He deserves to be dead along with the rest of them.
He’d kept a cool exterior during the funeral service, even when he’d had to explain to each individual family about what had happened and how their loved one had died an honorable death. However, it is in the present that he finally snaps on the training grounds. He thinks he is alone, swears that he feels the last chakra signature fade into the distance due to the heavy rain. It is only then that he lets his kunai slip from his grip, spinning around to face the training post. His fist makes contact with the wood and he continues, each swing filled with more force than the last. He bites his tongue, enough so that he tastes the coppery flavor of blood in his mouth while his knuckles become battered and bloody.
He should have been stronger.
He should have been able to protect his team.
How useless he is, a man who lacks the ability to save anyone. He’s failed countless people with his short comings. And all he can do is be sorry- even that’s not enough.
He feels as if he’s choking as he sinks to his knees, head low.
Iruka waits behind at the end of the service to check if Kakashi is okay. He lingers at the edge of the graveyard, saying his goodbyes to the people he knew. There is a student from his class there, she lost her older brother to this mission. The girl’s mother pulls him aside, frantically announcing that she needs to pull the child out of class.
“I understand,” he lies. “Take some time at home and schedule a conference with me when you’re ready. We’ll take care of it then.”
When the rest of the funeral party has left, Kakashi remains at the training grounds. Iruka takes a step forward, but stops when the jonin begins throwing punches at the kunai targets. He knows the answer, Kakashi isn’t okay, but maybe he needs to be left —the jonin sinks to his knees, and Iruka approaches slowly.
“Kakashi?” He keeps his voice soft, both asking for permission and announcing his presence.