and the wind that should be brushing his skin. He tries. But Itachi knows him too well, and there’s nowhere to hide.
“How much can you take without the Kekkei Genkkai?”
His mismatched eyes lock with the katana approaching him. Just like the one Tō-san used to… No. He blinks. When the blade pierces Kakashi’s skin, there’s a beat. He lets his head hang low. Someone chokes on a scream, it echoes. Red and gray overpowered by white pain. His ears are ringing. Kakashi gasps, looking down at the blood seeping from his wound, staining his vest white. White? The colours of the sharingan spin around him until they fade to black. When he opens his eyes again, the wound is gone. That was genjutsu? Kakashi isn’t sure if he says it out loud, but he knows that Itachi sees his bearings crumble one by one.
“In this world of Tsukuyomi, time, space, mass… I control them all.”
There are now two katanas, two Itachis. Kakashi tries to ignore the pain, telling himself that the pain is not real, that none of this is real. A part of his brain registers the way Itachi is warning him that it is no use. Something about time? The words don’t make sense and fade in and out of reach. The pain is… real? He definitely recognizes his own scream this time. It’s ripped out of him as the katanas stab him simultaneously, the blades pushing and twisting in his guts. Kakashi’s whole body trembles and burns in agony. His mask, the one thing that usually grounds and protects him, feels too tight against his skin. It catches on his lips as he pants, the material soon wet with his blood. He feels it roll down his jaw. When his eyes focus again, he is greeted with the sight of more and more swords at his side.
“71 hours, 59 minutes and 59 seconds.”
His silhouettes are dark against the fiery skies. Kakashi can feel the cuts, from the very first attack to the last. Above him, only the moon watches. It does nothing to help hide the fear in his eyes and the tremors rocking over his body. His fingers clench and relax and clench again, his neck twists and his head falls back against the crosses. His copies go through the moves one by one, like a broken choreography. Kakashi feels his sharingan tear up as blood vessels explode and burn. It burns. It burns. It burns. Kakashi is in hell, and he can feel the pain of every iteration. Sometimes, Itachi’s face dances in front of him. He loses track of it. In every way, this is the worse torture Kakashi has even gone through. Classified. His kōhai, ex-kōhai, watches patiently. He’s not looking for information. This is either intimidation or some sick sort of revenge, and Kakashi is not sure how much more he can take.
The pattern goes on and on and on, and Hounds continue to multiply. No, not Hound -not anymore. Kakashi’s mind starts to fragment. He is 14, fighting against the hold of Tenzō’s restraints as the younger Root member interrogates him in the cave. Classified. The ropes around his legs become wood, he can almost feel the Anbu mask against his cheeks. No. He hadn’t been wearing the porcelain mask, it had fallen during the fight. Kakashi can almost see it on the ground, just beyond the katana protruding from his stomach. He sees the reflection of the lightning strikes against the blade and he tries to grab it and take it out, his hand too small to hold it properly. Tō-san? The world is too big and Kakashi has never known how to navigate it alone. He is 9, the copper smell is overwhelming, staining his vest and the tatami of his father’s study. He cannot move as the storm rages on. But the pain, the pain is cold, brutal. It twists and pushes and pulls, it takes everyone, and then it burns. It never stops. Tō-san! Kakashi can feel his mind splitting and going in a thousand directions. His sharingan is burning, chakra flooding to try and stop the jutsu before the pain drives him insane. He screams. The sensation in his eye isn’t unlike what he felt all these years ago, when Rin transplanted the eye into his socket amongst fallen rocks and comrades. Rin… Is this how Rin when I-
The world spins and darkens until it becomes too bright. His breath is knocked out of him along the vertigo. With a groan, Kakashi’s eyes adjust to the light, his whole buddy shaking from pain and chakra exhaustion. Behind him, he hears Kurenai asking him if they can open their eyes now. Somehow, 72 hours have passed in the blink of an eye. The Copy nin’s mind is far away, vision growing dark again. He hears Kisame praise him for not losing his spirit. The way Kakashi is wheezing tells another story. Why not kill me? He could have, if he wanted to! Through the buzzing of his feet, the heartbeat in his throat and the blinding pain in his gut, Kakashi hears the duo talk about their objective, and the pieces of the puzzle click into place.
“You’re Akatsuki,” he realises.
He goes on. He now knows what they came for, and he tells them as much. Naruto. Kakashi can tell that Kisame and Itachi are taken aback by the veracity of his intel, yet they don’t deny it. If his time is limited, Kakashi prefers to warn his team of the danger they face. He hears his own name, something about taking him alive. Of course, Itachi must have realised his value by now. And he knows just how well that jutsu had worked on me. Kakashi knows that he can’t let them take him, he would be a liability to the village in his state. I have to go. A groan escapes his lips as his knees suddenly buckle under him.
“Kakashi! What happened!?”
He catches himself at the last second, directing chakra into his hands and legs to stop himself from falling through the surface of the river. Black spots dance in his vision and he groans again. The pain doesn’t stop. It burns-it burns-it burns- and Kakashi knows that he cannot win this fight. His chakra reserves are depleted and he can’t tell up from down. Nausea hits him as every nerve in his body is screaming from the tension. It won’t be long before he starts hallucinating again. Get up! He thinks he can hear Asuma calling for him, but the way Kakashi grits his teeth makes it hard to respond. He’s pushing himself beyond his limit again, he knows that too, but he can’t abandon his teammates. He has a promise to fulfill, a promise he can’t break again. But Kisame is running towards him and Kakashi’s muscles do not budge.
“Severe Leaf Hurricane!”
A flash of orange and green jumps to protect him, making Kisame retreat. Kakashi knows that voice. Gai? The sight of the water is getting blurry, and he should be paying more attention to the conversation before him. Kakashi is a target and two shinobi rely on him to make it home. He wants to say something, warn Gai, anything. Protect them! Instead, he feels himself falling forward. Suddenly, the world around him turns blue, muffled sounds replacing the buzzing of his chakra as he starts to sink. Kakashi’s mouth opens in a gasp and he feels the cold of the water mix in with the fire in his veins. He sees his own fingers relaxing, the light that dances like ripples on his skin and the vague sight of a green shadow. Gai! A distant part of him recognizes the signs. His body is heavy and numb, and so incredibly tired. He gasps, masks sticking to his lips once again. When the burning in his lungs rivals the pain in his guts, he finally lets go.