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“Oyaji.”
A small hand hooked into his sleeve and gave a gentle tug. Kakashi slowed, turning just enough to look down and see Sarada peering up at him from beneath her blunt-cut bangs, dark eyes wide and unblinking. She barely reached his hip; the top of her head brushing his arm when she leaned closer.
“Hm?” he murmured.
Once, not long ago, he would have corrected her. Once, she’d tried papa—soft and unthinking—and the word had frozen him in place, Sakura standing right there, just as startled as he was. They’d both pretended not to hear it.
Oyaji was… safer.
She tightened her grip on his sleeve. “How come we aren’t home like usual?”
“We talked about this,” he said mildly as they continued down the street. “Naruto-sama needs help with a few things at the Hokage Tower. It won’t take long.”
Her steps slowed. “Ojisan?”
Sarada had names for everyone.
“Yes.” Kakashi lifted a hand in a lazy wave to a few passersby who caught his gaze. They immediately straightened, bowing with polite greetings before continuing on their way.
Sarada looked around, her attention snagging on the village as if she were seeing it anew—the bright awnings, the steady flow of people, the steam curling from food stalls. Her nose twitched, just once.
“Why can’t he just come to Mama’s place for your help?” she asked.
“Important work,” Kakashi replied. “He can’t leave the tower.”
That had never stopped him when he was Hokage—but Naruto was different. His… weaknesses lay elsewhere, which was exactly why Kakashi still found himself offering guidance. The transition hadn’t been that long ago, six months at most; some growing pains were inevitable.
“So I have to go with you?” she said.
“Well I can’t leave you home alone,” he answered easily. “I told your mother I’d watch you today.”
From his pocket, he produced the book she read in her spare time—a thick, dog-eared medical text that always looked absurdly large in her small hands, and far too advanced for someone her age. (Not that he’d ever dog-ear his own books.)
“Don’t worry—you won’t get bored,” he added.
Her eyes lit up.
He had hoped so. He’d sacrificed bringing Icha Icha for the space. Not that he’d have time to read anyway if he wanted to finish with Naruto swiftly.
As he slipped the book back into his pocket for later, Sarada turned her attention to the street again, slowing so she could take everything in. Kakashi adjusted his pace to match hers.
One day, when she awakened her Sharingan, she’d see the world with a clarity that would surpass even the one he’d once borrowed.
“It’s nice outside,” Sarada said at last. “Mama doesn’t take me out much.”
“She doesn’t?” Not that he was surprised. Sakura worked herself relentlessly. Medical director, single parent—well, not officially, but with Sasuke’s indefinite absence since even the beginning of Kakashi’s own term as Hokage, it amounted to the same.
“No.” Sarada looked down at her feet.
Kakashi caught the familiar sadness there—the same ache he sometimes saw in Sakura’s eyes. It couldn’t be easy, watching her only present parent give everything to the village while other children had two.
“Well,” he said, lightening his tone, “when I’m done, we can walk around a bit. Maybe visit a few shops. I could even buy you some dango.”
Sarada spun toward him, eyes shining. “I love dango!”
He smiled beneath his mask. The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree—she was Sakura’s daughter.
“Just don’t tell your mother,” he murmured, lowering his voice conspiratorially as he leaned in closer. “She’ll think I’ve gone soft with my money.”
Sarada grinned wide. “It’ll be our secret.”
She hurried ahead then, steps lighter, swinging their freshly joined hands. Kakashi followed, chuckling softly behind his mask.
They both had something to look forward to.
***
“Kakashi-sensei? Why do you have Sarada-chan with you?”
Naruto blinked at the sight of her trotting into the office ahead of Kakashi, already peering around with open curiosity.
“I’m babysitting,” Kakashi said.
“Since when do you babysit?”
“If you’ve forgotten,” Kakashi drawled, “I’ve been babysitting since I took in a particularly troublesome group of genin.”
Naruto rolled his eyes. “Sasuke-teme was the trouble. Not me.”
Kakashi hummed noncommittally. Arguing with Naruto’s selective memory was never worth the effort.
“So,” Kakashi said instead, “what did you need me for?”
“Oh—right.” Naruto shifted, suddenly sheepish. “Nothing urgent, but I definitely need your advice on something before the end of the day…”
As Naruto launched into his explanation, Kakashi guided Sarada toward a chair, setting her up with her book before taking his own seat nearby. She settled quickly, feet swinging, attention already buried in the pages.
