Chapter 120 — Morning of Return
The first light of dawn spilled softly through the open window.
Kakashi stirred, his eyes blinking open to the quiet stillness of the room. His head throbbed faintly, his body heavy, but the familiar scent of paper, wood, and faint strawberries told him where he was.
Home.
He turned his head slightly — and froze.
Beside the bed, a boy with soft black hair was slumped forward, his head resting against the edge of the mattress. The chair he sat on looked uncomfortable, but it was clear he hadn't moved all night. His breathing was steady, calm — exhausted.
Akira.
Kakashi looked at him for a long time, the haze in his mind slowly lifting. One by one, the pieces fell into place — the fragments of the Empyrean Schism, the faces, the blood, the sorrow, the gems, and finally… the decision that had shattered him.
He remembered everything.
All that he had done.
All that he had lost.
And all that had finally come to rest.
Moving quietly, Kakashi slid out of bed. He hesitated for a moment, looking down at Akira's sleeping form — the boy who had once been the Crown Prince, now resting so peacefully beside him.
Then, without a word, Kakashi bent down and lifted him carefully — his movements gentle, almost reverent. Akira didn't stir as Kakashi laid him fully onto the bed, pulling the blanket lightly over him.
"Rest," Kakashi murmured, his voice barely audible. "You've done enough."
He stepped outside, the morning air crisp and cool against his face. The village was just beginning to wake — distant sounds of life echoing through quiet streets. Kakashi closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. For the first time in what felt like centuries, he felt light. Free.
Time passed softly.
When Akira finally stirred awake, sunlight had climbed higher in the sky. He blinked, rubbing his eyes — and his heart leapt when he realized the space beside the bed was empty.
"Kakashi?"
He stood quickly, still half-dazed from sleep, scanning the room. Panic flickered in his chest. "Kakashi!"
He moved too fast — his body not yet steady — and as he reached the doorway, his knees gave out for a moment, balance slipping away.
Before he could hit the floor, a pair of strong arms caught him.
Kakashi.
He was standing there, calm and warm, the morning light behind him.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke. Akira blinked up at him, breath caught in surprise, and then Kakashi simply pulled him close — a firm, wordless embrace that spoke louder than any explanation ever could.
No words, no questions — just a silent, overwhelming warmth.
The kind of hug that said everything: relief, love, and the unspoken joy of a soul that had finally returned home.
Akira froze for a moment, then slowly relaxed into the embrace, his hands clutching the back of Kakashi's shirt.
Neither spoke.
The morning light streamed in through the open window, wrapping them both in soft gold — two souls once broken by time, now whole again, even if just for this moment.
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