Chapter Update/Teaser/Spoiler

A solid page of lovely Kakashi Angst TM. Hang onto your trousers theres more where this came from.

I regret nothing.

~Sable

Minato had never intended for the limiters to be permanent.

Kushina had designed them carefully, to hold firm but also to dissolve as gently as they were applied, to be removed like a pair of old gloves when they were no longer of use, as soon as Kakashi no longer needed them to rein in the deadly manifestation of his grief. 

But Kakashi had never really managed to control the power that rose so sharply in the wake of his pain, and by the time he’d even recovered enough to really try, Kushina was dead.

So the limiters had stayed. Kakashi had never needed much chakra to be deadly– even with the limiters and the constant drain of Obito’s sharingan, he still had more than enough to be very, very dangerous. 

And after Rin, and Minato, and Kushina, there had been no point in taking it farther than that.

The soft curls of ancient script remain, as familiar as his own flesh and bone, nestled into his chakra coils like old friends. They’re a piece of Kushina, in a way, and still feel like her intent; kind and indomitable, like a hug so tight with emotion it’s painful. It had been the only thing that made it bearable in the darkness following her loss, the idea that some part of her was still right there, still protecting him, still protecting others from him.

The idea of letting that go hurts like a thorn driven deep into the fleshy base of his heart.

But there’s something else living in his heart now too; subtle power strong enough to move mountains and memories, strong enough to unearth old demons from their resting places, strong enough to resurrect the pieces of him they’d consumed. 

He can feel it, sweeping and resonant, a great force that tugs, gentle and constant, at the deepest desires in his graveyard heart, at the oldest strengths buried beneath his heaviest griefs. 

He’d never imagined before this, that these kids could have such strength hidden in their marrow, such devotion and compassion and strength, never imagined that they could pull the same out of him with such ferocity that he’s not even sure who he is anymore. Parts of him he thought dead and buried are surfacing at an alarming rate; intensity and razor focus, drive and vulnerability, the will to do more, to be more. It’s a desire he hasn’t felt since he was a child, since the first time he’d looked up at Minato, at his power and his gentleness and his unfettered love and thought; I want to be strong like that. 

I want to be strong enough to be kind. 

His whole life had taught him that this kind of love is weak, that vulnerability is sacrilege, that loving something is the equivalent of signing its death warrant. But Minato’s love had only made him stronger, his gentle heart had only made him a better leader and teacher, and for a second Kakashi had thought; Maybe. 

Maybe, if I could be like him, if I could be as strong as him, it would be okay to love something more than my village. 

His death had left Kakashi with little doubt that such an idea was nothing more than naive fantasy, the wishful thinking of a child in mourning.

Until now.