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2016-01-22
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2022-02-07
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14/?
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Reflection

Summary:

His nose itches with the long dead scents of incense, saltwater, and spice but he doesn’t look back until -

A choked, “Kakashi?”

He closes his uncovered eye, takes a deep breath, and turns.

Three ghosts stare back.

-

In this world, Team Minato returns as heroes.

(This time, there was no disgraced Hatake runt carrying the most prized doujutsu of the famed Uchiha clan, no questions of theft or accusations of treason, no doubts of Minato’s abilities as a teacher let alone Hokage, no back-stabbing comrade killers-

-no Kakashi.)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

When Kakashi wakes, it’s to the dreadfully familiar, water-stained ceiling tiles of a hospital room.

Even before he’s fully conscious, he runs through basic self-diagnostic tests - no serious injuries internal or otherwise, sore muscles and nausea rolling in his stomach, chakra coils unburned and chakra reserves somewhat low but better than nothing, wrists and ankles restrained with chakra dampening chains, wearing nothing but a hospital issued shirt and cotton pants, no weapons or gear in sight, and a tightness in his throat and burning in his eyes that he doesn’t want to admit are a product of old nightmares.

The smell of antiseptics stings his oversensitive nose and the bright whiteness of everything is eye-watering, but he manages not to panic and instead focuses outwards with more effort, relying less on sharpened instincts and ingrained reflexes to assess his surroundings.

The hustle and bustle of a big city are background noise to the heartbeats and footsteps that periodically pass by his hospital door. A glance outside and a whiff of fresh air streaming from a crack in the window tell him enough, that he is in Konoha (or a very good genjutsu of one, he’s still testing the room with subtle spikes of chakra) and on a higher floor of the main shinobi hospital in the heart of the village. He ignores the strange, lingering scent of incense and saltwater and spice, can’t let himself fall into a trap because it smells suspiciously familiar and like something that will break him if he tries to figure it out (but he already knows, he’s not one of the best trackers in the nations for nothing after all, and he’s also the best at denial so guess which one he chooses to be better at now?) and so he ignores it, deems it unimportant but always in the back of his mind.

The restraints are easy to slip out of, ridiculously so his mind tells him suspiciously, and so is detecting the almost-not-there wisps of not chakra but presence he can sense in the outermost reaches of his senses (ANBU, this is a test, it’s always a test, but for now he will not answer for what) and comprehension dawns on him when he nears the exit.

Seals.

Well done seals, by the looks of them, subtly framing the door (and probably window) and etched faintly into the wood with chakra. He doesn’t dare prod at them in fear of invoking most likely debilitating consequences, especially if they were made by the person he thinks they were - years of sporadically taking an interest in Jiraiya’s seals and then nearly a decade of riding Minato’s coattails have taught him this lesson well.

Fortunately, Kakashi has a way around that beneath the eye patch the hospital had so thoughtfully provided him.

A quick Kamui - and missing door - later and he casually slithers away from his prison to a place he can breathe without the deep-seated ache making his muscles tremble, somewhere he could think without a strange fog clouding his mind while another Kakashi lays in his place, solid but as fake and fragile as he feels.

He supposes he could just leave now and give himself a better chance of escaping undetected, but he has important things that have hopefully not been taken to Hokage Tower.

He finds the supply closet used for medical staff to change quickly if they are called to the field and swipes a standard uniform, finds his own things in a locked, sealed, and guarded room in a hidden section of the building (but he’s been playing this game for too long, knows this hospital too well, and isn’t that just sad - that this hospital-genjutsu-hallucination knows how many times he’s been here, how long he’s stayed in these rooms and wandered these halls for one reason or another) and meanders the streets with a low-level but effective genjutsu weaving the image of a brown haired, brown eyed man in his place.

He doesn’t stop to wave at Asuma. He doesn’t stop to gaze at the Hokage Monument or the four faces carved into it. He doesn’t stop to wonder why there are so many Uchiha’s wandering the districts of Konoha. He doesn’t stop to listen to a small family of three with ridiculous hair yelling at each other in a small ramen stand. He doesn’t stop to watch a black-haired man with orange goggles get scolded by a petite brunette with purple marks on her cheeks.

He doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t-

He stops at the memorial stone.

