Chapter Text
The familiar call of one of his crows outside the small window barely shook Itachi from his thoughts. He sat up a bit but didn’t move to see the bird. His arms felt heavy where they rested upon the bed, and his mind felt sluggish. Even as Kakashi let out an almost imperceptible sigh and pushed himself up from leaning against the wall to walk behind him and open the window, everything seemed far away. The biting January air poured into the room, and the crow moved a few tree branches closer to peer inside.
“Hm… These clouds won’t let up,” Kakashi started. He leaned his palms in the open window frame and stared out over Konoha. It seemed different. Itachi closed his eyes as he found it in himself to respond to his ex-captain’s banter.
“The chance for snowstorms is to persist well into next week, they say.” Itachi thought of his brother travelling in this weather and shuddered. As if on cue, Kakashi replied.
“I heard Sasuke’s bird stopped by the Hokage office this morning. He is on his way back from the Land of Waves. It seems they cut their time there short after hearing about the accident.” His tone aimed at light and jovial, but it seemed forced. Itachi barely registered the thought, only showing a half smile at the mention of contact from his brother.
At least those two are safe.
A rap at the door was a welcome distraction. A nurse pardoned himself before lifting the patient chart from the foot of the bed and jotting down some notes. He looked too large for the room. To Itachi, the pale gray walls seemed to shrink around the nurse’s dark blue scrubs, and patterns danced across the room before dripping onto the floor. The speckled gray and black tile appeared to laugh at him. He blinked twice and his vision returned to normal. The inconsistent ‘pips’ of the heart rate monitor rang back into Itachi’s ears as if someone was turning the volume dial up from mute. They weren’t as annoying as he thought they would be when he first entered the room. By now, the pips were a comforting sound.
“Sakura-san told me she’d be in to speak with you shortly,” his voice was humble but firm, and it pulled Itachi from his trance. Though, he couldn’t bring himself to reply.
“Thank you.” Kakashi turned away from the window and flashed a smile to the nurse as he spoke.
“Ah, Rokudaime-sama, I didn’t realize you were standing there. Pardon me.” The nurse bowed deeply, and Kakashi wasn’t in the mood for the polite game. “If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
“I think we’re fine waiting for Sakura in peace, thanks.” His voice didn’t come off as bristly as he felt. He had spent a lot of time mastering this skill when he was Hokage. As the nurse left the room, Kakashi took a moment to examine Itachi.
Sleep deprivation had left dark circles beneath his eyes, and his gaze was fixed on his partner. He hadn’t changed his clothes since they got here yesterday morning. Kakashi’s eyes shifted to the hospital bed. The bandages on the patient’s head obscured most of his face. Oxygen flowed through tubes to his nostrils. The surgery to relieve the swelling in his brain had been a success, but regarding his condition they were told, ‘It’s up to Kisame, now.’ Kakashi panged at the thought of Itachi’s position. It had been 23 hours since the bridge collapsed, but he still showed no signs of regaining consciousness.
A firmer knock this time pulled Kakashi from his thoughts. He was still standing between Itachi and the open window. He wasn’t religious, but he prayed for Itachi’s sake Sakura had good news.
To both men’s surprise, the one who entered the room wasn’t Sakura.
“Dad.” A small voice barely above a whisper slipped into the room, probing for assurance. The owner was a tall man with long hair pulled over to one side in a low ponytail. He had a muscular stature, and his face was just beginning to show hints of being in his twenties. His undershirt and vest still had a few scuff marks from the mission he had just returned from, and a katana secured on his back added to his generally menacing air. Despite all this, the man looked deeply shaken.
“Kaiyō,” Itachi exclaimed as he sat straight up in his seat. The movement reminded him how long he’d been stationary in the uncomfortable wooden hospital chair. His lower body ached, and his legs felt stiff. A little of that was common with his age, but this ache resulted in much more weariness. He repositioned himself in his chair and pushed through it. “You’re back from your mission already?”
“Yeah, it was nothing.” He brushed off the question with urgency. “How is he?” Kaiyō approached the opposite side of the bed and knelt down. He was so tall his head was still well above the height of Kisame’s body. He verified his father’s life by watching the sheet resting on his chest slowly rise and fall to the beat of the oxygen machine whirring beside him. Kaiyō’s eyes were glistening, and his brows were knitted in concern as he scanned what he could see of his father’s face. He placed a tentative hand over Kisame’s. Itachi watched with awe. Their son has always been more expressive than he but seeing him react like this made his partner’s death seem too possible. He hated it. He grit his teeth at the thought and then relaxed.
“Your father’s strong. He’ll pull through, Kaiyō.” Itachi’s voice was deep and unshaken. Kaiyō nodded, afraid his tears would betray him if he spoke. He hated crying in front of Itachi. A stillness settled thickly in the room before Kakashi stepped forward and made his way to Kaiyō’s side. He squatted next to the boy and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
“We’re waiting on word from Sakura. She should be in soon,” he spoke with softness and a reassuring smile. It seemed to work.
“Sakura Obasan will make everything better.” Kaiyō held a hopeful smile, and he beamed it directly at Itachi. “Right, Dad?”
...
“They’re calling him a hero.” Yamato scratched the back of his neck as he finished hanging up his vest for the next day. He turned away from the closet and crawled into the bed.
“Hm? Who is?” Kakashi had his back leaned against the headboard. Normally this time of night he would be reading “Icha-Icha” as they wound down for bed, but tonight wasn’t that kind of night. Instead, he sat there blankly. Even though he had showered, the residual smell of hospital disinfectant lingered in his mind.
“Everyone. Even on the news. They’ve been interviewing people from the accident, and today they started asking people to speak on his behalf.” He rolled over on his side to face Kakashi as he spoke. He tucked one arm beneath his pillow to help support his head, and his other hand rested lightly on Kakashi’s arm. “I didn’t realize Kisame was so popular with the villagers.”
“Naturally, you’ve been away for years.” The playful jab was automatic and didn’t have any real bite to it. He continued dramatically as if he were reading a headline, “Monster of the Hidden Mist reformed into model citizen with help of infamous Konoha nukenin comatose after bridge collapse.” He deadpanned. “Something like that?” Yamato shook his head with a firm, soft smile.
“Nothing like that.” He knew better than anyone the purpose of Kakashi’s playful demeanor. He intimately knew the pain it was meant to conceal. “He’ll be okay.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and it was so earnest it reached straight past Kakashi’s façade. He was certain there wasn’t a purer light than the one that shone from behind Yamato’s eyes. The older man’s shoulders fell as he let out a sigh.
“I hope so.”