Chapter Text
There’s something fundamentally wrong about holding secret meetings at mid-morning, Kakashi thinks as he scales the outside of the western lookout tower, using only his right foot and left little finger to make it slightly more interesting. A brightly shining sun just doesn’t lend itself to any sense of mystery.
He reaches the roof and drops softly down onto the platform. The Hokage, who is reading what appears to be a giant stack of reports precariously balanced on the little wooden table, doesn’t even look up. Kakashi wanders over to the edge and leans against the rail with an air of casual indifference, as if he had climbed the tower on a whim and happened to stumble upon the Hokage in the process - like that would fool anyone, if they were watching.
“You wanted to see me, Hokage-sama?” He says.
“I did want to see you a little earlier,” The Hokage replies dryly.
Kakashi blinks innocently. “Maa, I must have gotten…”
“...caught up on the road of life, yes. Well, you’re here now.” The Third hums under his breath and taps his fingers against the paper in front of him. “I have recently discovered some… troubling intelligence regarding our Anbu training facility.”
“Root.” Kakashi says flatly, because he dislikes the whole organization and all its members, both specifically and generally on principle.
“Root, yes. They have a new class graduating today. I have requested that one of them be assigned to your squad.”
“To my squad,” He repeats. Root members are taught to accomplish their mission at all costs, without regard to their team or their comrades, and Kakashi has both been there and done that.
The Hokage sighs. “I had to pull a lot of strings to do it, too. Root is very invested in this young man, and I need to know where his loyalties lie. You could inspire his loyalty, Kakashi.”
And in the meantime he has to keep this kid alive. The chances of that happening are pretty slim, given his track record. Looks like he will have yet another tombstone to visit.
“And if I can’t?”
A cloud passes in front of the sun, casting shadow down onto them. The Third’s grim face is all the answer he receives.
#####
Shimura Danzo pauses on the way to his office to take a long, self-satisfied look at the new batch of Root graduates training in the hall below him, waiting to be assigned to their Anbu squads. Every single one of them is a soldier, no more and no less. Every single one of them obeys him, and him alone.
He allows a thin smile to cross his face as he pictures the future: control of Anbu is just the first step. There is an entire village that needs protection. His kind of protection, not the kind of wishy-washy incompetence that it currently suffers from.
Then he sees the figure waiting outside his office, and the smile fades into a scowl, his hand tightening its grasp on his cane. It’s unfortunate that he’s being forced to give up his most promising weapon, but he’s not yet in a position where he can challenge the Hokage on something like this. It’s too early to raise any suspicions. Besides, it should be possible to keep control, if he uses a light hand and does it carefully enough. His agents know who their master is.
Resuming his deliberate tread towards the doorway, he leans ever so slightly on the cane. It isn’t always for show, after all. He feels his age sometimes.
The shinobi drops to one knee as he approaches, eyes downcast obediently. Danzo feels a surge of satisfaction. This one has been well trained. The Hokage will not find it so easy to separate him from Root.
Inside his office, Danzo settles himself unhurriedly in his chair before he summons the one still waiting patiently outside. Like all the Root graduates, this young man has nothing particularly striking about him: brown hair, dark eyes, not tall but not short. There’s nothing at all, in fact, to mark him as being the second (and only living) wielder of the Mokuton. He kneels again before the desk, and Danzo takes a moment to look him over before speaking.
“Graduate 17201. I assume you know why you have been summoned.”
“Yes, sir.” Is the quiet reply.
“You are being assigned to an Anbu squad. Your captain will be here to collect you very soon. I expect you to do your utmost, to serve, to protect, and to do your duty the way you have been taught.” He keeps his voice measured. Calm is the key to controlling those around you: it’s a mantra he’s lived by.
“Yes, sir.”
“You will receive further instructions when I am satisfied with your performance. I expect you may find many things strange in your new environment, but be warned: bad habits will not be tolerated.”
There’s a tap on the wall and a kunoichi appears in the open doorway. She bows low. “Master Danzo, your visitor has arrived.”
He knew that, of course, knew it as soon as the man crossed the entrance and has been waiting for him. “Very well. Bring him in.”
The man who enters is well known to Danzo; and indeed, to most ninja in Konoha. The headband covering his left eye hides something that has been an object of envy for Danzo for many years. An interesting choice on the Hokage’s part. He’d been expecting someone older, someone more disciplined. He doubts whether his well-drilled, efficient graduates will be able to work with someone as… eccentric… as Kakashi Hatake.
He’s a little disappointed, however, to hear a small but sharp intake of breath from this particular graduate. Danzo had hoped his shinobi were above being impressed by such superficial things as personal fame.