It’s no bigger or smaller than he remembers (and he does, he does remember, he will always remember), just as glossy and well-kept in his memories with wilted flowers and crumbling ashes at the base, but the names are different. A different order in some cases, new names he hasn’t carved into his memory and names that haven’t yet been carved into stone.

The henge fades within the hour, more from lack of care than lack of focus, and ten minutes later the bushin disappears as well. The resulting, panicked spikes of chakra would be amusing if he wasn’t sure whether the joke-not-joke would end in grudging laughter or public execution.

It only takes ten minutes after to feel three presences quickly coming his way, intent and strong and alive, and Kakashi has always wanted to apologize to his ghosts but right now it seems impossible. One gets there first and not a few moments later the other two join, and the three land on the edges of the training ground, of their old training ground. Kakashi can’t tear his eyes away from the memorial however, has always found resolve and guilt in equal measure etched into the stone but the strength he draws from those feelings fails him now.

His nose itches with the long dead scents of incense, saltwater, and spice but he still doesn’t look back until -

A choked, “Kakashi?”

He closes his uncovered eye, takes a deep breath, and turns.

Three ghosts stare back. 

 

 

They’re still staring.

Obito is taller, Kakashi notes with a slight edge of hysteria in his thoughts, but not as tall as Kakashi. Why wouldn’t he be though? In this world, it seems, Obito lives and grows and becomes the young man Kakashi never gave him the chance to be. Rin too. She barely comes up to Obito’s shoulder but is still a head taller than in her youth and he can’t stop staring at the blood staining their clothes and faces, the same blood he’s never been able to wash from his hands.

Minato-sensei is almost exactly the same as Kakashi remembers except he’s breathing. There are lines around his eyes and mouth, extremely faint but present and a result of years of laughter and sorrow Kakashi would never be able to experience at his side.

He wonders what they see. A failure, a shadow, a long-forgotten memory?

“Oi! You bastard, don’t ignore me!” Obito shouts, voice cracking with the threat of tears, and the familiar words bring Kakashi back from the sinking depths of his mind just like it always used to before.

The words leave his mouth without much thought, a knee-jerk reaction he hasn’t had in over ten years. “Why should I listen to a crybaby ninja?”

The silence that follows is heavy with anticipation and shock until in a flash there are two bodies colliding into him, sending him to the ground in a pained heap of silent tears and ugly crying but he won’t say his body is still healing because this, this is the kind of healing he needs even if he will never say out loud. There’s dust in his eyes (yes, even the covered one, but the Sharingan has always acted up at random times and this is no different) and his chest feels tight with more than just exhaustion, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt better, crushed under the bodies of his two precious teammates, minutes stretching as they struggle to control themselves.

Another flash, this time yellow, stands over him, bright blue eyes glassy as if the skies were about to rain, and Kakashi doesn’t imagine how rough his sensei’s voice sounds. “Obito, Rin, let him up.”

The two are reluctant, and Kakashi also didn’t realize how heavy they would be when they grew out of their child bodies (the ones he buried, one casket empty and one casket too light to contain all of one person; then later, much later, one casket too heavy for him to lower himself), but the thought vanishes as soon as Kakashi reaches out to take his sensei’s outstretched hand. In no time, he’s pulled into strong arms that taught him, lead him, comforted him for years and years before he learned how to accept it.

The hug is crushing but short, not giving Kakashi much time to marvel at the fact that his chin easily hooks over his sensei’s shoulder now when at one time he’d thought those shoulders were taller than the Hokage Monument. Even though Minato pulls back first, his hands are like hot iron brands on Kakashi’s shoulders as his sensei’s bright, bright blue eyes roam over his masked face like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Kakashi knows the feeling.

“When they brought you in, I didn’t think-” Minato looks lost, so lost, so much like the teenage jounin unprepared to take a grieving, genius orphan under his wing, and Kakashi knows this is his fault too, “I was so sure they’d be wrong. But Tsunade-sama and Hiashi-san swore that you were-” real, alive, not some fucked up attempt at recreating the Hatake line, “you, and Jiraiya-sensei and Kushina and I checked the scroll and even had Fugaku-san look it over with his Sharingan and it’s real and-”

“Breathe, sensei. You’re starting to sound like Obito when he’s panicking,” Kakashi blandly states, enjoying Minato’s sharp, startled laugh, looking so surprised and pleased it makes Kakashi want to preen, especially with Obito’s spluttering and Rin’s giggling right beside him.

