Chapter Text
The scent of ozone is thick as the lightning fades. Shouts and cries sound from the battle on the shore far below, but Kakashi can’t make any of it out. He is drained, exhausted, and he can’t fight it anymore. He can only pray that his attack was worth it.
He stumbles, hand numbly reaching for any sort of purchase, but he already knows it’s no use. His legs can’t support his weight, no matter how much he wills them to, and his knees crumple.
Kakashi barely avoids blacking out, and when he comes to his senses a moment later he’s already slipped into open air. The open maw of the sea is rising hundreds of feet below.
He can distantly hear Hikari’s alarmed cry as he tries to avoid blacking out. Wind whistles around him, louder than he’s ever heard, and there’s nothing he can do. There’s nothing left for him to reach for, no miracle jutsu to save him. The turbulent waves rush up to meet him, and Kakashi loses his struggle with the oblivion trying to claim him just before deadly impact.
Just like concrete.
Ever since the end of the Fourth Great War, Kakashi had never dared hope for an eternally peaceful afterlife. After all, he had been the Rokudaime Hokage of Konoha, the Copy-nin, the Master of 10,000 Techniques, and one of greatest shinobi ever to come of his village. No, Kakashi wouldn’t have been surprised at all if he had been revived at some point after his death by some cursed reincarnation technique to once again rain death down on the world. After all, if even the First Hokage could be taken from the Pure World, then Kakashi knew that he wouldn’t be able to avoid its pull.
Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little cheated. Even if he had long since moved past the chronic suicidality that had characterized his Anbu years, he had still expected to be able to see his loved ones again for at least a little while. He had looked forward to reconciling with his father ever since forgiving him during Pain’s assault, and had longed to apologize to Rin and Sensei for even longer than that. Even if Kakashi had never quite known what exactly the Pure Lands would be like, he knew that they were supposed to be a place where he could see all of his loved ones again. A paradise for the fallen.
Kakashi was decidedly not in paradise. His mind-splitting headache was a helpful indicator of that, as was the bone-deep chill that was just shy of bitter. Thankfully, though, he didn’t think he was in hell, either.
Kakashi struggled to consider his situation as he lay flat on his back, staring at the blue sky above him. His thoughts felt backwards and sluggish. The grass around him was long and untamed, swaying in the breeze and nearly wrapping around him like a cocoon. Rather than irritating or itching, though, it felt soft, offering a cushion against the hard dirt and rocks below. He could hear birds chirping in the distance, and altogether the scene was rather peaceful. Kakashi was reluctant to stir and break the atmosphere. Besides, when he tried to get up, it hurt like hell, so for now he was content to take a breather and think while he recovered.
Where am I?
Heaven, hell, or oblivion. Those were the only three post-death destinations Kakashi had ever really entertained. After all, what else could there be? Kakashi knew that when he died, he’d either still be there or he wouldn’t. If he wasn’t, well, that was the end of that. If he was, he’d either be in a good place or a bad place. Kakashi had always leaned towards believing in an afterlife, a belief which had been cemented during the Fourth War. However, wherever Kakashi was, it certainly didn’t seem to be the Pure Lands. Kakashi twitched a finger, and it felt mostly fine. He tried flexing his arm, and it hurt, but he repeated the motion, working through the pain.
Kakashi was aware that he was lying in a field, but how exactly he had come to that awareness was unclear. He hadn’t felt as though he had woken up at any point, nor was there any memory of a sudden appearance. In fact, Kakashi didn’t even remember realizing that he was in a field. It was more like he had been laying in the grass forever, and had always been aware of that fact, and that it was only sometime in the recent past that he became aware that he was aware of it. It was almost like a dream, where Kakashi would find himself somewhere and not feel anything wrong about being there, except that Kakashi was familiar enough with reality to know when he was in a genjutsu or dream. No, wherever Kakashi was was real.
Kakashi drew a knee up, gritting his teeth as he did so. His arm was starting to feel better, and so he started working the other. His muscles felt as though they were atrophied, and yet they recovered remarkably quickly, feeling relatively normal after only a minute or two of use. At least, the muscles he had used so far felt better. Kakashi tilted his head to the side, scanning for any potential threats. The thick grass around him obstructed his vision, and he couldn’t even lift his head to see over it. He would hate to have to fight like this. Was there even anything here to fight?
