If You Love Until It Hurts

A/N: Well, here's the second chapter. You could say that this is Kakashi really hitting rock bottom, due to the events in the secon half of the chapter. From this point things should start changing for the better, I hope.

Carousel: I hope you like this chapter just as much as the first one, if not more! :D

Satterb: I miss talking to you! *huggles*



There were only two or three moments in Kakashi’s entire life when he could recall feeling like a complete idiot. Usually those moments were followed by a disaster of epic proportions and this time it looked like it would be the worst one yet.



He jumped onto the next branch and almost lost his footing when the world swayed around him, a jumble of sound and pretty colours. He held onto the trunk for a moment, closing his eye and shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind before taking a breath and preparing for the next jump. Bloodloss was making him woozy and unstable, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer, the hastily applied bandage on the wound of his leg was leaking and was already soaked with blood. He was probably leaving a trail too, leading his pursuers better than a path of breadcrumbs would have.



Pakkun noticed that he had fallen behind and quickly turned back, jumping next to Kakashi onto the branch and looking up at him with moist, worried dark eyes.



“Boss, the outpost is just a little further ahead. You have to hold out until there.”



He nodded though his vision was still swimming.



“I know. I am not sure if I can…”



“You have to! Come on, boss! I am sorry I yelled at you like that earlier today. I’m sorry. Please hold on, Kakashi!”



Damn little pug and damn the puppy dog look he was giving him. Suddenly the wind brought the distinct smell of sweat and blood and he knew that his pursuers couldn’t be far behind. Pakkun smelled them too, of course, and his little face became even more frantic and worried.



“You need to move!”



He nodded again and jumped, not even noticing the blood stains he had left on the branch he left behind. How had he got himself into this mess? How could he, a Jounin of his stature, abilities and experience miscalculate things so badly?



Every time he landed and forced himself to jump again pain shot up his leg all the way to his spine and he gritted his teeth, doing his best to ignore it. He had to make it to the camp and the back up that was waiting for him there. Surely Gai had finished his part of the mission by now and was already there. If he wasn’t, Kakashi was screwed. His bloodied fingers touched his jacket-pocket where he carried the documents, making sure they were still there – if he lost them, this whole exercise would’ve been in vain.

Suddenly the trees ended and he practically crashed into a clearing in the forest, raising a cloud of bright petals and pollen when he rolled through the blooming flowers, several unhappy bees unhappily buzzing away. ‘Very elegant, Kakashi.’ He thought bitterly and picked himself up, swaying a little when he got back on his feet. The pain in his injured calf had become an incessant, burning sensation and he began to suspect that the problem was much bigger than a simple stab wound. The healing substances the bandages were soaked in should’ve began to mend that by now, despite the brutal pace he had assumed while he ran. The blade must’ve been covered in something.



Angry at his own sloppiness and lack of concentration he pressed forward, a growl leaving his clenched teeth. The burning in his calf became pure agony and his eye watered when the leg threatened to buckle under him. He had no more strength to jump and he resorted to running under the canopy of the tree branches, knowing that this pace was painfully slow and that they’d be on him soon. He wasn’t going to make it to the camp before they caught up with him.



Finally, his injured leg buckled under him and he fell, rolling for several paces and bruising himself black and blue on the protruding tree roots.



“Boss! Kakashi!” Pakkun was immediately on him, grabbing his sleeve in his mouth and attempting to pull him up, a futile task for a dog that small. He shook the pug off, then drew himself up, first on his knees, and finally standing on his one good leg, leaning against a tree trunk. His fingers were steady when he took the scroll from his pocket and handed it to Pakkun.



“Take these to Gai. I’m going to have to make a stand here.”



With his mouth full of the scroll, the only thing the dog could do was growl disapprovingly.



“That’s an order. Go! Now!”



