The creak on the stairs towards his apartment was no odd occurrence, there was no true discomfort in the hollow echo in his ears. There was, however, in the slight change in how it came unto his ears, just a minor shift in the timing; the daunting sickening smell of cigarette smoke stinging at his nose gave him enough answer as to why the simple thud was disorientating. It did not make his eyes flick backwards to see, no, his hand lifted out of the warmth his pocket only to click the key into his lock. Yet, he did not turn it, and made no move to do so, as his pockets once more became a haven to his tensed hand, a clear breath was expelled loudly behind him.
"He will die." Drawn out, and almost nasal in tone, it was spoken to him in fact, bitterly plain. Entirely ignoring the words he had heard mere minutes previous. It scraped into his brain, a roughened sound, shaving away at the thinned thoughts of rationality and phlegmatic mindset; all scratched away as volatile emotions began to settle into his mind, blatant in opposition to logic which had so calmly been stationed there previously. As any shinobi upon the battlefield should- there was only stoicism presenting the words. It was that which had Kakashi's resolve wavering from firm-handed control- to poignant irritation; they were not on the battlefield, they were not in the midst of fighting a brutal enemy, nor compromised in position. For such words to be so firmly stated, when the Hokage had made it convincingly apparent that was not the case, had his breath hitch ever so slightly in his lungs, a want to retaliate in defiance twinging at the back of his mind. Finally, he forced himself to face the chuuin speaking, restraining himself making brash action as instinct demanded; and allowing only his logical side to hold sway over his actions, even as beneath his control there was a swarming mess of feeling beginning to form. He stared, as best he could without wavering gaze, at Shikamaru's lidded stare, the man had a cold expression; but it was a frown on his face, not a bored tilt of irritation, and his eyelids weren't dropped from his commonplace lazy stance, but an angered glare directed at no one.
"I seem to remember hearing the opposite." Saying so did ease his head, perhaps not as sharply as it would if it had been Tsunade speaking, but it did offer reassurance. That knowledge was being kept firm in his mind, indeed with every thought he to conjure forth presently. To have his plastification questioned, scratched bleeding sores upon his mentality.
"Sure. But he is still going to die." Kakashi felt his nerves twitch underneath his eye. They were both genius shinobi, yet, the Nara across from him reigned supreme in ability; and while it was brilliant for obvious reasons, it was also a great detriment unto the man and everyone around him. Shikamaru did not take into consideration that others might not comprehend his plainly analyzed logic, or that they may not see the connection between the strings of facts he did. Kakashi found himself in that position presently; for although the man had acknowledged his comrade was not going to die, he was stating the opposite as if it were obvious. The jounin shoved his hands into his pockets and paid no heed for the assessment that might arise from the unusual force behind his action; he waited then, as the young man took another drag, the last, and dropped the bud onto the hallway, he was watching and though by no means calm- he was somewhat soothed by the fact Shikamaru seemed more affected at his friend's injury then the Hokage was. "With his injuries, Naruto can't be a shinobi."
"-and to lose that stability, for Naruto-kun, will do more than devastate him- he may begin to not recognize himself." It was an effeminate voice near that spoke, gentle footfalls on his creaking stairway, as Ino approached, she had a more disconcerting expression decorating her face then her teammate but still hardened. Clearly aware as to what Shikamaru was referring to, she, however, was already elaborating far better then he was. The blonde did present him with a more softened expression for a moment before she forcefully schooled her features into the type of bored express one would make while presenting a boring report on an uneventful mission. "Naruto-kun genuinely believes that his whole purpose in life is to be a shinobi and prove to those around him that he is able to do so. He doesn't have another goal for himself as far as I have seen, now with his primary method of fulfilling that goal gone, I think he may start to believe that he isn't capable of proving himself anymore. Unfortunately, it is very possible that he'll lose all sense of self-worth because of his new condition. Believing himself to be completely useless or a failure. For someone like Naruto-kun, to lose clarity of purpose and to feel like a failure- would be worse than death."
Regardless that it was entirely comprehensible, the jounin's primary instinct was to reject the evaluation. In having spent many years being Naruto's teacher; seeing his student's blatant determination and strength of will; to acknowledge that Naruto's mentality had never truly been good… grated at his conscious. Even though he'd already known. He didn't bother denying or affirming their statements, there was nothing to be said which would sway their opinions, nor ease the ongoing reckoning within himself that they were right. He let himself linger in the knowledge, allowing his stomach to drop ever further as rationality sunk it down. Then he turned to the sharp-eyed woman standing across from him and let his curiosity spike in place of his festering guilt. "You and Naruto aren't exactly close friends Yamanaka-san, why are you here?" It was peculiar, for as far as he had seen, the two blonds only spoke in necessity and when they did Ino seemingly got irate at her former classmate quite quickly. Her lips thinned at the same time her muscles twitched, obvious discomfort mixed in with some strong emotion.
