You didn’t hear him at first.

Just the wind, the leaves, the hush of dirt beneath your knees. You were alone — the masks gone, the name heavy on your shoulders. Not Kakashi the prodigy. Just a woman at a grave.

Then came his voice, quiet behind you.

“I didn’t recognize you at first.”

You didn’t move.

“Just a woman, grieving. Pretty, in a quiet way. I wondered if I mattered that much.”

A pause. You felt it before you heard it — the shift in the air.

“Then I felt it — your chakra. Familiar, but… softer. Almost ashamed.”

He sounded like he was smiling.

“And I knew. Kakashi.”

Your breath caught. You stayed still. Your fingers clenched in the grass.

“You were a girl all along. And I never saw her.”

A short, bitter laugh.

“I died thinking I saved a comrade. A boy. But really… I died for a stranger.”

Your voice cracked.

“You don’t understand—”

But his answer was soft, immediate.

“No. I do. You were just trying to survive. Hiding her was the smart move. And you were always good at being what they needed.”

A step closer. His voice warmer now, almost tender.

“What I needed.”

You turned, just barely, meeting his eyes. His gaze didn’t burn. It hurt worse than that — it understood.

“I think I could’ve loved her. If you’d let me see her. Maybe I did anyway.”

A faint smile.

“But you buried her. And let me die in the dark.”

You looked back down. The stone didn’t answer. Neither did you.

“I’m not angry,” he said, quieter now. “I just wonder… if I’d seen you like this, would I have stayed?”

A breath.

“Maybe you didn’t want me to.”

His words shattered something.

He rose. You didn’t follow. You stayed folded over the grave, hands clenched in the dirt like you could hold onto him there.

His voice reached you one last time, soft as mist.

“You don’t have to lie anymore. I see you now. I’ll keep your truth. Just like I kept your life.”