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It happens in an instant.
It happens during an S-rank mission, during a confrontation too dangerous for their students. Yamato and Kakashi are alone here, the sole two Konoha shinobi surrounded by Kumo missing-nin. But for all that Kumo has numbers, Yamato and Kakashi have skill. Some bodies in Kumo uniform already litter the forest floor.
One moment, there’s no doubt in Yamato’s mind that they’ll win this battle. These missing-nin may be strong, but they’re no match for Yamato and Kakashi, who are ex-ANBU and experienced jounin. They may even finish this mission unharmed.
One moment, they’re both fighting, both holding up strong. The next moment, the fast-paced battle comes to an acute and awful stop.
In the corner of his eye, Yamato sees how one of the missing-nin throws himself at Kakashi. As for what happens next, Yamato isn’t sure.
It’s a chakra burst, he thinks, or some sort of medical ninjutsu. He’s never seen anything like it before. He didn’t know it existed.
But the missing-nin fights his way through Kakashi’s defenses and presses his hand flat against Kakashi’s chest--
--and Kakashi crumples to the ground.
Yamato feels his breath hitch in his throat, feels his chakra roar inside his body. Leaves start sprouting from the surrounding trees, and Yamato struggles to regain his composure; this is a bad time to let his control on his Mokuton slip.
He squashes down his panic, rapidly weaving signs. His comrade is down – this fight needs to end now.
Four missing-nin are crushed by a Mokuton technique. Two get swallowed up by an Earth ninjutsu. One puts up a decent fight, but ultimately ends up with a kunai between his ribs and a shuriken through his throat.
Yamato is covered in blood and he can’t tell whether it’s his own blood or not, but it doesn’t matter now. Out of breath, he staggers over to Kakashi and falls to his knees next to his body.
There’s no blood, no wounds, no visibly broken bones. Yamato would’ve thought him simply knocked out, were it not for the unfamiliar ninjutsu and the fact that he’s not moving. Yamato is well-trained in distinguishing unconscious from dead; it’s crucial to know when your enemy is actually dead or just knocked out. He can see whether someone is breathing or not. But Kakashi is still, so awfully still, haphazardly lying on his back in the grass as if thrown there.
Gritting his teeth, Yamato pulls off Kakashi’s glove and presses his fingers against the inside of his wrist. He wills himself to calm down enough to focus, truly focus, instead of giving in to his panic and assuming the worst. If Kakashi has a pulse, if at least his heart is still working, then things might turn out all right. If Kakashi’s heart is still beating, he’s not beyond healing.
But there’s no pulse. There’s no optimistic thought in the world that can save him from that fact. There’s no pulse.
The grass around them grows taller as Yamato loses control of his Mokuton once more. He forces his chakra back into its normal pattern – not now, not now – and pulls Kakashi’s mask down. It scares Yamato more than anything that Kakashi doesn’t react to it at all.
He brings his ear close to Kakashi’s mouth, trying to listen for any sign of breathing. It’s a desperate thing to do; he knows he won’t hear anything. There’s nothing. Kakashi isn’t breathing.
With hands that are now beginning to tremble, Yamato unzips Kakashi’s flak jacket and cuts through his sweater and undershirt with a kunai. Kakashi’s chest is pale – there’s no bruising that indicates broken ribs, no dent in his upper body that would’ve come from a strength-enhanced attack. Yamato has to assume that that unfamiliar jutsu from just now stopped Kakashi’s heart. He has to act upon that assumption. If he does nothing, then Kakashi will…
He shakes the thought from his head and tries to focus. He’s seen medical-nin start someone’s heart before, knows the rhythm and the motions. Kneeling at Kakashi’s side, he places one hand on the center of his chest, and then his other hand on top of that. He leans forwards until his shoulders are right above his hands, and tries not to think about the times he’s seen medical-nin fail to revive a fallen shinobi.
He pushes the heel of his hand down forcefully, and again, and again. Kakashi’s chest doesn’t give easily; Yamato isn’t sure whether it should, but there’s no time for hesitation, no time for gentleness. He knows what CPR looks like. He’s seen the strength that the medical-nin use to force someone’s chest down.
