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Clean. Chemical. Cold metal. Blood. The material realm smells hit Pakkun the moment he appears. Kakashi hasn’t summoned him to the hospital in a long time. Smoke coils around him as he blinks under the screaming clinical lights. “Boss?”
He half expects to see Kakashi in the hospital bed, too weak to move and terrified to have the door unguarded. But Kakashi’s sitting in a chair. He smells like ozone sweat and blood—but not his thunderstorm blood. The pink pup’s minty blood. His white vest is spattered gray with it—heavy splotches that will stink after many washes. “Watch over Sakura,” Kakashi says, his voice rough—and he smells sick, rot slicking down into his chakra.
“Boss—“ Pakkun starts, and presses his face into the blue fabric of Kakashi’s shin.
“Don’t let Sasuke or Naruto in to visit her,” he says, “Use force if you have to.”
Kakashi’s gloves are soaked in partly dried blood, but he pets over and over Pakkun’s head, until he’s minty with it. Pup’s normally light brown skin is a gray-yellow color, and she looks—more dead that alive. She’s in one of the crinkly clothes they put humans in when they lock them in the hospital. She doesn’t stir—her shoulder is covered in fresh bandaging that clearly extends below her collar.
“The other pups acting up, boss? Push their noses into their own messes,” Pakkun advises.
A soft huff escapes Kakashi, nothing like a laugh. “Protect her. I need to go—“ And then—the sharp bolty smell of Kakashi’s chakra—and all that’s left is a puff of smoke and the girl.
Pakkun doesn’t whine when Kakashi leaves—he’s not a puppy anymore. But he does hop up onto Sakura’s bed, then burrows himself under her limp hand. What happened here? How did Sakura get hurt? Boss would never let that happen—but he did just wake up from that genjutsu recently. And where are the other two pups? Why can’t they visit Sakura?
“Sas…uke? Na-Naruto?” The girl stirs a little, her voice cracked and hazy. “Oh. Pakkun. It’s. Okay. Don’t cry. You’re a. Good boy.”
Her fingers spasm before she pets over his head. “I should be saying that to you, pup. What happened?”
“…I… They were fighting,” Sakura whispers, and salt pushes through the strong mint. “I… He. Sasuke. He—was so angry. I thought—I thought maybe… the mark…”
“…Did he lose control?” Pakkun asks, lifting his paw so that Sakura can touch his very supple pawpads.
She does, her small thumb swiping over the smooth gray of his pads. “…He started to—the chirping. Like. Like when sensei… killed Haku. And Naruto—Naruto and his clones were making something in his hand, but I.” She heaves on a shaking breath. “I was scared they were going to hurt each other. I. Tried to stop them, but…”
“You got in the way. Stupid thing to do, pup,” Pakkun licks her trembling little fingers. “Who hit you?”
“…Sasuke,” she whispers, bowing her head, the short gray—pink?—hair across where the leaf mark goes falls into her face. “…Naruto’s clones pulled him away and he hit the water tower. But. Sasuke’s hand…” Her free hand smooths over where he can see the bandaging.
Oh. Sasuke used the chidori. And hit Sakura with it. She’s lucky to be alive: getting in between the idiots like that. Pakkun looks back up at the pup. The bandages creep down from her shoulder—the pup nearly got her through the chest.
Through the heart.
A little growl escapes him, crackling in his throat like lightning. “You could have died,” he admonishes.
“…I just… I thought. He’d stop. Like at the exam. I—I thought he’d stop, and I just… I didn’t want him and Naruto to hurt each other.”
Tears stream down her face, and Pakkun—Pakkun licks the salt from the pup’s face, again and again and again, until her skin is wet only from his tongue, and she pushes him away with a watery laugh. Something spicy and bright hits his nose—oh shit, is that—and Tsunade-hime steps through the door.
Pakkun stares. Humans age weird. Slower than dogs, but faster than spirits. But it’s been a long time and she looks exactly the same. He sniffs at her more deeply, and is hit full force with the sharp absinthe of her chakra. It’s her all right. His nose twitches. “Only service dogs in my hospital,” she murmurs, watching the girl sniffle.
