A/N; k all done; read now slaves! XD
OOoOoOoOoOo
A small, hunched figure adorned the cold door stop of the orphanage; an old squat building with few windows and even fewer welcoming faces peering from them. It wasn't raining, but a quiet drizzle dampened everything in the cool moist evening air. The bright twinkle of the sky faded into existence with the sudden absence of the last rays of warmth, and soon only the wide face of the moon served to give him any light in the dark of midnight. Yet, despite the late hour, he knew the matrons of the small orphanage would be up—watching, waiting, for him to finally leave their doorstop.
Eventually, tiring from their midnight vigil, they would retreat back and fall into beds more soft and inviting than the steps Naruto would dream lightly on—as he did every night it seemed. Come morning, they'd sniff in disdain and disgust at his persistence, finding him still curled up at their feet. Wet, and smelling of dirt, Naruto would awaken only to a jab at his side—knocking him out of the way of the leaving matrons—before jumping up and rushing into the relative warmth of the foyer. The other children were steered clear of him as he skipped to the kitchen for the leftovers of the morning meal.
He sat and ignored it all, grinning a wide fake smile over his breakfast.
/
A gasp burst from dry chapped lips, free from the usual black mask that they were so used to. Cool air swept across his face like a mother's touch, and already his sweat slicked forehead was drying under its soft caress. Hands shaking as they leapt jerkily into his hair; a mess or tangled sweaty locks matted to his forehead and shining dully in the moonlight cascading in from the hospitals side window. The image of a cold, small Naruto—so damn small—huddled on the steps of an unwelcoming home, would not leave his mind. It was burning there, in his sleep fogged confused brain, and he struggled with what he knew to be real and what he still questioned as illusion.
A vast open space, the rubble of his home scattered beneath his feet. His mind in shambles, fire licked at the wind beside him, eyes staring with a malicious mirth hot as coal and piercing as steel. Those red eyes—fire dancing—that red blood, those dead eyes, the hot taste of bile and prickling tears; he couldn't breathe. He couldn't think, he couldn't move…he didn't want too. The shambles, the ruin, it was all him; all around him—fire dancing—those eyes…Madara.
Loathing. . He hated him, hated everything—that fire, those eyes—hot and cold, his skin puckered under that gaze…a war cry; his throat raw, torn, like his mind.
Madara. Failed. Mistake. Uchiha. Hate. Loathing. Hate. Those damn…those damned eyes. Hate…HATE. HATE!
"Naruto!"
…dead. Dead eyes. Blue, so blue, turned as red—red as that blood—hard as that man dead in the valley created from hatred and lust and greed…a demon, wearing his students face…
"Nonononono…"
The rubble, the ruins—of his life, of his friends—weighed on him, and finally crushed him. His lungs slowly crushed and filled up with blood; his death was sure, an ironic death that made his heart ache more than his lungs, the thought of Obito—those red eyes, those dead eyes…but there was hope. He took that hand there, in front of him, a clawed blood soaked hand that was as precariously good and hopeful as the thread that held his mind together. He could do this, he would do it a thousand times over—for those eyes, those eyes that stared and burned and crushed his heart from his chest.
He could save them.
Breathing hard, his stomach churned forcefully and he bit his lip as those eyes came back with startling clarity and emotions following them. He promptly turned to the side and released his hold over his stomach, emptying its contents all over the marbled floor beside his hospital bed. Tears bit his eyes, but only his shaking shoulders belayed his sobbing as not a sound passed his lips, and not a tear fell from those confused eyes. His shaking fingers pulled hard at his hair, pulling the strands down for inspection by wet terrified eyes. Silver. Silver like a blade, twisting in the night and glinting at the necks of dead men…covered in blood, his hands holding that sword, his hands holding the strands of silver. He remembered his name; Kakashi. Hatake Kakashi—and other names, so many names came to him, warbled and distant before but startlingly clear now. His hands were shaking and the sheets tore at his grip, his eyes were blank as he looked around. Hospital. Konoha.
Where was the ruin? Where was the shambles, the rubble…?
Where were those eyes?