Thirty compressions, there should be thirty compressions. Yamato counts silently. He cannot afford to draw attention to himself now. They’re in dangerous territory, and they’re easy targets. Fighting off an enemy would lead to Kakashi’s death.
The eleventh time he presses down on Kakashi’s chest, he feels something snap underneath his hands. A rib, he realizes, and his stomach twists – he’s broken one of Kakashi’s ribs. That can’t be good, it can’t be, but he can’t allow himself to waver. He can’t stop.
He feels the broken rib grind underneath his hand twice per second, and it’s nauseating. He can’t tell whether it’s the feeling itself that’s making his ears ring, or the fear that he’s doing these compressions wrong.
The grass around them grows taller again. The trees creak as new branches force their way through the bark. Yamato barely has the clarity of mind to reel his chakra back in. He can feel it rumble underneath his skin, wild and uncontrolled in his panic.
The thirty compressions only take fifteen seconds – only barely enough time for Yamato to remember the next steps of CPR. Trying to catch his breath, he crouches beside Kakashi’s head and carefully tilts his head backwards slightly. Kakashi’s mouth falls open a little, his face frighteningly slack.
Pinching Kakashi’s nose shut with one hand and holding his chin with the other, Yamato puts his mouth over Kakashi’s and blows air into his lungs. His chest rises, so he pulls back, watching his chest fall again. Once more, Yamato breathes for him, and tries not to think about how much Kakashi values his personal space.
He stacks his hands on Kakashi’s chest again. He’s still out of breath, and his arms are starting to get sore; they’ve already been through a whole mission, after all, and Yamato is increasingly certain that he didn’t come out of that fight unscathed. The burning on his upper arm doesn’t feel like muscle soreness – rather, a knife wound. He’ll have to bear it for now. As long as he’s not bleeding out, he has no time to look at it.
He bites through the pain and finishes another round of chest compressions. He breathes for Kakashi again, once, twice. Then, more compressions. Yamato’s breaths are coming out in the same pattern as the compressions, now; quick, shallow, starting to get desperate. The grass grows unhindered, tall enough to block Yamato’s view of their fallen opponents. The Mokuton-grown branches on the trees have started sprouting leaves.
He continues to count the compressions, but he loses count of how often he repeats the cycle of compressions, breathing, compressions. The longer Yamato fights to get Kakashi’s heart to beat again, the more he starts to doubt himself. Is it really thirty compressions that he should do, or is he wrong about that? What if there’s a step that he’s forgetting? Should there be medical ninjutsu involved in this, and were Yamato’s efforts pointless from the start? Did he screw up Kakashi’s only chance at survival by breaking his rib? He doesn’t know. He’s no medical-nin, was never trained to be one. He was raised in ANBU, and ANBU is about killing, not helping.
All Yamato has learned are the basics of patching himself up and the few things he’s copied from medical-nin. ANBU never taught him anything about helping his squadmates, and ROOT definitely didn’t. Their focus lay with taking lives, not saving them, and the mission was always more important than Yamato’s fellow shinobi. If a squadmate was down and couldn’t be taken to a medical-nin, then they had to be left behind.
Kakashi was different – always adamant to help his squadmates, so intensely determined to make everyone survive. He hasn’t changed in that regard, even though it’s been half of a lifetime since Yamato met him.
He’s changed in other ways, though. Kakashi has always looked out for others, but it’s only recently that he’s started taking care of himself. Yamato recalls a time when Kakashi wouldn’t have wanted to be saved in a situation like this. When he would’ve been mad at Yamato for not letting him go out in a blaze of glory. It’s cruel to imagine him dying now that he’s only just started wanting to live.
Yamato watches Kakashi’s chest rise with the air that Yamato blows into his lungs, waits for his chest to fall before starting the compressions again. Against his will, he finds himself wondering what to do if Kakashi doesn’t wake up. It must’ve been minutes since Kakashi’s heart stopped. For how long can a person survive like that? When is he supposed to give up and accept that Kakashi is dead? He can’t accept that, not yet.
