Silence (kakanaru)

Chapter 15

This was the Konoha of before. Before Pein. Before Madara. Before the war that had destroyed everything Hisato had ever known. This was the peaceful Konoha, teeming with life and love, resilient and rebuilding itself in the aftermath of the Kyuubi.

Hisato felt the characters printed on the back of his haori — a mirror of Minato's — burning a brand into his back: Godaime Hokage. But the peace could not last, and his failure began to burn brighter than his title. A reminder of what was lost and what would be lost again.

Sasuke, standing unmoving in front of him, was not the young Sasuke he knew. This Sasuke had a stinging curse mark on his shoulder. This Sasuke had no recognition in his fiery, bleeding eyes.

Orochimaru was dead, wasn't he? Hadn't Hisato made sure of that? Hadn't he made sure the Akatsuki could never rise again, could never cause his precious people pain?

Sasuke was falling, falling —

Hisato had seen this same scene before. But that time, there had been — they were at... Sasuke had been older then. Sasuke had recognised him then. Sasuke had been his brother then. That Sasuke was undoubtedly lost to him forever. Hisato had caused that, too.

He glanced down to the bloodied blade in his grip and flicked back in time to catch the soaking dark red of Sasuke, mauled beyond recognition, too far from Hisato to make out, only knowing that it was Sasuke cause he had caused this, had caused his death, had killed him.

When he returned his sights to Konoha, it was once more broken and burning, its houses collapsing and leaning and hazardous, smoke blotting out the sky and sun.

This was hell. He had caused this, had allowed Madara's hoards to run rampant, to destroy his home. But this wasn't Madara's doing. This was... Hisato dreaded the answer, knew it would come anyway.

This was hell. He had created this. His weakness had created this. His failure as Hokage had created this, before and now.

This was hell.

Hisato had expected little else.

***

Smoke followed Hisato into the living world. It choked at his lungs and scraped at his throat. His eyes stung and watered. The room was bursting with red and gold.

Fuck. Hisato scrambled out from the suffocating sheets, his skin sticky with sweat. It's just the light, he assured himself. There's no fire. He coughed, shivered.

The shower only cleaned him of sweat and tears. The pain in his stomach remained.

Hisato rushed into the hallway, haphazardly pulling pants up his legs. He couldn't find a shirt.

Sasuke wasn't here for Hisato to check on him. The boys were sleeping at their own apartments today.

Kakashi was moving around in the kitchen, busy with breakfast.

"I could really do with some of your cooking, Kakashi," Hisato called out feebly and gave into the weakness of his body. He twisted to lean his forehead against the cold wall and braced himself with his hands. The urge to slam his head was overwhelming. He somehow resisted.

Smoke tickled his nose.

Hisato hissed and shut his eyes, letting the chill flood the flame. This building wasn't burning. Konoha was alive and flourishing.

So long as you keep it that way. Hisato really wanted to hit his head.

"Are you okay?" Kakashi asked, and Hisato relished the cold hands against his bare shoulders.