𝒈𝒍𝒖𝒆.

𝟘𝟘𝟝: 𝔸𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕙

He slowly approached the forms of his ex-students (she'd always been his favourite, though she'd never believed it, and he couldn't blame her, he had failed as her teacher, as her protector-). Every step sent stabbing pain through his abused and exhausted body (sensei, you're not exactly young anymore, you know-). Heedless of the pain, he plodded on, only stopping when he was next to them.

Naruto and Sasuke were hunched over her (bloody, battered-) body, clutching her to themselves tightly, as if desperately hoping that their hold on her could anchor her to this world (it's too late, everything had been too late-). Naruto was weeping freely, while Sasuke's shoulders shook slightly with emotion, silent tears sliding down his cheeks. In any other situation, he'd have stared long and hard; he didn't think there had been any emotion left in his former student. However, now, he just brushed it aside. It didn't matter.

His eyes finally rested on her face (a smile suits you so much better-), it was dirty, and blood covered her cheeks, though he could see traces of where their tears must have fallen and washed away the blood, and the blood was streaked in some places, as if unsteady hands had tried to clean some of it away. He suspected it was Sasuke, though it was hard to reconcile such a tender action with said Uchiha, because Naruto was too much of a mess to have done it (even now, he was murmuring nonsensical words to her- half-forgotten memories, broken promises, begs, pleas-). Her expression was unnervingly peaceful (a far cry from the torturous pain that had been etched onto it, from the beautiful smiles that had graced it, from that puppy-dog pout he could never resist-). Her eyes were closed, and her long lashes brushed her cheeks. If one ignored the blood, it was almost as if she was merely asleep. (Eeek! Kakashi-sensei! Don't just sneak into my apartment, I look horrible, I just woke up-!)

He gently grasped her gloved hand, which had been hanging lifelessly, fingertips just brushing the ground. Deceptively delicate, it masked the true strength it was capable of (her description in a nutshell-), and the worn gloves were a testament to how much hard work she'd put into training, into protecting those important to her (Eh, gloves? Kakashi-sensei, I didn't even think you remembered my birthday! Thanks, these were exactly what I wanted-!).

Seized by a sudden impulse, he tugged off his glove, then hers, lacing their fingers together (as best he could, because her hand was limp, and cold, and dea-). This innocent touch, the feeling of his skin on hers, grounded him, though it brought renewed pain from the reminder that, no, this wasn't a nightmare, this was real, she was-

Her hands were too cold (they were always so warm, pulsing with ethereal green light that healed and brought life, with a blue glow that wrought destruction-)

Her features were too slack (she was always worrying for one of her boys, because for five grown men, they were more trouble than toddlers-)

Her face was too expressionless (she had always burned with life, with vitality, with one emotion or another, be it anger, happiness, sadness, irritation, or simply love-)

It was too much.

His shoulders shook, and he let out a strangled sound, a cross between a sob and an anguished moan.

And then he was sobbing shamelessly, gripping her hand tightly (it's okay to show emotion once in a while, you know, sensei-)

His mask was soaked with his tears (he remembered how she had stared when he had nonchalantly tugged his mask down one day, after a particularly brutal sparring session-)

He remembered her eyes-

Her laugh-

Everything-

Gone.

Quieting, he pressed a kiss to her palm (when had he lifted her hand to his face? When had he pulled down his mask-?). He pulled on her glove again, before he let his bare fingers trace the contours of her face, smudging the blood (and tears, hers – when had she cried? Had she been crying when she-? From pain? From sadness? The thought was too painful to bear- and theirs) on her face.

He pulled her from the arms of his former students as he stood, their upturned faces (with bloodshot eyes wet with tears) lost, questioning, painfully reminding him of a time when they had been children, a true team, when the only reason he'd carry her home would be that she had fallen asleep after training again-

"Let's bring her home."

He turned and walked in the direction of home (no, it would never be home again, because home was where the heart is, and she was gone, gonegonegonegone, gone-). He was exhausted, and in pain, but he'd be damned before he let anyone else do this task.

He hated them. Hated them so passionately, because it was all their fault that she'd never smile at him again, never laugh, never cry-

Hated himself for not being strong enough to protect her (I'll give my life before I allow any harm to come to my cute students-)

But still… he forgave them.

Because she'd given her life for them to live.

He bent down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Because he'd never been able to deny her anything she wanted, and what she had desired, above all else, was that they become a family: her, Naruto, Sasuke, Sai, Yamato and himself.