Mouths in Line, Tears Beside
Chapter 1: Kakashi
Immediately post-war, hinted KakaSaku.
I don not own Naruto.
He stood up, pushing himself with his arms off his knees. He stood up, despite the fact that he had zero chakra left and his head was banging furiously. He stood up, although he knew it would be easier to crash. He stood up – but he was drained.
There weren't many left. A dozen, maybe two if he tried counting. He looked around and all he saw was destruction and waste, and bodies, so many bodies… He knew most of them — by name, or by face, and some he'd heard about and never had the chance to meet. But he knew them, he knew most of them.
His heart was condensed into such a heavy lump, that first he thought he was wounded. But after assessing the situation as clearly as possible, he arrived to the conclusion that his heart wasn't physically wounded, no. It was just broken.
He caught a wisp of pink hair in the corner of his eye, and his throat collapsed right then and there. He was hurting all over, but now, somehow, he felt it more acutely. She, too, was gone. She was one among thousands, he knew, and there was someone's core shattering at the head of all of the others, but this was more — this was more than shattering. It was searing, it was ripping his insides apart and all he could let out was a hoarse, pathetic moan with half his mouth hanging sloppily and his hand lamentably trying to cover up the other half.
He fell to his knees. He felt the corners of his eyes burn, and he sobbed, dryly, because it was his fault. This thing, the war, the destruction, it was all his fault. Sasuke, Obito — they, too, were his fault. It had been his responsibility, and he failed yet again; again and again, with every opportunity. He failed her too, now. He failed her too.
He saw Naruto busying himself around with carrying bodies, some to the hospital tent, but most to a pile to the side, to be burnt. He made out a messy head of black hair in that pile and his breath hitched, because it was familiar, that messiness. Sasuke.
He knew the boy was only running back and forth to keep from looking around; to keep from realizing what had happened, who was gone, how many they lost. His vision was getting blurry from the tears that hung to his silver lashes, but he saw the boy's face. He saw his face. It was broken, it was a pale mask and it was placated with desperation and fatigue, and regret, and all the things that he should have done differently. He knew when he saw him, he knew Naruto wasn't really there. But when he walked past her, when he walked past her and recognized her, when he fell at her head and picked her up and screamed, and hugged her lump body and looked around with such a broken, dim and bubbling stare, Kakashi knew he'd never be the same again. Kakashi knew he let him down as well.
They were both crying, both desperate and cracked, both exhausted and wrecked on the inside. Both hearts beating slower for the same reason; both stares dulled by the same sight; both whispering please and wake up in between whimpers. But it was his fault, he knew; it was his fault. She was lying there, lifeless and cold in the arms of her best friend, because he couldn't swallow his pride. Because he couldn't take responsibility. Because Rule #97: Shinobi must never show emotion. He'd been dismissing his flaws for so long that he learned to detach himself from them and disregard them. He'd been denying their existence for so long that he came to actually believe, somewhere along the way, that they weren't there anymore.
He pulled his stare off the body that looked so fragile now and onto the boy who was too quickly a man. He looked at him and asked himself if he will ever be forgiven. He looked at him and choked himself with all the unnecessary things that his actions had put that boy through. He was so sorry.
He remembered how Naruto used to always flaunt his flaws. Show them to everybody, own them, overcome them. Be as stupid as humanly possible, because that gave him space to grow. He wondered if he'd ever see him glinting again. If he'll ever see him race Iruka to the ramen stand; if he'll ever hear him laugh again. He was so sorry.
His whimpers never drowned, but when Naruto's eyes stopped on his for a moment, he saw anger, and fear, and so much heartache, that he wondered if the boy knew whom to be mad at. He wondered if he'll ever have the courage to speak to him again. He wondered if he'll ever be able to mention her name. Nothing, nothing will ever be the same again.
They won the war, he knew they won. But at what cost?
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this. More to come very soon. Rates and reviews are appreciated, so please let me know what you think!