Minato’s still smiling (and it looks a little like grieving but it’s not like Kakashi can judge) at him, rueful this time. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t stay put in the hospital until we could visit.”

Obito elbows his way into his like of vision, and for a moment Kakashi sees double - one Obito bloody and young and one not - before his sight rights itself and there’s just one Uchiha in front of him. “Yeah, you bastard! You were out for three days! Poor Rin was taking care of you the whole time and hurt her neck sleeping in the chair next to you!”

Kakashi expects Rin to blush and deny it but she does neither, instead eyeing Obito with a sly smile he doesn’t remember her ever wearing. “Are you sure that was me, Obito? I don’t snore and I remember the nurses complaining that the other patients had a hard time sleeping with all the noise in Kakashi’s room.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Obito gapes at her before turning back to Kakashi, eyes still suspiciously watery while a flush worked its way up his neck, so visible with his pale skin. “I wasn’t- I didn’t! That-”

They continue to snipe at each other teasingly, Minato watching all three of them with an indulgent fondness that Kakashi misses, but the short interaction leaves him feeling off-balance.

Of course. Of course they would grow up. Of course they would stay together.

Of course they would change.

His eyes are quick and assessing as he looks at his three teammates again, this time with more life-hardened scrutiny and less rose-colored remembrance, and feels something like the child of loss and envy curl in his chest at the closeness his team shares now without him.

Minato is still a fearsome Hokage with Obito and Rin as competent jounin under him, but they are still a team. Kakashi remembers how doggedly Minato had shadowed him after everything, watched over him even with his own grief at losing one then two students, determined not to lose a third, so Kakashi knows the same must’ve occurred in this world as well. This time, though, Rin hadn’t been abducted and killed by her remaining teammate and sensei didn’t die on the night of his child's birth, and their bonds are tighter than he could’ve imagined.

It’s a bit jarring, a bit heartbreaking.

But.

He’s never been one for dwelling on negative emotions, rarely felt spite and even rarer resentment. His companions are grief and guilt, and those two take up too much of his time for other things like anger or jealousy to really take root (until recently, until he was assigned a team of three that would change his world) and even now those negative, ugly things don’t manifest.

Despite not living this life with them, Kakashi is above all thankful that they are more or less happy and together.

“How did you get out of your room, anyhow?” Minato asks, head tilting curiously to the side, and something in Kakashi aches to see so much of his student in his sensei. “I placed seals on every surface so you wouldn’t be able to leave. I didn’t want you completely restrained in the bowels of the T&I Department so it was the only way to convince the Council you’d be secure. Who, by the way, are going to have my head because of your little stunt.” Ugh, the Council.

Rin rolls her eyes in obvious contempt, and Kakashi is gratified to find he can read her thoughts easily.

Obito snorts. “You think even your seals could keep Kakashi in the hospital? The same Kakashi that snuck out of there with a broken arm and a fever so high we was actually nice to me at training?”

Minato almost pouts and Kakashi inwardly despairs at the completely un-Hokage-like expression. “I put seals everywhere though! And I still wanna know what you did with the doorframe, Kashi, Tsunade doesn’t like having her hospital damaged like that.” His smile turns a little devious when Rin whaps a cackling Obito on the back of the head with a wide grin of her own, so like Naruto and Sakura in that moment Kakashi can’t help but feel warm at the sight even as it causes him pain in equal measure

He taps his hitae-ite, slanted over his scarred eye. “I have a few tricks.”

The air changes, and the three jounin can pinpoint the moment their bright-like-the-sun sensei becomes the flee-on-sight Yondaime Hokage. Minato’s face is almost grave when he looks at Kakashi, and the stinging in his left eye already tells him what this is going to be about.

“Kakashi, while we were able to prove that you’re you, just from a different place, we couldn’t explain why you have the Sharingan.”

Obito and Rin say nothing, expressions dropping from their elated teasing to something more professional but not quite, and Kakashi looks back at the memorial stone he’s spent his life apologizing to. He sighs, a sound that feels as heavy as his guilt, and gestures for them to sit in the green grass of their old training grounds.

“Get comfortable. I have a long story to tell.”

Again.