A Hole in One's Village [Kakashi Hatake]

Chapter 17: Disassociate

---------------Kakashi's POV---------------

The week dragged past me sticky and slow, cloying and heavy in my chest.

I had tried what felt like everything. I had tried thinking over what happened rationally to comprehend where things went wrong. But my mind would not focus. I had tried not thinking, just going through my day without fixating on the stewing anger, regret, and heartbreak, but my mind would not still.

I could not remember most of what happened, the week floating by in a blur, both so fast and yet agonizingly slow.

Several times, I found myself halfway through writing a request to the Kazekage to ask for an update on Ana's mission, only to jolt myself back to reality, asking myself what the hell I was doing.

It had been so many years since I had let the foggy claws of depression sink into me, dulling my senses, that I had almost convinced myself I'd forgotten what it had felt like. The way it made me despise everything and everyone, especially myself, only to keep me masochistically chasing after that twinge of hatred and disgust again and again, just to feel something.

The worst part was that I could see it in the way that everyone treated me. Handling me gently, patronizingly, like cracked glass ready to shatter. The pity. The sad little smiles.

My whole body was numb, from my toes to the twinge in my slumped neck, posture atrocious. I had not even made it to the memorial stone this morning. Too many people knew to look for me there. I was in the woods nearby, standing slumped against a nearby tree, out of sight and, hopefully, out of mind. Though the guilt was already starting to gnaw at me. I had things to do, responsibilities to attend to, and I had already squandered hours.

The Village could not afford to deal with an absent, useless Hokage, and so I needed to get my shit together and get to work. Besides, I had far fewer excuses to be late to meetings these days when I had scheduled them and they were in my office.

Grinding the heels of my palms against my eyes, I rubbed out the weariness and then forced myself to start walking before I could stop to think, again. Before I could talk myself into staying, again.

Wandering back through the Village during the late morning, I exchanged a few respectful nods here and there as I passed. Ninja, friends, even some civilians smiling in greeting. I tried my best to look no more aloof than usual.

When I passed Ichiraku, however, I was attacked by a loud greeting that could not be handled with just a polite nod.

"KAKASHI-SENSEI!" Naruto swallowed the rest of his bowl in a single gulp, standing.

I had a moment to wonder if I could get away with pretending that I simply had not heard my former student and to also mentally chastise myself for not taking a different, if less direct, route. Truly, this was a foreseeable disaster.

Grimacing beneath my mask, I nodded and then tried to turn and keep walking away, only for an orange clad arm to wrap around my shoulder and swing me in the direction of the unoccupied seat to Naruto's left.

For a second, my throat constricted at the sight of his arm thrown so casually across my shoulders—when had he grown so tall?—but all nostalgia was immediately replaced by irritation when that same arm stayed slung over me even after he sat us down, like he was trying to physically tether me to the conversation, to the chair. As if I was going to try and run away.

"Have you eaten yet?" He then laughed at his own question. "Of course you haven't. Hey, old man, one order of Kakashi-sensei's usual! We can't have a hungry Hokage!"

Before Teuchi could start cooking, a gently cleared throat caused me to realize that Hinata was sitting quietly and respectfully to Naruto's right.

She tugged once on his sleeve, not making eye contact. "You should ask Kakashi-sensei if he's actually hungry first."