Outside limbo there is no Elysium

Apricots soaked in honey. Kakashi closed his eyes and a sweet smell invaded his nostrils addicted to the acrid smell of blood. Apricots soaked in honey. Immediately he realised that the fragrance that tickled his senses could not be real, for the last time he had smelt that same scent - sweet but not nauseating - he was only twelve years old and the person who emanated it was dying in front of his eyes. He remembered with heartbreak the exact moment when the fruity fragrance had been slaked by the terrible smell of blood and her cries of pain; he saw that bloody slaughter on his own hands every night. Apricots soaked in honey. It was an illusion and he was perfectly aware of it. The village of the Cloud smelled of blood and death, Kakashi tasted on his tongue the flavour of the victorious mission he had just completed. He closed his eyes with abulia. He was eighteen years old and the Anbu of the land of Fire with the highest number of successfully completed missions; he didn't care much.

"Let's hear it, boy, what do you wish?" Kakashi suddenly opened his eyes again, as if awakened from a trance-like state. The wrinkled old man sitting before him looked more than a hundred years old and had probably really lived so many lives that, in his presence, the ninja must have looked like just yet another unhappy kid. Kakashi pulled his lips hidden under his mask into a perfect straight line that dripped bitterness from every pore, for he realised that, in spite of all the history of his short life, what remained of him was just that: an unhappy little boy. The old man gave not the slightest sign of empathy, his vacant eyes reflected the raging flames of the fire lit before them; he was probably feeding himself on the spirits and stories of the men he had met in his life, since on the ground lay the remains of the dinner consumed only by the young fighter. It had been a simple mission: Kakashi had been sent urgently to the Land of Lightning because some murders were threatening to eliminate the shaman of the Cloud Village, but it had not taken him long to intercept them and take them out. The entire village glorified him as a deity for the success of the feat and briefly the ninja had begun to understand the reason for such jubilation. The excited voices of those present had pierced his eardrums as they recounted how this old magician was a pillar of the community, but more importantly, they had sung his praises for the otherworldly abilities he possessed. Kakashi was fundamentally uninterested in all that talk; in his eyes, the man he had saved from a bloody conspiracy was just an old man over a hundred years old, just over six feet tall, hunched over a cherry-wood staff and with shifty, ambiguous eyes that scrutinised him and gave him creeps. But then someone had muttered - in a lower but still agitated voice - that this old man was even able to bring back the dead from beyond the grave, and then an invisible gadfly had started to sting Kakashi's brain like a trickle. He didn't believe in such things at all but, he repeated to himself, the lack of sleep during those last five years must have ruined any rational impulse if he had started to hope that those rumours were true. Now he was sitting there, in front of that creepy old man who hadn't stopped staring at him for a second and who had asked him, in a croaky tone, what he wanted as a reward for saving his life. Kakashi had felt an icy chill run down his entire spine, a painful streak creeping deep into his scars as he inquired if he really could have asked him for anything. "Anything." The old man's ambiguous reply, the curved staff clutched in his wrinkled hands filled with raised bluish veins. And Kakashi had closed his eyes, searching for the right words - the courage - to externalize the longing that had been tearing at his soul every night for five years, the unhoped-for redemption with which he hoped to cover himself under the cinnabar sheets of his bed, the strength to be able to look at the picture hanging before his bedroll without choking on the lump of tears clogging his windpipe. And he had felt it. The fruity scent of the apricots had hit him in the face like the scorching August sun, but the honey, sweet and velvety, had immediately mingled with the sugary, summery scent, exploding into a colourful palette of gold and sky, of fruiting ears of wheat and a gentle summer breeze between his calloused fingers caused by kunai. He had not smelt the scent of Rin for five years and was frightened, because he knew that in that forest where the old wizard lived as a hermit there was no such smell, he had sniffed the air until then and not for an instant had a hint of honey or fruit reached him. It had to be his doing, from that old geezer who was sending him into confusion, who frightened him in spite of his appearance, who…

"I see a girl." Then his brain had gone silent. For a single, infinitesimal second, his encephalogram had registered a flat line. Kakashi gasped, taking several moments to utter a choked cry.

"She's got dark hair and two purple stripes on her cheeks. She's smiling at you, boy." Kakashi swallowed, he began to break into a cold sweat, unable to reply.