At least one of them would be able to enjoy a good book. Duties, it seemed, never really ended for him. Even in retirement.
***
Kakashi waved Naruto off sometime later, Sarada lingering behind to spend a few minutes laughing with her Naruto-ojisan—a small, welcome distraction from work that Kakashi couldn’t say he hadn't indulged in himself from time to time during his own term—before they finally headed out.
They’d barely made it down the hall when they ran into Shikamaru.
“Kakashi-sama?” Shikamaru stopped short. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping Naruto,” Kakashi replied easily.
Shikamaru sighed, long and weary. “I wasn’t even gone for a day.”
Kakashi chuckled. “It’s fine. I don’t have much going on. I like helping Konoha when I can.”
“Well, we’re never short on missions if you want one,” Shikamaru said, raising his head from rubbing his temples. “You can ask Naruto—or better yet, just come to me. It’ll probably be faster.”
Kakashi gave a curt nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Shikamaru’s gaze drifted downward then, catching on the small Uchiha half-hidden behind Kakashi’s hip. Sarada clutched her heavy book, using Kakashi’s leg as a brace when her arms tired from holding it too long.
“You’ve got Sarada with you,” Shikamaru noted.
“I’m watching her for Sakura,” Kakashi said. “She’s working.”
“She doesn’t have her usual babysitter?”
“She did…” Kakashi paused, realizing he wasn’t entirely sure when he’d started filling the role himself. A year, maybe. Around the time Naruto began easing into the responsibilities of Hokage and Kakashi’s own workload finally lightened.
Not that it really had. Paperwork and endless scrolls had simply been replaced with more visits to Sakura’s place, helping where he could when she needed it; arguably, though, far less grueling.
The peaceful lulls—two readers side by side, Sarada absorbed in her textbooks while his Icha Icha hid beneath a far more respectable cover to avoid Sakura’s scolding—had become the best part of his days.
“Oyaji,” Sarada piped up from behind him. “When are we going? You promised dango.”
Kakashi turned to find her staring up at him with an impressively demanding pout for a five-year-old. He knew that look well—Sakura often wore it, too.
He glanced up through the windows. The sun was already starting to dip. He’d stayed longer than intended.
“Sorry,” he said, eye crinkling in a smile as he looked back down to her. “I’ll make this quick.”
“Oyaji?” Shikamaru repeated from his side.
Kakashi turned to him, studying his expression for a moment as the confusion pieced itself together until understanding dawned.
“Ah. That,” Kakashi said, a touch sheepish. “It’s… a long story.”
He didn’t elaborate. Somewhere along the way, the title had stopped feeling strange. It had simply settled in, like so many other things lately.
“Hm.” Shikamaru made a noncommittal sound. Kakashi caught the assessing look that followed—but if Shikamaru drew any conclusions, he kept them to himself.
“Naruto’s all set, then?” he asked, shifting gears.
“As much as Naruto ever is,” Kakashi replied dryly, deciding it was better not to press for more.
“Figures. I was going to check on him anyway.” Shikamaru then waved as he headed off. “Thanks for the help.”
“Of course.”
Kakashi watched him pass before turning toward the exit. Sarada fell into step beside him, and he slowed without thinking, mindful of the book still pressed against his thigh.
Hopefully, it’d keep her distracted long enough until they arrived.
***
“One dango for the little one—coming right up.”
The stall worker turned, hands already moving. Rice flour was pressed and rolled, the dumplings lowered briefly into steaming water before being skewered and brushed with a glossy sheen of sauce that caught the lantern light.
Kakashi glanced down at Sarada, amusement softening his eyes. “Good timing. I was worried they might’ve closed for the night.”
Sarada nodded eagerly, already bouncing lightly on her heels as the final touches were added. She hadn’t been worrying about closures or timing at all—only about finally getting her treat.
The man handed over the skewer with a grin, waving off the payment with a generous discount and a respectful bow. “Thank you, Lord Sixth.”
Kakashi accepted it with a small nod. Declining would’ve been ruder, no?
Sarada hummed in immediate delight as she bit into the dango, sauce smearing her fingers.
“Enjoying it?” Kakashi asked.
