It's been a week and he hasn't cried.
He walks out of the memorial service, ignoring the whispers muted in the background like some kind of white noise. The entire village has been filed with that static, as if they were afraid that their sounds would alert the kyuubi and the hell would start all over again, only this time there would be no hero to save them.
As Kakashi walks out, he hears one whisper, sharper than the rest, slicing through the soft buzzing background.
"Wasn't he his student?"
Kakashi keeps on walking.
It's been a month and three days and still, there have been no tears.
Rin comes to him today, eyes wide and concerned. She asks him how he's doing, placing a single finger on his wrist.
He jerks at the contact, and reels off his standard response.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
He has said it so many times it seems natural now.
It's been three months, five days and seven hours, and he's beginning to wonder if he's cold.
He knows the whispers, said behind his back, because no one has the balls to say it to his face.
You know that Hatake genius? A cold blooded killer.
Cold as ice, wonder if he's human at all.
Cold.
Kakashi supposed that they're all right, after all he doesn't feel a damn thing. He's numb to it all. Likes to say that he's impervious, actually.
Idly Kakashi wonders if the chunnin managing the desk is one of those whisperers. The chunnin gives him a suppressed, worried look, and Kakashi just smirks sardonically, cradling his smashed fist to his chest, and places the bloody scroll on the table. The chunnin looks away, flushing a dark red, scratching at the scar that runs across his nose.
Kakashi walks away ignoring the stuttering inquiry if he's ok. He wonders if he'll cry tonight.
Six months, five days, thirteen hours and twenty minutes.
Kakashi stares down at the body lying at his feet. The man stares up at him, blue eyes accusing. They've already started to glaze over. His blond hair's stiff with blood, the blond spikes soaking the carmine liquid that's pooling around him.
This man was different, different from the others. There was no pleading for his own life, no begging or groveling, all he asked of Kakashi was to save his son.
You killed him. It's all your fault.
"Come on. We have to destroy the body." A voice says urgently from his left. Kakashi turns and sees the new kid, what's-his-name the one who can do all that amazing jutsu with wood…Yamato. That's it. Kakashi can tell he's trying to be cool and professional about this, but can see in his eyes that he's disturbed by what they've just done.
"Captain…" the young man ventures again, daring to place a hand on Kakashi's bloody arm guard, "We need to destroy the body and get out of here." He flinches when Kakashi turns too look him straight in the eye, mask gone and tears running from both his blue-grey eye and the wildly spinning sharingan.
"I'm sorry." Kakashi whispers and Yamato knows that his captain is not well. Quickly, he slaps five exploding tags on the man's body before dragging Kakashi out the house.
Kakashi cries the entire way, quietly giving the report between dry sobs (he's used up all his tears on the way back).