"Now she's crying, she looks scared to death but she's brave as only a true ninja can be. She's screaming, there's blood, so much blood..."

"Enough!" Kakashi 's vocal cords flared up sore, it seemed like they had been silent for years, such was the effort to make them vibrate at that moment. The old man stretched his lips into an ambiguous grin, fell silent and lowered his eyelids as with exasperating slowness he tried to get up, hoisting his frail body onto his staff. He stood up amidst the uncontrolled gasps of Kakashi who could now smell not the scent of apricots but that of blood, blood and only Rin's blood.

"I can help you, boy." And suddenly the smell of blood disappeared, as if by a spell. The old man opened his eyes again as he took phlegmatic steps towards him and sighed deeply, as if trying to channel all the oxygen in the world into his lungs.

"I can get that girl back with you."

"How?" threw out Kakashi urgently; he could no longer remember how to breathe, he seemed to be leaving every bit of air to the old man who was promising him salvation.

"I can bring you down to where the souls of the dead dwell. The netherworld is a dark place full of pitfalls, but with my help you will be able to re-emerge."

"But..."

"There you will find the girl you seek and be able to lead her with you to the world of the living. You have a lonesome road to travel, but that is the path that will lead you to salvation... or ruin."

Kakashi arrested the rush of joyous emotions that were drowning his heart. He held his breath and frowned at the shaman's last exclamation, aware that it was obvious that there was deception, that the old man was just a charlatan, that he was only being fooled by his impetuosity and vulnerability. He knew that he was the most apathetic and seemingly aloof ninja in Konoha, but Rin's death was probably the one thing he would never be able to make peace with, the cross he would drag with him for the rest of his life. He hated himself for not being able to protect that rationality, of which he was so proud, when it came to his faults.

"What does that mean?" he spat suspiciously. The old man hardened his already contrite expression.

"You will only be able to take the girl back with you on one condition: you must never, ever turn to look at her. The path is long and complicated, but you must proceed before her without a word or a glance." Kakashi swallowed, breaking into a cold sweat.

"Or what?" The old man pierced his soul with his icy eyes, small as pins, and for the first time that evening, the ninja felt an insane fear grip his heart for the time of two and a half beats.

"If you turn to look at her, the young girl will disappear into thin air and return to the netherworld; there she will remain for eternity."

Kakashi opened his eyes, pierced by a gust of wind as icy and sharp as the stiletto of a kunai. It hit him right between the shoulder blades and a gasp animated his windpipe, convinced for a moment that he felt a trickle of blood gushing down his spine. He looked around slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the surrounding darkness. The right iris focused on a skeletal tree, the left one framed a bumpy path through the foliage. It was a forest. It took Kakashi several minutes to realise that the netherworld of which superstitious men were so fond was none other than a dark and desolate forest. He thinned his hearing, trying to pick up a sound, any sound that might give him the semblance that this clearing contained a breath of life at the expense of its desolate appearance. Kakashi had never heard so much silence in his entire life, he who lived alone in an immensely empty and silent house since he was just a child, he who did not sob because he hated hearing the sound of his own voice when he cried. The afterlife was silence. And death and devastation. Kakashi quickly managed to use his ninja skills to move through the complete darkness and all around him he saw the remains of a nature that was now only dead. Charred trees, broken branches, dead dry leaves, Zephyr was breathing out with unprecedented violence and Kakashi shuddered as he felt his lips turn cyanotic. He too would die in that forest of the damned. The sound of trampling leaves broke the macabre and terrible idyll into which Kakashi had plunged. The ninja shuddered, turning his face away suddenly in search of the source of that sound, and was overcome with terror. Ever since he had made his request to the old shaman a blind fear had invaded him with devastating intensity. For the first time in a long time he was afraid. The fear of meeting the ghosts of his past had been piercing his chest for endless minutes: the more he thought about it, the more he feared seeing his father's spirit emerge from that blue and black welter, or Minato sensei's smile piercing his heart like a knife, and finally he realised he was not ready. Of all the ghosts of his past Rin was the one most alive and well in his memory and he knew that seeing her again would have meant reliving it all over again, pain included. That is why he had searched for the source of that noise indicating a presence - the only one perhaps - in the vicinity with a spasmodic, affected urgency. Terrified he searched for familiar eyes that could kill him instantly and a tiny figure came to his rescue.

