Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Kakashi, can you come in here?” Sukea calls from the kitchen. Kakashi hesitates, scowls for a moment. Considers not coming, just to be onery, but… there’s not much point to it. He gets up and heads to the kitchen.

Sukea is cooking soup, just like he has the past two days since—since Sakumo died. Killed himself. It still doesn’t feel real. Neither of them have left the house, since they got back, and neither have they gone into the study or the basement kitchen. Both doors have stayed locked, waiting for- Kakashi’s not actually sure what they’re waiting for. For it to feel real, maybe? For them to be ready for the funeral? He’s not sure. He stops in the doorway of the kitchen, looking up to where Sukea is bent over the pot of soup. It smells meaty, rich, and full of eggplant.

“Kakashi.” Sukea pauses, almost puts down the spoon, then decides not to. “What do you know about Hatake blood nursing?”

 Kakashi frowns. “It’s the method of adopting babies. You give them blood with your chakra, and then they’re Hatake… enough.” His father had told him, once, he thought -- he’d asked where babies came from and gotten three explanations, and that was the most interesting one. Sukea is nodding, so that must be what he meant.

“Right. It’s a way of imparting Hatake- or Senkokuro- chakra through blood that’s a little less, ah… all encompassing than eating coils, and doesn’t require meditation. Or the ability to eat solid food, but that’s not relevant here.”

“So what is relevant here?” Kakashi shifts, then hops up to sit on the counter with a kick and step of chakra. Just to be annoying. Sukea slides a cutting board out of his way with infuriating smoothness. “Why are we talking about this? I know how it works, and I’m already a Hatake.”

“Well…” Sukea does put the spoon down now, and faces Kakashi. He’s not frowning, but it looks like he wants to. “It doesn’t just work on babies, and it—will engender, ah, parental sorts of feelings? But the important part is that it is, according to clan law, a fully official adoption.”

“And? Sakumo already… left me to you in his will.”

“Yes, he did. But, if I’m going to make a bid to stay here, I need something more concrete. To make it clear I’m not leaving without you.” Sukea holds his gaze as Kakashi’s heart thumps and sinks.

“We’re leaving? But-“

“No! No, no, we’re not leaving. I- the village has been pretty shitty to you, but I know that we – I mean, that Hatakes need people around, more than Senkokuro do. I’m not taking you out of the village unless there’s no other option.”

“But they won’t let you stay. You’re a rogue ninja.” Kakashi frowns, considering.

“Unless I’m properly tied to a village ninja. Like you. You’re a genin of Konohagakure, so if I’m your guardian by clan law-“

“Then they might let you stay.”

“And I can imply I’ll leave with you if they don’t. I won’t! I promise, I won’t leave unless you want to! But it’ll give me leverage. So-“ Sukea starts to gesture to the soup.

“What do you do if they say no anyway, and I don’t want to leave?” Kakashi interrupts.

“… Well, hopefully it won’t come to that, but I’d just hide here.”

“You can’t hide from the ANBU. They’d catch you,” Kakashi says, dismissively. Sukea just smiles.

“So, let’s make sure it doesn’t come to that. By which I mean- please let me adopt you, by Clan law, and feed you my blood.” Sukea gestures to the soup again, poking it with the spoon.

“… In the soup?” Sukea nods. Kakashi frowns. “I don’t want to be a Senkokuro.”

“That’s fine,” Sukea says, before he pauses, like he has to think. “I… I could become a Hatake. If- if that would be all right with you, as the Clan Head.”

Kakashi’s eyes widen. He… hadn’t thought of being the Clan Head. That’s- his dad never did anything with that, but … It’s not like there was anything else.

“… That would be better.”

“I guess I could also become a … clan adjunct, or something? There’s … something in something somewhere about that. Or I can just not change the name. It’s- it’s fine. Don’t worry about it, Kakashi, I’ll get the paperwork sorted. All you need to do is –“

“Eat your blood. Right.” Kakashi rolls his eyes. “I guess it’s… better. We don’t want you out on the street.”

Sukea smiles a little, but it’s sad. Kakashi scoffs again and Sukea finally gets on with it, turning back to the pot and grabbing a small knife. It’s one of the ones that’s made for this, with white steel along the edge that conducts the lightning chakra he slides along it. The room fills with the sharp scent of electricity and then with blood as Sukea holds his hand and its dripping wound over the pot. The blood slides out smoothly, almost glinting itself with the chakra poured into it. They sit there, waiting for interminable moments before Sukea nods and runs a handful of green medical chakra over the cut. The scent of the soup gets better as he stirs the blood in, filling out something it was missing.

They eat together at the table, Kakashi staring at the first spoonful of dark soup for just a little too long as Sukea busies himself with obnoxiously looking down and away. Kakashi is almost as annoyed at the performative deference for his mask as he is by the thought that if they’re really going to be family—more than they already are, at least- then he’ll probably have to get used to showing his face. Dad always pesters- no. Used to pester him about indigestion when he ate too quickly at home.

Sukea keeps looking away. Kakashi accepts it, and starts to eat.

Chapter Text

They’re having the funeral feast today.

It’s been a week. Kakashi has had to pester Uncle Sukea into it, strangely. He’s been hemming and hawing, talking about how “the scroll is fine, he’ll keep” and “it’s whenever you’re ready,” but Kakashi has been ready. Enough. He—doesn’t want this looming in the future anymore. He wants his dad honored, so he can—go back to being … shunned, or whatever.

He had to say he’d do it himself before Uncle Sukea blanched and hurried to assure him that “No, absolutely not, we’ll do it together. Tomorrow, then. For dinner.”

So they’re doing it tonight.

They’ve already laid out the dining room—the incense, the salt, the offerings and name plate, the clan register. Two settings of the fine dishes, the red-lined ones for use with family, and not with guests. Serving platters and side dishes, rice ready for meat laid on top. It’s all prepared, set under seals to keep it warm and fresh.

Kakashi thinks Sukea has been putting off going downstairs.

(… He hasn’t objected. He’s nervous, too.)

But they’re doing it tonight, so Sukea leads the way into the pantry, to the hidden door with the seals carved into it, and opens the way with a pulse of chakra. It’s supposed to just open for Hatake, but they did just adopt him into the clan. Kakashi doesn’t insist.

They head down the narrow stairway, pulsing lightning chakra into the walls. This room predates electricity, and no contractors would ever be allowed down here to install any, even before the Hatake name was mud. So these wires are made to take chakra and glow, instead.

Kakashi has been in this room before, though not often. It’s the only memory he really has of his mother.

It still feels … unsettling.

Everything is prepared here, too. There’s a stand in front of the bookshelf to the left, a handwritten list of steps and prayers only supposed to be spoken.

The knives are laid out on the other side, gleaming sharp and white chakra steel, made to cut through bone and sinew like butter. There’s ovens and smokers and an icebox down here, too, but that’s not what they’re here for.

In the center is the block. It’s bare, polished wood, cut marks only mostly sanded and oiled away, with a blood channel carved deep in the edges to gather at the slightly lowered end. It’s the size of a large man, just the right height for an adult to work on.

A single scroll lays on it, with dried bloody fingerprints around it.. Kakashi swallows. All he smells is old blood, no matter how the room’s been cleaned. That’s—

His father is in that scroll.

Sukea moves again. Kakashi hadn’t noticed him stopping.

Kakashi can’t help but gasp, just a little bit, as his—no, it’s not his father it’s his father’s body, cold and bloody and empty—bursts from the seal under his uncle’s hands.

His father is dead. This is his body, and it will never be him again. Kakashi reaches for Sukea as the body flops, the  bloody wound through his gut pulling open around the saber that’s still embedded in it. He doesn’t know what he wants.

He gets Sukea’s hand on his shoulder. It’s shaking, and Sukea grips too tightly, but it’s real, and warm, and alive.

A sob bursts out of him, loud in the silence of the room— but there’s nobody there but Sukea, and this room is sealed and warded against sound coming in or out, so nobody will hear him wail into Sukea’s side as Sukea pulls his father’s saber out of his body and puts it to the side. He’s being a horrible shinobi right now, but this is a clan funeral, so clan laws apply instead. Right? Besides, Sukea might be crying, too. He’s certainly shaking, but—Kakashi doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to know.

Sukea arranges Dad’s limbs onto the plinth, closes his eyes, and starts the first prayer. His voice is unsteady, and he’s reading from the books to the side, but Kakashi joins in when the sobs subside enough for him to choke out some of the words, reading along. It’s the first one. The first goodbye. (The prayer book is in his father’s handwriting. Sukea reads it just as closely as Kakashi.)

Kakashi has watched his father butcher kills before, down in this room. Dad had him sit on the counter to watch him process the spoils of war. Close enough to see when he pointed to this organ or that muscle, but far enough that no blood got on him. Sometimes Dad had even laughed.

It took longer for his mother, his father chanting prayers and carving off every bit of flesh to cook, to carry with him. That had been when his laughter began to run dry, Kakashi thinks.

Now that man is on the plinth himself, under the shaking hands of a man he only met a few months ago. Kakashi stands on a stool, not the counter. He chokes on the scent of death, but he still watches and helps and covers his hands in blood.

Sukea’s process is deliberate and careful. He doesn’t speak, flashing chakra over butcher’s knives before making any cuts. He slices through flesh and bone; makes a tiny grunt of effort as the ribcage finally gives way with a snap.

Dad’s heart is lying there, between his lungs. Sukea hands him the curved knife.

“It’s yours. He’s your father. You–” Sukea’s voice cracks. Kakashi swallows the lump in his throat.

“I know how, Uncle.”

Kakashi takes the knife in both hands, leans over the body that smells of meat, not ozone and dog fur and home. He tries to charge the knife, push chakra into it. Sparks fizzle and die. The handle is too big, sized for an adult, and he can't focus. Sukea puts a hand on his shoulder, and squeezes once, too tightly.

Even without chakra, the blade is razor sharp. Veins and arteries are no obstacle as he places the knife carefully to one side, and lifts the heart. Blood drips sluggishly through his fingers. It's cold and sticky and making a mess. The feeling will live in his nightmares. He can’t put it down.

Sukea silently holds out the red and gold bowl for him.

Kakashi says the prayer, guiltily glancing to the notes in his father’s handwriting along with Sukea. Both of their hands leave bloody smears. Neither of them can clean them until it’s time to cook.

(Last time, Kakashi held the bowl as his father held the heart. He vividly remembers focusing so hard on not dropping it, and the shock when he looked up and saw his father crying.)

Kakashi tries to breathe around the tears to finish the heart prayer.

They move on to the other organs, careful not to puncture the digestive tract as they remove the liver, the lungs, all the other bits of offal. For this, Kakashi simply holds things out of the way and hands knives and reads prayers—careful not to smudge the ink with blood. (It only mostly works.) Sukea does most of the cutting, the careful slicing of belly meat into strips to be laid on the block in neat rows.

Finally the other organs are out of the way, and Sukea hands Kakashi the knife again.

“The chakra coils. There, and there.”

Kakashi just nods. He knows where the chakra coils are, he’s not a child, but the protest dies in his throat. He looks at the coils instead, curled up as they are against the kidneys. They’re small organs, for what they do, and most chakra isn’t actually kept in a physical location. But enough of it is for this.

They come out easily enough, only blood vessels physically tying them to the rest of the body. They’re… strangely squishy, spongy but with an almost waxy skin, and for a moment they smell more like ozone than meat.

Their bowl is white and gold.

With the significant organs removed and in their places, Kakashi’s part is done. His hands remain bloody but hold no more knives as Sukea forges onward. For a funeral feast, every part of the body is harvested. Enemies have most of it thrown away.

Sukea works his way down, around, and through all of the lean muscle Dad has—had, the muscles that carried the White Fang through the forests and the ones that picked Kakashi up and—

Kakashi is crying again. He smears blood on his face rubbing at his eyes. Sukea doesn’t stop him.

They have pounds and pounds of meat when Sukea stops. The body on the plinth is gone. Eyes in one bowl. Cheeks with the belly meat. Tongue in its own bowl, just as small as the eyes. The bones are taken for broth and marrow. Skin and teeth, intestines and brain, none safe or enjoyable or holy to eat.

“We can bury them later. For now, we…” Sukea trails off.

