Chapter Text
Kakashi doesn’t have to see Gai faint, pale-faced and trembling in the midst of the Allied Shinobi soldiers, to know that the Naruto distraction mission went wrong. He’s heard whispers already: something about the Akatsuki, something about Kabuto Yakushi, something about Tenzo. It doesn’t entirely shock him that Gai might’ve opened the Gates, but the war to end all wars, the fight to save the shinobi world, has not even begun yet, and Gai is already unconscious. It is callous but not untrue to say Kakashi is annoyed; as the Third Division commander, because Maito Gai is one of the greatest fighters in the whole of the Alliance and his absence leaves a gaping hole in their platoon’s front, and as a comrade, because Gai has been gone for nearly three months, and now he’s being dragged off to the medical tent already.
In any case, the novel-worthy reunion Kakashi may or may not have wasted three minutes daydreaming about is dashed. They’ll have to catch up another time.
By noon, Kakashi knows a little more. He knows the Akatsuki—whatever’s left of them—have allied with Kabuto, and are likely planning an advance on Kumogakure, through the lands of Frost and Steam. He knows their army is something unholy, something Orochimaru could have only dreamed of. He knows Tenzo is missing in action.
The Third Division is set to advance through the center of the Land of Frost, stationed to provide support across both borders. They will need to be quick, and so the next thing he needs to know is whether or not Gai is going to be able to manage that.
“Hey, Lee!” He calls out across a crowd of shinobi, scattered in anxious clusters of Konoha blues and Suna browns near the rough and ready medical tent he’s pretty sure was set up specially for Gai, who might be the first war casualty accrued before the start of a war in Konoha’s history. Lee jolts up like a startled deer, round eyes scanning over each figure before he spots Kakashi.
“Kakashi-se– or, I should say Commander Kakashi!” he snaps into salute and bows simultaneously, and Kakashi waves him off. “Is there something you need from me?”
“How’s Gai? I saw what happened from up there. Is he up and around yet?”
Lee grimaces, twisting his bandaged fingers together. He really doesn't look all that much like Gai, despite the hair and clothes, except for when he’s nervous like this. “I– I am unsure what happened to him. I have not seen him in a state like that since…” his thick eyebrows furrow, creasing a line between them, “Ever. I do not know if–”
“I’m fine, Lee,” a familiar voice interrupts, and both of them turn to the opening flap of the tent. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m a shinobi. This is nothing I can’t handle.”
Gai looks like shit. He can say whatever he wants, but no amount of Maito bluster can conceal the dark circles under his eyes, the limp cling of his bangs stuck together with sweat. Lee may not be as accustomed, but Kakashi is all too familiar with the comedown of the Seventh Gate; he knows that stagger, the lurch of movements made by ruptured muscles. Although, by the look on his face, even Lee is unconvinced by Gai’s bold proclamation – where he might have burst into tears and leapt forward to embrace his teacher, he stays bound to the spot, fidgeting.
“Yes, Gai-sensei, of course. I apologize.”
Gai offers only a curt nod in reply (it must hurt to speak; his voice is raw and it looks like he’s grinding his teeth) and turns to face Kakashi. His smile is dry, but a smile nonetheless.
“I hear you’re our division commander,” he says, eyebrows raised. “You never fail to impress, Rival.”
Kakashi’s eyes narrow. His annoyance from before has congealed into a bitter slime in the back of his throat that he can’t swallow. “I heard you used the Seventh Gate,” he answers, and Gai’s taut grin fades. Next to him, Kakashi can see Lee’s wide-eyed confusion, glancing back and forth between him and Gai. Gai’s jaw tightens.
“Lee,” he says instead of fielding the accusation, mustering composure through what must be immense pain. “Why don’t you go find Sakura? She’ll be glad to know I won’t be needing any more medical attention.”
Lee straightens up, nodding fervently. “Yes, sensei! I will inform her immediately!”
Gai seems to wilt out of Lee’s line of sight. He has always tried to play himself up into an impenetrable wall, but when it comes to his students he treats it as a matter of life and death. Kakashi knows him too well for that. He only stares, for a moment, and Gai straightens up indignantly.
“I did what I had to, Kakashi,” he insists, but it’s thin. “You would have done the same, if you’d…” his breath comes heavy just from the effort to argue, and his words have started to slur. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry about Yamato. I wasn’t able to help him, and… I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry.”
There’s a clench in Kakashi’s diaphragm at the thought of Tenzo captured by the Akatsuki, what they must be doing to him, all because he’d tried to protect Kakashi’s student. But Konoha needed him there, and Kakashi here. That was the mission Tenzo was assigned. And he is alive, he is, because no shinobi worth their hitai-ate would think about killing the sole living tie to Hashirama, and even Tenzo would not have the audacity to die like that. Kakashi will keep telling himself this until the war is over, or die believing it.
“It’s fine,” he answers hastily, and Gai’s eyes are dark, pained as he sways. Kakashi is half tempted to reach up and feel the fever he knows is burning through Gai’s skin, but his reach falls short. “Really, Gai, it’s not your fault. He knew the risk he was taking. He’ll be fine.”