With another growl the dog turned and ran, carrying his treasure. Now all Kakashi could do was slow them down enough to give Pakkun a chance to reach the camp on time and deliver the documents. He had little chance of survival and he knew it – between the blood loss, the poison in his system and his low chakra reserves, not to mention the crippled leg he was an easy target. Or at least his pursuers would believe so, he thought with a grim smile under his mask.



Checking his pockets he took count of all the equipment he had left – exploding tags, smoke bombs, tripwires, various bladed weapons, then set out to prepare the battle ground before they arrived. They were in for a few nasty surprises.



Kakashi had had a long and illustrious career as a Ninja. His Sharingan had been both a blessing and a curse at the same time – he had gained an amazing ability and sacrificed a lot of stamina in return. Over the years he had carefully honed his skills and strategies for a situation like this – when he was too injured to use hand to hand combat and too worn out to use any of his considerable arsenal of ninjutsu. Traps, smoke and mirrors were the core of his art, originating from a much more primitive time when Chakra was not yet discovered and people resorted to much cruder devices to kill their enemies. Kakashi was the master of it.



The point man of the Sound agents appeared among the trees, a masked man of undetermined age, tufts of dark hair sticking out of the bandages that were wrapped around his face. He was moving quickly and yet cautiously, obviously far from being a complete amateur. He had, however, traded a lot of the caution for speed, apparently still believing his prey was fleeing, rather than turning to fight, and that was his undoing when one of his feet was caught in Kakashi’s hair thin tripwire. The resulting explosion was small, but carefully directed and suddenly there was a sickening smell of blood and scorched meat.



The others quickly caught up with the remains of their fallen teammate and paused, then slowed down considerably, fanning out, looking for signs of any other traps their prey might’ve laid. There were four of them, all dressed in the greys and violets of the Sound village, three men and one woman. They were good, but Kakashi was better. Using the end of the tripwire connected to several smoke bombs he had set, he simply pulled it and activated them. Several loud bangs and flashes reverberated through the forest and the entire area was suddenly covered in thick, choking black smoke. He could hear them cough and stumble through the sudden darkness, separated and disoriented as they were. It didn’t take long before two of the other traps to spring, the tree branch he was crouching on shuddering under his feet and the leaves rustling. The two explosions happened almost simultaneously, and shortly after that there was a blood-curdling female scream that slowly tapered off when the bloodloss finally shut her up.



Kakashi carefully surveyed the smoke, waiting to see if anyone would find his or her way out of it, several kunai ready in his hand so he could throw them at any survivors. He had counted five people so far – the point man, already killed by the first trap, the woman, who was either dead or so severely incapacitated that she wouldn’t present a further threat, and the three men, one of which could also possibly be dead. That meant that two were undoubtfully alive and a third he had to watch out for. His fingers tightened around the string, his heart hammering in his chest as he surveyed the area before him, adrenalin pumping through his system, opening his lungs, tensing his muscles, suppressing the pain in his leg. These moments of hyperawareness happened often during a Shinobi’s career and one quickly learned to appreciate their benefits and overcome their flaws – tunnel vision was never a good thing when your enemies were chasing you and about to run you down.



A minute movement at the edge of the smoke drew his attention and he tensed even further, immediately hurling one of the kunai at the Nin who stumbled out in the clear air, one hand pressed firmly against the stump of his other arm, trying to contain the blood that still gushed copiously out of it. The blade caught him in the throat and he froze in his spot for a moment, then went down with a wet, gurgling sound.