“We cook the meat upstairs.”

Sukea nods, exhaling the words of the final butchering prayer with relief. Kakashi takes the bowls with the heart and coils carefully up the stairs, unwilling to spill even a drop of blood. Sukea prays again before taking the other platters up behind him.

Upstairs, in the kitchen they use to feed themselves, with all the green-lined dishes guests eat off firmly locked away, they prepare the first stages of the feast. Dad’s favorite meal was deer heart, fried in fat and salt, laid over rice, and eaten with egg. You always make the deceased into their favorite food. (Kakashi knows his mother’s favorite meal. He doesn’t remember what she looked like.)

If there were enough Hatake and Senkokuro here, it would all be eaten in a grand feast. With only the two of them, they’ll eat it slowly over the next weeks. But the heart and coils are part of the funeral.

Kakashi watches closely as Sukea slices the coils thinly, chakra sparking along the blade. Their interior is wobbly like flan, “skin” prone to splitting. Sukea’s chakra keeps the blades sharp and the slices thin. They boil them in a low pan with lots and lots of salt.

“Chakra coils are poisonous to most people, and to us, too, if we–”

“Don’t boil or salt them enough, I know.”

“You do know, I’m sorry. The first time I cooked chakra coils alone, I—I almost got sick. So, I just… wanted to make sure. Salt until it’s crusting over–”

“And then add twice as much, I know, Uncle.” Kakashi rolls his eyes, grateful beyond words for the hint of normality. “… But won’t it just taste like salt if we add that much?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to taste them. We eat them for other reasons. That said, I think we should only eat one.”

“Don’t you need one?” Kakashi frowns suspiciously. Uncle Sukea’s better placed to take up the White Fang’s legacy right now. Kakashi can, of course, but he’s still an Academy student.

“I… don’t need to become more Hatake than I already am. And you might want to adopt someone else. We can keep it in reserve, the seals are good enough.” Uncle Sukea sounds reasonable. That’s how Kakashi knows he’s hiding something.

“… Fine.”

Senkokuro are always weird about getting tied down, even though his uncle has stuck around for months. For all his talk about adoptions, he’s probably antsy about getting involved in clan politics, or worse, village ones.

Sukea transfers the wobbling slices to the bubbling pan and covers it.

Kakashi slices the heart into strips, preparing the simpler dish. This is supposed to be the core of his dad, the part that holds lightning and his soul or… something.

It still just smells like meat. The only difference is that this time, it’s cooking.

They sit. Two places, two shinobi, and far too much meat between them. They pray.

Kakashi eats with his mask down.

Sukea tries to give most of the heart to Kakashi, but Kakashi doesn’t let him, putting pieces on his plate instead. Sukea tries again and Kakashi glares. They're both here to honor his father. To take his chakra with them, into the future. To take his strength, and his power, and everything he left behind.

(Kakashi would rather have his father.)

The hour after the heart is eaten is supposed to be full of stories. Stories of the deceased and what they meant to the storytellers, to rememeber the good times and the bad, because life is made of both.

Kakashi and Sukea don't have anything to say.

They wait for an hour anyway. Tradition is important.

Fully cooked chakra coils are nearly translucent. Sukea won't let Kakashi give him more than a few slivers of the one they're eating tonight.

“He’s yours, Kakashi. More than mine.”

(The texture is… deeply unpleasant. It’s only mostly covered by the dance of lightning on his tongue.)

(If Dad hadn’t taught him the meditation to manage the danger—and extremely, extremely acquired taste—before he could remember learning, he wouldn’t be able to choke it down.)

When they’re done, full to bursting with meat and Dad’s favorite vegetables, they kneel to pray.

“The life sinks into the chakra. The chakra sinks into the coils. The coils sink into the stomach. The stomach sinks into the blood…”

Now, finally, finally, it doesn’t just feel like meat.

This feels like his father, tall and strong and sparking. Winding through him, deeply wounded, the presence that Kakashi remembers. It feels like him, sparking and swirling in his belly as his own lightning curls around it and drags it into himself.

They stay kneeling even after they finish the prayer.

Kakashi savors every moment he has with his father’s chakra before it becomes indistinguishable from his own.

Chapter Text

“Rin!” Obito waves. "Your uncle Sukea's here to see you! Sorry I'm late!"

Rin looks up to see Obito running up, as expected, with a tall grey-haired Nohara she doesn't recognize trailing behind him. That’s not weird by itself, a lot of Nohara spend all their time in the hospital. What’s weird is that Rin doesn't actually have any direct uncles, much less any named Sukea. Surely one parent would have mentioned a brother at some point during her entire life, right?

"Ah- hello?"

Kakashi scoffs. "What are you doing here?"

Rin gasps. "Kakashi! Don't be rude, Obito's-"

"I'm not talking to him."

"Maa, Kakashi, so hostile to your old uncle! I was just doing some shopping over in the Uchiha district,” what? Nohara aren’t allowed in the Uchiha district! “and this fine young man helped me to work out all the best deals!”

“Why were you in the Uchiha district,” Kakashi says flatly.

"You're BAKASHI'S UNCLE??!" says Obito, much more loudly. "No way! Then why—whu—you’re way too cool to be related to him! You’re actually nice!”

Minato-sensei buries his head in his hands. Rin flushes with secondhand embarrassment. Kakashi kicks Obito in the shins, and goes right back to glaring at his uncle.

Why does his uncle have Nohara tattoos, actually? The Nohara markings started out as a punishment for bloodline theft—were a condition of entering the village, in fact, exchanged for amnesty for thefts committed prior to Konoha, and sharing all their medical knowledge with the Senju hospital—so it's not like she can just ask about the tattoos.

“Then how come you've got the tattoos?” asks Obito, still sputtering.

“Ahh, well,” Sukea says, scratching at one of the lines on his face. “I knew a Nohara once and kind of very nearly sort of got married, but only a little bit.”

What.

“What," says Kakashi.

“What?” asks Minato. “Is… is that how that works? Do Nohara do that?”

“No,” says Sukea, and smiles cheerfully.

They all wait for him to continue. He does not. He… probably didn’t get them by joining the Nohara, Rin concludes uncomfortably. If they’re over the eyes… dōjutsu theft, definitely.

Kakashi rolls his eyes. “He’s always like this. I hate him.”

“Maa, Kakashi, that’s a little harsh, don’t you think? I do need to sleep sometimes.”

"Okay, you've bothered us, you can go away now," Kakashi snaps.

"Ah! No, no I can't, you still need your breakfast, Kakashi!" Sukea roots around in his bag and produces a bento box.

“Fuck off, I have ration bars.”

“That’s the depression talking,” Sukea chirps in an incredibly irritating sing-song. So much about Kakashi is suddenly making sense.

“As much as he'd like you to believe he's a perfect and unfeeling shinobi, he is just a puppy, really,” Sukea stage whispers to Minato. “He needs his treats.”

Kakashi—snarls at his uncle? Actually snarls, like a dog, and Sukea snarls back, baring too-sharp teeth before deliberately reining himself in and scrubbing a hand through Kakashi’s hair. Kakashi yanks his mask down and sinks his teeth into Sukea’s wrist; Sukea scruffs Kakashi like the puppy he called him, dangling him in midair heedless of his bleeding arm.

So much about Kakashi is suddenly making sense.

“Now eat, so you can go play with Gai during your lunch break instead of eating with your teammates.”

“It is not playing with Gai, he’s annoying and demands to spar. Stop telling him where I am,” Kakashi grumbles, folding his arms.

“Exposure to Gai is good for you! It’s building character.”

“Fuck off.”

“I've got an extra bento if you want it, Kakashi?” Rin has definitely not been bringing an extra bento almost every single day to try and figure out what Kakashi will actually accept. “It's got rabbit this time?” He didn’t accept the deer stew, or the koi sushi, or the teriyaki chicken, or the rice ball, or the karaage, or the ramen, or the salmon sushi, or the omelet, or the miso, but maybe this is the time—

Kakashi wriggles free, snatches the bento from Sukea’s other hand, and stalks up the nearest tree without looking at her. Rin deflates. She still doesn’t know what she’s doing wrong. She’s trying to do something nice! It’s not that she looks down on him or anything, she just– she–

“I’ll eat it, Rin,” Obito says loyally, despite hating rabbit. “I’m sure anything you make is delicious and someone would need to be a real asshole not to even try it once before deciding he’s too good for it.”

Minato visibly counts to ten, stilling his chakra. Twice. He’s getting a lot better at it the more this happens. “Obito, please talk nicely about Kakashi. He doesn’t need to accept gifts, that doesn’t make him ungrateful.”

“I worked really hard on it, though,” Rin defends Obito. “He just doesn’t want my effort to be wasted, it’s not all about yelling at Kakashi!”

Sukea raises his eyebrows. “A home-cooked meal, specifically for him? How forward of you, Miss Rin.”

“Forward? He never has food, I just wanted him to have something. It’s not fair if me and Obito have lunch and he’s eating a ration bar!”

Sukea shrugs fluidly. “Food is for family. Reciprocating would be… ah, let’s go with facepaint.”

Obito starts sputtering again on her behalf. “It’s not– she wasn’t– what are you even saying? What’s facepaint got to do with Bakashi being rude?”

Rin wants the earth to swallow her whole.

(She's pretty sure Kakashi is learning the jutsu for that, actually. She's not quite got the hang of earth chakra transmutation well enough for Minato-sensei to trust she won't drown. But right now, drowning is a plus.)

Facepaint? She didn’t mean to demand to court Kakashi! She just wanted– she’s crushing, a little bit, but Kakashi’s just so cool and handsome and mysterious, she didn’t mean to propose marriage! Of course he’s been ignoring her, if offering food is like facepaint, it’s not something you do with someone unless you’re absolutely sure—she’s been offering him food at the same time as asking to get to know him better, that’s—

“Why are you both acting like this makes Rin a pervert or something?” Obito carries on, entirely missing the point.

“No, no, it's- it's okay, Obito! I- uhm. I just- would a store bought one be better?” She still wants to be nice! Just not so… demanding…

Sukea actually pauses to think, theatrically tilting his head. “Maa, a bit… if you bring enough for the whole team, or ordering at a restaurant together, those are… less intimate. More appropriate for a teammate, as opposed to… linking chakra systems during a surgery.

“Linking chakra systems? You mean with the Nohara clan secret jutsu?” Rin’s voice gets squeaky with shock. That's a technique reserved for truly desperate situations, bloodline theft/organ failure, and elopements.

“Aa,” says Sukea, and shrugs, but his eyes are wide. “She didn’t mention they were clan secrets at the time.”

Kind of very nearly sort of married, Rin’s ass. Whatever Nohara Sukea knew, they must have loved him with their whole heart.

Minato looks mystified (sometimes, Rin almost forgets he's got no clan, and then sometimes he asks why she can’t walk Obito home…) while Obito just squints at them suspiciously.

The empty bento box comes flying out of the tree to clock Sukea on the head. Sukea doesn't dodge, so much as… isn't where it's thrown, despite Kakashi having incredible aim.

“I've eaten. Will you leave now? Unlike some people, we actually have training.”

“I could have training,” Sukea protests. “You don’t know that I don’t have training. I could be doing anything while you’re here.”

“You sit in a tree and read porn,” Kakashi snaps from up a tree.

“But I could be doing anything.”

Minato takes a deep breath in, and out. And in. And out. He smiles cheerfully. “Thank you for delivering Kakashi’s lunch, Sukea! I think. We shouldn’t hold you up, we’ll get back to team training now!”

Sukea looks… weird, for a moment, before he smiles again. “Of course, Minato. Any time.”

Kakashi rolls his eyes and determinedly doesn't look as Sukea saunters off, slow as a turtle summoner.

“Bakashi’s related to that?” Obito stage whispers, which begins the day’s first “impromptu spar,” as Minato-sensei has started calling them.

Chapter Text

Bigger Boss comes home from his latest mission to Pakkun curled up in Little Boss's lap while they wait for him. Ozone, soil, grief and—

Someone Else!

Pakkun immediately jumps to a defensive position in front of Little Boss. Even if they smell like the ozone and soil of Hatake as well as fresh blood and tears, they are Not supposed to be here.