The trees have started blossoming, still growing thicker and taller with Yamato’s uncontrolled Mokuton. Long strands of grass are curled around Kakashi’s ankles and wrists, and Yamato can feel them pulling on his own legs as well. He pulls himself loose; he doesn’t like the reminder of how long he’s been here for. A wildflower appears next to his knee, unfurling its purple petals in four compressions’ time.
More flowers spring up around them – poppies, buttercups, cornflowers grow from the earth that’s infused with Yamato’s desperate chakra. The smell of flowers drowns out the smell of blood, of death, that’s coming from their enemies’ bodies. White clovers and daisies grow around strands of Kakashi’s hair, just as unruly and pale. A dandelion laces through the spaces between his slack fingers.
Had the circumstances been different, Yamato would’ve thought it beautiful. But now, Kakashi just looks like a corpse, steadily being reclaimed by nature. It makes Yamato want to rip those beautiful flowers out by the root, tear Kakashi loose from their grip, but his hands are busy keeping Kakashi alive.
He counts from one to thirty again, and again. He notices his own voice whisper the numbers, but he’s uncertain when he started counting out loud. Hiding from potential enemies is no longer a thought in his mind. The trees’ leaves block out the sun, and the grass has become so tall that Yamato can barely see around him. It feels like shelter. It’s just him and Kakashi, in between these high trees and beautiful wildflowers.
The nature feels like shelter, but it brings with it an isolation that makes his throat constrict. It’s just him and Kakashi – Kakashi, who isn’t breathing. Who isn’t waking up. Who may never wake up.
“Kakashi,” Yamato hears himself say, staring at Kakashi’s blue-tinged eyelids. “Wake up. Open your eyes. Please.”
Talking doesn’t help; it was never going to help, because Kakashi is unconscious and can’t hear him. Still, the lack of response opens a pit in Yamato’s stomach. The fear becomes audible in his voice.
“Wake up. Just wake up.” His mouth is dry. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!”
He’s shouting, and he can’t remember the last time he shouted at Kakashi. He briefly feels guilty for yelling at his senior. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, when he has much more important things to worry about. Like the increasing probability of Kakashi dying right underneath his hands, and Yamato’s growing exhaustion. He’s even more badly out of breath than before.
When he next leans down to breathe for Kakashi, he sees red drip down beside him. Blood, he realizes numbly. It seems that the wound on his shoulder has finally bled through his uniform.
He’d almost forgotten about the wound, but the blood forces his attention back to it. He clenches his jaws against the pain and tries to distract himself from it again, but his arms hurt too bad for that. It’s not just the cut; his muscles had passed their limit a long time ago. He can’t keep going much longer.
“Damn it,” he grits out between compressions. “Damn it, Kakashi, please.” He swallows sharply past the lump in his throat. “Please. I can’t go home to tell your students that their teacher is dead. I can’t- I can’t do that.” His eyes sting. “I can’t tell Gai, or our fellow jounin. What about your ninken?”
Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. Yamato’s hand shakes as he supports Kakashi’s chin, accidentally knocking their teeth together. When Yamato pulls back and sees that Kakashi’s teeth are all still intact, he can’t even bring himself to feel relieved.
He continues the compressions, but it’s getting difficult to follow the pattern anymore, to push down on Kakashi’s chest twice per second. He misses a beat, doesn’t dare think about the consequences. His face burns with tears that he doesn’t allow to spill out.
“Don’t die on me.” His voice breaks. “Don’t die. You- You’re the first friend I ever made. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if I hadn’t met you. In times when I had nothing, I had you – if I lost you, I’d--”
His words break off with a sudden sob. His vision blurs with tears, the plants around him turning into nothing but smudged green shapes. He can’t wipe his tears away.
His body trembles with sobs, making him more and more breathless. This is it, he realizes. He can’t continue the compressions. His arms have become too numb, too numb to keep pushing down Kakashi’s chest, and he can barely breathe. This is it.
“No,” he chokes out. No – he can’t give up. Kakashi is his oldest friend, and one of the only friends he’s ever made. If he lets him die, he’ll never forgive himself.