With grim satisfaction Kakashi prepared another blade, waiting for the other two to appear so he could take them out. The only thing that warned him was the sudden and frantic flight of a centipede that crawled by his injured leg as fast as its numerous feet could carry it. He lifted his hand and used the metal plate on the back of his glove to block the surprise kick coming from below then grabbed the offending ankle and twisted it, throwing the attacker away, but he nimbly grabbed onto a protruding branch and flipped himself up, landing on the same branch as Kakashi. The Jounin quickly got up from his position straddling the branch and crouched, the tip of his kunai pointed at the enemy. His mind was frantically trying to analyze the situation – his scent was unfamiliar, though he too carried the Sound colours and forehead protector. He was young, obviously having just earned his Chuunin vest, shaggy blond hair falling down to his shoulders, framing a face with a wide jaw and hazel eyes. He wasn’t a part of the original five man team chasing after him, but he too, was hostile. A back up, maybe? But how had they contacted him? Or was he just a sentry that had been drawn here by the sound of the explosions? Not that any of that truly mattered because he was suddenly moving, charging Kakashi with all the speed and strength he could muster, the kunai in his hand swung in a wide arc aiming for his chest. The Jounin blocked the attack, as well as the flurry of slashes that came after it. He was at a severe disadvantage and he knew it – he was facing a younger, rested, possibly stronger opponent, his injured leg forcing him to fight with hands only. The smoke on the ground was dispersing but there appeared to be no sign of the other two Nins and he feared he had missed them while he defended himself against the third. He could no longer afford to divide his attention though, because the Chuunin was getting bolder and his attacks were becoming even strong as if he sensed that his target was weakening with each passing second. Kakashi needed to finish this as soon as possible.



In the end, it came down to experience and training, as he ignored the pain and exhaustion and ducked under yet another slashing attack with almost preternatural speed and plunged his kunai in his abdomen, then pressed the blade up, feeling it cut through his stomach and finaly severing his diaphragm, finally stopping when kunai pressed against the younger man’s breast-bone. Blood washed over his hand, warm and sticky, and the Chuunin let out a hoarse cry, then toppled over Kakashi. His leg finally gave out and they both slipped from the tree, crashing through the canopy of branches underneath before landing heavily on the ground.



Kakashi’s ears were ringing and he felt like he had broken every bone in his body when he tried to push away the dead weight of the body on top of him. His tired, bruised limbs were refusing too cooperate and he growled with frustration and despair. Sheer force of will aided him and the body finally fell off him. He rolled away, trying to get back to his feet, but that was easier said than done. It was just too much, every abuse and injury his body had suffered finally taking its toll. He was still crawling on all fours, the world swimming around him, when the first kick to his abdomen landed. He fell over again and tried to curl up and protect his torso from the attack, but it was futile, for another landed against his kidneys – the final two Sound Nins had finally found him. They began to work him over, each kick aimed to do the most damage, the attacks coming from all sides at the same time. He curled up in the tiniest ball possible and threw his arms around his head to protect it, though he knew it was only a matter of time. He had finally run out of strength, and worse, of will to defend himself. It was the end of the line.



Someone pushed his hand away and finally kicked him in the face, and he could feel his nose breaking under the mask, blood flooding his mouth and throat. The world began to fade around him and the pain left him. He felt cold, but that wasn’t anything new for him.





“He left this morning with Jiraiya-sama, Kakashi-san.” The nurse explained as she changed the sheets on the freed hospital bed. “They seemed eager to be away, Jiraiya-sama had urgent business.”



“I see.” He said quietly. His fingers tightened around the wrapped package in his hand. He had bought the new kunai and a cup of ramen from the Ichikaru hoping that they would cheer the boy up a little, once he found out that he had awakened.



“Was that for him?” she asked curiously and pointed down.



“No.” he answered after a small pause and offered no further explanation. The nurse, a tiny, frail woman of considerable age gave him a look that had too much understanding – she knew Shinobi and their ways. She was also discrete enough not to make any further comment on it.



He took one last look around the now empty hospital room, bid the nurse goodbye and left. On his way out he threw the package in a garbage bin and didn’t look back. He was about to leave the hospital yard when his gaze fell on a familiar head of pink hair. When he approached he saw Sakura sitting on a bench in the garden, her nose studiously buried in a large medical volume. She looked up when she sensed his presence and gave him a timid little smile.



“Sakura.” He greeted her. She got up from the bench and bowed respectfully, then stared at him for a moment, the awkward silence between them stretching uncomfortably.