"Kakashi! I heard a scream—" the door slammed, but he didn't turn to it; he was frozen, frozen by that voice. His hands shook, but he didn't cry, only felt increasingly sick as his stomach lurched uncontrollably. "Whoa, whoa, calm down Kakashi, the heart monitor will blow up!"
The attempt at humor was ignored, and fell flat even to its attempter. Kakashi couldn't look—he couldn't look up and see those eyes so dead and blank; eyes that had been dead even before Madara attacked…he heaved again, and warm arms surrounded his shoulders and kept him from falling off the side into his own bile. Spit ran down his chin, face open and haunted and gaunt without his mask—and the sight of it made Asuma's stomach churl as well. All his worrying, all his mothering, came back to him now—those millions of scenarios raced in his head as he looked down at the shaking form of his friend, and his throat tingled and closed up as he finally met his eyes. Those dark, mismatched eyes, shocked and terrified, filled with a misery ten times what he was used to reading there…he looked away with stuttered breath and gripped the trembling shoulders closer to him. Swallowing carefully, he looked down again, and was almost relieved when he found Kakashi's eyes closed; clenched as tightly as his fists were.
"Kakashi…" His voice was shaky even to his ears, and it only made Kakashi clench his fists tighter, blood seeped from his hands and Asuma grabbed them to force his hands to loosen. He looked at the crescent wounds quickly but didn't press the call button for the nurse; Kakashi wouldn't want anyone seeing him like this. He felt that even he shouldn't be seeing this—no one should ever see so deeply into another's soul—but felt honored that he would allow him here to help him; even if he wasn't entirely in his right mind right now.
"…Alright now?" He asked softly, he felt his head nod against his shoulder, eyes down turned. Neither moved, Asuma not knowing what to do but seeing him there, so slumped and defeated looking, he found that he wanted to do something…something completely unmanly and which at any other time would cause him to fear a knife at his throat if he attempted it; he wanted to hug him. Kakashi gave a shuddering breath, and when Asuma shifted he caught a glance on wet cheeks and realized the shoulder of his shirt was damp; he froze even further. He barely dared to breathe. His brows gathered together in horror and confusion, realizing; Kakashi was crying…and he'd never seen him so much as get blurry eyed (not since Rin's death, and even then it could have been a trick of the light) Even silent and still as it was, that was definitely tears he'd glanced at, and he swallowed hard angerand a million other emotions and thoughts ran through his mind; like whoever had caused his friend to be in this state was going to be in a shit load of pain, perhaps castrated or even just sledgehammered to death…
The thoughts calmed him enough, and he finally did raise his other arm and wrap it around Kakashi's stiff unmoving shoulders. He pulled him tight against his chest—in a manly way of course—and felt Kakashi go even stiffer. They'd been through a lot, death and darkness and things rarely whispered of even while drunker than shit…but despite all the times Asuma had…gotten teary eyed (sobbed like a little girl) Kakashi had never cried in front of him, or allowed him to comfort him as his silent listening had done for Asuma many times. He felt that if there was ever a time to even the score one, then this would definitely be the time to do it.
"What happened, Kakashi?"
Kakashi stared at the dark fabric of Asuma's shirt, even darker with the few tears he couldn't control; even now they were falling, silently and unstoppable, he would hate his lack of control later. For now though, all he could think of was those dead eyes and the memory of all that red, red blood brighter in his mind than any of the many he'd killed in his long career. Brighter because they were friends, comrades, his precious people…
His arms hung limply at his sides but, as warm comforting arms encircled him tighter, he slowly raised them up as well to lightly grip the stretchy fabric of the shirt. It felt rough on his calloused fingers, every touch, every feeling intensified and new now in this second chance; this new life of his that would change everything.
He'd felt so dead for so long, had been without a body for only half that time, and now he was alive…and so were those eyes, his precious peoples bright eyes. He took another shaky breath, tears slowing but now ones of hope and a desperate—please, please let it be real. This is real, kami please let it be real…—he felt reality finally settle somewhat in his tumultuous mind.
