01.03.2018

Kakashi

She had awoken with a scream, and Kakashi was convinced he felt his heart being ripped out of his chest.

(And the memories of Rin came back once again, but he suppressed them once more because it wasn't his trauma that had caused her to cry out or break the lamp on the cabinet next to her.)

He dropped the tea he was making, cursing under his breath as the hot liquid spilled over his hands and onto the floor, but simply wiped it on his shirt so not to spread the mess even more. He rushed to her room, as he always did, making sure to open the door tentatively so he didn't startle her even more.

(He never believed he was good at this, but she needed someone. He had had no one and she needed someone.)

His breath hitched when he saw her. Her eyes were shut, hands tightly clutching the hair on the sides of her head, only moments away from ripping it all from her scalp—which she had done before, and it had been a bloody mess—and Kakashi swallowed nervously as he recalled it all.

(All he felt was guilt, because he could've prevented this. He could've saved her. He could've stopped her from ever experiencing something so damaging and awful and sickening and he struggled to breathe with every passing moment as he remembered it all.)

She was heaving. He knew he had to calm her, but he froze at the sight of her tear-stained cheeks and red face and how she was shaking, rocking back and forth, and pleading for them to 'go away' as she cried. He knew he had to calm her as her wails borderline screams and she starts begging and pleading for the non-existent men in the room to 'stop', 'please stop!' He knew he couldn't let himself succumb to the own stinging behind his eyes where the tears threatened to spill.

(He could've protected her. If only he hadn't avoided her for all those years because he was too weak to handle the way her eyes were the exact same as her mother's or how her colouring was just like her father's and how the whiskers on her cheeks were a reminder of the demon that had taken the two last things he had. He shouldn't have been so weak.)

He sat on the side of her bed, but she didn't notice how the weight shifted on the mattress beside her. Slowly, Kakashi extended his arm outward to grab hers, to prevent her from hurting herself again. He made sure his muscles were tensed enough so when she felt the contact on her skin, when she inevitably tried to fight him off, she wouldn't hurt him. He had made that mistake once before, and he didn't particularly want a broken arm again.

("I'm sorry." She cried, "I'm sorry." Kakashi smiled solemnly. Maybe he had trained her just a little too well, since a ten-year-old shouldn't have been able to break his arm, but it was his fault she was this way anyway. It was his fault he didn't save her before it all happened. He insisted it was okay, but she kept persisting. "I'm sorry". It wasn't her who should've been apologising. It wasn't her who should've felt guilty.)

"Naruto." He said in the lowest, calmest voice he could muster. The second his fingers curled around her arm, she instinctively opened her eyes and went to grab his arm—the arm of the one who would dare touch her. He released his grip but kept his arm firmly in place. As her own hand swung around, he blocked it. "Naruto." He repeated again, attempting to break the trance she was in.

The second her eyes met his—her scared and terrified eyes that painfully reminded him of Rin's—she calmed. Not entirely, but she pulled her arms away and realised where she was. And it wasn't in a room full of bad men who had done terrible things, who, despite the fact she killed them all, haunted her to this day.

(If he could wipe all the awful memories away, he would. If we had to deal with the trauma instead, he would. But he couldn't. He couldn't take the pain away. He could only watch and regret how he hadn't prevented it all.)

Her breathing was still heavy, still shaky and broken and uneven, but she had stopped heaving. Her sobs quietened, but her lower lip still quivered in a way that broke Kakashi's heart. She didn't live in his apartment, but she ended up staying in Kakashi's previously unused guestroom more times than he could count, and while part of him sometimes wished he hadn't grown so attached to the Uzumaki—he was too scared he wouldn't be able to protect her again, too scared that he'd lose her—he didn't mind that she slept there most nights. He didn't mind her having the nightmares here, because that meant she at least didn't wake up alone.

(Like she had been that night. Alone.)

"Kakashi." She spoke weakly, as if to confirm it was him. He smiled softly behind his mask, removing her hands from her hair which had loosened their grip. Only a few strands came out as he did so. No large clumps, luckily.

(Her hair was a winning trait, he had told her, just like her mother's.)

"You're okay." He told her, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. "Everything's okay."

She weaved her way into a hug, nearly pushing him back. He wasn't one for affection, he had never been. It was uncomfortable, and awkward, and needed.

(He found comfort in it also. He was meant to be comforting her, yet he found himself relieved by the action. Relieved by the fact she held no resentment toward him despite the fact he hadn't been able to protect her on that night.)

She let out a long sigh, head buried in his chest. He returned the embrace, soothingly stroking her back, careful to be gentle. No matter how good a ninja she became, no matter the fact she was ruthless and strong and he had once had to hold her back from killing a man who so much as looked at her the wrong way—

(It was the wrong way. The wrong, worst, way, and Kakashi had also held himself back as he did Naruto.)

She was, ultimately, fragile.

She donned a mask for a reason. Emotionally, and then physically too.

(She realised it was her whiskers that told of what she was. Everyone knew, anyway, even without the mask, but she especially wanted one because of him. He encouraged her not to wear it—he was too reliant on it, he didn't want it to be the same for her—and on some days proved successful, but on most, she continued in the same way.)

After breathing evened, and after her crying stopped, she moved back, breaking the hug. Her eyes were still watery, and she was still sniffling from moment to moment, and her cheeks and nose remained tinted red, but she still looked miles better than she had before. She gave a weak smile to Kakashi, before once again putting on her stoic mask. Kakashi hated it, but he understood.

"I think I'm going to go to the academy today."

He eyed the digital clock on her cabinet, as well as the broken glass of the lamp which surrounded it, which he'd have to clean later. "You'll probably be late at this rate."

"I don't mind."

She was volatile. She always was on edge after a nightmare—after such a vivid reminder—and it caused Kakashi to worry. He simply nodded, but at the back of his mind he was reminded of the fact today was a day for sparring. He always stole the rota for her, so he knew she knew that. She'd most likely be fine, but Kakashi knew, there was a split chance she'd see red and it'd end badly for whoever she has to fight. He'd just need to watch from the shadows, just in case.

(Like he always had, like he always would.)

This was super easy to write, for some reason. Not that I'm complaining though. Also, just in case anyone thinks of ships for future, as much as I adore KakaFem!Naru, they're going to have a much more sibling-esque relationship, borderline parent for Kakashi. I feel that's only appropriate since he's been around her from a super young age.

If it isn't obvious yet, this story is being told from all perspectives except Naruto's. This is kind of an experimental thing for me, more than anything. I'm trying to explore varying writing styles. I hope you're all enjoying so far! Leave me your thoughts, maybe?