Chapter Text
At age 5 Kakashi Hatake was asked the burdening question of what the noblest trait a shinobi could have was. Being 5 years old and living under the same roof as the great White Fang himself, Kakashi had foolishly answered “strength.”
Two decades later, Kakashi was asked this again, except from the mouths of his young students, new to the collective responsibility of teamwork. Kakashi, still not quite knowing the answer, had declared it “comradery.”
Kakashi was 32 when he finally gathered an acceptable answer to the question. Only this time, he wasn’t being asked. He was telling . During his ceremonial speech as Hokage, Kakashi had announced that there was only one necessary act of nobility for a shinobi to always embody, to always remember. That was: “compassion.”
***
Kakashi knew very little about compassion. He could vaguely scramble together a definition of the word, what he assumed it should appear as. But he had never been an expressive child, and this did not change even during the few years that he ate at the same table as his father, the man whom he'd taken after so intricately.
The White Fang knew of compassion. In fact, he knew too much of it. He’d given his life to such a thing, he’d taken his son's future for such a thing. Kakashi would learn to call it “cowardice” as he grew into his young bones and round face. And he would call his father anything but a shinobi.
He knew what it should look like, he thought. He had seen it before, painted in the homes of others, in the unexpected weakness of a family like the Might’s. In the way they'd smile at one another, at how Gai could often be seen fastened on the shoulders of his father, bonded structurally and externally. It was a wonder how a man like Might Dai could flourish as a father in a field of shame and criticism, plucked off by the entire village. He’d be a talentless fool, a mockery of the shinobi title he so flimsily held, but he’d never be a bad father. Kakashi might not have known what compassion was, but if he did, he would have known that strength was found inside the Might household and in none of the ones that ridiculed them.
It had taken very little time for Gai to pique Kakashi’s interest - or what little he had of it at such an unimpressive age. Even though most people thought of him as an arrogant fool, Gai figured out rather quickly when Kakashi had purposefully begun intercepting himself into the other boy's routines. Always the same, with his nose stuck in a book and his shoulders slouched like he found everything in the world uninteresting. Perhaps if Kakashi had been some years older, he would have realized that this act was suspicious when it ranged from passing Gai by at the playground they shared, to the forest outskirts where Gai would sometimes train alone.
After weeks of this game dancing around itself, Gai had gathered enough evidence to make a case that Kakashi was following him - something that Kakashi never thought he would do. After all, he was the son of his father, a man both fierce and well-rumored. And Kakashi himself held quite the reputation among their peers, of someone strong and gifted for his age. It was a wonder at all that Gai - the class runt and joke - had the courage to even look at Kakashi, nonetheless accuse him of tailing him.
Yet, Kakashi had not been surprised by this. You learn things about people when you spend weeks deliberately matching your schedule with theirs. He’d done it out of curiosity - he’d done it because he’d believed Gai when the boy had declared himself ready to fight for what it means to be a ninja. Kakashi was a smart kid. Smarter than most. He knew that Gai saw him each time, regardless of whether or not he ever addressed him. And he knew that the company of another would always influence a kid like Gai, even if his passing only occurred for mere moments. He'd learn to understand that about the Mighty boy very well.
Even so, the day came as unexpected as any tragedy does. Kakashi had dropped his book that day in fright - finding himself to be the one embarrassed rather than Gai for a change. He'd made the mistake of not anticipating the courage of his company. It was the first time Gai had ever spoken to him directly, and there was much more in that rowdy vessel of his than Kakashi would have previously been ready for.
He’d been making his rounds like he always does, his sandals padding along the almost overgrown grass, tickling in a way that would beckon laughter of discomfort and not amusement. Academy classes had been out for about a half hour now, and even if the sun dipped low beyond the mountain ranges, it was still out, making its presence known with the heat it put off. Kakashi found the air light on his back, coaxing from him his usual calm disposition, tired eyes and a flat expression. He read the pages of his book with a common disinterest, mind thrumming along in a cyclone of thoughts, all of which irrelevant to the last. Although the fix would only last so long before Kakashi approached the one plain he knew Gai would always stop at. The place where he’d do push-ups or practice his kicks until he’d inevitably drop.
Kakashi never read as he walked through this particular section of the woods. He’d pretend to, sure - acting as if his attention was fixated on passages of strength and stamina rather than the emitted consistency of Gai's trials, coining a regimen no ordinary student could manage. He’d hear Gai's weakened grunts and counting from a good distance away, passing judgment on the boy's accuracy by the sound alone. He’d mark the numbers that Gai would say, he’d memorize any complaints or comments he’d utter. In a way, he was scouting the progress of the other boy, in such interest that he knew nobody else was. He did not know why.
Except today.
