A/N: Hello, lovelies, and thank you for clicking on this story! I'm happy to see someone's is interested in this concept like I am. This is no original idea— it has been done many times before with Kakashi as the main character, but I really wanted to see how far I could push my creative writing to look for new ideas and make this interesting. Kakashi here is not the Kakashi we've seen during the series— the ripple caused by the time travel and the situations presented have a different impact on our little hero. I may do some time skipping in the future, but I'll see how it develops. If there's anything you'd like to see in this story PM/leave a review! It'd be much appreciated.

He looked at the darkness before him, back pressed flatly against the gray block of cement beneath him. His breathing was ragged, and he could feel a thick, warm liquid beneath his cold fingertips— the ones he could feel, at the very least. Vision blurry around the edges (and not only because of the Kamui), the jōnin's gaze fell upon the deep gash across his chest, noticing his left hand was a few meters away from him.

Blood.

He was dying.

Kakashi Hatake was dying.

Not that it surprised him. The moment he had been dragged into the alternate dimension only the ones with a Sharingan had control over, he had realized he wouldn't be going back. His heart had ached deeply at the fact of not being able to help Naruto and the others against Madara. But to compensate, he had vowed to drag Obito along into the other life.

Not for the first time in his life, he had been unable to keep his silent promise.

Kakashi had failed, again. He had failed when he hadn't been able to save Obito, he had failed when he killed Rin. He had failed when Sasuke had left Konohagakure, and Gods, he had failed in trying to keep Team 7 united.

Failure. The word seemed to etch painfully into his chest, even deeper than the gash Obito had managed to inflict, rendering motionless before returning to the battlefield, leaving Kakashi alone to die. Now, as his gasps became shallow, regret crashed down on him, and for the first time in over twenty years he could feel his eyes sting uncomfortably.

Had Sakumo Hatake experienced this before killing himself?

He'd have to ask his old man once he got there. Wherever the Hell "there" was, anyway.

The cynical voice in his head said something about reflecting about his life before finally kicking the metaphorical bucket— but Kakashi had done day since the day they had lost Obito during the Third Great Ninja War. Regretting every poor decision; cherishing the memories he had with Minato-sensei's Team 7 and his own; laughing at every single silly competition between his "eternal rival" Maito Gai and himself.

Yes, he had done quite a lot of reflection, especially for a lazy guy like himself.

Either way, Kakashi would die as a "great" shinobi, honoring his promise to fight against the evils threatening his people. That's what the people would say. He wondered if his tomb would be near Obito's or Rin's. If... well. If Naruto managed to defeat Madara. While it was uncharacteristic of him to doubt his precious student, his thoughts seemed to venture down that road while Death ventured closer and closer. He looked ashamed briefly after thinking that, not that anyone was there to call him out on it. They were all fighting, all trying to protect the ones they loved and their villages— fuck, the whole world.

And he was there, lying down while waiting Death to claim him. He had no stamina or chakra left, and after the heavy amount of blood lost, Kakashi knew he would be more a nuisance than anything else. Tsunade-sama had been defeated, Sakura was on her way and there were more important people to take care of than him.

If only Zabuza could see him right now, the Konoha jōnin was sure the Mist shinobi would have a good laugh at his expense for being so idiotic.

"I let a weak shinobi like you defeat me?! Damn you, Hatake. Just when I thought you couldn't be more pathetic." That's what he'd say, Kakashi thought with a barely noticeable smirk. Gods, he was so exhausted.

Naruto, Sakura, Sasuke, Sai, Gai...

He closed his eyes and exhaled for the last time, body moving more and more slowly until his remaining limbs felt so heavy he couldn't move them anymore.

Everyone...

Kakashi's chest stopped moving soon after, face void of all expression sans the way the corners of his mouth seemed to quirk downwards.

I'm sorry.

He was surrounded by nothingness. His body floated, drifting amiss in what could be the eternal limbo. He didn't need to breathe nor eat.

His eyes remained closed at all times.

Was this what being dead was like?

Bright. Everything was so damn bright.

Kakashi groaned softly and turned to the side, trying to cover his face with his blanket while shifting to find a more comfortable positi—

He froze.

His eyes shot open and he moved to sit on his bed, noticing this wasn't his room. Heart stopping for an agonizingly long second, the shinobi blinked slowly, the odd sense of familiarity coming to him.

Wait... it was his room. Only then realization struck, and his blood ran cold when his eyes found the calendar opposite from him.

It was his room. But... it wasn't the room he had slept in for most part of his adolescence well into his thirties. That one had almost no personal belongings that revealed the existence of an adult occupying the space. But this one— oh boy, this one. The peach curtains seemed to dance as the cool autumn breeze swept in, allowing sunlight to reach every single corner. Small pictures were adorning his bedside table, and on the shelves across from his bed were books he hadn't read in almost twenty five years.

Only then he allowed himself to look at his hands, and Kakashi was glad he was sitting on his bed, otherwise his knees would've buckled beneath his weight. They were so... so small. And so soft, not a single scar adorning them.

Those were the hands of a five year old.

