Self Deception Ch 3
The days dragged by until his first mission. He loved Sensei's family, but he was glad when he could return to the solitude of his own home. He enjoyed getting out of the village on a mission, even if it was just a crappy escort mission. Obito and Rin didn't bother him about his father anymore.
Obito's death eclipsed his father's somehow. He hadn't felt responsible for his father's death, but Obito's was a direct result of his choices. On their last mission Obito had confronted him about his father, forcing him to face things as only Obito could do. Kakashi knew Obito helped him become comfortable with his father's memory at least, but the Sharingan leaked when he thought too much about either of them.
Every year he had a ritual he didn't tell anyone about. On the anniversary of his father's death he would pull back the rug and sit against the wall all night, watching the stain and remembering. The next day he always felt like shit, but it was something he felt he had to do. It helped somehow.
He was nearly 30 before anyone discovered his habit. By then it had ceased bringing him any kind of comfort. It was like poking a wound. It didn't help anymore; it just felt necessary.
Jiraiya needed some information on an upcoming mission. He pounded on Kakashi's door, wondering why he didn't get an answer. He knew Kakashi was home. His light was on, and Kakashi never left lights on.
He looked in the kitchen window, hoping to spot Kakashi. He really wanted to get his planning done tonight if possible. He had a few days; he just wanted to get it out of the way.
He saw Kakashi laying on the floor in the living room. Jiraiya banged on the window. When Kakashi didn't stir Jiraiya was struck by a fear he'd dealt with since Sakumo's death. He couldn't see any blood, but there were bloodless ways Kakashi might have killed himself.
He forced the door open, afraid he was going to find another lifeless body in that room. He understood when he saw the rolled back rug and several empty bottles of whiskey near Kakashi. He was covered in whiskey and vomit.
Jiraiya sat by him and looked at the spot where Sakumo died. There was fresh blood there, not much but enough to be noticeable. He saw a cut on Kakashi's arm.
That's fucked up, Jiraiya thought.
It wasn't as easy to pull Kakashi to the bathroom this time, or to strip his gangly figure down. He'd gotten bigger and unwieldy. Jiraiya ran a tub of water. Kakashi didn't even move when he hit the cold water.
I'd rather wash vomit out of his hair than his father's blood off him, Jiraiya thought.
When Kakashi woke in his own bed, Jiraiya was there, snoring in a chair near him.
Kakashi sat up and held a hand to his aching head. "How did I get here?" he asked.
Jiraiya woke and shifted in the chair. It wasn't a comfortable chair. "Good morning," he said.
"How long have you been here?" Kakashi asked.
"All night. You can be a real shithead sometimes. Why didn't you tell me about this?"
"I didn't want to bother you," Kakashi said. "It's just something I do once a year. It's no big deal."
"I miss him too," Jiraiya said. "You don't have to carry all this yourself. Next year I'll sit with you, if you want. I'm a better companion than Jack Daniel's anyway."
"I'd like that," Kakashi said. "No one else deserves to share that night."
Jiraiya yawned. "I'm tired as hell. Shove over." He barely gave Kakashi time to move before he flopped in the bed next to him.
Kakashi wanted to thank his great-uncle, but he was already snoring. At least next year he didn't have to sit his vigil alone.