"…Alive." His throat was dry and lips parched, "Asuma, you were all dead…dead, dead eyes…"
Whispered, just barely loud enough to here over the beat of the heart monitor, but Asuma heard it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kakashi knew that he shouldn't be saying this, but he was just so…so happy, so relieved. He couldn't stop himself from gripping his nails deep into the skin of Asuma's arm.
"Ow! What the hell—" Kakashi laughed quietly, and then louder as he saw blood seep from the crescent shaped marks; identical to his own wounds, set deep in the palms of his hands.
"Alive…"
The whispered word was so filled with wonderment, so much disbelief and…just a torrent of emotions that it left Asuma speechless. He'd never even known the teenage could put so much emotion into anything; he'd always been so laid back, so calm…he was none of that now.
Alive…
So many things were said in that one word, things that gave Asuma a dreaded knot in his stomach from worry and apprehension. However, knowing Kakashi as long as he had, he'd often felt this way around the young ANBU captain, so it wasn't so surprising just...slightly terrifying. He never knew what to expect when this feeling came, but it was never, never, anything good…
Nevertheless he held him, understanding the need—for someone to just be there—and he listened. Listened to him mutter that word. Alive. Over and over, whispering it with such fervor he seemed to be praying. The knot intensified.
Fear grew from that knot, from that pit in his stomach that never foretold good tidings. This was not the friend he remembered having late night sake drinks with, or the friend who glared and showed up two hours late to their chess games—but always showed up—this man was different somehow. Older. It'd been a long time since he'd seen him, almost five months, but…his eyes were so…so much more than they'd been. Filled with things that Asuma didn't dare look too deep at or think too hard on, dark dreams that edged on every shinobi's subconscious; a nightmare of all their loved ones dead, alone and without a purpose, without a home, without any life left in them…
'They'd all been dead' he'd said, so…some kind of genjutsu? No…no, Kakashi had the sharingan…it was impossible. His only explanation would be torture. Horrible mind bending torture that twisted his mind, torture that made him think and see things that weren't there; whatever the interrogator wanted him to think.
Asuma pulled him back to look at him, even though his eyes were distanced from him. "…Who did this Kakashi?" He barely kept his anger from the question, allowing it to become an almost growl in his chest. He felt powerless, here in this small hospital room holding a friend he'd die for, hoping beyond hope that he hadn't lost the last member of Team 7 to insanity…because there was nothing he could do for him. Except be here, and hopefully kill that fucking twisted bastard who'd pushed the strongest man he knew to become this…
Seemingly looking around at anything and everything, he looked like a new born baby testing out his flesh and blood, amazed at the world and its wonders. When Kakashi finally settled on Asuma he stared so hard that the man had to look away from those piercing eyes.
He repeated the question more forcibly this time, but Kakashi only answered with a distracted, "Did what?"
Asuma didn't want to say it. He didn't want to admit to what he was contemplating, and skittered around saying it directly even knowing it was only for his own selfish comfort.
"Who did this…made you think this? That we were all dead."
Finally Kakashi focused, and a small smile played at his lips as he realized what conclusion Asuma had come to from his vague words. He was suddenly very tired, emotionally and physically, overcome by his sudden consciousness in the real world with a real body. Naruto wasn't dead, Asuma wasn't dead; no one was. He could save them...please let him save them. He barely managed to stare up at his friend and give him a smirk, trying for normal but failing without the safety of his mask to conceal his most basic emotions.
"Top secret, Asuma. Hokage only info."
Then, pushing gently away from the—manly—embrace, he lay back down and closed his eyes; he hadn't even realized he'd had both open.
Asuma sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, exasperated but not wanting to push; just frustrated that he couldn't do anything. He didn't want Kakashi to end up like her…like Rin. He stared, hoping for something else and briefly wondered if Kakashi had fallen asleep. He rolled his eyes, it would be just like him to leave him hanging here and then fall asleep like that; even despite how worried he'd been and how much he'd freaked him out with that little episode…
He sighed, glancing with worry at the mop of silver hanging just above the blankets, before getting up and deciding to head home. Kami, I need another smoke; I swear I'll have emphysema if that idiot doesn't stops worrying me so much…No use staying here now that he'd woken up, he'd come back in the morning; maybe he could even get out of his mission; he really didn't think he should be alone right now…
"Oh, and Asuma?" He jumped at the sound, hand almost touching the doors handle, and turned towards him with surprise. "Get a nurse in here, it smells like puke."