Kakashi felt like screaming. Apparently his body wasn't used to the shock he was experiencing, because it shut down. Vision turning black, his head hit the pillow, allowing him not to think of whatever the Hell was happening at the moment.

The next time he woke up, the bright light hadn't faded in the least, indicating maybe an hour at most had passed. Kakashi slowly sat onto the mattress, trying to figure out this ridiculous predicament like the prodigy he was. Hands moving up to caress his face, the gray-haired boy noticed the scar that had adorning his face for most of his life was now gone, and soft skin could be found instead.

No scar. No Sharingan. So that meant—

He dared not think about it, heart aching. Not now.

Kakashi stepped out of the bed, the soft tatami mat beneath his feet making his muscles tense instinctively. The room brought many memories forth— most good, some bad and some just unpleasant. The boy— his pride took a blow at the reminder— looked around carefully, barely resisting the urge to make the Hitsuji (Ram) seal and scream "Kai!"

But Kakashi's gut told him it was not a genjutsu. Oh, if only. He pushed down the nervous flutter in his chest and gently slid the shōji door, closing it behind him out of habit. A habit he had supposedly lost the moment he had left the Hatake state.

Unlike the first time he had visited it, the house was well kept and had a cozy atmosphere that made Kakashi's step falter more than he'd care to admit. The wa-shitsus were well kept, and when he gazed out at the small backyard he noticed it was covered in small flowers.

Just the way his mother had liked it.

Kakashi walked into the kitchen, heart pounding in his chest at the idea of seeing Him there, probably getting ready for a mission. Sweat broke on his forehead and he rubbed it in annoyance, trying to look as serious as a five year old could look. Slowly, as if scared, he turned to look at the table, eyes widening when he saw his father.

Tou-san.

Sakumo Hatake was sipping on his coffee, gray eyes fixed on the newspaper in his hands. He looked relaxed, despite wearing his jōnin uniform. Apparently Kakashi made a sound because he soon looked up and smiled at the Hatake heir, putting his mug down.

"Good morning, Pup."

Kakashi took a deep, shaky breath, trying to return the pleasantry but no words came out of his mouth. He saw Sakumo's eyes flash in concern and he stood up, walking to his son and placing a hand on his forehead.

Warm. He was warm.

"What's wrong, Pup? Are you okay?" He asked softly as if not to startle the boy. "Did you have a nightmare? You don't have a fever." The jōnin caressed his cheek and only then Kakashi realized he was crying.

"I—" he choked out, not knowing what to do other than allowing his small hands tug at Sakumo's vest, pulling him close enough to hug him. Kakashi had never been this affectionate, and while he had thought he had made his peace with his father, he realized it wasn't really the case. Maybe being a kid again made his emotions way more unstable, or maybe it was him not having expected to hold his dad after years of trying to suppress his memory. "Tou-chan..." he hated the way his voice broke at the very end, he hated the way his frame trembled.

But Gods, he didn't hate his dad.

Sakumo seemed to be surprised by Kakashi's odd display of emotions, having seen him shut him out ever so slowly over the past few months, but quickly returned the embrace. Making the little head rest on his shoulder, he sighed softly.

"Shouldn't have told you about my mission last night, eh?" He tried to joke, hands rubbing his son's back. Kakashi sniffled, trying to laugh.

Heavens, he couldn't remember the last time he had hugged his father before that.

"I had a nightmare," he explained without bothering to disentangle himself from the embrace, relishing the warmth provided by his father. "Must've eaten before bed," he lied, and Sakumo barked out a laugh.

Truth be told, the former jōnin has forgotten completely about this side of his father. Kakashi had held tightly onto the memory of finding White Fang on the floor with a blade dig deep into his stomach. He had only remembered the tired, miserable shell of a man he had called his father.

But Sakumo Hatake was so much more than that.

"No more broiled saury before bed, then."

Kakashi's body relaxed and he smiled brightly even if it was hidden by his mask.

"Hai, tou-chan."

"Now, care to tell your old man about it before he leaves?" He asked, not really knowing what had triggered this sudden change of heart. But, Sakumo would never complain about it. His son was precious to him, and absolutely more important than anything else. So whatever had happened, he was grateful.

Kakashi had little time to figure out what to tell his dad, so he decided to rely on half-truths because honestly— his previous life had been nothing but a nightmare right until he had been assigned to Team 7.

"You were... gone," he hesitated, trying to keep his emotions at bay. "And I was all alone... I had to fight and you were with kaa-chan." Kakashi had to rely a bit on his childish innocence, hands tightening around Sakumo's vest.

While he couldn't see it, he knew his father's expression was somber and slightly pained. "Oh, Pup..." Sakumo whispered, only pulling away to look into Kakashi's eyes, speechless at the sheer pain in them.

"You're not leaving me, are you..?" The younger Hatake said, knowing it was kind of a loaded question with more than just one meaning. Now that Kakashi had seen his father before the incident, he doubted he'd be able to deal with not having him around again. His father sensed his insecurity and sighed, one hand running through that hair much like his own.

"I'm not leaving you, Kakashi. You're my son and I love you."

Kakashi only hoped things would be different this time around.

"I love you too, dad."