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The day that Tenzo decided to leave Root wasn’t special. The sun didn’t shine brighter, there were no rainbows in the sky, no rain to turn dirt into mud. It was average. It was just another fall day in Konoha with the leaves slowly falling to the ground and littering it with their orange, red, and yellow hues, their dryness causing them to crunch under the feet of the people who walked on them.
The sun didn’t shine any brighter, the world didn’t stop and stare.
Nothing monumental happened.
Except for one thing: Tenzo leaving Root.
He’d followed Kakashi as the man urged him on, watching his senpai’s back as he led him through the dark, somber walls of Root, into the large forest surrounding Konoha. He’d followed him blindly--his senpai, this man he looked up to--trusting him in a way he never had anyone else. He’d let Kakashi urge him with words, warmth and friendship coating every syllable that left Hound’s mouth, persuaded by the thought of what a life away from Root might bring.
"You’ll like Konoha.” Kakashi had told him one day as they sat around a campfire, eating a meal of rations on their way back home from another mission. ”Teuchi-san, he makes the best ramen. You’ll have to try it sometime.”
Or there was that time when they both stood in the showers of the ANBU barracks, scrubbing dirt and sweat and mud and blood from their skin, when Kakashi told him of the challenges he faced with a man named Gai.
What would it be like, Tenzo wondered, to have someone who cared for him so much they’d find him just to do silly things with him? What would it be like to have someone that he could trust besides Kakashi? What would it be like if he followed Kakashi out into the world?
He stopped suddenly, on the edge of the forest, the darker part of it that wasn’t owned by the Nara’s: near the part of it that Hashirama-sama himself had built back when Konoha was first founded. Behind him, the trees rustled, their welcoming presence a nice comfort to him, a place of refuge that he suddenly wanted to sink back into. In front, the sun lit up a dirt path, the trail marked and worn down by years of use.
Suddenly, taking a step onto that path seemed daunting, scary even.
What right did he have to make a move to step onto that path? What right did he have to leave the shadows where he always lived? What right did he have to pretend to be... normal?
You’re not normal. His mind whispered. Remember that tube? Remember Orochimaru? Your skills with mokuton? Who would even dare accept someone like you? Someone engineered like you? Someone so dark and so fake?
He sank onto his knees, hands making signs involuntarily. His mokuton rose to make a tent for him out of wood: a cocoon of his own choosing, a safe place to hide.
He heard Kakashi stop, then move back towards him. He could tell, picture in his mind’s eye: Kakashi squatting on the ground, fingers tapping in the ANBU Code.
What is it?
Tenzo didn’t answer, huddling into himself, knees pressed against his chest, coming to terms with his feelings; feelings that he hadn’t known he could express before, feelings for which he was still trying to find a name. This wasn’t just fear, he thought, it was something more. His stomach churned the way it did before he had to leave on missions. His breathing hitched the way it did when he wondered if his mokuton would save him from an enemy-nin in time. He pulled his mask off his face, gasping, long brown locks suddenly free to tumble around his shoulders.
“Come out, Tenzo.” Kakashi called.
Tenzo blinked, straightening in his small tiny cocoon, this place of refuge he had created. Kakashi’s voice was clearer, much more distinct than it should be with the mask of Hound on his face. When had Kakashi taken it off? Why had he taken it off? Was it for him?
For Tenzo?
“Come out, Tenzo.” Kakashi repeated.
Slowly, Tenzo peeked out of the slats of his wooden tent, to look at Kakashi. His senpai sat squatting in the dirt, his ANBU mask pushed up on his head, eyes softening with small crinkles around their edges, the signs of Kakashi’s smile.
Slowly, carefully, Tenzo let go of his mokuton, trusting his senpai once more. His hands moved to undo the tent--his safe cocoon, the place to hide-- and undid the barriers that kept him away from Kakashi.
He felt more than just the physical barriers break. He could feel some of the shadows lessening their hold, feel the darkness start to recede some from his mind. Maybe, he thought, maybe, just maybe, it would be safe to trust Kakashi in this. Just once more.
He stood, stepping away from the place he’d just sat, Kakashi standing with him, one hand outstretched.
Tenzo took a step forwards, mind breaking free of the shadows that constantly surrounded him, from the demons that tried to keep him in their grasp. He hesitated for just a moment, then clutched Kakashi's hand tight, letting him pull him closer, close enough to feel Kakashi’s pulse beating against his own, their wrists pressing together tightly.
And then, he followed Kakashi into Konoha, hand held tight in his senpai’s. He only hoped that the town, that the place whose shadows he’d always lived in, would be just as welcoming to him--to this stranger from the shadows, this lost soul, this forgotten boy--and that it wouldn't spit him back out.
Only time would tell.
