Reposted story; was published in AO3 /works/1513691

buried beneath

The jounin who came to them was the second surprise of the day. The first was Obito, though he should have known that he would be in a team with them. The best in the class complementing the dead last, perfect alignment to the village's definition of balance.

He could deal with Rin. He had expected—hoped, more like—Rin to be in the same team with him. She was at least useful: capable of self-defense, wide array of medical knowledge and adept in packing pocket-sized first aids. He had seen her in action, having once followed his father to her mother's place for back up first aid kit, and concluded that if there should be anyone else with him in a team, it should only be Rin. The third member of his team, whoever he or she was, wouldn't matter, as long as he wouldn't drag him down.

Obito though—

"My name is Namikaze Minato," the jounin's smile was as bright as his hair colour. Minato was a familiar figure, popular in his own right and one of the rumoured Hokage candidates despite his young age.

—Obito hadn't even reached their designated meeting place.

But he did come, of course, after having allegedly sent a crying kid back to his home near the outskirt of the village, and immediately declared himself a Hokage candidate.

Quite unexpectedly, though not surprisingly, Minato encouraged Obito's stupid ambitions. Kakashi did wonder about the sun-coloured expression on Minato's face as he welcomed Obito into the team. Was there really faith in Obito, was he just indulging his new student, was it just a respect paid to Obit's clan, or was the prestige of a Hokage that cheap these days?

Nothing of those sorts really mattered that much to Kakashi anyway. Missions first, everything else later.

The war should have ended when Obito left—no, died.

They should have went out to search for him, he might have still been alive, wasn't he talking before all those—those rocks fell? He still had his sharingan, at least one of it, he might not have been dead yet, what if he was alive, fighting the things that were burying him alive? Something told Kakashi that Obito was out there, somewhere, because his left eye was constantly searching, seeking, yearning for its true owner, the one who activated it. He couldn't be dead, he shouldn't be dead—what about being a Hokage? What about all the old ladies who needed help to cross the streets or children who needed him to guide their way home? What about their team? What about Rin?

Just as he thought, the prestige of a jounin, Hokage, whatever, was all cheap dreams.

"I know what you're thinking, Kakashi. I'm going to have to tell you to hold that thought."

It was raining that day, ironic for the one day the village took the opportunity to have a mass funeral for those who perished in the war. Kakashi refused to attend at first, but there was Rin to consider, and Rin wanted to attend. She was on his left right now, tears pouring out from her eyes. Minato and Kushina were on his other side. Kushina, he heard, lost two of her teammates; both died when they accidentally fell into the landmine traps set up by Iwagakure.

"You're a jounin now, and even though we didn't get to that, very soon, you'll be leading a team of your own."

Some time ago the prospects of it all would have excited him, but now all that was left was just numbness.

"As long as I'm alive, Kakashi, I'm still your teacher."

Talking was hard, responding so much more. It was like he had spent too much time mulling and thinking and too little time talking that he had lost the ability to speak. What should he even say—why make him attend this thing when they didn't even get to bury Obito's actual body, what's the point of mourning when the war isn't over, why is it that he gets to be known as the genius, when the real hero didn't even get to have his body returned to his family? Was this what his father was thinking right before he decided to take his own life?

"Kakashi?"

He swallowed a gulp of saliva, a little salty from all the repressed tears, and willed his throat to work.

"Obito, he—" each word a heavy push from the chest to his mouth, "—will come back."

Then the downpour became a drizzle, clouds clearing off slowly to make way to light.

A shadow loomed in front of Kakashi and he looked to his side to face Minato in the eyes. The pressure made by Minato's hand ruffling his hair made him bow a little.

"He never left us," he said. "That eye he gave you. He still lives."

Don't go killing yourself, or you'll end up killing him all over again.

The crowd began to thin when night fell.

Team Minato was disbanded that day. Perhaps it was for the better; at least Obito wasn't replaced. Team Minato, after all, was formed with his entrance; it was only fitting that it died with him, no matter how alive Minato claimed him to be.

"Kakashi, you still have me."

To his other side, Rin smiled against the backdrop of a faint rainbow.

Rin...she loves you.

Later, Rin told Kakashi that Minatohad just proposed to Kushina.

The thing about killing was that the bloodstain stayed; in scent and in memory. A shinobi would always reek of steel, the steel of their forehead protector and the steel from the hardened blood in their hands, one couldn't exist without the other and it was a lesson best learned through experiences, through killing and causing deaths.

"Shall we?" Asuma asked as he finished his third cigarette. The rest of the jounins, save for Kakashi, Asuma and Kurenai, had gone to meet their students but Asuma thought it would be amusing to make their students wait to see how much patience they had. Waiting, after all, constituted most of the missions.

To nobody's surprise, all three of the teams came very close to clawing each other's throats.

It would be interesting, Kakashi thought. He knew who his students were going to be and there were two that had already reeked of steel.

He stole a glance at Minato's stone face as he went down the stairs to the classroom which his students were waiting in.

I'm alive, sensei. Rin, Obito, they are with me. They are in the steel that I reek of, is this good enough?

Then, he opened the door.