Gai winces when Kakashi puts a hand on his shoulder, but he nods.
“We’re heading for the Land of Frost as soon as Gaara gives us the all-clear,” Kakashi continues, eager to change topics. He considers explaining the plan in more detail, but the look on Gai’s face makes it clear he’s in no condition to comprehend it. “Get some rest until then, would you? We don’t need you dropping dead before the first night.”
Gai’s laugh is slight, rattling in his chest like a wet cough. “Sure, I know you need me,” he teases, but Kakashi nods solemnly.
“‘Course I do,” he says, looking out at the sprawl of soldiers before him. He hates every bit of this; hates the war, hates being in charge of it, hates that this is what it has come to again, not even two decades after the war everyone swore would be the last. No more children, they promised, but the youngest of these soldiers are still fifteen. Their Regimental Commander is sixteen. A staggering percentage of their army simply isn’t old enough to remember the Third War. Some of them weren’t even alive for it. There are eighty thousand soldiers total in the alliance now, from nations that nearly ended the world to destroy each other three times before. No matter how rousing a speech Gaara gives, they don’t like one another – don’t trust one another. Kakashi’s not certain he trusts them either. But he trusts Gai.
This is how it’s always been. When there was nobody, there was Gai. There’s a persistence about him that makes it impossible to be too cynical. Even half-dead as he is now, it helps, at least just to have someone who knows. As long as he can stay conscious, anyway.
“Seriously, go sit down,” he demands, turning back to Gai after a moment too long of introspection when he realizes Gai is still standing beside him. “Drink some water. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”
Gai eyes him through outgrown, stringy bangs, and sighs. He looks sick enough to faint again, so Kakashi is relieved when he smiles ruefully, and says, “Yes, Captain,”
Kakashi does not smile, but with his mouth covered, squinting his eyes is enough to give the impression of it. It’s not his favorite nickname Gai has ever given him. But he’ll take it.
Gai looks a little more put together by the time the Raikage orders the Third Division to prepare for dispatch; not without the aid of some surreptitiously acquired food pills from the medical tent, if Kakashi had to guess. Painkillers might work better, if you ask him, but Gai won’t take them.
Kakashi is waiting up on the platform when they get the order; isolated from the troops to think, but only for a moment longer. Someone is coming.
“Kakashi,” Gai greets, breath heavy from the climb and still wheezing faintly, and Kakashi flicks his head upwards in acknowledgement. He doesn’t look at Gai – he’s staring out over the vast army again, watching the splotch of Gaara’s red hair bob between the ranks. “Is it time?”
“Mm,” Kakashi half-answers, transfixed, and nods towards Gaara in the distance. “Look at that kid. You would think he’s done all of this before,”
“Huh?” Gai leans in, aligning himself with Kakashi’s eye. He scowls at where their sight converges. “Ah, yeah. The Kazekage.”
“I know you don’t like him, but you can’t deny it’s impressive. Kazekage at fourteen, war commander at sixteen… that’s no small feat.”
Without even looking at him, Kakashi knows exactly what Gai is thinking. No amount of praise sung by Lee or anyone else will make Gai trust the boy who nearly murdered his student. “I don’t envy him, I’ll admit,” he concedes, “War can steal one’s Youth all too easily.”
They’d certainly lost their childhoods to it, though Gai wouldn’t admit it outright even on his deathbed. That, though, had been petty war – horrible, all-consuming, but pointless in the face of something like this. Squabbles over land, resources. Now their entire world is at stake, and Kakashi feels less ready for battle than he was at thirteen.
But for once, when he does look, Gai is completely inscrutable, no longer looking at Gaara below. There’s a distance to him here, not a shrinking inwards but a thickening of the outer layer. Gai knows better than to shy away from it, Kakashi supposes, but he almost wishes he would. It might keep him from running into the fire. Gai huffs, a short burst of air that betrays the tension in his frame, and turns to face Kakashi.
“Well, off to war once again,” he declares, extending a closed fist. His voice is clear of its rasp now, but he doesn’t smile. “Let it be our last.”
Kakashi needs to remember to breathe. The Fourth Great War is upon them now. If they win, it will be a miracle. If they lose, Madara Uchiha will have his utopia and the world as they know it will be razed. There are a million things Kakashi might say now; a quarter of them he’s said before, half of them are not to be spoken. Gai was always better at that sort of thing. So instead Kakashi inhales as fully as he can manage, trying to straighten up, and knocks his knuckles against Gai’s.
“One more time,” he says.
Gai nods once, quick and steeled. “One more time.”
Something gnaws at the notion of it, eating away whatever small comfort it brings. Every war was supposed to be their last, but there is only ever one way a war is a shinobi’s last. You die in yours, or live to see the next. The fighting never just ends. It’s always going on somewhere before it finds you again.
There’s no time for that now. They are soldiers. He pulls his hand away from Gai’s. When he looks up, Gai is smiling again.
Kakashi squints.