Bigger Boss doesn't seem nearly concerned enough about the intruder, letting the older stranger follow him in and take his shoes off without so much as a growl. Pakkun disapproves. He barks sharply, once, to alert Little Boss to the Intruder.

“Ah, hello Pakkun,” the Intruder greets, politely offering his knuckles to sniff. Pakkun growls.

“How did you know his name?” Little Boss asks.

“You named your pug “pug-kun?”” the Intruder asks, amusement curling around his voice. “That’s adorable.”

Little Boss turns to Bigger Boss. “Can he stay somewhere else?”

Bigger Boss covers his face with his hands, and the Intruder cackles. Grief spikes through his scent, though, and Pakkun doesn’t know what to do. It’s bad when people smell like that. Bigger Boss smells like that sometimes (all the time) and it’s not good.

“Kakashi!” Bigger Boss yelps. “This is Sukea, he’s a guest, we’re not kicking him out. I apologise for my son, he’s… had a hard time lately.”

Boo. Little Boss is only having a hard time because Bigger Boss is having one. And turning down Pakkun’s offer to touch his wonderfully soft paws. Maybe if—

The Intruder scritches Pakkun, absently, like he’s forgotten Pakkun growled at him, and Pakkun instantly forgives him his Intruder Crimes. His hands are calloused and good at scritches. Really good at scritches. Maybe he could teach Little Boss how to do this? He’s getting at spots Pakkun didn’t know he had.

"Maa, kicking me out already? And here I thought I could rely on Hatake hospitality, so long as I brought some dinner." Intruder seems calmer than he was before. Pakkun is doing fantastic at this comforting lap-dog thing. Little Boss always calms right down when Pakkun flops over his hands. Good to know the same thing happens with Intruder. Anything to keep these scritches coming.

"Which we appreciate very much. You don’t need to go, I’ll– talk with Kakashi."

"It's even lightning! You like lightning, right, kid?"

Little Boss levels Intruder with an unimpressed stare. Out of loyalty to Little Boss, Pakkun joins in, and then gets immediately distracted when Intruder scritches him again. He’s an expert.

“Traitor,” Little Boss mutters under his breath. Pakkun whines piteously, tucking his tail between his legs.

“Aw, you can’t say that. Come pet him to make up for it,” the Intruder says, scooping Pakkun up in one hand and offering him to Little Boss.

Little Boss, gratifyingly, runs over to ‘rescue’ him from the expert hands of an experienced petter. Pakkun licks his face in apology.

"We've got to work on your interrogation resistance," Little Boss grumbles. “One treat and you’d spill everything.”

Treat? There’s treats involved in interrogation?

“You’ve done it now,” Bigger Boss says wryly. “Better stock up on treats, ‘Kashi.”

Damn, Pakkun wishes he could talk. Little Boss would crack under one polite request. Bigger Boss keeps all the treats tied up and Pakkun isn’t good enough at chakra manipulation to get them without opposable thumbs yet, so he and Little Boss have to do heists while Bigger Boss is home. Being able to talk would get Little Boss on board so much faster.

Little Boss’s tummy rumbles. He turns red. Bigger Boss and the Problem chuckle, even though Little Boss is only hungry because they trained through lunch and then had to wait for Bigger Boss and now he comes in late with the Intruder.

"I'll go get dinner ready while you negotiate, and we'll see if my cooking's good enough to keep me from sleeping on the roof. Downstairs through the pantry, right?"

“We wouldn’t make you sleep on the–” Bigger Boss begins, glances at Little Boss, and gives up. “That would be great, cousin, thank you.”

The Intruder disappears deeper into the house and doesn't even make a wrong turn. Pakkun dislikes how easily his scent mingles. It’s like part of him has always been here.

Little Boss cuddles Pakkun to his chest and glares at Bigger Boss balefully. Bigger Boss sighs.

“I really think you could get along with him. He’s… not going to stay for long, though.”

“So he’s ANBU,” Little Boss concludes. “He needs to pretend we’re related and then fuck off again and go die.”

“Kakashi! Who taught you that?”

"Even the civilians know that much. Why's he got to be here?"

"That's not- he's not actually from Konoha. He'll be leaving again soon."

Little Boss squints at Bigger Boss. Pakkun does too, out of solidarity.

"So he's a missing nin? Why would you let one of those in?" See!! Pakkun knew the Intruder was bad news!

"No! No, he's not - he's not any of those, he's a family member who's passing through. That's all." Bigger Boss sighs and sits down on the futon, patting the space next to him. "Come here, I'll explain."

Little Boss clambers up beside him. Pakkun ends up almost squished between them, but escapes with agility appropriate for a ninken.

“A long, long time ago, there was a farmer,” Bigger Boss begins in the ritual tones of someone telling a story they grew up hearing.

“This had better not be the stupid rabbit story,” Little Boss mutters.

“This is the cool rabbit story, don't worry," Bigger Boss consoles. Little Boss does not look consoled. Pakkun flops over his hands.

"As I was saying. Long ago, there was a farmer, who had a son and a daughter. One night, the farmer was out hunting, and saw a beautiful-"

"White rabbit, yes, I know, this is the stupid rabbit story."

Bigger Boss covers his face with his hands. “Kakashi, work with me here. It will make sense, I promise.”

Little Boss huffs, but Pakkun wants to hear. He wriggles upright and places one paw gently over Little Boss’s mouth.

A long, long time ago, there was a farmer, and the farmer had a son and a daughter. One night, the farmer went out hunting, and saw a beautiful white rabbit. The farmer knew that they had never and would never see such a wonderful rabbit again, whose pelt glowed with moonlight. For one night and one night only, the moon came down to earth. The rabbit fled, and the farmer chased, through forests and hills and rivers, until neither could run any further, for the farmer was friends with the wolves, and called on them to prevent the rabbit from going to ground. As the sun was rising, the rabbit collapsed, and the farmer’s arrow pierced its eye.

The farmer shared the rabbit’s guts with the wolves, for it was only fair they share the reward as they had shared in the work, and cleaned it. The farmer had intended to share the rabbit with their children, but the farmer’s hunger grew too great to ignore, and they cooked and ate the rabbit where it fell in the light of morning. Their hair turned silver as the moon, their eyes glowed yellow as the sun, and their chakra roiled and tore at their insides. Rejuvinated, they ran back through rivers and hills and forests, and with every step they knew their time was near.

The farmer wanted to share the meal with their children, even so. They came home, stumbling to the door, changed and weak but glowing from within.

"I am dying," the farmer told their children, "for I killed and ate the moon."

They told their children of the white rabbit, of the hunt, of the taste of power and the sickness in their coils.

"You should share it," they said. "The rabbit’s chakra burns me, who ate alone in morning, but between you, it will make you strong. When I am dead, take me apart and eat me in the moonlight together."

The brother and sister wept over their dying parent, but agreed to their last wish. The meat was salted with tears, and it was many hours before the children could finish their task. The son took one chakra coil, the daughter the other. The farmer’s heart they split in twain, for both knew the farmer loved them equally. This was the first funeral feast, and it is where all Hatake and Senkokuro funeral feasts may be traced to.

This would be a good place to end the story. This is where I often end the story. But this is not where the story ends.

The next day, the son and the daughter heard a knock on their door. A shadow had come, with yellow eyes.

“We have heard,” said the shadow, “that you have done the unthinkable, and eaten your parent instead of burying them. How do you plead to this crime?”

The son was honorable, and knew he could not lie."Yes," he said, "I ate them, as they asked."

The daughter did not say anything.

The shadow yelped and growled and pointed at the son. "You will never escape your deeds. You and all your descendants, your hair shall be a beacon, never–”

But the shadow could not continue, for the daughter had stabbed it in the back. “Come, brother,” she said. “Let us feast upon our enemy as we feasted upon our parent. Let us take their strength into us and claim it as our own.”

“You lied,” said the son, his hair bleached silver. And it will never dye again, and that is why our hair is silver to this day, my child.

“I did not lie,” said the daughter, and her eyes gleamed yellow. And they will never shift again, and that is why our cousin’s eyes are golden, my child. “If the shadow thought silence was an answer, that is not my deception.”

And so the son and the daughter ate again, but they were full from their parent, and this time took only the chakra coils and the muscle meat, and left the heart to rot.

“We must leave,” said the son, wiping his mouth. “This was the first of many. One day we will not be able to fight them off.”

“They will be searching for our parent’s children,” the daughter agreed. And so they gathered all their belongings, and split the remaining meat between them, and went their separate ways. The son traveled to the land of Iron, and met a wolfpack there, and shared the meat with them, and the wolves pledged to help the son and all his descendants. The daughter traveled, and traveled, and never stopped traveling, luring coyotes closer with her share of meat and bribing them for their help, and taught the tricks to all her descendants.

And so the Hatake come from the son, with the wolves and the honor, but we cannot forget our Senkokuro cousins from the daughter, who live wild and will have no home for as long as home means a collar.

Little Boss sits with his arms crossed. The effect is somewhat ruined by him needing to support Pakkun, leaning forward to hear more of the story.

"So… Sukea’s one of those cousins? Not- not an actual cousin."

Bigger Boss winces. “Cousin clans, ‘Kashi. Like… Um. Ah. The… the… Hyūga having a Main line and a Branch line? If they didn’t hate each other?”

Little Boss huffs. “Fine. I guess he can stay.”

“He’ll know a lot of cool jutsu from wandering around for so long,” Bigger Boss says, pretending not to notice Little Boss alert.

"Food's ready!" the Intruder— who might be a cousin, but is definitely still intruding!— calls from the kitchen. Pakkun startles. How did he get there? Pakkun’s a tracking ninken, he should notice!

“Maybe he’ll teach us how to do that,” Little Boss murmurs comfortingly. Pakkun nods seriously.

Dinner is good, for all that it's unsettling how easily the Intruder found the correct plates. Four plates of veggies and rice and meat—Pakkun gets one all his own!

Okay. Maybe the food and the scritches and the way he almost made Bigger Boss laugh and how he's not looking at Little Boss while he's eating gets him the designation of Cousin Intruder.

Chapter Text

Senkokuro Sukea watches Jiraiya with a look in his eye that seems more like a rival kage than a rogue shinobi petitioning to join the village.

Jiraiya doesn't know what, exactly, the man promised or cajoled or threatened Sarutobi-sensei with to be allowed a genin citizenship if Jiraiya sealed his chakra away, but he doesn't trust him as far as a tadpole can throw him. Sukea’s too smug watching Jiraiya handle a brush. It’s enough to make him wonder whether Sensei thinks he won or lost the argument.

"The Hokage and I came to a mutually beneficial agreement," Sukea offers smoothly. Too smoothly, really, but Jiraiya heard the orders and saw the scroll himself, so… here he is. Doing a live trial of a long-term chakra suppressing seal that isn’t meant to drive the recipient insane or permanently incapacitate them with chakra exhaustion (which drives the recipient insane) the way all the other ones do, but still has to prevent jutsu.

He is excited at the scientific possibility, honestly. If Orochimaru were here, he’d be equally excited in that weird way he gets, hissing his words and forgetting Sukea was even there until he had to explain how each step of the sealing process felt for future endeavors. If Tsunade were here, she would punch Jiraiya through the wall without bothering to look at the array.

Your teammates are otherwise occupied, Jiraiya, Sensei had said. I need you for this, Sensei had said. Do your duty by your village, Sensei had said. What choice had Jiraiya had?

Sukea is watching him the way Sensei’s old teammate Danzō does sometimes. Like he’s seeing someone else, and isn’t sure if Jiraiya is better or worse—and which of those options is worse.

Prick.

“If the seals get damaged once they’re on, they could burn out your tenkenetsu permanently,” he says blithely, in case Sukea was thinking of that.

"And summon a hopping mad Toad Sage at high speed, I expect,” Sukea says, and damnit, Jiraiya didn’t want to like him.

“Alright!” He claps his hands together. The array looks terrifying, even though all of the scary parts most shinobi recognise are actually about preventing the seals from killing or torturing their recipient. Sukea doesn’t seem to even have a passing knowledge of seals, glancing over several limiters that explain how he’ll stay functional and alive without being able to produce jutsu with no signs of comprehension. There’s no way he knows enough about seals to read more than “limits chakra” and “no jutsu” at most, Jiraiya hasn’t even taught Minato about looping inhibitors yet.