Rin's huge, frightened eyes lit up the darkness with the force of a sunbeam in a summer downpour. Kakashi swallowed loudly as he watched her lean out from the dead trunk she had hidden behind. She was as tiny and frightened as a bird that had fallen from the nest, clearly not expecting to meet anyone there, in that part of the forest. Kakashi looked at her without a word, his heart exploded in his chest and tears flooded his irises without finding a way out. Rin was identical to the last time he had seen her. The day he had killed her. The 12-year-old's face was the same one that had smiled at him that morning, the same one that had cried calling his name as she died in his arms from his own hands. She was even wearing the same clothes and Kakashi blanched and felt himself dying for the umpteenth time when, lowering his gaze to the little girl's chest, he discovered the bloodstained shirt at the spot where he had pierced her with his chidori. For a brief instant, time seemed to stand still in the forest of the damned. Rin intercepted Kakashi's gaze and jolted: although the one before her was a tall, strong-built young man, the patina of suffering that clouded his deep-set eyes had not changed in the course of those five years.

"Kakashi..." she whispered in a sob, moving small, slow steps in his direction. Kakashi stood motionless, petrified like a victim struck by the gaze of a gorgon. His synapses short-circuited and Kakashi thought of something, anything he could say in front of the little girl he had killed and whose picture he asked for forgiveness every night. Why couldn't he now confess any of those well-worn pleas to her?

"What are you doing here?" whispered Rin, now only a few steps away from him. She planted her dusty feet on the barren earth, inches from her old teammate. He was tall and in order to look him in the eyes she had to raise his head, stretching her neck as much as possible. That scene sent shivers down Kakashi 's spine. The young man shook his head and closed his eyes, hating himself for his cowardice so unnecessary at that moment. Had he not been waiting for him for years?

"I'm sorry." He exhaled at last, in a whisper so subtle and breathless that for a moment he feared Rin had not heard him. But she had heard it all right. For all those years, Rin had wandered in that dark and desolate netherworld crying bitter tears. She thought the afterlife would have welcomed her amidst a vast expanse of golden wheat, vast meadows furrowed by streams of clear water, a world where the sun would never set. The Elysian fields of her imagination did not at all match the image that had flooded her eyes as Kakashi's chidori pierced her heart; the only thought that haunted her in that limbo, where there was no day but only darkness, was knowing that Kakashi would have carried the guilt of her death for eternity. Now she saw him there and she didn't know how that was possible either; indeed, an explanation came to her mind - the only one truly possible and rational in her eyes - and as her living eyes filled with tears, she sobbed the dreaded question.

"Are you dead too, Kakashi?" Kakashi shook his head as the thin lips underneath his mask trembled imperceptibly, and he thanked his obsession with hiding for that, because he didn't want Rin to see him like this, not again.

"No, Rin." He exclaimed in a broken voice, a mixture of despair and hope; relief and fear gripped his vocal cords.

"I'm here to take you home."

Kakashi narrowed his gaze, ignoring the burning that stung his irises with overbearing force. In that part of the forest a foul mist had risen, obscuring his vision, so thick that he could not even see his own feet. The young man tried to control his heartbeat to prevent it from piercing his eardrums. He tried to maintain lucidity and kept repeating within himself, like an agonising dirge, the directions the shaman had ordered him to follow to remerge into the world of the living. Look for the burnt willows, walk straight ahead, walk even if you feel your feet ache, when you get to the oak tree felled by lightning...