“How are you doing?” he finally asked and moved to sit next to her on the bench. The girl also sat back down and looked at the volume on her lap, her small fingers nervously tracing its corners.



“I’ve been better, I think.” She finally offered softly. He noticed, however, that her face was dry, her eyes not swollen. Perhaps the latest events had taught her a few things after all.



“Naruto left this morning.” She told him, eyes still focused down on the book. Kakashi read the title – “Anatomy of the Human Body” He reached and gently pulled it out of her grasp, then absently leafed through it. He had read it, of course – most Jounin were required to have some basic knowledge of the Medical Jutsu and you can’t heal people if you don’t know what you were healing.



“I know.” He finally said. “They told me when I went to his room.”



“He was very upset.” She said apologetically. “And Jiraiya-sama seemed to be in a lot of hurry. I am sure Naruto would have called you otherwise.”



Kakashi nodded then gave the book back to her.



“I’m…” she began, suddenly nervous. “I asked Tsunade-sama if she’ll have me as an apprentice.” There was another long, pregnant pause while the girl waited for him to say something, and when Kakashi didn’t, she continued “She agreed.”



“I understand.”



“Kakashi-sensei…”



He reached and laid his hand on top of hers over the book then offered her a warm smile, knowing that she’d be able to read his expression despite the mask.



“Sakura-chan. It’s okay. I do understand. Personal growth is of utmost importance to a Ninja, and studying under one of the Legendary Sannin is a once in a lifetime opportunity. You have nothing to apologize for.”



She nodded.

“Thank you, Kakashi-sensei.” Sakura whispered. He patted her hand soothingly.



“Good luck, Sakura-chan.” He got up and pulled out the book from his back pocket. “I’ll see you around.”



The girl swallowed, put the volume on the bench where Kakashi had sat a moment ago, then got up as well and bowed low without saying a word. He waved her off and left.



On his way back home he kept his nose buried in the book, a clear signal to anyone wanting to approach him to keep their distance. Jiraiya’s novels were always an excellent shield – the younger Shinobi thought him a pervert and were too embarrassed to try and talk to him while he was blatantly reading porn in front of them, the older were too experienced to miss the subtle message that he wished to be left alone. He was pretty sure they knew he wasn’t actually reading it – by now he knew all its contents by heart.



His mind was churning feverishly as he thought over and over the most recent events, feeling guilty and offended at the same time. Surely he had deserved at least a note before Naruto left? Was the boy this angry at him? Was he blaming him for what had happened?



He knew he had failed with Sasuke, spectacularly so. He hadn’t been able to reach him, to comfort him, no matter how hard he had tried. The truth was, he had had no idea how to deal with him, how to talk to him. He had always been painfully awkward in all of his social interactions, feeling calm and ease only when he was talking about his work. He had wanted to help Sasuke, genuinely so, and sometimes he wondered if it had been because of boy himself or because of the ghost of another Uchiha that still haunted him and never left him alone. Had he tried to find redemption through his student? Had he ignored the other two – Naruto, who was a painful reminder of all he had lost, and Sakura, whom he had dismissed from the start as too weak and emotional to be of any use – just to fulfill his own need for absolution? Whatever his reasons – and he knew they needed further analysis – the result was that he had failed all three of them – Sasuke, whom he had failed to reach, Naruto, whom he ignored to free himself from the agonizing reminder of what he had lost, and Sakura whom he had just brushed aside because of her perceived weakness. A sudden, intense loathing and bitterness towards Sarutobi welled up in him – he had warned him that he had no idea how to communicate with children, that he just wasn’t fit for this job, and yet the old man had still pressed him into it. The bitterness left him as quickly as it appeared – he knew he had no right to blame the Hokage for his own failures. He hadn’t tried hard enough and he had failed the test.



His front door closed behind him with a click. Once inside he threw the book on the living room sofa, sat down and buried his face in his hands, curling his fingers in his hair. The relief his ritual brought him a few days ago was quickly dissipating, the previous guilt and shame settling back in their familiar place, more intense than ever.



