Chapter Text
Ninjas die, it's a character flaw. Before leaving the academy, it's made clear to them that they are tools: destined to serve their village and to be discarded when their use is over. Shinobi life expectancy is unfortunately short. Men like Sasuke and Kakashi, whose heads are worth more than an entire country in bingo books, tend to die in strange ways.
That doesn't mean it's easier to process.
When Sasuke dies, he does so in a foreign country: blind, but not alone. It is his former sensei's arm that keeps him company, crossing his chest at a strange angle that is only possible due to a clear miscalculation on the part of them both. It's obvious, really: the way Kakashi's mask folds around his surprised expression tells him that he didn’t intend to end things that way. Although that could also be due to the limb going through his sternum and protruding out of his back.
It's a small miscalculation, really. Madara had warned him—the Mangekyou Sharingan wasn’t supposed to be abused this way. Danzo’s blood hadn’t even dried yet when Sasuke’s thirst of revenge drove him to jump carelessly into another fight, barely able to make out the edges of the figure he was facing.
When Kakashi dies, he does so by accident: confused, but no less resigned. It is his own signature technique that kills him, passed down to his wayward and less than appropriate student. He thought that their techniques would repel each other or one of them would give in to the attack with the stronger chakra.
It should be embarrassing, but he's never faced another Chidori the way he did today, and Sasuke, for all his flaws, has grown to become an excellent fighter. Kakashi always knew that he was destined to surpass his master eventually, with two mastered chakra natures in his pocket at twelve years old and an insatiable hunger for power, it was only a matter of time.
Perhaps things would've played out differently if Naruto had made it there before Kakashi. He always had a way of reaching out to people, a way of understanding their pains in manners that Kakashi himself could not dream of with all his poor experience as a teacher.
It's a real shame that it all must end here: Chidori vanishes, leaving behind traces of ozone and the aroma of burnt flesh. Blood seeps between his fingers, between the strands of cloth covering Sasuke's chest. Kakashi is experienced, this is not the first time he has killed.
He knows that the choking sound coming out of the boy's throat is a product of blood pooling in his mouth; there is no possibility that it is a product solely of his collapsed lungs. After all, Kakashi is a professional, as Rin had the misfortune to find out. He knows what it feels like to pierce a heart even if his has never been touched.
And never will, judging the way his chest sounds as they both fall to their knees: Sasuke has missed by a couple of centimeters, part of his nails clinging to the heart tissue, damaging it but not ruining it.
Doesn't mean that won't kill him. It just gives him enough time to witness the consciousness fade from Sasuke’s eyes, time enough to watch him go first. It’s always like this, he’s always been condemned to watch in the front row as his companions die: always under his hand, always under the weight of his mistakes. How many lives does he have to see fade away for Kakashi to learn? He's not cut out to make friends, he's not cut out to be a student, he's not cut out to be a teacher: if he were, Minato would be alive, Obito and Rin would be alive.
Sasuke would never have left the village; he would be alive.
It's just my luck, he thinks as his lashes flutter: fighting the desire to close his eyes, even though there's no point in resisting. Kakashi is going to die today. It's just his luck that he is condemned to always be the last one standing: if not, who will remember?
Who will remember the way his student's eyes lose their already dull shine? Who will remember how the blood that spills down Sasuke's cheeks stains his clothes when his face hits Kakashi's shoulder? Him.
He will clearly remember what it felt like to hold both of their weights, even though his body couldn't even properly support his own. He will remember the look of betrayal in Naruto's eyes: when he takes his friend by the shoulders and separates their mess of tangled limbs. He will remember Sakura's helpless cry when she realizes how both of their arms are tainted with the blood of the other, traces burnt skin that the Chidori has left behind.
He will remember, he will take it all to the grave and to the next life: it is the least he can do for the dead. That’s the only way he knows to honor his mistakes, by never forgetting them.
That's his shinobi way.