She swallowed quickly, eyes bright as she tilted her head up to him. “Yes!”
He chuckled.
“Where’s yours?” she asked.
“I didn’t get one.”
Her brows scrunched, staring at him as if he’d said something outrageous.
“I don’t really have a sweet tooth,” he explained. “Not like you—or your mother.”
Sarada looked personally offended, sticky-cheeked and indignant, as if such a thing shouldn’t be possible. Kakashi ruffled her hair, smiling as she hurried to catch up with him when he started walking again.
“Sorry we didn’t get to wander around more like you wanted,” he added. The sky had already darkened, and while Sakura probably wouldn’t be off work for a while yet, he didn’t want to keep Sarada out too late.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ve never seen the village at night like this before. I like it.”
“Hm.” He followed her gaze as shops shuttered for the evening, lanterns flickering to life along the streets.
An idea sparked.
“Then let’s make one last stop before we head home.”
***
“So pretty!”
She stood near the edge of the Hokage Monument, staring out over the village. From here, Konoha spread wide and glowing—lamplights threading through the streets like constellations fallen to earth.
Kakashi watched her eyes shine. “I used to come up here a lot.”
She didn’t answer right away, too absorbed in tracing familiar rooftops and winding roads. When she finally turned to him, it was as if his words had only just reached her.
“You don’t come here much anymore?”
“Ah—no,” he said after a moment. “I suppose… I don’t really need to.”
It was strange, noticing the gaps where old habits used to be. The solitary climbs to the Hokage Monument, the long pauses spent reminding himself what he fought for. The hours lingering in cemeteries, standing before stone markers as if repentance could be measured in time. Those visits had grown fewer, too, without him ever quite deciding it.
Sarada studied him for a moment, head tilted, as if turning his answer over in her mind. “It’s because you’re too busy looking after me and Mama.”
His eyes widened slightly, but before he could respond, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as tightly as her small body allowed.
Kakashi stiffened for half a breath—then relaxed, returning the embrace until she pulled away on her own. It struck him, then, how easily he gave in where she and Sakura were concerned.
“Thank you, Oyaji,” she said, looking up at him with a wide, toothy grin.
His eyes curved into crescents. “Of course.” He felt himself soften further, the way he always seemed to around them.
It was then that footsteps crunched against stone behind them.
Kakashi turned first, Sarada following his gaze, and there—approaching along the path—was Sakura, pink hair catching the low light, completing the picture he hadn’t realized he’d already formed.
“Mama!” Sarada called, already scrambling to her feet.
Kakashi’s hands lifted instinctively, ready to steady her, but Sarada moved with sure footing, darting forward with the same natural control her mother possessed.
Maybe soon, he thought, he could teach her how to throw a kunai—if Sakura would allow it.
Catching her easily, Sakura pulled her into a tight hug. “Looks like you had fun.”
“I did!” Sarada declared.
Sakura glanced up at Kakashi as Sarada loosened her grip. “I got your note. Pakkun found me.”
“In case you got off early,” he said mildly.
She snorted. “You mean on time for once, instead of overtime?”
Kakashi chuckled, and Sakura joined him near the edge, sitting beside him and drawing Sarada between them. For a moment, the three of them simply watched the village glow below.
“I’m glad you brought her here,” Sakura said quietly. “I’ve been meaning to, but…”
Her voice trailed off. Kakashi didn’t look at her; he didn’t need to. He let his eyes wander across the view, savoring the fleeting scarcity of a night this calm, understanding what she didn’t say—the guilt of wanting more time for Sarada, and never feeling like she had enough to give.
“You work hard,” he said. “For your family. For Konoha. For every child who gets to grow up here safely.”
He felt her turn toward him.
“You shouldn’t have to do it alone,” he added. “And I don’t mind helping.”
He turned then, meeting her gaze with a gentle, genuine smile.
Sakura’s bright green eyes—wide, earnest, and the source of so much of Sarada’s own curiosity and warmth, far more than anything she’d inherited from Sasuke—shimmered. “Thank you, Kakashi.”
She rested her head against his shoulder, and he let her.
Looking out at the village, with Sarada warm between them and Sakura resting at his side, the truth became undeniably clear.
He would give them whatever they needed; and everything he needed, he already had from them.
For the foreseeable future, any mission requests could wait.