Kakashi strolls into the room with a mild grin. “Good afternoon. I hope I’m not late.”
“Not at all.” Danzo replies coldly. He is, in fact, two hours late, but Danzo knows Kakashi’s most annoying habits and refuses to rise to any bait, deliberate or not.
“This is the one?” Kakashi asks, jerking his chin toward the young man who has not moved from his position on one knee.
Danzo inclines his head.
“Great,” Kakashi replies. “Let’s go.”
He turns as he speaks, heading back out the door way - as casually as if he owned the place , Danzo thinks irritably. His new subordinate jerks his head up in shock and glances back at Kakashi, then to Danzo, evidently waiting for permission to leave.
Danzo nods shortly at him, and the boy rises and follows his new captain out the door, trying with only partial success to keep up and not trip over his own feet.
Watching them leave, Danzo clenches his fingers against the wood of his desk. Let the Hokage think he’s won this round. Time will tell.
#####
The stairs leading out of the Root headquarters are wide and imposing at the bottom, but with every step they get narrower until they become a dark, winding staircase, too low for a tall man to stand upright in, and not wide enough for two to walk abreast. The door at the top is solid and always shut, so no light can penetrate from above.
When entering, the unfamiliar trip over the uneven steps. When leaving, it seems like the whole world is coming to an end.
17201 counts the stairs as they walk upward. He knows exactly how many there are, and how many he has left until the doors close behind him for good. In front of him, Hatake has to stoop as his hair brushes the ceiling. He wonders if he ought to bow his head as well, in case his new captain cares about things like that.
The door swings inward, and light floods down the passage. He blinks furiously, trying to clear the spots from his vision, but when his foot lands on the final stair his count is only 100.
Somewhere, somehow, he has missed a step.
#####
The walk to Anbu takes even longer than he anticipated. Kakashi stuffs his hands into his pockets and strolls through the village with a calm that only a very few people would be able to tell was forced.
Behind him the mousy kid follows quietly, head down in that subservient manner all the Root agents seem to have, which always makes Kakashi’s skin crawl. It hides his eyes, so Kakashi can’t tell if he’s actually aware of what’s going on or is just bored out of his skull. In his place, Kakashi would be sleep-walking.
Isn’t this his first time out of the Root complex? Danzo doesn’t exactly allow his subordinates time off. Kakashi expected excitement, surprise, something .
Maybe he’s in shock. Perhaps he’ll keel over dead from all the anxiety before they even reach Anbu, and wouldn’t that just solve all of Kakashi’s problems?
But they make it half way and the kid has neither fainted nor run back underground, so he resigns himself to the inevitable - conversation. He’ll have to speak at some point after all. At least it doesn’t look like he’ll need to worry about assassination attempts any time soon; the boy looks scared of his own shadow.
“What’s your name?”
There’s no reply. Kakashi looks back over his shoulder impatiently. The as-yet-unnamed kid stares back at him in consternation, possibly wondering if he’s allowed to share this clearly confidential information.
Kakashi scowls. This is why he hates dealing with Danzo’s people. Well. It’s one of the reasons.
“What do they call you in Root?”
The boy’s face clears. “Number 17201.”
Kakashi looks at him. The kid looks absurdly confident with his answer, like he thinks he’s just passed some kind of test. Kakashi’s voice is carefully neutral when he repeats. “Number 17201?”
He nods. “Yes sir.”
“Is there a 17202?”
The boy looks at him with a confused kind of wariness, like something’s about to leap out and bite him. Funny , thinks Kakashi, isn’t that my line?
“Yes, sir?”
“I see.” Kakashi is quiet for a moment. Possibly the boy is serious. Then he says, “In Anbu, we have names, not numbers.”
“Oh.” He glances up at Kakashi shyly, the first display of any kind of emotion so far. “Will they give me one? A name, I mean?”
Kakashi feels a horrible moment of panic, suddenly remembering that this kid in front of him really is just a child , probably an orphan child who needs a parent , and certainly doesn’t need a captain under orders to eliminate him should he show the slightest hint of being dangerous to the village. Kakashi doesn’t even have his own parents, can barely even remember having them, how is he supposed to be one ?
But there’s really nothing he can do, so he just shrugs, and says, “You can choose one yourself, if you like.”
“Did you choose yours?” The boy asks.
“No.” Kakashi replies shortly. “My father did.” He wonders if there’s a way to say I’m not going to talk about it without inviting that unavoidable question, why .
Fortunately his tone seems to warn the kid that this is not a topic to continue with. Or he’s just more concerned with other things.
“What kind of name does it have to be?”
“Any kind. As long as you like it.”