"No; me and Naruto have never been close… My family…my family; is good with the human brain, psychology, and I was taught from childhood how to recognize certain signs in an enemy or a friend that would exploit weakness. Yet, I bypassed Naruto because I-" her breath was deep and sharp, it made her entire chest heave. "-I considered him insignificant. And I think I did because everyone else seemed to think so. No one even went close to him, not to spar, to train, to play, he was always off to the side and alone, and I think that's why I thought he didn't matter. I only started to notice him during the chuuin exams and even then, not much. But, I did start to see that something was wrong; he was too good at deflecting a conversation, and when he was truly insulted -and I don't mean taunted or teased,- when someone was actually mean to him; he just shut down, a blank stare, a heavy silence, and then he would simply turn and walk away. Instead of fighting or challenging them as he would have with a light taunt or tease. It didn't make sense to me, and really, I didn't care. Now though, I know, I know why; Naruto has only ever worked so hard for recognition- only improved so that other people might view him as useful; and therein, he might see validity in his own life. As a crippled shinobi he won't be able to achieve that, not in the same way. Yet, as it is the only method he knows of- he'll start to lose hope that he can, and therefore, he'll begin to devalue himself entirely…" Her voice came in a wisp at the end, falling off gentle, but sounding harsh to listening ears. Both himself and the Nara beside her were tensed and, a fragmentation of a glare had formed in both their eyes, a flame underneath an explosion tag.
However, ireful or not at the statement; neither of them could make a solid case to denounce her assessment. For both could see the truth resting within, and while Kakashi found himself struggling to retain nonchalant emotion, Shikamaru in turn was visually gritting his teeth in the face of plain candour. That stirred the solid pit in the jouin's stomach. Despite his own intelligence, his ability to judge an enemy- he could not look into people or the psychology of anyone other than an opponent; and he knew it. Shikamaru was an analyst in all respects, in everything; he had likely seen such behaviour from his friend but largely ignored it in denial, a fact he had no want to see in someone he cared for, and want to believe it held no authenticity. Obviously he had known Naruto would cripple himself with the loss of his life as a shinobi- that was different from hearing it outspoken, in addition perhaps there were small truths in his teammate's words that he hadn't fully seen. Regardless, his reaction vilified Ino's statement. The opposite of what Kakashi wanted to see.
His eye drifted to the ground, a bitter and sweet tang on his tongue from the seeped blood there. The concrete was blurring in his sight as his palms began to itch through the fabric of his gloves, his nails biting too far. His heel tapped too much underneath him, and even though the stone made no sound, it was still too loud upon his ears. He had nothing cognitive to say, so he returned his gaze to both chuuin acknowledging them with only his stare, before he turned the cold doorknob of his apartment, and ignored their existence- for want of pretending he'd heard no candid words, for want of not having his emotions erupt violently for the first time in… since a time Kakashi had no desire to remember.
The room bellowed warm air into his face as he entered, uncomfortable with the numbness in his chest, but he still slammed the door shut.
The trees were alleviating the rain, just away from his face, the droplets on the leafs were beautiful in the way only nature could be, that is; if he could waste time glancing. His mind was raced, burdened with the continuous contradiction within himself- to go faster and potentially stop the disaster from elevating farther. Or to keep a steady pace and conserve his chakra in case things had already become too violent for simple taijutsu to handle. Already he had felt the stirrings of malicious chakra infecting the air, choking and intimidating, and while in no way exhausted, his hands were still shaking slightly from the lingering poison it left in the wind. He pushed his legs harder, and made his jumps large in response. Finally, the treeline broke and the sharp image of the towering statues raised above the landscape was prominent, however, that same chakra he had felt was gone. And jumping down the cliffside revealed why all to quickly. There was only one figure laying on the riverside, bruised and unconscious, panting hard and with so little chakra in his body that Kakashi could hardly feel it as he came close. As he bent with heavy body, something changed. There was no orange in his vision- there was black, there was white, there was short brown hair and purple taped cheeks. A drop came to his consciousness, panic that made his breaths rasped as he fell to the ground- stone digging painfully. His hand splashed into a puddle near as he kicked the body without a thought:
It limply fell to the side, a back with flesh poking out of a too large hole grasping his immediate attention, crimson leaking out around the pinkened muscle threads. But as he blinked his eye, there was a new body laying too plain in his vision, a Konoha vest, the red Uzumaki seal itched clear, and the rain endarked long silver hair falling into a small puddle beneath the coiled body's head. Hyperventilation had clouds forming in the jonin's head too light to be safe, body trembling and eye unblinking. A cracking sounded from above, but his mind could not process the fact, as his entire focus was on attempting to deny what was in front of him. Plain then, the unmistakable sound of broken rock rang in his ears.
Pure shinobi instinct, so ingrained had him rolling away from the mass. He pult his hand up in front of him by that same instinct but was then met with the all too familiar smell of iron, and in glance, he saw his hand covered in blood. He stared at the puddle his hand had mistakenly fallen into, and saw that it was red. The sight of a blue that did not belong in his peripheral. Only to see a body crushed beneath a large boulder, red was seeping beneath it, and it was obvious that the entire left side of the figure was crushed. Underneath his forehead protector his unopened eye began to burn, sharpened and unavoidable as it became too hot. Yet, he could not focus on the fact blackened edges had begun to crawl over his vision.
Then whispered behind- so soft. "I- my body feels weird, I- my arm feels numb, but when I try to move it, it hurts. I don't- my chest, its hurts when I breathe but its numb if I'm not- I- my leg! I can't! My leg! It hurts so much but I can't-" Something broke, a dam, a seal, vindication; but the silver-haired jonin screamed with the frightful voice behind him as his side hit painfully into the rock and coiled.