Having your chakra sealed like this is most ninja’s worst nightmare. Jiraiya only began looking into it at Sensei’s request to safely detain prisoners, and even then, said prisoners spend half the time hysterically sobbing. It was the promise of getting his hands on the Caged Bird Seal that actually got him to agree. And this Senkokuro—where’s he heard that name before?—seems perfectly happy with the outcome of having his chakra forcibly suppressed unless and until Jiraiya takes the seals off again.

For all his ignorance, though, Sukea steps exactly where Jiraiya was going to point as he makes his way to the center. Seeing his lazy confidence, Jiraiya can’t shake the kage thought, but there’s absolutely nowhere he could be from. Unless he’s a spy from another village, but this is a horrendously stupid plan for any calibre ninja. What village would waste such a powerful ninja on… whatever the hell he's doing here?

“This is gonna shut your tenkenetsu down. No jutsu, no henge, no camouflage. These won’t come off unless I take them off and I can’t do that until the next blue moon at least—getting inks is expensive, you know!” Sukea might baulk at having it spelt out. Jiraiya runs a spy network, he knows damn well there’s things most people simply won’t do, and Sukea doesn’t have the cold focus of a fanatic. Whatever he’s here for, it probably isn’t worth it. It really should not be worth it.

Sukea simply nods, and holds out his wrist for Jiraiya to measure his chakra levels. Getting a glimpse of Jiraiya’s seal-work back to his village, maybe?

Or maybe it really is because Sakumo is dead, and his kid was going to be alone unless someone stepped up, and apparently the only one to do that was a kage-level roaming cannibalistic “rogue shinobi” who’s probably a Kumo spy.

"I expect nothing less from a seals master," he says, with that same plausibly-deniable smug smile. Ah, well. Getting caught as a spy now means he gets sealed anyway and then interrogated, so Jiraiya understands.

Sukea has… a lot of chakra, actually. A lot more than expected. He's no Tsunade, he can't tell how that happened, but… hm. He might need to increase the capacitance loops for the limiters. Was there nobody more disposable to send?

Rival kage, huh. His subconscious has been shrieking at him from the moment he saw those yellow eyes. Where has he heard Senkokuro before? It's not a major Village clan. Maybe somewhere around Kumogakure? They’ve always collected power, regardless of clan—or clan territories.

Sukea watches Jiraiya make his edits just as quietly as he's watched everything else. Jiraiya fills the silence with meaningless chatter, going on about the places he’s seen, the girls he’s seen there, knowing enough talk about their chests will mean Sukea doesn’t wonder why a loyal Konoha shinobi was all the way in Ame.

The only thing that gets Sukea to do more than nod along placidly is mentioning the book he’s writing.

"Oh, you're an author, then? What's your latest?"

"Haven't you heard of me? Alright, so I’m not exactly published yet, but I will be! …Just as soon as I figure out what to call it.” Naruto the Gutsy Shinobi just doesn’t flow.

Somehow this, of all things, is what makes Sukea look bereft. Not the chakra sealing, not the being stuck in a village, or even having to deal with Kakashi of all children (if Kakashi counts as a child. Jiraiya’s not certain.) That doesn't faze him. But hearing about Jiraiya's publishing deal makes his entire body droop pathetically.

"What!? It's a perfectly good book!" Jiraiya defends himself urgently.

"Maa, I know, I know. Just …" Sukea gazes to the ceiling longingly. "Have you ever thought about romance novels? They sell really well… "

Jiraiya widens his eyes. “Oh! And that would require… research…” He giggles to disguise how much of a good idea that actually is. If he’s writing romance novels, nobody will check them for codes! If he gets even more of a reputation as a pervert, nobody will think he’s spying! They’ll just yell at him and think he got the wrong room! He can get proof Kumo's still making incursions into Hot Springs and nobody's going to notice.

Sukea is a genius.

Sukea calmly waits out the giggle-fit with all the same aplomb that he walked into the room with, and barely takes a steadying breath as the seals are painted: both hands, both feet, and one on the back of his neck to make sure.

He does react when it takes hold, though. Jiraiya can see the concealed shudder, even through the loose coat. So he does have normal ninja instincts.

Why the fuck is he here? If Kakashi means that much to him—doubtful—why wasn’t he here before?

"You'll walk me back home, correct?" Sukea asks, when the blinding light of the seal has subsided. He's fidgeting his hands halfway into now-useless hand signs in his coat sleeves, like he's only nervous now that it's happened. "I don't want my kid to overreact."

Oh, Jiraiya finally remembers where he heard Senkokuro before. The cannibal cousin clan of the Hatake. The Gold and Silver Brothers were a Hatake-Senkokuro duo, weren’t they? And there’s that one old S-ranker, Kusabi? Kazuma? Something unimportant. Hatake and Senkokuro both scattered all over (Kumogakure got most of them, the bastards) but they mingle like one clan, despite insisting they’re “cousins.” A Senkokuro adopting a Hatake kid sounds more normal than either of them adopting a civilian kid.

"Sure, sure. Let's go, then."

"Kakashi! I'm back!" Sukea calls in a sing-song voice.

Kakashi zips out of the house like a water bullet, and Jiraiya can see real panic in his face when he bowls into Sukea and brings him to the floor. Sukea didn't drop like a sack of bricks, but he dropped like a civilian, which is about as useful.

"Uncle Sukea? What's- what's wrong with you?” Kakashi whips around to focus on Jiraiya. He’s got an impressive glare for a titchy thing. “What did you do to him!? He's not got any chakra!"

"Hey, hey, ‘Kashi, it's okay! I agreed to this!" Sukea protests in defense from underneath his… nephew? Child? Clan head???

“Why?” Kakashi’s voice cracks. “You could– you could do anything, go anywhere, see anything! Now you have to stay here, why– why would you– I’m not strong enough to protect you yet!”

"Hey, now, who said anything about that?" Sukea sits up, still plenty able to move despite Kakashi on top of him. The seals don’t restrict his muscles, because that’s the way you drive people completely insane and/or kill them. "I'm staying here because I want to. I’m an old shinobi, pup, I’ve had all my adventures. All my friends are dead already. So what’s chakra compared to being here when you need me?”

Kakashi does his best to look unaffected, but sniffles mightily anyway. This is why Jiraiya doesn’t want kids. Students was enough.

"But you're not cool anymore."

Sukea chuckles at that, grabbing Kakashi close and messing up his hair. "So rude to your dear old uncle, ‘Kashi!" Kakashi squirms out of his grip and fixes Jiraiya with a baleful stare.

Jiraiya's not going to stick around. No knives are being involved, his responsibility is done, he can leave this viscerally uncomfortable scene of an adult choosing to come back for a kid in need even when it’s hard and hurts and the kid could’ve handled it alone.

The gate shuts behind him as Kakashi drags his uncle back inside.

Konoha's the nice village. At least he's being allowed to stay. Clans look after clans, and orphans make do; Sukea’s old enough to remember the villages being new. A missing nin (that Jiraiya can’t find any records of) living with Kakashi can’t really make him worse, he’s already a fucked up little freak in the first place.

Jiraiya’s not holding out a lot of hope it’ll make him better, but it won’t make him worse. Who knows, the kid might even survive puberty.

Chapter Text

Kinoe has not forgotten fear. He’d thought he had, for awhile; then he’d learned Danzō-sama never means it when he says he wants his agents to forget terror, but he does mean he wants them to forget the fear of anyone but him. Danzō-sama had told them to tear out the canker in their hearts, that emotions lead to hate and hate led to war, that fear led to sloppy work and escalation of conflict. Kinoe had tried to bury it.

Kinoe is learning he has failed utterly while he sits, bound and helpless, at the dining table in the Hatake estate while his target bustles around the kitchen making soup. Danzō-sama had assigned him a simple assassination mission, to stop the information leak Hiruzen-sama had stupidly welcomed in from weakening Konoha.

The intel indicated that Senkokuro Sukea was sealed into a weak civilan state, incapable of jutsu, without enough chakra to withstand an exercise routine or a genin running into him. Kinoe only realised how obviously false that was when absolutely non-civilian strength was cracking the boards he'd created from the floor and coming directly at him.

It had gone wrong so quickly. Weevil reported Sukea getting winded by only two hundred pushups, but that doesn’t matter if Kinoe can’t manage to hit him.

Kinoe gets the feeling he's not going to be able to report back on Weevil's incompetence. The ninja wire is Uchiha quality, there's a seal paper over his mouth Kinoe is desperately trying not to panic over, and his fingers are separated and immobilized even more effectively than if they were broken.

The cannibalistic tendencies of the Senkokuro were the first part of the briefing, and Sukea is making soup. Kinoe has not forgotten terror. There wasn’t any mention of preferring still-living meat, but Kinoe supposes it would be difficult to bring that back into the village unnoticed.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Sukea says calmly. “I understand you don’t believe that yet. This is for you to eat.”

Sukea is correct. Kinoe does not believe him.

"I also can't be letting you run back to Danzō, though. He's decided to cause me trouble, and that can't be allowed."

Kinoe does believe that. But how does he know about Danzō-sama? Is this information leak more severe than anyone realized? It doesn't matter much, at this point. Kinoe won't survive to report back. It’s clear how carefully Sukea allowed them to underestimate him, and how dangerous he is. He isn’t B-rank or even A-rank, this level of competence with no jutsu places him solidly in S-rank.

There's a sound at the front gate, and Kinoe tenses uselessly against the ninja wire digging into him. He'd specifically chosen a time when Kakashi was out of the house on a team mission— it was assumed he was the most dangerous person living here. Their mistake.

“I'm home!”

“Welcome, Kakashi! We have a guest in the dining room,” Sukea chirps, blithely referring to his would-be assassin (and possible meal) as a guest. Gallingly, the confidence is founded.

Kakashi rounds the corner, sees an incapacitated ninja at the dinner table, and heaves the most world-weary sigh Kinoe has ever heard.

"What have you done now, Uncle?"

"I haven't done anything! Te- our guest here came to me, quite aggressively, too. But he's been very well behaved since we talked out our differences! He hasn’t tried to kill himself at all, even without the suicide tooth!”

Kakashi and Kinoe give him matching looks of utter skepticism. Kakashi even looks at Kinoe commiseratingly. It's strange.

"Sure. And the splintered floorboards and ninja wire you wrapped him in have nothing to do with that." Kakashi says dryly.

"I've been thinking about replacing the floor in here! You can’t insult people’s fashion choices, Kakashi, honestly. Now, go wash up and come help set the table. We're having soup."

"… Soup. With the red plates, or the green ones?" Kakashi looks at Kinoe again. "Is the meat already prepared, or…”

"Ah! No, no, he's actually a guest! He'll just be staying for a while. And we eat soup with bowls, honestly, Kakashi. It's not that hard, aren't you supposed to be a genius?"

Kakashi rolls his eyes and sighs exasperatedly. "Seriously, Uncle? Ugh.”

“Manners,” Sukea chides.

Kakashi rolls his entire face. “… Welcome to the estate, kid. He never gets any better." And with that cryptic statement, Kakashi disappears further into the house.

Kinoe is once again alone with the… madman. Highly dangerous and carefully underestimated rogue shinobi. A cook who is humming happily over the dubious pot of soup.

"Now, I'd usually give people a choice after I explain this, but unfortunately, Danzo's not going to let me. I'm going to feed you my blood, because that’s the clan adoption ritual, and I’ve decided you’re a Hatake now. Kakashi’s our clan head, good luck with that. Understand?”

Kinoe blinks. He can't really make any other movements, which Sukea seems to realize only after watching him for a few moments.

"Right. Well, welcome to the family!" Kinoe watches as Sukea pulls a bright white knife from a drawer and slices open the back of his hand. The blood shines unnaturally silver as it drips into the pot for long seconds before Sukea bandages it. "That will just need to cook a while longer while we wait for Kakashi."

Kinoe waits with trepidation as Sukea takes off his apron and comes to sit at the table. He can't even lean away as Sukea pulls the seal off of his mouth, leaving the acrid taste of ink behind.