“I’m in serv—“ he starts, but she pokes him with one chakra-infused finger and—he snaps on nothing in the sunlit meadow he’d been napping in before Boss called him. Dammit.
+
Curry paste and ozone and bleach and ginger. Gai’s apartment. That’s good, Pakkun thinks, as he appears on the raggedy old rug Gai lets the turtle eat on. It still smells like cabbage. Except, Kakashi is laying on the floor beside Gai’s futon. His mask is down, buried in a different rug that had been in that creaky shack Gai used to live in. “Yo,” Boss says, muffled. "What happened?”
Pakkun crawls over on his belly, till his nose meets the sallow side of Kakashi’s face. “Sorry, boss. Tsunade sent me back.”
“Well, she’s the Hokage now. So I’ve been overruled, but look at this, Pakkun,” Kakashi says, his voice hardly a whisper, as he holds up—a tiny framed picture.
It’s a picture of Gai, Kurenai, and Rin. Young. Small. Gai is grinning brightly at the camera, flexing both his arms, and Kurenai is sitting on one bicep and Rin is laughing on the other. They both do peace signs beside Gai’s face. The two girls are bigger than Gai—it had been taken before his growth spurt—so anyone who didn’t know Gai would think he would topple over at any moment. “Cute pups,” Pakkun agrees, and cuddles up against the hollow-ridges of Kakashi’s chest.
He’s lost weight, from when he was kenneled in the hospital probably. Kakashi curls an arm around Pakkun, pulling his closer, and resting his forehead on the picture as he lays out flat on the floor.
Slowly, sleep finds Kakashi—bone-deep and cursed, because he whimpers in his sleep, and Pakkun presses up tighter against where his heart flutters like that time Bull caught a butterfly in his teeth.
+
Hospital and ozone. Gai’s door creaks open sometime long after dark has eaten the well-worn apartment, but Gai doesn’t flick on the lights when he comes in, silent. Still, Kakashi stirs just enough to tell it’s Gai, before letting the tide of exhaustion drag him back under.
A foolish man would try and move Kakashi onto the bed, but Gai is reckless not foolish. He stretches out on the floor—just close enough that Pakkun can feel the heat radiating off his chakra. His dark gaze is fixed on the ceiling, as he whispers to Pakkun, “Sakura-chan is recovering well, though Tsundade-sama says that it will be some time before the scars can be fully healed.”
Pakkun snuffles into Kakashi’s hair. “When is she being released?” Pakkun asks.
“Kakashi can come for her tomorrow, if he likes,” Gai murmurs, slurred, and when Pakkun turns his head, Gai’s asleep—he makes the soft but tell-tale whistling from where his nose didn’t heal right when he was still growing into it. The two sleep on the floor, far enough they can’t touch, and Pakkun presses more comfortable into Kakashi’s side.
He keeps watch, so the nightmares cannot have their reign.
+
Kakashi wakes first. He strokes over and over Pakkun’s back, head turned so he can see the creases of Gai’s sleeping face, the tension that cannot leave him even in rest. Sunrise casts a low orange glow over the apartment—softening it, like the picture that Kakashi pulls into his hands.
Gai grins and Kurenai beams and Rin laughs.
“Pup’s gonna be alright, boss. Gai says you can spring her out today,” Pakkun says.
“Good.” He rises, old joints popping from sleeping on the floor.
Pakkun hops up onto a chair to watch as Kakashi makes breakfast—curry, naturally—and he has to cook the rice in a pot because Gai never buys machines to do things for him. Gai rolls onto his side, away from the light, and Pakkun crawls back down to curl up beside him as Kakashi cooks. The heat rolls off him, and he smells like hospital, and Pakkun—Pakkun licks the scarred map of his hand.
“Gai,” Kakashi calls, as he puts plates of curry and rice on the rickety table Gai probably built himself. “Breakfast. Get up.”
Gai muffles something into his shoulder, face screwed up with grumpiness, but Pakkun licks and licks and licks his face until finally Gai sits up, his long hair falling perfectly into place. The circles under his eyes are dark, but he drags himself to the table, propping his face up in a hand. “Thank you, Rival,” he murmurs, as he spoons a bite of plain rice into his mouth.