He had died. At least, he was pretty sure he had. The memory came with the sort of detached fuzziness that made it feel like it was a long time ago, but it was the last thing Kakashi remembered before the field. Had he known it was coming? He did remember with clarity the realization that it had been a few seconds since his heart last beat, and the wave of peace that came afterwards when he realized that he was fine with that. He remembered closing his eyes to Sakura’s quiet sniffling, Naruto’s smile, Sasuke’s carefully blank expression that was betrayed by his clenched fist, Tenzo’s quiet vigil, and the phantom of his Eternal Rival’s brilliant smile, which had shined for the last time not an hour earlier. How long ago was it now? How long had Kakashi been in the field? Did time pass after he died?
He couldn’t think properly, and trying to for too long made his headache worse. His thoughts didn’t flow how he wanted, and the lack of control over his mind was as frightening as it was irritating . He had tried three times to figure out where he was, but all he knew was that he was in a field. His thoughts kept slipping from his grasp, running in tangents about inconsequential things. It was like his mind was a river, flowing away from him, outside of his control. Switching to random things like thinking about river analogies instead of figuring out where the hell he was, like it was supposed to.
With a great effort, Kakashi rolled over and got his arms under him, straining to keep himself from collapsing as he pushed himself up. Forget thinking for now. Get moving. It felt like lightning was shooting through his limbs as new muscles were used, but Kakashi persevered. Lightning in his limbs was nothing new, after all.
His panting rang loud in his ears as he waited for the pain to pass. When the sensation in his arms had toned down from “unbearably agonizing” to “extremely uncomfortable,” he grit his teeth and pushed himself back so that he was sitting on his knees, biting back a grunt as the stabbing returned. He turned his head to the side slightly, trying to get a little better of an idea of where he was. All he could make out were some trees before the pain made him turn his head back down. His neck had not liked that at all. He bit back a growl of frustration and returned his focus to stretching.
For the next little while, Kakashi methodically worked every muscle in his body. Slow, easy stretches, not unlike what he had done after his muscles had actually been atrophied after his coma.
The repetitive action helped occupy his mind. Stretch his arm across his chest until it hurt. Hold it there for a few seconds. Bring it back. Repeat. Roll his shoulder until he couldn’t. Roll it the back other way until he couldn’t, and go then back again. Repeat. Reach for his outstretched leg until his core or hamstring stopped him, hold it, and slowly bring it back. Repeat.
Stretch. Hurt. Ignore pressing existential questions. Repeat. Ow.
Kakashi continued the motions until he felt confident that he'd at least be able to escape from a fight without collapsing from pain, if he had to. An uncomfortable soreness lingered throughout his body as he settled down onto a slab of rock in the ground, but it was bearable.
Unfortunately, that meant that Kakashi could no longer put off thinking about where he was. He stared up at the sky, and let out a long, slow sigh. He lifted a hand and inspected it thoughtfully, tracing every curve and crease of the skin with his eyes as he pondered. His skin was smoother than it had been in decades. Old scars were nowhere to be found, and none of the wrinkles that had come with age remained. If he wasn’t mistaken, (which he knew he wasn’t,) his already pale complexion was a few shades lighter than it always had been.
Kakashi lowered his hand and let out a shaky breath as he clamped down on his emotions. He had died. He had a new body. He wasn't in the Pure Lands. Purgatory?
He looked around once again, in a better state of mind to actually process what he was seeing now. Whatever fog had clouded his awareness had largely dissipated as he had stretched, and although he still felt like he was running a half-step behind where he should be, he could at least form thoughts now. The headache was thankfully gone, as well. A distant part of Kakashi’s mind was fascinated with the exact mechanics behind waking up from death and what it did to one’s mental processes, but most of him was focused on the immediate tasks ahead of him. It didn’t matter exactly where he was in the metaphysical sense. He had more pressing things to worry about.