"Now—stick out your tongue! Okay, good—let's get to know each other a little better… My name is Sukea, I like cooking, reading, and Kakashi, and I dislike evil plants, the moon, and people with plans for world domination. My dream for the future is to see all the little ninja grow up big and strong!"

Civilians are mad, shinobi are eccentric, it’s a distinction built on body count. Kinoe is rapidly increasing Sukea’s estimated toll.

If Senkokuro Sukea is nothing like his briefing, Hatake Kakashi is exactly like it. Standoffish, aggressive, a once-in-a-generation prodigy. He hasn’t shown either Kinoe or Sukea his face, and after Sukea left the room Kakashi threatened Kinoe’s life.

Finally, someone normal.

After learning about Sukea’s misranking, Kakashi’s protectiveness makes more sense; of course he doesn’t want to lose such an effective taijutsu teacher. That’s allowed. Sukea’s… corrections… are very effective, for all that Kinoe doesn’t understand how. Dumping someone into the koi pond is no consequence at all to a trained shinobi, and yet Kakashi seems to take it as actual discipline. He has the chakra control to water-walk, and yet he never does.

Sukea extending the hair ruffling (sign of affection, especially among Inuzuka; do not flinch) from Kakashi to Kinoe is even stranger. Kinoe doesn’t look for opportunities to earn one. That would be weakness, which is a flaw in a tool, and Kinoe earned his name by being first-in-class.

The quiet evenings in the library are strangely relaxing, despite it being a clan library; whenever one of the scrolls tries to electrocute Kinoe to death, Kakashi (if he’s in the house) or Sukea (if Kakashi is out) will rescue him. Kinoe finds scrolls on chakra theory, sealing theory (specifically relating to body scrolls) and lightning jutsu, most of which go far over his head even when he can make out the kanji, but Kakashi seems to have no trouble. He and Sukea sit the same, despite the wildly different reading material.

The strangest thing of all is Kakashi deciding that he has to teach Kinoe how to cook, which is a civilian skill and thus unnecessary, “because Uncle’s lazy and won’t teach you anything. I can’t let you shame the clan.”

“But this is a civilian skill,” Kinoe says. “That’s… why we have ration bars.”

Kakashi looks at him with the same expression he gives Sukea when he suggests a read-aloud. "What part of cannibal clan did you miss? We're not eating them raw. We're not Momochi."

Kinoe is never going to admit he thought they ate people raw.

The food is not a disaster, because Kakashi and Kinoe are competent ninja and can defeat any foe, especially one that is already dead. It simply requires… a change of recipe. To one that uses mince.

Sukea beams when they serve it to him anyway. Kinoe has learned how to hug from watching: Kakashi stands there stiffly until Sukea releases him, so he does the same. It is, surprisingly, an experience he would… not consider a disincentive. Strange. Kakashi clearly does. Maybe Kinoe is doing it wrong.

Kinoe has not given up on escaping this compound and returning to the one he's supposed to be in. That would make him a bad ROOT agent. He has simply recognized the futility of the task and is waiting for an opportunity.

Sukea, for all his dissembling cheerfulness, is not giving him an opportunity.

It's not like he's missed a summons, either. The seal on his tongue has stayed cold. Kinoe is either KIA, in which case he should avoid attention until he can return to Danzō-sama and is doing the right thing, or Danzō-sama knows where he is, in which case he should avoid attention until he can complete the mission and is doing the right thing.

Besides, Sukea has promised to teach Kinoe how to defeat an opponent with significantly more reach tomorrow while Kakashi’s training with his team. Kinoe has to stay for that.

Chapter Text

A hand lands on Minato’s shoulder. Minato doesn’t startle, he's a shinobi, he’s a shinobi aware of his surroundings. He does not stab his student's uncle, even if his student’s uncle richly deserves it.

“Hi, Minato!” Sukea greets him cheerfully. He sounds way too amused. This is why older shinobi don’t have any friends. As well as the… other reason.

“Thanks for coming out, Sukea," Minato says politely. “The clock in the bar must be wrong, I thought we arranged to meet at six?”

It is seven-thirty.

“Ah, I had to organise the lawn gnomes alphabetically, I’m so sorry. But I’m here now!”

Minato has a terrifying vision of an adult Obito handing in a mission report about a missing cat after being sent on an assassination, and the mission desk nin hunting Minato down for an explanation.

“Is this a sake night, a chūhai night, or are we experimenting?” Sukea asks. Minato lets his head hit the bar table.

"I've already had to buy four appetizers so they wouldn't kick me out of the booth. You're buying me shochu."

Sukea nods sympathetically and orders. “Did he bite Obito again?”

“He bit Obito four times.”

“Maa, sloppy. If you do it right the first time…”

Minato stares. “You are why he's like this!? I thought you’d help! I thought you’d calm him down!”

Sukea laughs, and laughs, and laughs. Ruefully, Minato admits it’s probably funny if you aren’t directly involved.

“He is calm! I can assure you, I was much worse.”

“They can’t go a day without fighting! They can’t go a mission without fighting! They did one d-rank without injuring each other and it was because Rin got in the way and got hurt instead, and you’re making him worse?” Minato puts his head in his hands.

Sukea shrugs cheerfully. “He’s only biting him in spars, isn’t he? So what’s the problem?”

There are so many problems.

Minato drains the shochu and puts his head on the table again.

"They hate each other, and no matter what I do, or even what Rin does, it's never going to get better." Minato sighs morosely.

Sukea drinks from his own cup—aojiru, because he doesn’t want to get drunk and refuses to get a normal tea—and gives him a more serious look.

“Maa, you never know. They’re friends, I think. My students… were… like that, too, and I never got them to reconcile, but… they went through a whole lot for each other.”

Minato winces. Sukea, surprisingly, keeps talking.

“Anything they figured out, they did themselves, in the end. I just barely kept them alive long enough to do it. It’s not your job to make them like each other, just to make sure they’re skilled. Some lessons… you can't learn by being told.”

Minato doesn’t want to know, but Sukea never gives straight answers like this. “What… happened?”

“Maa, well, I never saw them die, at least. Light maiming. They kept an arm each. But I'm… very much dead to them.”

Minato can't say he regrets asking. But he does wince again. Still. More than one of Sukea’s students made it to adulthood, and they sorted out their rivalry themselves, so maybe all of Minato’s failed attempts to get Obito and Kakashi to stop biting each other (and punching each other, and kicking each other,) aren’t a death sentence for the team!

… Maybe. Maybe it’ll be a death sentence for the team, but the three of them will all make it out. Mikoto and Teuchi both lived, so a whole genin team making it can’t be that much of a shock.

Sukea looks melancholy for a few more moments before suddenly perking up and clapping his hands. "So! How about a spar later, Minato-sensei?"

Minato rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “Ah… I’m really not supposed to…”

Sukea waves a hand dismissively. “Maa, you can just loosen the part blocking my chakra rather than taking it off entirely. Shrinking the inflow for the capacitance feedback loops should do it.”

Minato blinks. Jiraiya-sensei had told him Sukea understood… much less than that. That’s concerning!

… He's right, though, and Minato really does want to test himself against an old rogue shinobi. He must have all kinds of interesting jutsu from his travelling! They could compare notes! The shochu is absolutely kicking in and he should not do this!

“You should both know better!” Doctor Tasuki Nohara rages at them. “Someone's going to have to fix the training ground, and I have to fix your stupid bones, you inconsiderate assholes! YOU are a sensei and should know better and you are going gray and I don't know how you've survived this long!”

Minato takes solace in the fact that Sukea looks even more uncomfortable than he does. The window is bolted shut, but Minato has the Flying Thunder God Technique (variations #1 through #7,) and no hospital room can hold him.

… Minato also has a fractured collarbone, because Sukea is… a lot faster than he thought he'd be.

Not as fast as Minato, of course, he's not called the Yellow Flash for nothing, but… well, Sukea stretched and said he was rusty! Minato was going to start slow! And then there was a dog made of lightning biting him, and Sukea can do the Head Hunter Mole Jutsu faster than anyone else he's seen, and then Minato had to actually try to keep up.

Minato’s used to being able to think about what to do next! Full mastery of the Flying Thunder God Technique (which he has) requires instantaneous reflexes and processing! He’s never seen Sukea with his eyes fully open! How was he supposed to know keeping their jutsu at C-ranks wouldn't keep the spar at a “light warmup?”

“Hold still. You’re both lucky I’m qualified in bone-mending.”

Sukea is eyeing the window, heedless of his shattered knee. Minato feels guilty about that, even though Sukea was the one who suggested the spar.

“I did say sorry,” Minato tries again. “We thought keeping things at C-rank and taijutsu would–”

“Of FUCKING COURSE it didn’t!” Doctor Tasuki yells again. “You didn’t even have a SPOTTER!”

Minato is worried about Doctor Tasuki’s blood pressure. That pulsing vein doesn’t look healthy. He’s not suicidal enough to say anything, though.

“Breathe,” Doctor Tasuki instructs curtly, pressing a hand glowing with medical chakra to Sukea’s ribcage. Sukea takes a deep breath, face completely blank, and exhales.

“Right. That’s good enough. No energetic movement for two days to let that reconnect properly, no heavy lifting, no training for more than an hour and no training that involves heavy lifting.”

"Of course, Doctor Tasuki," Sukea says obediently.

"I'll make sure to tell Kakashi," Minato says, which gets him the expected stink eye. He smirks.

“Discharged,” the doctor snaps. “I’d better not see either of you ever again.”

Minato and Sukea make their way through the hospital to the seals room with all due speed.

“Well, that was fun,” Sukea says brightly, offering Minato his wrists. “I understand if you’re too afraid of Doctor Tasuki to play again, but I’m thankful anyhow.”

Minato really, really shouldn't make this back door easier to do again. It would be an incredibly stupid idea. They shouldn't spar again.

But that modified wind-water spin blade jutsu… and the lightning dog…

He’s probably a spy from somewhere, Minato reminds himself. He’s doing his job. The fact that I want to do this means he’s good at it.

Sukea smiles for no reason, since he can’t know enough about seals to see the minor variation that leaves a backdoor. And even if he did, there’s no way he’s capable of using it. That would require in-depth knowledge of not only all of Minato’s sealing notes, but also Jiraiya-sensei’s.

Next time, they’ll have to have a medic-nin who won’t rat them out.

Chapter Text

Sei looks left. Sei looks right. There’s the meat stand, there’s the market, there’s their ninken partner Taro whining for scraps… but there’s no Mom.

Sei sits down on the curb and tries to think instead of crying or something babyish like that. Taro snuffles at their face.

"Do you know where to go, Taro? I… I lost Mom and Inosuke… the market smells all wrong, there’s too many people!"

Taro looks considering and makes a lap around Sei, just like they've been training, and then yips. Sei’s pretty sure that means Taro’s found a scent!

"You found someone? Awesome! Good dog!" Sei stands up and goes to follow their dog, just like a real ninken!

The scent trails all over the market, from the butcher’s stall, to the fishmonger’s, to the Yamanaka flower stall that makes both of them sneeze, to the fascinating garbage piles Mom never lets them investigate. They might get a little side tracked there, but eventually Taro finds the scent again (Sei made them spit out the fish bones, those might hurt puppies!) and they run right into someone who smells helpful!

“Oof,” says the helpful someone. “Don’t puppies look where they’re going these days?”

The helpful someone is tall with a green trench coat and scarf, reading a book that Sei is pretty sure they're not supposed to know about.

"… what do you want, pup?" He moves the book out of the way and … oh. Um.

All the clan kids have been warned about this guy, Sei thinks, but… he smells like dog, so he can't be that bad! It must be some other evil ninja with patchy silver-brown hair Sei’s supposed to stay away from.

He goes back to his book. Sei coughs politely. He continues to ignore them. Taro bites his shin.

The man sighs deeply. "I don't know what it is that makes you all think I'm a good idea… Maa, fine, let's go, pup. It's this way."

“We did it!” Sei cheers, giving Taro a high five. Taro takes a moment to figure it out, but then boops Sei’s hand with their paw—Sei has the best ninken partner ever. They found just the right guy!

"Come on now, keep up,” the helpful man says, ambling off. “You two ended up a pretty long ways from your compound."

“And maybe if you go in before I do I’ll be able to make a run for it,” he mutters to himself for some reason.

