Dirty Little Secret

CHAPTER 1



He was awoken up by the suspicious sound of birds chirping. The air smelled putrid and heavy, like burning flesh and wood. Tiredly, ha chanced to crack an eye – there was nothing above him but dirty, bloodstained ceiling – someone must’ve bled like a pig in here, his mind supplied helpfully. It took him a few more minutes to realise that he had both his eyes open – something that hadn’t happed outside of battle for many, many years. The moans and the foul stench of blood and medicines around him told him that he was at a field hospital – so why hadn’t they thought of covering the Sharingan? Only then it occurred to him that the image that his mind registered looked… normal. Too normal. As normal as one seen through two perfectly healthy, but very ordinary eyes. What…?



The face of a young man, perhaps no more than fourteen years of age appeared in his admittedly limited field of vision and a small but surprisingly strong hand pressed him back against the bed.



“Kakashi-san” the young man said “You must rest. We were barely able to save your leg, please don’t strain yourself.”



“My…” he croaked and swallowed through his parched throat “My eye…”



The young man nodded sadly “We had to remove the Sharingan. It was killing you. Be grateful that the medic who did this was somewhat of a fan of yours – she stole the eye of one of the dead so that you don’t remain completely blind on that side.”



And before Kakashi was able to ask what happened to his eye that needed saving or even smack the living daylights out of the brat, said boy pressed the rim of a cup to his lips and forced him to drink a foul-tasting liquid. Still, as thirsty as he was, he was as grateful for it as if it was clear spring water.



“Rest now. We’ll tell you more when you feel a bit better.”



The vile concoction, whatever it was, was apparently quite potent because in a few minutes he became incapable of keeping his eyes open anymore.



The next time he woke up he was greeted by another medic – this time a woman so old that the skin of her face resembled tree-bark, creased and leathery. Her dark eyes, however, were clear and full of intelligence and had apparently seen far too much of life.



He was in the same room, he guessed, because the stains above him hadn’t changed much, except for the fact that the bloody stains now had a faded, rusty colour.



“You’re finally awake I see. Completely awake, that is.”



She forced another foul drink down his throat and stopped only when he began to cough helplessly.



“You have been going in and out of consciousness for the past month.” A cold, callused hand pressed to his forehead. “And your fever is finally down. We were worried about you, Hatake-san. Your leg got badly infected. I’m afraid that you won’t be doing any jumping from tree to tree anymore.”



“My… my eye…” he began, still trying to gather his bearings. The air smelled a bit better than last time, more like antiseptic and less like blood and burning flesh.



“Yes, about that. I’m afraid that we can’t reproduce what Rin-san did back then – your body will reject it if we attempt to reimplant it.” She withdrew from him and he slowly turned his head around to follow her, finally taking in the room he was in – apparently the Academy building was used as a field hospital after the real one had collapsed – because he recognized the filthy blackboard at the back. The glass of the windows was missing and they gaped like toothless maws. Apparently it was either sundown or morning outside because the light that seeped in was tinged orange.



“You rest and be good and I’ll see what I can bring you to eat – we’ve been feeding you through an IV for all this time, some mild solid food might do you good. I’m afraid we don’t have much to offer.” The old woman said and left the room.

He stared after her for a little while until he got a crick in his neck for his troubles and turned his head back to stare at the ceiling. Kakashi had no recollection as to how he had been brought here and by whom. As the woman had said, he had been in the hospital, or what passed for a hospital, for a whole month. The jounin looked around again and saw no evidence that someone had visited. Not that he expected to be brought flowers and well-wishing cards, but a clean change of clothes would’ve been nice. Or at least a kunai. He certainly couldn’t see any sort of weapon in the vicinity or feel one upon his person and he felt more naked because of that than if he had been running down the streets nude.



Hadn’t the woman said that beside his eye – the loss of which he didn’t want to contemplate at the moment - it was too shocking to even begin to comprehend it – he had hurt his leg badly? ‘Must’ve been when the rubble fell over me.’ His mind helpfully supplied. His entire body felt heavy, leaden almost, but he felt no pain, anywhere. Which probably meant that he was drugged up to his ears. ‘No wonder I was out cold for so long.’



Every nin learned very early on that pain was their friend, if a very unpleasant friend. It told them when they were hurt and most importantly – it told them that they were still alive. Physical pain was something he had learnt to take – its lack was unnerving and weird.



Kakashi spent the next two hours deep in thought over the limited amount of information that had been presented to him and was grateful when the elderly woman finally deigned to appear again, carrying a bowl that smelled enticingly like fish broth. She put it on the rickety chair next to the bed and sat on the other one, then reached to help him sit up a little. By that time, the drugs must’ve began to wear off because Kakashi felt unpleasant tingling in his leg – from the knee all the way up to his hip. He tried to reach for the bowl but his hands shook too badly and were too uncoordinated to even grasp it, so he lay them back down on the covers with a frustrated sigh.



“You must have patience, Kakashi-san.” The woman said as she lifted a spoonful to his mouth. “Your recuperation will be long.”



Choosing to ignore her comment, he swallowed the broth and asked:



“What’s your name?”



“Umiko.” She answered. “It’s my shift now. Daisuke will come in a few hours and take over. He’s this young lad, maybe you saw him in one of the moments when you regained consciousness?”



Kakashi did remember vaguely a brat with large eyes and strong hands and nodded.



“You will have to excuse his behaviour – you’re his hero… of sorts.”



Kakashi really didn’t want to be anyone’s hero, ever. He did not consider himself to be good enough of a person to be anyone’s role model. The woman fell quiet for a while after that, until the jounin asked another question.



“Who is Hokage now?”



“Uzumaki Naruto-sama” she answered with a large grin on her face. “He has been doing great, great job! He’s a bit moody, but he sure knows how to unite people around himself!”



Kakashi nodded with a small smile.



“Good.”



“He visited you once.” Umiko said thoughtfully as she offered him yet another spoonful. “Gave specific orders for you to be well taken care of.



“There’s no need for any special treat-…” he began to protest but Umiko interrupted him sharply:



“Be grateful for it. Not everyone had the same chance as you. We have barely enough supplies and even less people. The victims were in thousands in Konoha alone. Not to mention the amount of injured and the homeless!”



He did flinch at the sharp tone and looked down. Her voice softened then.



“So be grateful that you have been given a chance. Don’t squander it.” With that she stuck the spoon his mouth a bit forcefully and limped out of his room, carrying the bowl. Stopping at the door, she turned around and said:

“Daisuke will come later to check up on you.”