Enough. A lifetime past enough. Ginta smelled like rainwater and newborn snow, like one step away from cracking right down the middle. This wasn't fair to him -- wasn't even close to fair. Kakashi couldn't drag him close and snarl him away and come running back when Ryouma turned around and copied the copy-ninja. Stole Kakashi's own vanishing trick.

Couldn't take a gift when he had no way of returning it.

He pulled back, felt Ginta's arms tighten, and twisted free. Grabbed Ginta's hands before Ginta grabbed him back, and forced them down. Calloused fingers tightened around his chidori-seared palm; Kakashi winced, jerked away.

There wasn't a word for the expression that washed across Ginta's face, sharpening bright blue eyes before they went flat and dead. His mouth broke into a straight, white line.

I always make people hate me.

Kakashi's hands lifted before he had time to think, palms pressing flat either side of Ginta's narrow jaw. Something like a grab and a hold and a god-knows-what. Fly-away blond hair tangled around his fingers.

"I'm sorry," he said, quiet and grating. "I didn't mean to do this. I was-- I was going to go home, but I wanted to make sure you were okay first. And you're not. And I don't know why I expected you to be." He stopped, throat hurting. Dragged a breath and kept going. "I don't hate you, not even close. You're--"

What?

Sakamoto Ginta. Smartass, whip-clever, too pushy, too wired, the son of truly awful people. Rape victim, torture survivor, damn good ninja.

The only person still breathing who wanted Kakashi around.

"My friend, okay? For whatever that's worth. You're my stupid, irritating, doesn't-know-when-to-quit friend." An agonized, shatter-glass smile, mostly hidden by black cloth. "And if you cry on me I'm going to kill you dead."