Inosuke growls. Rika joins him. The Senkokuro rolls his eyes, an answering snarl bubbling up in his throat, but takes his hands off her puppies.

"It was one clanless orphan! And he broke into my house first, I'm not even the one you should be worrying about disappearing your kids!" The Senkokuro complains, taking a step back. "I don't want your kids! They're yours! They have people!"

Because Senkokuro are so famous for respecting that. Their solution to kids having parents isn’t at all to kill the parents. Rika doesn’t take her eyes off him.

“Sei, Taro, come.”

Sei and Taro obey, but not without complaint. “But he smells like dog! I—we—thought dog meant good!”

Scent means nothing. It doesn’t matter how tame a coyote smells, how much like human and treats and obedience as well as dirt and blood, it has a wild core and you cannot trust it. This one hangs around with the Hatake brat, who has good taste in summoning contracts, but Senkokuro aren’t contracted with dogs.

Sure, maybe he did bring them back, so it wasn't a terrible choice from Sei—

“Taro found him so quick!” Sei gushes. They followed their four-month-old-ninken through the market?

Rika growls again. If his chakra wasn’t sealed, she’d be ‘thanking’ him on the training grounds, but she has some honor. And he technically hasn’t set foot on clan grounds, so it would technically be assault.

“See you soon, Mister!” Sei waves.

“You absolutely will not,” she snaps. “You’re both leashed for- for until chuunin!”

"Maa, so harsh. Good luck on the D-ranks, puppies," the Senkokuro offers performatively, ambling back towards the street. A stray nearby—no, that’s not a stray, that’s a ninken—

Rika watches in disbelief as Konomaru, the clan heir’s partner, leans against the Senkokuro’s leg to demand pats. Just because the Hatake brat’s ninken summons rambled about his abilities doesn’t mean Inuzuka need to test it, and certainly not in front of her impressionable idiot puppies.

Inosuke barks sharply. Konomaru whuffs back, entirely disregarding the warning.

"Ohh, aren't you a beautiful gentleman, hello, yes you're very strong and important and your coat is so beautiful…"

Rika scruffs Sei in one hand and Taro with the other and stalks off, ignoring their pleas to maybe invite their “new friend” over for dinner some time, “because he smells right and he’s a grown-up because he was reading the grown-up book so you can talk about that together after I go to bed!”

Chapter Text

Rin checks her reflection in a window as she runs past, fixes her hair, and skids to a stop in front of the study door. Takes a deep breath.

The older Nohara are in there already, talking about Kakashi’s uncle, and they want her to talk about him. It feels like reporting on a mission, and it squirms uncomfortably in her stomach. Teammates aren’t missions. But clan comes first, and Mr. Sukea is… wearing bloodline theft tattoos as if they’re clan ones, and doing things like going into the Uchiha district, and if he provokes the Hyūga next, then… well, the Nohara have to be very careful. Too useful to discard, while being helpful and unthreatening.

She pushes open the doors to a hubbub.

"Something needs to be done. He's just causing problems, and he's using our face to do it!" Aunt Fuki yells, pointing furiously at Dad. Her sleeve rides up, displaying her chakra system specialist tattoos.

"He's not actually causing that many problems," Dad defends. "He's just… implying them."

"Which is fucking worse, and means we need to do something," Dr. Tasuki snaps. "Are we adopting him? Publicly disowning him? I'm not sure we can murder him, he's both stupid enough to spar with the Yellow Flash and strong enough to survive."

"Adopting him?! We can't adopt him, he's already staining our reputation enough! Acknowledging him will only make it worse!"

"Well, doing nothing isn't making it much better. I've already had three people ask if I'm going to kidnap them, and I don't even have eye tattoos!" Dr. Tasuki makes a frustrated gesture.

"Were these people either drugged, or children, perhaps?"

"Not even! One of them wasn't even a parent. I don't know what goes on in a civilian's head, really. Can't they tell the difference between eye tattoos and mouth ones? I am clearly an orthopediatrist!" They gesture to the crescents curling around their dimples.

"The only thing to do is publicly distance ourselves from him," Aunt Fuki declares. "Or kill him."

"What?" Rin was going to be totally quiet, like she was supposed to, but that startles her.

"I already said, we can't kill him, he's strong enough to be boneheaded."

"Let's hear what Rin has to say about him, instead of just relying on rumors." Dad gestures, and the others turn their focus on Rin.

“Um. Okay. Senkokuro Sukea, between forty and sixty, unknown origin, aligned with the Hatake, claims to have been a ninjutsu specialist prior to his chakra being sealed, uh…" She trails off. What kind of dossier do they actually want here? She hasn't been taking notes!

“Combat prowess,” Aunt Fuki says.

"C rank. He knows a great deal of taijutsu, and despite being unable to chakra reinforce he is highly skilled in evasion.”

“Could’ve fucking fooled me,” Dr. Tasuki mutters. "C-rank my ass." What? When had Dr. Tasuki met Sukea?

“Would he get the tattoos covered if we requested it?” Dad asks.

Rin chews on her lip.

"Well, he said he "kind of very nearly sort of married" a Nohara and that's where he got them. He didn’t say anything else, though."

That sounds… really shifty, now that she's saying it in the face of three disapproving adults. It's a direct quote, though! For all the good that's doing. Aunt Fuki looks angry, and Dad looks pensive. Dr. Tasuki looks angry too, but that’s just how their face looks.

"When would he have even met a Nohara without being known to the village?" Dad frowns. "He said a Nohara, specifically?"

"Yes," Rin confirms. “He also mentioned the, um, chakra system linkages, and that she “didn't mention them being clan secrets,” and he knew about facepaint being a courting tradition.” That sounds even more incriminating, actually. They're not really considering killing him, are they? Mr Sukea is weird, but he smiles a lot, and– he’s Konoha. He wasn’t at first, but he is now, and isn’t that part of the Will of Fire?

Even Dad doesn't look convinced. He paces back and forth, scratching at his beard as he thinks.

"So was it before Iō died and it became Clan knowledge? There's not a lot of options…"

"He's lying, obviously. He ate someone and learned it that way. And if he eats more of us, he’ll learn them all. Which is why we need to kill him." Aunt Fuki insists.

“Knowledge isn't stored in the chakra coils, moron,” says Dr. Tasuki. “I thought you had qualifications?”

"He's- he's nice, though!" Rin defends. She can't help it, even if it makes Aunt Fuki switch her glower from an unbothered Dr. Tasuki to her. "He brings Kakashi food, and he's nice to Obito, and—Minato-sensei likes him!"

"I bet he does," Dr. Tasuki grumbles again. “Fucking idiots cut from the same irresponsible cloth.”

"He's not- look, I'll ask him! I - I bet he'll talk to me. We can’t kill him! He’s part of the village!"

All of them look skeptical, but Dad nods. "Talk to him, then, little gemstone. Try to find out some more."

Rin has already learned a new fact about Senkokuro Sukea: he is incredibly difficult to track down. He’s not at the Hatake estate, he’s not at the library, he’s not at the hospital… it takes hours before she finally finds him, up a tree in Training Ground Three.

Why the fuck is he up there?

“Mr. Sukea?” she calls. “Could we talk?”

Sukea doesn’t respond, face buried in a porn book.

Um.

“It’s about your Nohara?” she tries.

"My Nohara, hm?" Sukea raises one eyebrow at her, finally looking down from the tree. "Maa, why would you want to talk about that, Miss Rin?”

He jumps out of the tree in one smooth motion, landing in a roll like it’s a much greater height than a single story. If Rin were actually scared of him, this would be the time to run away.

Rin is not, in fact, scared of her teammate’s uncle. She follows him as he starts to meander away from the Memorial Stone, keeping pace with his lazy stride. He’s so unlike Kakashi it’s hard to believe they’re related, sometimes.

“I just… there aren’t very many of us, I wanted to know about her. What was she like?”

He shrugs. “Dedicated. Caring. More patient with me than I deserved."

Rin nods along. Not very informative, but at least he's aware how much patience he deserves.

Rin’s not sure how to go about asking the more probing questions she's supposed to be gathering the information with. Aunt Fuki’s advice is uniformly terrible, Dr. Tasuki’s is even worse, and Dad said he had faith in her and refused to help. She fidgets as the silence stretches longer.

“She’s the one who told me about these,” he says, waving a hand toward his face. “We were a little drunk and a lot grieving, and she told me mine would be here, if I’d had her last name. I invited her over for dinner. It was… a nice night."

“They would be?” Rin says. “That’s the old placement for, um, dōjutsu theft.”

Sukea blinks, like that's new information, and laughs. "Huh. I guess they would be, then. She never got to give them to me."

But he has his own eyes! Why isn’t there any difference between the original eye and the—oh, they’re both dōjutsu, aren’t they? Not a powerful one, or they would’ve been confiscated. What kind of dōjutsu looks grey like that?

“I did get to eat her heart, though,” Sukea says lightly. “She used me to kill herself and I haven’t forgiven either of us, but at least I got her heart.”

Rin stops moving, her own heart pounding in her chest. Right. Old shinobi. Old shinobi from a cannibal clan, who never had a village before. Of course he'd… Eat his wife's heart. (Does Kakashi—no. No, of course not.)

Sukea keeps walking, for all intents and purposes completely oblivious to her reaction. Rin unfreezes, and hurries to catch up before he gets into the cemetery.

"With her being older, you'd think she'd- no, no, that's not fair." Sukea stops at an empty patch of grass. “She knew it would work. We were shinobi. Still… some things can’t be forgiven. There’s scum, and there’s worse than scum.”

Rin looks at the empty plot, trying to see what Sukea is staring at. There's nothing there. She wishes there was something to comment on, but if she says anything, he might stop talking.

Sukea starts moving again, still the same relaxed stroll. Past the empty plots, past the civilian section, past most of the clans.

"It was one of the reasons I never let myself die, you know. The people it would leave behind. They’re gone now, of course, but I couldn't do that to them."

The vandalised gravestone in front of them is impossible to read. Rin only knows who’s buried here because she’s followed Kakashi to the cemetery before.

"Ah, well.” Sukea looks at Rin sideways. "Did you get what you wanted, Miss Rin?"

Has she?

“What was her name?” Rin asks tentatively.

Sukea looks up into the sky. Up, and up, and up, silence stretching until Rin thinks he isn’t going to answer.

“Her name was Rin,” he says finally, and keeps looking away. “She was always warm to me.”

Rin.

It sends a shiver down her spine. Hearing her name—not hers, he isn’t talking about her—come out of Sukea’s mouth like that isn’t something she ever wants to hear again.

He won’t give her the kanji; cold and dignified are the most common spellings, instead of her own jewel. She can't really imagine anyone particularly dignified with Sukea, and if he’s making a point of saying she was warm, then…

That’s the spelling they should be looking for in the clan archives. Not Rin’s.

She stands with him, looking at the sky, until he opens his book and leaves. She stays for a while longer. Sakumo’s grave needs to be cleaned, after all.

Chapter Text

Sakumo leaps from tree to tree, ensuring there’s no sign of pursuit. Takigakure isn’t a particularly powerful village, but they have done something that really irritated Sunagakure recently, so they aren’t to be underestimated. Daisuke and Karashi are back at camp, recovering from extended use of the Hidden Mole technique to avoid Takigakure’s hunter-nin. Sakumo recovered faster, so volunteered to run the perimeter.

A bush rustles.

If that’s a shinobi, they’re either being polite or a distraction. Both options are bad.

Well, being polite can always escalate into aggression, but it’s very difficult to deescalate aggression into friendliness. (One day, perhaps Kakashi will learn that, and stop kicking his Academy classmates.)

“Hello!” he calls, jumping down in front of the bush. “Anyone here?”

The bush is suspiciously still, given that there’s a breeze.

The man inside stands with the sort of deliberate grace that indicates very carefully not falling out of the bush. Silver hair and a big green coat, and the purple tattoos everyone nowadays associates with Nohara. The sandals and wrappings confirm that he's a shinobi. He smells like earth and lightning and old blood and not-quite-dog, so…

Sakumo tilts his head in greeting. “What brings you to Fire Country?”

"Maa-ahh…" His voice shifts upward half a tone. "Summoning mishap. Or very deliberate hap, as it may be, my pack like to entertain themselves.”

