Kakashi watched him approach, step by step.
The sea breeze tossed his red hair into disarray, a few damp strands clinging to cheeks streaked with sweat and blood.
The setting sun shone at an angle from behind him, edging his tattered clothes in dark gold.
Through a tear the back of a blade had gouged in his clothes, a fresh bruise was faintly visible on his arm, still purplish red.
The blood spattered along the edges of his boots had already darkened. Each step left half a blurred footprint in the dust on the bridge.
The purple aura around him had yet to fully disperse. It curled around him like a thin mist, trailing with every step, like a warrior's spirit unwilling to depart.
Yet he was still smiling.
That smile looked utterly carefree. Blood flecked the curve of his mouth, yet it shone as brightly as a child coming home from school to show off his report card.
But the exhaustion beneath his eyes ran too deep to hide, and even the light in his pupils seemed a little unfocused.
The Forehead Protector on his brow had slipped to one side, its ties hanging loosely beside his ear.
Watching him, Kakashi suddenly felt his eyes sting.
-He had tied that very Forehead Protector on him himself, on the day of the assessment.
His hair had been shorter then, and his eyes had held a hint of nervousness behind a show of composure.
From the creek to this moment.
Every time, this child pushed himself until he had nothing left, like a candle burning down to its end, unwilling to spare even a little wax.
He had barely taught any students before, and he did not really know what students were supposed to be like.
He could only look to