Kakashi stood up to his full height, carefully not thinking about how it was a few inches shorter than he was used to, and scanned the area. His “field” was little more than a small clearing, he realized. Dense woodlands surrounded him on all sides, but the vegetation was like nothing he’d seen around Konoha. The trees around Konoha tended to be hard as iron, leafy, and most noticeable of all, massive. Most were hundreds of feet tall, with thick branches capable of supporting the weight of shinobi rushing across them daily. The trees surrounding Kakashi were tiny by comparison, with skinny trunks and dark, needle-like leaves. They looked more reminiscent of something found in Snow Country than anything local to Fire Country. Kakashi could smell the sea nearby, though, which erased the possibility of him being anywhere in Snow, and it wasn’t quite cold enough for him to be near the northern coast.
He was clothed in a thick wool undershirt and pants, and had some sort of leather and fur monstrosity over that that might have looked normal in the red-light district. Certainly not what he had been wearing when he had died, although he supposed the wool was fine enough considering the environment. Still, the bagginess and general impracticality of whatever he was wearing made him want to retch.
Kakashi closed his eyes and let out a breath. There was a lot to unpack here.
He realized a couple of things fairly quickly. One, was that his body, though much younger, was weak. He estimated it to be around 14 years old, nearly identical to when he joined Anbu, minus the scars. Despite that, he had the strength of a civilian. It was a tad embarrassing the first time he tried to leap onto a tree to get a better vantage point, only to jump into it face-first when he only rose a few feet off the ground. Of course, he could always augment his muscles with chakra, if it wasn’t for issue number two.
Something was wrong with his chakra. It felt stagnant, and Kakashi couldn’t figure out why. He didn’t seem to be under the effects of any genjutsu, chakra poison, or seal that he was familiar with, but something was still off. When he formed the hand signs to attempt (and fail) a summoning jutsu, chakra raced to his fingertips as normal, and he could circulate it throughout his body with just a thought as always, but when he didn’t focus on making his chakra move, it just… stopped. Chakra was always coursing through a shinobi’s body, swirling and flowing and circulating just as blood did. Now though, it felt as though all of his chakra had stagnated-- as if a river had simply decided to stop flowing.
It was disconcerting. Maybe it was because he was a genius, or maybe he was a genius because of it, but Kakashi had always been in tune with his chakra, ever since he first stuck a leaf to his forehead at three years old. For as long as he could remember, he had felt that thrum beneath his skin, as constant as the blue of the sky. The feeling of flowing chakra was a little like breathing. You don’t really feel it while you’re doing it, but the moment that you can’t , it’s the only thing you can feel.
Thinking about it made a sticky feeling rise in Kakashi’s throat. He made a half-ram sign as he walked, molding a bit of chakra just for the familiar feeling.
That first day, Kakashi had set off in a random direction into the woods until he found a running creek. Freshwater was most important in a survival situation. By his best guess he had about a week before starvation would begin seriously negatively impacting him, and shelter wasn’t an immediate issue, either. The weather seemed clear, and whatever clothes he was wearing provided decent insulation. He didn’t want to start a fire, not without knowing exactly where he was and who might be around to notice, but even still he could keep his temperature up with chakra if he really needed to.
It wouldn’t do to trek for a day only to realize that night that he’d wasted a day’s travel in the wrong direction, so, without any immediate threats to his health, he’d hung around the area until nightfall. He scouted around a little to see if he could find anything useful and to keep his temperature up, but mostly he’d conserved his energy until dusk. Unfamiliar local geography aside, Kakashi knew the night sky intimately. He’d stared up at it on sleepless nights from every corner of the Elemental nations, had it burned into his brain by Obito’s eye from every angle. Even without his personal experiences, every chuunin worth their salt knew how to navigate by the stars. Kakashi would wait until nightfall, figure out where he was, and then he’d be on his way home.
A brilliant plan, all the way up until the darkness fell and Kakashi didn’t recognize a single star in the sky. Because of course it wouldn’t be that easy. He had a brand new body, which he still wasn’t thinking about. He might as well be given a brand new sky to boot. Because why not.
Another week passed after that failure of a day, and he fell into a routine pretty quickly. Wake up, follow the creek downstream in hopes of finding civilization, and take mental note of anything interesting or potentially useful. Well past dusk when the moon was high in the sky, he’d tuck in a ditch and sleep, not trusting any of the trees to hold his weight, and wake up before sunrise to repeat the cycle. When the creek eventually dumped off a hundred foot sheer cliff into the sea, he turned around and followed the creek back upstream until he reached a fork. He followed that branch until, a few days later, he once again reached a cliff, nearly thirty miles away and facing an entirely different direction.