How could he fail like that, HE, the Legendary Copy Nin, feared and admired throughout all the Shinobi nations? His shoulders shook with bitter laughter at that thought. Oh, yes. He was a legend, alright. If only they knew about his failures, about his screw ups. He might be a formidable Shinobi, but when it truly mattered, he was always too late, too weak to change anything. The bloodied faces of Rin and Obito flitted over his mind, as well as the empty, blank expression of Minato’s when they finally brought his body back to the village. He hadn’t even been there for him when he died. He shied away from the image of his father, the pain and guilt there still too raw after all these years. He didn’t want to think about his own contribution to Sakumo’s death. And now, three more lives, ruined and broken because of his actions, or the lack of such.



Kakashi began to shake, fingers curling towards his face, clawing at his flesh. His breath came in and out in rapid bursts as he struggled to regain his calm. He felt like he was suffocating, like someone was holding his head underwater, choking the life out of him. He ripped the mask and forehead protector off, opening both eyes, the world tinting and tilting when his brain tried to process the dual signals at the same time. His fingers shook when he clawed at his clothes, at his vest and shirt, trying to free himself from their vice-like grip so he could breathe. He fell on the floor and crawled to the tatami covering the hidden compartment, tore it away, then got rid of the board as well, removing the box with hungry, desperate fingers. He needed this. He was breaking his own ritual, his own rules, but the craving for control, for release was too great to care about that at the moment.



It took him four tries to find enough focus in order to undo the seal that locked it and rip the lid open before reaching for its contents.



Half an hour later he was still at it, his clothes and the floor around him stained with his own blood leaking from the gashes on both arms. The first few had been uneven and jagged for his fingers shook too much, the rest much straighter and neater once his hands became steady. His head hurt and his mind felt sluggish, but also blissfully empty of the chaos of thoughts and memories that threatened to overwhelm him. The relief and release he felt this time were purely emotional, rather than physical, but they were also so intense that he would’ve cried, had he any tears left to give. His eyes had long dried up and all he could do now was laugh, ignoring the hysterical note to it.



The sudden knock on the door made him jump and he almost dropped the blade he was holding, his mind still too deep in headspace to be able to make sense of things and react with its usual clarity and fast reflexes. Another knock followed the first and Gai’s familiar voice sounded behind the closed door.



“Oi, Kakashi, I know you’re home! Open up. The Hokage has a mission for us!”



He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head, then looked around and his eyes widened at the sight of the mess he had made. Panic bubbled at the edges of his mind at the thought of Gai seeing all this, finding him in the state he was in and the conclusions he’d draw.



“Idiot.” He muttered viciously under his breath as he struggled to put the blades back in the box and the box in its place. There was nothing he could do at the moment for the bloodstains on the tatami, so he ignored them and put his shirt back on, the black material hiding any blood that would soak through it.



“Kakashi!”



“I’m coming!” he roared, louder than he meant to. Gai remained blissfully silent after that while he pulled his mask and forehead protector back on and tried to clean his fingers on a napkin. Hopefully, the other Shinobi wouldn’t smell the blood.



Finally, he reached the door and opened it minutely, looking at Gai through the crack.



“Mission?”



“Finally! What were doing for so long, my Eternal Rival?” he man asked curiously, cocking his head to the side and trying to peek in Kakashi’s apartment. The Jounin moved a little, blocking his view and glaring.



“I was busy.” The curious expression didn’t dissipate from Gai’s face, so he continued, lying through his teeth. “With my book.”



A sudden look of understanding blossomed on Gai’s features and he grinned at him.



“Ah, you’re so virile, to be doing this in the middle of the day, you..”



“Gai, the mission.”



“Ah, yes.” He offered Kakashi an envelope. “We’re going to our north border. One of the local feudal lords has been reported to have dealings with Orochimaru. The Hokage-sama wants us to sneak in his palace and look for any incriminating documents.”



Kakashi took the envelope and slammed the door in Gai’s face.