The mission had started outside the city, and it had gone smoothly up to a point. Kakashi had been largely hands-off with the targets - a surprisingly well-funded band of Robin Hood wannabes, who preferred to steal from the rich and give to degenerates - and the gun-katana hybrid Qrow had built him served its purpose with ease. The lack of a scope was more than compensated by the Sharingan, and Kakashi had picked off half the group from over half a mile away.
Things went downhill from there. The band of idiots had had the intelligence between them to flee into Ark City, and Kakashi hadn't had much choice but to follow, and to stow the rifle function of his weapon as he did. This had seemed like a minor issue at the time...
He hissed in pain as he hauled himself along, through the family-friendly streets of Levitton. Blood leaked through the hand he had clapped against his side, and Kakashi was pretty sure one of his legs was broken in a few spots, along with being damn near shredded.
Worst of all, the eerie feeling of having no chakra at all was haunting him with every step, and he felt compelled, every few feet, to check his own pulse. It was getting thready, but no worse than it had been a dozen times before. The chakra thing, Kakashi knew, had more to do with the blast of shiny powder that had been thrown right in his fucking face when he pushed his way into the warehouse the idiot gang had been trading from.
The effect had been immediate, and he'd taken corresponding damage just as quickly, but Kakashi wasn't the type to be subdued by circumstance for long. Fighting with broken bones, a bloody hole in his side, and no chakra wasn't ideal, but he had made it work.
Just like he made everything else work.
Getting home wasn't going to happen. Kakashi had realized that before the last body hit the floor. His head was already swimming from blood loss, and no matter how hard he fought to mold chakra in his hand, the palm clapped over his injury wasn't producing any familiar green, healing glow.
In short, Kakashi had a limited amount of time to find somewhere to collapse, and Pandopolis was off the table for now... so he went for the next best option.
Well... the next most familiar option, anyway.
He'd blame the blood loss if he had chosen wrong.
Getting onto the second floor of Sasuke's suburban shit of a house was an ordeal sent to try Kakashi for his sins. No chakra, bleeding out, that leg was definitely broken... he would be forgiven for making a breathy cheer of victory when he finally swung up onto the roof, wheezing bloody gasps into his mask. It was dripping with a combination of breathe, sweat, and blood. He probably smelled like he had already died.
Kakashi shimmied the bathroom window open, noting with some disdain that Sasuke hadn't even erected any seals around the potential entrance to his home... but then again, it was Sasuke. Who was going to be stupid enough to pull a B&E on him?
Besides his favorite teacher?
Kakashi fell into the tub with a muted shout of pain, sagging against the porcelain, eyes half-lidded. His weapon clattered in on top of him. Though he had no way of knowing it, the Sharingan was deactivated and black-brown, in stark contrast to his natural, gray eye.
"Maybe just... turn on the shower... unless you want to risk coming in contact with residual Prometheus Dust..." He slurred when he sensed a second presence in the bathroom... ideally, not Sakura. That would be a weird reunion.
"Sorry. Didn't... know where to go. 'M fine. No hospital."