A distinctly canid huff sounds from behind him. Sakumo keeps his sabre loose in its sheath, despite the internal amusement.

"You mean I like to entertain myself." A gangly teenage coyote shoulders its way over to the shinobi from its own bush. “Are we going to fight this guy or no?”

That explains the suspiciously familiar face, hair colour, and not-quite-Hatake scent all in one. Coyotes only contract with one clan.

"Yes, of course, you're very intimidating and funny, Bisuketto. We are not going to fight "this guy,” this is the White Fang and I don't want him dead. Or to die. We are going to have a very polite conversation and nobody's going to eat each other."

He can’t find any traces of anyone else, including another summons. Whatever brought the summoner here, it’s not a mission from Takigakure; that would be straightforwardly suicidal, despite their stupidity trying to assassinate Senju Hashirama before the First Shinobi World War.

Maybe it’s a mission from Takigakure.

Sakumo dismisses the shadow clone and jumps down in front of his cousin.

“Aah, there’s no need for that. Sakumo works just fine, Senkokuro…?”

“Sukea,” the stranger fills, after an odd hesitation. "Senkokuro Sukea."

Bisuketto nips at Sukea’s leg in a distinctly puppyish manner, and absently gets fed a treat. Next to Sukea, he reaches mid-thigh. That’s a big summon, to not be full-grown. Sakumo’s own summons tend towards huskies; wolves are bigger and demand accordingly more chakra to summon, which is part of why their contract has gone unsigned since the original Hatake clan split.

Sakumo reevaluates his estimate of Sukea’s chakra levels.

“Things are getting tense around here, cousin. You should consider moving on soon."

"Maa, I will, don't worry. You- you be careful too. It's a cold world out here."

Sukea lazily—and incorrectly—salutes Sakumo, loping off vaguely in the direction of Rock Country, Bisuketto tagging along at his heels.

It must really be cold, being in the wilderness alone. Sakumo has his village and his son and his pack to come back to, but Senkokuro are few and far between. Mostly up in Snow Country, from what he knows.

Sukea and Bisuketto don’t disturb them for the rest of the trip back, despite Danzō-sama’s disbelief that Sakumo had asked nicely and an unknown ninja had just left.

Sakumo kind of expects that to be the last he sees of his ‘cousin,’ but he keeps running into him. It's not every mission—that would mean he had to kill him—but it's… often. More often than he would expect for a rogue shinobi.

Sakumo invites him to dinner one evening, when he smells so strongly of grief and blood and loneliness that he has to show him what family he has. He doesn’t know how well Sukea deals with children, but Bisuketto gets away with both murder and theft, so Sukea seems forgiving enough.

Hopefully Kakashi won't be too rude.

After the disaster of an introduction to Kakashi, Sakumo hasn’t seen either Sukea or Bisuketto for several months. He assumes they moved on—once a Senkokuro gets what they want, they’re done, he remembers his mother telling him—until Bisuketto interrupts a routine border patrol, covered in burrs and blood and thoroughly out of breath.

“Hey! Hey hey hey! Sakumo! He’s done something stupid, come help!”

Bisuketto is limping, and Sakumo can see the bleeding reopening with every step. Even if Sukea’s luring him into a trap, he wouldn’t hurt his summons to do it. The coyotes would not stand for it.

This is totally the sort of thing they send him on border patrols for, right? Konoha’s White Fang showing up out of nowhere to assert strength? Sunagakure isn’t supposed to have forces anywhere close to the border.

Also, Kakashi likes him. He only halfheartedly tried to bite when Sukea ruffled his hair. "I'll help. Lead the way."

Bisuketto yips once in acknowledgement, takes a few more heaving breaths—coyotes really aren’t endurance runners, especially compared to huskies—and leads Sakumo on a hectic chase through the wider forests of Fire Country to the shorter scrubland of Wind Country towards a devastated battlefield.

Bisuketto was not kidding about stupid.

Sukea has managed to drag himself out of the battlefield proper, but only just. It is a stupidly large area, though, so maybe that was hard enough. Sukea is barely concious, paused in the middle of sewing up a gash in his thigh by pain, blood loss, potential poison, and probably a concussion. Sakumo's no medic nin, but he can at least do stitches. Bisuketto yips anxiously in both their ears.

Sukea jolts when Sakumo comes into view, eyes struggling to focus. Sakumo adds a tally to the “poison” column.

"Dad?"

Sakumo shakes his head. "Just Sakumo." Sukea's father must have been a Hatake, and his mother must have kept him when she left. That would explain the hair.

“Report,” he demands, meaning that Bisuketto (the lucid one) should fill him in on who exactly Sukea was fighting for the landscape to be this affected by a duel, and if it was a duel at all.

“Severe but non-critical. Possible internal bleeding and concussion, fractured hands, gash on left thigh. Target deceased, in body scroll, prepared for bounty," Sukea answers, speech only slightly slurred.

Sakumo doesn't pause his work, but he does file away the fact that someone, somewhere, must have trained Sukea hard and cared about his wellbeing more than the objective. But then, that just means the medic who taught him to report was a Senkokuro.

Bisuketto barks derisively. "Non critical my ass. Didn't that guy have a flee-on-sight warning?"

“Who did you fight?” Sakumo asks. Sukea doesn’t respond. Bisuketto does. Still adolescent, having fetched Sakumo for help, he probably doesn’t realise he shouldn’t.

“Old Kakuzu. He never signed our contract, so I’m allowed. I got to eat one of his hearts already.”

Sakumo finishes the line of stitches and takes the opportunity to look at the devastated landscape. That would explain the destruction, but- Sukea took him on with only his summon, and won? Not even in an able-to-run-away sort of winning, but actually killed him?

Sakumo raises his estimation of Sukea's abilites another several notches. A previously-unknown shinobi, not in bingo books they’ve been able to track down, not officially aligned with any village, who took down a missing-nin powerful enough to escape the First Hokage? It might be better for Konoha if Sukea dies here. Sakumo's hands are very close to his neck.

Bisuketto's teeth are very close to Sakumo's throat.

If Sukea could be convinced to come home, even if just to visit, then maybe—

Senkokuro like puppies. Sukea finds Kakashi entertaining, at least. Maybe he’d be interested in seeing Kakashi again, and Kakashi is so loyal to Konoha Sakumo feels like he’ll burst with pride. If Sakumo brings Sukea back for medical treatment, and makes a point of showing Sukea how much easier life is in the village with teammates to look out for you other than one teenage summons…

Sakumo tightens the bandages and lifts Sukea for the run back to Konoha.

Chapter Text

“I’m home!” Kakashi calls. No response comes from the cold house.

Kakashi sighs. Uncle Sukea is probably standing dead-still in front of Ms. Ukki again, that stupid huge houseplant he got that blocks the door to the study entirely and drops leaves all over the floor that Kakashi has to clean up.

Last time he decided to stare at Ms. Ukki it took hours.

Most of the time, Ms. Ukki is fine. Uncle Sukea dotes on the plant more than anything that doesn't bark deserves, and he talks to it, but it's not like it's a problem. He's a weird guy.

Sometimes…

Kakashi hangs up his bag with the body scroll and takes off his shoes and deliberately steps on the singing board at the foyer and the one in the hallway. Still nothing. Sometimes that works.

How long has Uncle Sukea already been staring at it? Kakashi’s been out on a mission for a few days…

Kakashi stomps his way to the hallway outside the study, having learned his lesson about spooking his uncle. Sure enough, Uncle Sukea is standing there, shoulders slumped and eyes totally unfocused. It isn't scary, or anything. Just annoying. He doesn't look anything like the meat that used to be his father.

“Are the trees talking to you or something?” Kakashi says flatly. “You’re not a Senju. You got hit with a genjutsu.”

Uncle Sukea blinks, slowly. His eyes don't move, or look at Kakashi, but they focus. “… I’d need to be a Senju to talk to trees?”

Kakashi rolls his eyes. “That’s how mokuton works. If you’ve got it, you’re a Senju.”

“Maa, I could be an evil plant,” his uncle suggests. He finally looks at Kakashi, and his eyes scrunch up in a smile that's incredibly fake, but… at least it's there.

“Plants aren't evil. They're just nothing.”

“Oh, not this one. There are nice plants, even if they’re spiky, and evil plants, which are trying to bring about the apocalypse.”

Kakashi scowls at him. Uncle Sukea is so weird. Why does he want houseplants so much anyway? Pakkun ate one at Minato-sensei’s house and got sick, and Kakashi hasn’t liked them since. (It didn’t taste good at all.)

“Ms. Ukki, make sure you tell Tenzō about my ungrateful distrustful nephew! He deserves to know.”

Tell Tenzō this and tell Tenzō that. Uncle Sukea could just get another plant and name it Tenzō, but no, he’s decided to have Ms. Ukki as a go-between, presumably solely to get on Kakashi’s nerves.

"Why are you on a first-name basis with Tenzō but call his wife Ms. Ukki?"

Silence.

Uncle Sukea snorts, then giggles, then collapses, howling with laughter. Kakashi glares at him. Uncle Sukea looks up for a moment, sees his face, and keeps laughing with renewed vigor. There are tears on his cheeks. Kakashi wasn't sure that was actually possible.

… It wasn’t that funny. Tenzō was probably a person, then, right? Some old Senju that walked into a tree to die, like the old legends.

"His wife…" Uncle Sukea gasps, and then dissolves into helpless laughter again. Utterly useless. Kakashi kicks him.

“Are you going to cook dinner or do I need to do everything around here?”

“Who was Tenzō then?” Kakashi asks after cooking dinner. Uncle Sukea hums softly under his breath, looking strangely amused for a second.

“Oh, probably a lost Senju, honestly. I never asked him for a last name, but he was very good with plants.”

The new kid hasn't even got a name. He won’t admit it, and Uncle Sukea seems reticent to give him one— you know, like an asshole—and so it falls to Kakashi to name his uncle's kid. For some reason.

Kakashi shoulders the duty; a shinobi is one who endures. He can endure following the kid around and trying to figure out what he's like.

… There's not very much to go on. He's tiny (but that will change, they are feeding him), he's quiet, he knows even less about… everything than Uncle Sukea does, and he really likes the garden.

Oh, and the mokuton. The plants actually do talk to him, apparently, from what Uncle Sukea has coaxed out of him while Kakashi stealthed in the rafters.

Very good with plants, huh. He doesn’t know what kanji Uncle’s Tenzō used, so they’ll have to make some up. “Evergreen oak” and “image” maybe, for how much he looks like a sapling drinking sunlight (and the mokuton.)

Kakashi watches for a few more days, testing the name against watching the kid—watching Tenzō tag along behind Uncle Sukea and stare uncomprehendingly at Hatake journals (is Kakashi going to have to teach him to read? He can’t let Uncle do it, he’ll use those awful books) and nod seriously at the tree outside the kitchen window. It fits him.

Kakashi corners his cousin when Uncle is out doing something or other with Maito Dai the Eternal Genin.

"I need to add you to the clan register," he says. “Do you have a name you want or should I show you how to write one?”

The kid stares at him, wide-eyed. "I get a name?"

Yeesh.

"Yes. Traditional Senju, I think. It's written like this." Kakashi walks him through writing out the kanji and explains the meaning while he copies it. "Tenzō. Do you like it?"

Tenzō is silent while he finishes the copy, and then nods hesitantly. "Yes, I like it. It's- Is it mine now? For keeps?"

Yeesh.

"Yes. I gave it to you, and I'm your clan head, and nobody can take it away. You're Hatake Tenzō now." Kakashi unseals the clan register.

Tenzō decides this is worthy of a hug for some reason—Kakashi can’t bite him, that’s not allowed, you can’t be mean to puppies—and squeezes him for an uncomfortably long amount of time (five seconds.) Kakashi ruffles his hair awkwardly when Tenzō lets go, wiping his eyes.

Kakashi elects to pretend that didn't happen and points to the spot under his own name. Uncle Sukea isn’t on this one, just the stupid paper scrolls the library built into Hokage Rock uses. Kakashi had offered, once, just a few weeks after he'd been adopted, and Uncle Sukea had said he didn't need to be on it and also a bunch of political reasoning Kakashi did not care about (and would still rather not have to, but Uncle being in the clan would make things really awkward with the paperwork ninja at Hokage Tower for some reason. Idiots.)