They lapse into silence again. Kakashi glances over to see the kid apparently lost in thought. Hopefully he isn’t going to take everything this seriously. They’ll never get anything done. How hard can it be to think of a codename, anyway?
They make it almost the whole way to Anbu before he speaks again.
“Tenzo.”
“Hmm?” Kakashi asks.
“Tenzo. That’s what I want my name to be.”
“Oh. Good.” Kakashi might look like he’s smiling, but he’s really hoping like hell that this kid can learn to think a little quicker on his feet. Or at least show some kind of emotion. Maybe the Mokuton is really a genetic mutation and he’s actually part tree. “That’s a good name.”
#####
Number 17201 follows his new captain into a large, dark, wooden building at the far western edge of the village. From the outside it looks empty, almost abandoned; once inside, it’s suddenly filled with ninja dressed in fitted dark uniforms. He tries to stick close to Kakashi’s heels and avoid getting in anyone’s way: Kakashi strides confidently through the tangle of other ninja, passing through several rooms which look like practice areas to one that looks more like an office. Here he’s left by the wall with instructions to stay put, while Kakashi vanishes without ceremony.
Left alone, he waits patiently and obediently, trying his best to melt into the wall behind him. Or at the very least to make himself blend into it. He obviously doesn’t succeed at it, since he’s getting many curious looks from passing ninja, and more than one dismissive glance that makes him want to sink into the floor.
The faces around him seem to blur into one after a while, just melting into one faceless, indistinct mesh of bodies. He’s searching for a glimpse of Kakashi’s grey hair when he sees something else.
A snake-like form glides between the other Anbu in the room. He can’t make out the face, it’s hidden, but he’s seen that shape, that sinuous crawl, in his nightmares every night since…
The figure hesitates, tilting its head, as if it knows it’s been seen.
He swallows convulsively. Every instinct screams at him to move, but his legs won’t cooperate - as if they have roots of their own, anchoring him to the floor. Then a group of Anbu walks in front of him and the figure is hidden from sight. When they pass, it’s gone. He turns frantically, peering around the room, when something touches his shoulder.
He lashes out, chakra converging in his fist to solidify and harden into ironwood. He doesn’t expect to actually hit anything, but by the time he realizes that there really is someone behind him, it’s too late to check the blow. There’s a yelp and a thud as a body collides with the wall.
“What the fuck? ”
He breathes in sharply. There’s a boy on the floor in front of him, glaring up at him through curly dark hair. He glances around but there’s no sign of anyone familiar, snake-like or otherwise. The other Anbu are all staring at him though. He must have imagined the whole thing, he thinks, and a flush starts to burn across his cheeks. Flustered and embarrassed, words leap out of his mouth before he can check himself.
“Why did you sneak up on me?!”
“I didn't! Sorry, I mistook you for a ninja,” The kid snaps back at him, pushing himself to his feet. “What are you wearing, gloves of steel?”
They’re probably the same age, he realizes: now the other boy is standing, he can see they’re both about the same height.
“Uh… yes.” One of Root’s many lessons: never tell an enemy your skills. Especially since everyone else is hiding their own skills. He’s pretty sure he hit hard enough to break bone, but the other boy’s not even bleeding. There’s a bruise on his cheek though, so he must have turned his head fast enough to avoid the worst of the blow.
“Oh really? Are they invisible gloves of steel?”
He glances down at his bare hands and grimaces inwardly. That was stupid .
“What’s going on here?”
An Anbu shinobi is staring down at them. He doesn’t sound pleased. “Fighting inside this building is prohibited. The training yards are outside.”
“We’re not fighting,” The other boy assures him, voice suddenly and suspiciously cheerful. “Just introducing ourselves.”
“That’s a very distracting introduction,” The Anbu says, unimpressed. “Get out of here before I report you.”
“Yes, sir!” The kid offers up a salute and a grin, and lopes off toward the door.
The man turns to him. “And you? Are you also supposed to be elsewhere?”
“No sir, I...” But he’s rescued by Kakashi’s return, and falls silent again with an overwhelming sense of relief.
“Something wrong, Kano?” Kakashi asks mildly, leaning on the wall beside him. He’s balancing a pile of cloth on one shoulder.
“He’s one of yours?” The man grumbles. “Anbu should have better things to do than lounging around here.”
Kakashi raises an eyebrow pointedly. “You would think.”
That unsubtle hint is enough to send Kano scurrying away without any further comments, and Kakashi turns back to his new charge. “Making friends, I see?”
“I don’t think so,” He says truthfully, rather surprised. What’s that got to do with anything?
“Plenty of time for that later, I suppose,” Kakashi agrees, gesturing to follow him. “I have your uniform here, so let’s get you settled in, ok?”