When Kakashi approached the spot, he heard nothing. No exhausted but passionate drills of Gai, no noise at all to indicate that anyone was there. It was near dead in the forest without Gai’s overbearing presence to cheer it on, and Kakashi had made the mistake of reacting to this fact. As soon as he’d reached that familiar plain - the only place Gai had ever been - Kakashi pulled his head up from his book and turned to look, searching for any indicator of the boy. He didn’t stop walking, didn’t even make a sound. But it gave him away. From behind a neighboring tree, Gai jumped out at him, an accusatory arm extended and a deep furrow to his brow.
He’d said something, maybe an aggressive greeting or maybe Kakashi’s name, but Kakashi didn’t hear it. He was too busy recoiling back a step and dropping his book to think enough for words to process in that young, naive mind of his. He’d been caught and it was the worst thing ever.
However, the shock and then following embarrassment of the situation had sobered him up well enough to hear the next sequence of words to fall out of Gai’s mouth. He was yelling, and Kakashi really couldn’t tell if there was anger in his yappy voice or if he was just so energized it came off as aggressive.
With a pointed finger, wagging at Kakashi as Gai’s body rattled with his words, the boy made this weekly occasion a reality - no longer a figment to be kept in silence.
“You’ve been stalking me!” The tone of it was still undetermined, but Kakashi could tell that beneath the pure volume of his voice, Gai was putting on a show of confidence. That was understandable, seeing as Kakashi had no real motive to be doing such a thing. He could easily play stupid if he wanted to. Which, Kakashi had half in mind to do, considering there was no conventional way to explain his actions. Curiosity was not often a real reason in the justices of others.
So instead, Kakashi opted to say nothing as he leaned the few feet down to pick his book back up again, closing it as he stood and tucking it away. It wasn’t as if Gai of all kids was going to let him off easy, so he allowed the conversation to will itself onward.
“Well?” Gai then asked, placing both his hands on his hips now, an amusing puff of his chest following the action. Kakashi just raised a brow, holding back a scoff. He’d known the boy to be rather exuberant, yes, but he hadn’t spoken to him to know just how exaggerated his personality was.
“I haven’t been stalking you,” Kakashi said rather calmly, his tone taking on one of somebody who was about to deny their way out of a situation. Although, he had a suspicion that such a thing wouldn’t work in the company of Gai.
His face crumpled up as if disbelieving of Kakashi’s words.
“Yes, you have! For weeks! Ever since I started my training here!” He retorted, that shrill voice carrying out throughout the entire forest with the way he annunciated the words. Kakashi just shrugged in return, giving the accusation a roll of his eyes. He really didn’t know what to say to get himself out of this.
“It’s not stalking . I just…” His voice trailed off, trying to find an excusable word. Nothing came to mind, as he'd never expected to find himself on the other end of tailing someone. He'd met his fair share of people interested in the White Fang's son, but at least they had an understandable reason for their curiosity. Kakashi wasn't willing to be called a stalker. Not when his victim was Might Gai .
“I followed you out here.” He said, as if that was any better than stalking.
Gai raised one of his brows, the weight of it disappearing behind his overgrown bangs, which shook and swayed with his every movement.
“And that’s…Different from stalking?” The disbelief in his voice came coupled with some genuine confusion, and Kakashi wondered if he was seriously asking him if he thought the words meant different things. Kakashi sighed.
“Yes. I didn’t come out here for you.” He gestured with his hand, trying to make the explanation sound better than it was. “I just knew that you were here.”
Any thought that Gai had was entirely written on his face as his expression bent and squished in all different directions, piecing together every bit of what Kakashi said. Still, he looked nothing short of skeptical. He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the grass with a tilt to his chin, almost as if he was trying to be intimidating. Which was ridiculous given…everything about him.
“So you were stalking me?” But as he asked, he seemed more concerned with something else. His mouth was quick to spit it out before Kakashi could cut in. “Why?”
Somehow, that question was even harder than the last, and Kakashi looked away as if he was distracted by something.
“You train a lot.” It was hardly an answer, but the response seemed considerate enough for Kakashi. The meaning of it was written between the words rather than being stated out loud, as any conversation with Kakashi went. He didn’t speak much at all - especially not to loudmouths like Gai. But he certainly thought a lot, and most of the time that was enough.
Gai’s skepticism didn’t fade from his face as he nodded, seeming to take the words in. Then, a sliver of a smile made its way onto lips and he turned away as well, clearly not interested in having the righteous Kakashi see him happy. Kakashi had rolled his eyes at the time, not understanding just how much prowess came with that beam. More than anything, he’d just been embarrassed that someone had conquered the nerve to call him out on something. Other than his father, it was an impossible event, and in that ever-stupid brain of his, he’d thought it the end of all being.
Kakashi had gotten himself out of there as quickly as possible, pushing past Gai and deeper into the forest, his legs springing to the trees and onward.
Gai had called after him, both in surprise at the jumpy reaction and then in a sequence of annoyed exclamations about how "impolite" this was. But he hadn’t chased Kakashi that day. And that was just about the only time Kakashi could make that claim from then on.