Tenzō tilts his head in the way that Kakashi has learned means he wants to ask a question. Ugh.

“What.”

“…Is this human skin?”

Kakashi sighs. "Yes, old Farmer Wolf Hatake decided she wanted to be immortalized by becoming the clan register with no thought to the fact that human skin doesn’t hold ink and isn't thick enough to stand up to being parchment. So write your name, and then we have to blast it with chakra to get it to stick."

Tenzō struggles with forming lightning chakra—struggles more than Kakashi thought it was possible to struggle, but maybe that’s a mokuton thing, so he’s gritting his teeth and practicing patience like Uncle says—until Tenzō manages to draw up a few faint sparks. They leap from his fingertips to his name, scorching it in permanently. It doesn’t need as much chakra as a summoning contract, but…

"The rest of it can be your normal chakra." Kakashi puts his hands on top of Tenzō's, on either side of his name, and together they deepen the lines. The room smells like scorched skin and lightning and wet earth.

Kakashi lets go, and Tenzō steps back and sneezes. Kakashi can feel the wards change, registering his cousin as belonging here. He nods in satisfaction.

This calls for a feast. It’ll be hard to do a proper adoption with no coils to feed him, but he should be able to get some the next time he’s assigned a missio—Sukea didn’t eat his share of Dad.

That fucker.

Was he planning this? How could he possibly have been planning this? Does this mean the Third Hokage was right to worry about him finding other clan’s kids? Ugh.

“I'm home!” Uncle Sukea steps on the singing board in the foyer like that just to annoy him, he's sure of it.

“I'm in the kitchen, Tenzō's out in the garden,” Kakashi calls back, and waits for the singing board in the hallway to announce Sukea’s presence yet again.

The singing board in the hallway fails to trigger.

"Tenzō?" Sukea is there, not faster than Kakashi could be but still fast enough to be surprising with how slow he usually moves. Kakashi doesn’t startle, he’s a shinobi, he’s a shinobi aware of his surroundings. He can’t stab his uncle even if his uncle deserves it.

But if he objects to Tenzō having Tenzō's name, Kakashi will fight him. And use the wards. Uncle Sukea cheats a lot, but Kakashi can use jutsu. He’ll win.

“He’s a lost Senju and we found him, and I couldn’t name him Hashirama,” Kakashi snaps.

"… Right." Uncle Sukea looks a little lost, or maybe like he's going to cry, and Kakashi adjusts his grip on the kitchen knife to be slightly less menacing.

"It's already in the clan register." He goes back to chopping carrots, only watching his uncle from the corner of his eye. "You can't change it."

"No! I would never, it's– it's a good name. It’s his name,” he says with startling intensity. “I’m– I’m glad. It shouldn’t have died with him.”

"Tenzō's not dead. He's in the garden.”

“My Tenzō,” Uncle Sukea corrects gently, and lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “He’s in the garden too, I suppose.”

“Stop that. Our Tenzō is in the garden mediating a dispute between the lawn and the weeds and he's going to eat that other coil. That’s who’s important right now.”

Uncle Sukea smiles, brighter than Kakashi's seen in weeks. "You're right. He is."

Chapter Text

"There was a new kid in class today," Shisui says cheerfully as he runs over to Obito. "He's weird!"

"Do you actually have your bento box this time or did you forget again?" Obito goes down the mental list for picking up his cousin, suddenly realizes that he has left his bento box somewhere, and abandons that line of questioning. "How's he weird?"

Shisui shrugs. "He didn't say a single word all class period and he nearly broke like two people's arms. Sensei had to yell really loudly."

“He’s new and he was good enough to actually hurt people?” Normally new kids in the Academy are because a new civilian family has immigrated to Konoha, and they’re good-for-nothings who either become paperwork ninja or flunk.

Shisui nods excitedly. "For real, too! He got confused when they stopped him. But also I don't think he can read at all, so he can't have been at a secret academy or anything. Look, there he is!" Shisui points at the tiny (He's so small. Who let him be here? There’s a baby in the Academy!) silver-haired kid walking up to a tree and just stopping.

Is the baby shinobi brain-damaged? Did somebody drop him? Did he not learn how to chakra reinforce before he got kicked in the head during sparring?

"He's got someone to pick him up, right?" Obito stares in mild concern right up until Sukea, of all people, drops out of the tree. "Oh. He's Sukea's?"

With a father like that, he probably didn't need to get kicked in the head, actually.

"Isn't that the guy Fugaku-sama frowned at us about not going near?" Shisui asks. “Tenzō’s kinda creepy, I guess, but nobody says to avoid him.”

“Yeah, he’s Bakashi’s uncle. He’s not creepy, he’s just really annoying.”

Shisui stares at them until Sukea makes very pointed eye contact and waves cheerily. Obito startles and starts hustling away as Sukea apparently explains something to Tenzō, but Shisui is undeterred, waving until Tenzō gives the most awkward returning wave Obito's seen in his life.

And Obito is on a team with Bakashi. That idiot wouldn’t know “casual” if it bit him.

"Did anything else happen at school?" Obito asks, herding Shisui away from the shinobi he’s not allowed to be near and back to the safety of the Uchiha Compound.

"I like him. I'm gonna be his friend!" Shisui declares. "We’re gonna be on the same team once we graduate anyway, so it’ll make more sense if we’re friends already."

Obito sputters. “I- wh- how- how do you know he’s gonna be on your team anyway? That’s a secret!”

Shisui blinks at him. "It's how it works? Mom wasn't sure for a while but now it makes sense. There's a couple obvious groups and then the rest just… slot in! You have your own Hatake, I want one now."

The only “obvious group” in Obito’s class had been himself and Rin. He’d been up sick all night before team assignment day, hoping he’d be on her team, maybe with Shiranui Gemna or someone else quiet—not an Aburame—and Shisui’s telling him the groupings are obvious?

“They try and put Hyūga with Aburame, Inuzuka, or Izumo because they care less about eye contact, everyone knows about Ino-Shika-Cho, and we get Uzumaki, Senju, or Hatake, so I’m getting Tenzō. You really didn’t notice? We’re probably going to get Sarutobi Asuma for a third because of favouritism or one of the civilian-born ninja to avoid favouritism, too.”

Obito reminds himself that Shisui is a small child and therefore almost definitely wrong, so it's fine! Besides, if Tenzō’s anything like Bakashi, he’ll respond to friendship overtures with biting, so—

“He bit me,” Shisui says dreamily. “It was really bad, too. I had to go see the medic-nin. Do you think he likes jerky like an Inuzuka, or should I get him fruit cause he likes plants?”

“You should get him dirt because plants like it,” Obito mutters. Sometimes the daydream of shoving Kakashi’s face into said dirt is the only thing that gets him through training.

“Really? He does flop on the ground… do you think he'd like that? There's some really good mud down by the river. Maybe by the pond!"

Obito debates which mud is best to give to the “creepy” baby Hatake with Shisui all the way home. He can hardly stop him now!

Besides, if he’s lucky, Bakashi will get covered in mud too.

"Hey, Obito," Rin asks suddenly, flipping over on the floor from where she’s abandoned the D-rank mission report. "Are there any gray dōjutsu?”

What.

"Why? Why do you think I'd know?" Obito gladly abandons his copy of the mission report to stare at her.

Rin frowns. "Well… it's- It's kind of, uh…"

"We're friends, Rin! I'm not going to sell you out to the Uchiha! If I wanted anyone to remove my eyes it would be you!"

"Don't say that, Obito!" Rin lunges at him.

“But you wouldn’t do it unless I was okay with it, so it’s fine?” Obito shrugs, but obediently lowers his voice. Rin gets really jumpy for no reason sometimes. It would be fucked up to say that he dreams about her fingers in his eyesockets, so he doesn’t. About seeing his own eyes in her face. About being wanted so badly she tears him apart.

"Oh, shut up! Forget I asked!" Rin glances at the window worriedly.

"There’s sharingan, byakugan, and that weird red thing from that Chinoike clan that doesn’t exist anymore. I don't think there are any gray dōjutsu, though. Like, maybe a burned out sharingan, but those are blind."

"Sharingan can burn out? What?"

"Well yeah, if you use it too much. Especially the more powerful ones, or if they’re not… in an Uchiha. The chakra reacts badly or something.”

Rin gapes at him for a moment, reaches for a notebook, and then stops herself. "So… a sharingan in someone who isn't an Uchiha might turn gray?"

"I mean, maybe." Obito shrugs. "They’d be blind. I dunno, I never met one. Why'd you ask?"

Rin rolls her eyes. “No reason. Nothing to do with the person with gray eyes and dōjutsu theft tattooed in purple on his face.”

Obito blinks at his scroll, then nearly shouts. "THAT'S what those tattoos mean!? I KNEW Sukea was weird!"

"Oh my god shut up!" Rin lunges at him again, unerringly landing a hand over his mouth. He stifles the urge to lick it—that’s what he can do when Bakashi is a dick, not Rin, he has to be nice to Rin—and sighs.

"I don't know why they let him in with them, but it's weird, because his Rin told him about-"

"His Rin? He's got a Rin?" Obito exclaims into her hands, alarmed.

Only Obito is allowed to have a Rin. Not that he has Rin! She’s her own person! But she’s still, she’s, no one else gets to have her.

"Yeah, his wife that he… ate, or something—anyway, not important! She apparently told him about them, but didn't explain, and his eyes look way too normal to be dōjutsu!" Rin lets go of his mouth to gesture wildly, firmly sitting on his stomach. Obito chakra reinforces so he can still breathe. (Pushing Rin off is not an option.) "They look just like Kakashi's! Did he - did he steal Sakumo's eyes to look normal, or something? That doesn't make any sense!"

"Why would he steal Sakumo’s eyes? That would be– wrong!”

Hey, why does Rin know what Kakashi’s eyes look like? Obito barely knows what color they are. Wait- okay, Rin's eyes are brown. He thought so. A really pretty brown. His face is warm.

“Come on, Obito, pay attention,” Rin says and then giggles. “People say he killed Sakumo for his kid, his eyes aren't very far from that. Even if they aren’t dōjutsu, so there’s no point."

"Well that's even more stupid. Who would want Bakashi?"

"Obito! That's awful!" Rin yelps, but she's still laughing.

“Things can be awful and true,” he grumbles, even if he can maybe see why someone would want Bakashi. If they didn’t care about him being a huge asshole who thought he was better than his teammates, and only cared about… him being better than his teammates.

Sukea doesn't seem like that, though. He seems nicer than that. Right? He wouldn't do that. There’s nowhere better than Konoha, Sukea has to see that, or else he wouldn’tve joined.

Besides, some random missing nin couldn't kill The White Fang.

The White Fang’s grave is vandalised again. Obito sighs, and goes to fetch the water bucket.

"Here, idiot." The grave gets doused by a jet of water. Obito shrieks and dodges.

“Hey! You need to be respectful! That’s the grave of a hero, you can’t use jutsu on it!”

Bakashi gives him a withering look. “Oh. Is it.”

"The White Fang was a hero!"

"Didn't he break the shinobi code?"

"Rulebreakers are trash, but anyone who abandons their team is worse! He made the right choice, and it's- it's disgusting that people do this! I thought you'd be better than that, Bakashi, but I don't know why I did." Obito draws himself up and looks down on his teammate with all the disappointment he can muster. Having experienced quite a lot of disappointed looks, he thinks it's quite a lot. Surely enough to get to Kakashi, who’s never had a teacher disappointed in him in his life.

Kakashi scoffs. “Isn’t the village supposed to be everyone’s team? He abandoned everyone! His teammates knew the risks. If we’re talking about trash, shinobi are supposed to die for Konoha, instead of for no reason at all.”

"You can't call him trash! You don't deserve to!"

"If I don't deserve to, who does?” Kakashi snaps. Entitled, arrogant, self-centered prodigy, so fucking sure he’s the centre of the universe, like he thinks nobody else’s parents have ever died—

Obito punches him. Kakashi hits back.

Things devolve from there.

The next day, the White Fang’s grave is already clean, with fresh flowers and a bento box laying on it.