Kakashi pulls down his mask to eat, and Pakkun settles at Gai’s feet under the table—and Gai, of course, feeds him the eggplant out of his curry, holding the treat between his fingers for Pakkun. “I was too late,” Kakashi says, raw, and Pakkun resists the urge to crawl over and bump his shin.
“…Rival,” Gai says, his voice taking on that worn quality of a spirit who cannot even remember their name. “It is done. She will heal.”
“Her heart stopped, Gai. Sasuke killed her. I had to use a lightning release to bring her back.”
Gai feeds Pakkun a chunk of kabocha—he must be doing more poorly than he acts. It’s his favorite, and he never gives it up—as he says, “Sakura is alive and recovering well. You were there in time.”
Pakkun swallows down the spicy pumpkin and then he paws at Kakashi’s knees until he scoots back and Pakkun crawls up into his lap. He’s not a lapdog, except for the when the Boss needs him to be. “…I should never have passed him. And I shouldn’t have—”
“…But you did. So what shall you do now, Rival? How will you deal with him?”
Kakashi pets over Pakkun’s head. “…I think I need to talk to Anko. I—can’t keep him on Team 7. Not after...”
He falls silent, and Pakkun can hear the crackle of chakra-lightning. Another time. Another girl. The same blood-soaked gloves. “It is for you to decide, Rival,” Gai says, heavy. “…The lessons we intend… are often not those we end up teaching.”
“How’s Lee?”
“…He is preparing for the surgery,” Gai sounds upbeat—brittle and certain.
“Gai.”
“Oh!” Gai grins, and from his spot on Kakashi’s lap, Pakkun can see the bright gleam of his teeth. “That picture with Rin… I’d like you to have it.”
Kakashi’s hand on Pakkun stills. “Gai.”
"I meant to give it to you long ago. I just…” Gai’s gaze shines wetly. “It took me longer than I expected. But! I’d like you to have it. It’s a wonderful picture of her.”
Silence stretches out between them, heavy with something that Pakkun—Pakkun can’t smell it, like that sweet promise that hangs in the air before the rainy season. This is something different. Something harder. Something they can’t say. But Kakashi’s hand trembles just so. His voice comes sharply bitter as he says, “Thank you.”
And Gai… Gai closed-eye beams as he says, “You’re welcome.”
Pakkun nuzzles into Kakashi’s still hand. The picture stares at them from the counter where it had watched Kakashi cook. Rin’s eyes crinkled in laughter. Kurenai’s young face smiling brightly. Gai’s teeth gleaming from the flash. A precious moment entrusted to the Boss. “I should get going. I’m assisting Tenten and Neji in training this morning, before I go back to check on Lee. Please tell Sakura-chan that I’m glad she’ll recover well!”
“Boss?” Pakkun asks, after Gai vaults out his own window.
“…Say hi to the pack for me,” Kakashi says, and—Pakkun reappears at the spirit monk’s house by the mountains.
The spirit lifts their gleaming hand in greeting, the second sun at its zenith above—night will come soon—making their body shine like gossamer. They beckon him to their porch, and then put down a saucer of milk for him.
Bull says the monk had never met a dog while they lived, but they did have some cats. Pakkun licks up all the milk while the monk hums a song they learned from the cicadas, before the great sickness had left the rippling grass covered in empty husks, and the song had faded away and away.
He hopes the boss and Gai will be okay.
+
Absinthe. Rainy ozone. Sweet decaying leaves. Paper and parchment. Pakkun appears at Kakashi’s feet, outside what had been the old man’s office and is now Tsunade-hime’s. It’s still strange to think about. “Hey, boss,” he says, and he’s spent too much time with the monk because he rubs up against Kakashi’s ankles like a damned cat. “Anko.”
Her smile is fanged. “Hey.”
“We have a meeting with the Hokage,” Kakashi says, his body and face stiff. The wetrotting ozone of his chakra is sharp today.
Anko’s grin melts off as she crouches down in front of Pakkun, and she stage whispers, “Don’t worry. I’ll get you an orange vest next time.”