Just a little longer, he tells himself, he tells his burning arm and his empty lungs and his screaming muscles. Whatever energy is still left in his body, he needs to use it right now. He’s uncertain whether something like the Will of Fire truly exists, but he can feel it burning inside him. He won’t allow himself to give up. Kakashi has to live.
And then, he hears someone gasp for breath.
Yamato doesn’t realize it at first, doesn’t realize that the sound didn’t come from himself; he’s been out of breath for so long, so he’s become accustomed with the sound of harsh breathing. But a sharp groan follows, in a voice that Yamato is certain isn’t his own, and he finally looks up.
Kakashi is staring at him, mismatched eyes wide open. There’s a grimace on his face, equal parts confused and pained. He reaches out a hand to stop Yamato’s still-pushing hands.
It’s only then that Yamato realizes. He can stop the compressions. He can stop, because Kakashi is alive. His eyes are open, he’s awake, he’s breathing. He’s alive.
Panting heavily, Yamato sinks down on the ground. His mind protests against it briefly; after all, he’d told himself that he wouldn’t stop the compressions, no matter what. His arms feel strangely light, now that he’s stopped.
“Yamato,” Kakashi says in between gasps, “what happened? What were you- Agh.” He grabs at his chest – Yamato winces in sympathy at the reminder of Kakashi’s broken rib. He notes distantly that there are stray blades of grass still stuck between Kakashi’s fingers.
The pain clears some of the daze from Kakashi’s eyes, and he turns to Yamato, his gaze heavy with a startled realization. “Wait,” he whispers. “That ninjutsu from just now. Did I…?”
“Your heart stopped,” Yamato affirms quietly. “The chest compressions broke your rib. I’m sorry about that.”
Kakashi’s mouth drops open slightly in disbelief; Yamato notices that his lips are no longer blue. “Hey,” he replies, “don’t apologize for saving my life. A broken rib is a price I’ll gladly pay for being alive.” He leans his head against the ground and closes his eyes. “My heart stopped,” he repeats in a murmur. “The kids are going to freak out when they hear about this.”
Yamato laughs, despite everything. “They’re not going to like it,” he says. “But it’s a hundred times better than having to tell them that you’re dead. You scared the Hell out of me.”
“I can… Yeah, I can imagine that.” Kakashi cracks one eye open and looks at Yamato. “I’ll strife not to let it happen again.”
“I’d hope so.”
They sit there for a while, both trying to catch their breaths. Yamato can feel his exhaustion catching up with him. He fought a battle, after all, and gave Kakashi chest compressions for what felt like hours, and his uncontrolled Mokuton wasted a lot of chakra in the meantime. He knows that they should be getting back home, but he’s entirely spent.
“Hey, Yamato?”
“Yeah?”
“We should probably stay here a bit longer,” Kakashi says. “I won’t lie, I’m worn out. Turns out that spending some time not breathing kind of saps your strength. Plus, you’re bleeding. You should probably do something about that.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He’d almost forgotten.
“And you look like you need a nap. Or five.”
“Well, thanks for that.” Yamato sighs; “You’re not wrong, though.”
“It’s okay. Our mission wasn’t time-sensitive, anyway. And I feel like we’re hidden pretty well, since the whole forest had a growth spurt during the time that I was out.” He raises an eyebrow at Yamato. “How long was I out for, anyway? Judging by the looks of these plants, it’s been years.”
“That’s my Mokuton’s influence. I kind of panicked and lost control,” Yamato replies, something sheepish in his tone. “You were unconscious for about ten minutes, I think. Maybe fifteen.”
“That’s a long time to spend without a heartbeat,” Kakashi says quietly. He turns away to pull his mask back over his face, and adds more lightly: “So I feel like I’m entitled to a nap. And so are you.”
Yamato finally stops the bleeding of the wound on his arm, and bandages the cut as well as he can. He lies down on his back. The grass makes for a comfortable place to lie down; softer, at least, than the trees that he’s used to sleeping in. Content and tired, he closes his eyes.
Before he manages to drift off, though, Kakashi whispers something:
“Thank you for saving my life.”
Yamato smiles back softly, and falls asleep on a bed of grass and wildflowers.
-END-