After another week of exploration, Kakashi was pretty confident he was on an island. A decently sized one, with enough water and game to sustain him, but an island nonetheless, and one that appeared to be uninhabited.
His summons had failed. He searched his connection, but his beloved ninken were out of reach. He mourned their loss, but tried to take comfort in the knowledge that they were well and with each other in the summons realm. Unlike Kakashi.
Kakashi was truly alone. Alone, in an unfamiliar world, for a different world was all it could be.
Reincarnation, Kakashi mused, legs dangling idly in the air from where he sat over the edge of a cliff. He was just under a mile from where he had first woken up here. He scanned the empty horizon, searching once again for anything other than sky, ocean, or mist. Waves crashed against sheer rock a hundred feet below, painting the cliff face with salt and spray. From this height, it would be like falling onto concrete.
Sixty-six years old. Mature for a civilian, positively ancient for a shinobi. Kakashi had lived a full life by any metric. He had many lows, a surprising number of highs towards the end, and while he wasn’t exactly happy with what he had accomplished in his life, he was satisfied with it in the end. He had raised three and a half adorable little students who were well on their way to fixing the broken world they inherited, he had made peace with his demons in the Fourth War, and by the time the Shinigami came knocking, he was ready for it. Kakashi was ready to move on.
And then he didn’t.
So now what?
Kakashi glanced down at the water below, following an especially large wave as it approached the rocks below, just a few seconds away from breaking against the jagged stone.
A sudden shriek sounded from the sky. Kakashi’s head shot up, eyes narrowing as he followed the white blur quickly approaching the island. He grimaced and covered his ears as another ear-splitting shriek came from its tumbling form. It was some sort of living creature, Kakashi could tell, but not any animal he recognized. It didn’t seem to be in control of its flight, either, even though Kakashi was pretty sure he could make out a pair of wings. Even calling the thing’s trajectory a glide would be generous- barely controlled free fall was probably a better term. it would be just a few seconds before it crashed into the island. Despite himself, Kakashi briefly glanced back at the ocean. The wave was gone.
He whipped his head back around as the creature sailed past overhead, screaming and tumbling the whole way. It disappeared out of Kakashi’s sight somewhere over the treeline, but the thunderous crash and pained cry left little mystery as to where the creature had landed.
Kakashi’s thoughts were stuck on one thing. It had wings. He wasn’t sure if the thing was a summon, some new animal native to this world, or something else entirely, but whatever it was, it could fly . A way off the island.
Kakashi leapt up from the ledge and ran in the direction that the crash had come from. He sacrificed a bit of speed for stealth- he didn’t know what the thing might be capable of, after all- but even still, it took him just a few minutes to reach where it had landed. Right in the middle of the clearing where he had first woken up.
Kakashi ducked behind a tree as soon as the white mass came into view, careful to avoid every loose twig on the sandy ground. The creature alternated between pained keens and frustrated growls, a stark contrast to the absolute silence of an ex-Anbu captain.
Kakashi slowly moved his head from behind his cover, finally getting his first good look at the creature, and his perfectly silent breathing nearly faltered.
A huge quadruped lay collapsed in the center of the clearing, broken trees laying all around it. Kakashi estimated that it was nearly thirty feet long. Snow white scales covered its entire body, and two massive white wings sprouted from its back, one bent at an unnatural angle. Its short limbs sported fierce claws, though one of its forelegs was bleeding severely, and what little of the creature’s angled head Kakashi could see screamed predator. Its whole body was thickly muscled, and its vaguely feline build promised predatory grace.
Its lean, aerodynamic frame was clearly built for speed, and Kakashi could imagine how it would soar through the skies on uninjured wings. An apex predator if Kakashi had ever seen one.
It all came together to form what must have been a beautifully lethal creature, one of the most gorgeous animals Kakashi had ever seen.
He was stunned. Enough so that it wasn’t until the wind shifted that he remembered that, as a hunter, the thing likely had an acute sense of smell. The creature perked up in a flash, wide nostrils flaring, and its head whipped around to fix Kakashi in a sharp, clearly intelligent gaze before he could duck back out of sight.
Electric blue eyes met black, and everything exploded into blue flame.