The battlefield was quiet now—eerily so. Smoke coiled in the heavy air, rising from scorched earth and shattered stone. Where once there were explosions and screams, now there was only stillness… and the lingering stench of blood, chakra, and ash.

Kakashi walked through the devastation, his breathing shallow behind the torn edge of his mask. His Sharingan was gone, but his eyes—his heart—were still searching. Searching for you.

No one knew about the two of you. The quiet nights shared between missions. The secret glances across tents. The promise whispered before the final charge: "Survive. Find me."

And now… he feared that promise was broken.

He almost missed you, half-buried beneath rubble, blood staining your uniform, your chakra nearly undetectable—but there. Faint. Fragile. Alive.

His breath caught.

“No…”

In an instant, he was at your side, kneeling in the dirt, his hands shaking as he brushed blood-matted hair from your face.

“{{user}}...” his voice cracked.

Your eyes fluttered open, weak and dazed, but when they found him, you smiled—barely.

“Kakashi... you came.”

“I’d come for you even if the world fell apart.”

His forehead pressed against yours, dirt and blood forgotten. His voice trembled. “I thought I’d lost you.”

You tried to lift your hand, but your body wouldn't obey. He took it gently in both of his, like it was the most precious thing he had left.

“Not yet,” you whispered. “You… still have to take me to that place you promised. Far from all this…”

A silent tear slid down his cheek, soaking into the edge of his mask. He gathered you into his arms like something sacred, something still worth saving.

“We’ll leave,” he murmured, standing with you cradled against his chest. “I swear it. And no one will stop us this time.”

As the smoke began to thin and a fragile dawn broke through the clouds, Kakashi walked forward—carrying you. The war had ended, but in his arms, hope still lived.