"Kakashi?" The young man jerked, trying to ignore the voice behind him. He wasn't just keeping his concentration on the path ahead, his ears were on perpetual alert to pick up the sound of Rin's cadenced footsteps behind him. The shaman had been adamant; he should not have turned around under any circumstance and what was more, he had also forced him to keep quiet with Rin about this part of the deal. "Once you start on the path, you will not be able to address a single word or glance at the girl. Remember that she will know nothing of this: she will call you, but you must ignore her. Just tell her to follow you and turn around, leave and she will follow you. From now on, walk on without looking back and do not stop, ever. Walk and do not stop." Kakashi 's heart clenched in a painful, suffocating grip. The thought that Rin, behind him, was following him oblivious, moved only by the promise of being on her way to the world of the living -towards home- made him uneasy and afraid. He did not know what they would do once they were back in the world of the living, what they would say, what would happen to Rin, for his only wish in life was to give her a second chance, to offer his teammate the life he had snatched from her. He would have brought her home and Rin would have learnt to live again and grow up, she would have become a jonin and one day a sensei, because she was so good with children and he knew she would have been an outstanding teacher and he would have watched her from afar as she lived a life that he himself had given back to her. For a moment he had felt selfish and he knew he was, he knew that bringing Rin back to life would have brought some peace to his own existence as well, but Kakashi was really going to let her go, to keep her away from him because she deserved to live and if he, who had killed her, had the chance to give her back that life on the understanding that he would no longer be a part of it, then that would be fine. They had been on the road for a time he would not be able to quantify, it could have been hours or minutes, because the transfixed immobility of that place was an eternal trap that was driving him mad. But he had to keep his wits about him, they were almost there after all, even the shaman had told him, after the clearing with the dense fog, go straight ahead and look for a cave, go all the way through it and you will see the light again...

"Kakashi, what's going on? Why won't you talk to me?" asked Rin frightened, her voice trembling and she didn't understand what was happening. She trusted her teammate blindly but the fog was a blanket-thick blanket and slowly Kakashi's back was blurring with the foliage of the trees that intercepted their path. Kakashi wanted to answer her, to stop and turn around to make sure she was alright, because to turn around and check is to love, but he couldn't and the thought of losing her now that they were this close to saving themselves was the only palliative that could keep his nerves steady.

"Kakashi..." whispered the girl in a broken voice and suddenly the boy's silvery hair disappeared completely from her sight and a cry, desperate, ravenous, terrified, rose from her trembling lips.

"Kakashi, wait for me! I'm coming, Kakashi, wait for me! Look at me, please, Kak..." A dull thud interrupted Rin's heartfelt plea, and Kakashi shuddered, for that same noise reminded him horribly of that of Rin's body collapsing before him on the earth drenched in her blood. A sudden flashback of five years before pierced his eardrums and blinded his vision, his five senses went mad bending to Rin's voice begging and calling him like a prayer, and the terror that something had happened to her again swept away everything his brain had been repeating until then. The shaman's words flew through the mist of the forest, his ninja control abandoned him for the first time in his life and terror took over his body.

Kakashi turned around.

Rin lay on the ground a few metres behind him. She had tripped over a shrub hidden among the leaves on the ground, the fog was so intense that she could never have seen it and in falling she had slammed into the sharp branches of the clearing.

"Rin!" shouted Kakashi between terror and blind fear. Rin raised her face immediately: a deep cut ripped through her lower lip, blood gushed out in a dark trickle all the way below her epiglottis, but she was alive, she was...

"Kakashi..." she whispered, and the boy paled as he saw the little girl's face become increasingly ethereal, insubstantial, as if transparent. And then he remembered. There was no point in throwing himself at her like a fury, no point in trying to grasp Rin's white arms stretched out towards him, like a desperate plea for help. Kakashi reached out a bloodstained hand of his own, tried to grasp it but clutched only air and dust between his fingers. The contours of Rin's face faded with exasperating but inevitable slowness. Rin tried to grasp him and be grabbed, but her body was already turning back towards the world of the dead and once again she relived in her mind the image of the golden fields of the Elysium and this time she thought that she would have really ended up there, that the dark forest she had wandered in was just a limbo and Kakashi shouting her name was the only chance of salvation she would have. She felt herself being dragged away elsewhere and prayed at least this time that she could wake up among fields of wheat and blossoming trees, under the sun kissing her skin scented with apricots soaked in honey, her scent. Kakashi cried out and called her desperately,

"Wait for me, Rin, I'm coming with you!" he shouted, and Rin had no word of reproach for him for letting her go this time as well; what could she have complained about but being too loved?[1] She smiled at him through her tears as the outlines of her face blurred through the mist; Kakashi watched her escape once more - forever - from his hands; as she sank into the abyss, Rin perceived no smell of sunshine, apricots or honey, and finally truly feared, once and for all, that outside of limbo there was no Elysium.

[1] Ovidian quotation. Met.X, 61.