OOoOoOoOoOoOo
It was warm in the Hokage's office, and Yugao yearned to take a kunai to the neck of her sweater and tear the arms off. Her arms stayed securely behind her back, cuffed and watched by the two ANBU who'd brought her here.
Across from her, the Hokage, eyes shrouded and mouth serious; but she felt his eyes on her anyway and felt trapped by them in the suffocating air of the office. Finally, unable to stand the silence, she spoke and called out to the hokage. His head raised, his shadowed brow appearing from under the visage of his hat, and she found that she liked it better when she couldn't see his eyes.
She mustered her courage, looking into the eyes of the most important man in Konoha, "I came for answers—"
"No." he looked on without any change in his expression, "You came because I brought you here."
She lowered her eyes at that, staring down at feet still clad in the flats she'd chosen specifically to complete her villager costume. She knew he was right, but why bring her here if not to answer her questions? Was he going to…silence her? Fear struck her and her head whipped up at him, hoping to find the genial grandfatherly man she'd come to know as her hokage. What exactly had she stumbled upon in that hospital room to cause such a kind man to look at her now with such a face?
"ANBU, leave us." No hesitancy, no questions, they left her to her fate. The Hokage looked down at his desk, a folder open before him, "Yugao Uzuki, fresh out of training…a new recruit, the niece of the previous ANBU captain Hinunaro Kamata, but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary."
She flinched at the mention of her uncle, and he watched it with narrowed eyes. "Kakashi was the one who brought your uncles actions out into the open wasn't he?"
"Yes." She replied evenly, "but I have nothing against him, hokage-sama, what he did was the right thing to do. I'm here because of other reasons."
"And what reasons would those be?"
She let out a breath, exasperated and confused at his avoidance of the matters at hand. He had to know; otherwise he wouldn't have brought her here right? "Hokage-sama, I saw him or…I felt him really. That day in the hospital, I felt…it. That chakra, the kyuubi, I don't understand why it was there, but understand your secrecy; I wanted to make sure however that you were the one doing this, that's why I…" She gestured to her civilian clothes.
"I see." He nodded then, and closed her folder slowly, and she wondered—when had this become an interrogation? And why her, shouldn't they be investigating Kakashi?
"I want to help." She said quickly. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes, "I need to help, Hokage-sama."
Feeling his eyes on her, she looked up, and they locked on each other; him looking deep into her, trying to determine something, and her trying to show him she was ready for this; to finally help her village instead of being stuck here doing paper work.
A flicker entered those eyes, and some of the tension retreated from his face, some of the old hokage shining through at her.
"And you will." He smiled at her surprise, "But not yet. Your mission debriefing will be tomorrow at 0600 hours—"
A knock interrupted him, gentle but enough to get his attention. He called out his approval to come in, and a secretary bowed her head low to him as she entered. "Hokage-sama. Asuma-san has requested your audience regarding his scheduled mission—"
"Ah!" he let out a chuckle, and the secretary looked up in confusion; as did Yugao when he turned to her, "Looks like your mission debriefing will be sooner than suspected. Your partner seems to already be here."
OOoOoOoOoOoOo
A/N: so, that's it! ;) wasn't sure if I made Kakashi too grief stricken and confused or not; I thought that now that hes in his actual body he'd be extremely discoordinated and confused. I want to become a better writer, so opinions are appreciated as much as reviews XD
Preview: Kakashi grasped the smaller hand before him, looking down at the blue depths that brought back so many horrible memories; but gave him so much hope as well. He turned, taking a deep breath, and pulled him along away from the crowd of people spilling from the orphanage. A million eyes stared at their retreating backs, but the only ones that mattered to him were the two staring up at him with admiration, trust, and blinding hope.