He growls at her. The gall. Pakkun’s a ninken, not a service dog. He rubs up against Kakashi’s ankle again and is rewarded with a pat on the head. “Are you coming in?” Tsunade-hime’s voice cracks out.
The three of them enter. Tsunade presides in a special leather chair that—he sniffs—is newly made from Nara deer. They really went all out for her. Then again. Human politics are somehow more tedious than spirit politics—spirits at least have the time to lose.
She scowls down at him, but she doesn’t raise her finger to banish him.
Instead, she looks at Kakashi. “…I read your request,” she taps her black nails on a scroll before her. “Ultimately, as jounin-sensei it’s up to you whether you keep him on your team or not. But… You’re certain about this, Kakashi? You did just wake up from—“
“…I refuse to teach him, Hokage-sama. Either Anko agrees to take him on, or I suggest removing him as a shinobi of Leaf altogether.”
Tsunade turns her stern face over to Anko. Anko rubs at her shoulder, her tan jacket fluffed up like a scared bird’s. “Anehan, I… would be a horrible sensei, you know that.”
“Why would I know that?” Cutting as the chidori.
Pakkun sits down on Kakashi’s foot, warming his always cold toes. Anko murmurs, “Because of my aiyan. I mean—because of my sensei.”
“Last I checked, having a traitor for a sensei didn’t disqualify anybody from teaching. Unless you intend to kidnap Sasuke from the Village and experiment on him?” Tsunade taps her fingers against the desk.
“No! But the last thing the kid needs is for the Village to think he’s a Snake Whore, too!” Anko’s hands curl into fists, and rot overtakes the sweet decay of her chakra, but she keeps it in check, even as she spits the old name.
“Oh, is that what they’re calling me these days?”
As if anybody would dare call Tsunade-hime that. Kakashi shifts slightly, and Pakkun has to settle his butt more firmly on the Boss’s toes. “Of course not!” Anko snaps, dark, “Anehan—you can’t seriously think everybody will be fine with me training the last Uchiha.”
“Anko—stop talking and start listening. Now.”
All three of them go still—this is what will make Tsunade-hime a good Kage. Pakkun almost, almost wags his tail and lets his tongue hang out. But he’s good at official meetings. That’s why the Boss brings him to places like this. Tsunade-hime’s voice is sharp, and her fingers tap tap tap on the desk. “It is not everybody who decides genin assignments. I decide. So when I say, Mitarashi Anko, that you are fit to teach Uchiha Sasuke, I speak with the authority of Konoha. Whether you accept… that’s up to you: I won’t force you. But refuse only because you want to. You are neither your sensei, nor his discarded property. Think hard, Anko. In 48 hours, return and give me your answer.”
Anko bows her head. “…Yes, Anehan.”
“Dismissed,” Tsunade-hime says, her amber eyes already on the mountains of papers in front of her.
But a little furrow is in her brow—right above the blue diamond that is so bright bright with her chakra. Pakkun stands up, and Kakashi and Anko follow him out. He leads the two of them to the dango shop, because it’s Anko’s favorite, and Boss slips him a cat-shaped treat. Kakashi finds them a bench, and Anko goes to get them dango. Pakkun eats his treat at Boss’s feet.
“…Thanks,” Kakashi says, as Anko hands him a few sticks.
“Don’t mention it,” Anko sits beside him.
The afternoon yawns into purple twilight. Anko says, to the beginnings of the moon, “You sure you won’t keep him? Getting thrown aside by your sensei… it doesn’t go away.”
“…Killing your teammate doesn’t go away either,” Kakashi says.
And well, who can argue with that?
Pakkun isn’t surprised that Kakashi doesn’t send him back. No, he gets to spend the night cozy in boss’s bed—and Kakashi curls around Pakkun like a kicked puppy, his hands clenching and unclenching in his sleep, and Pakkun stays awake and stays awake as the stars slide across the sky.
+
Some days later, Kakashi summons Pakkun into the dawn. Light trickles into the training ground, the three posts warm and rain-scented. “When the kids get here,” Boss says, his voice rough like Minato-sensei’s had been, “stick with Sakura. Don’t let the boys pressure her.”
“Right, boss,” Pakkun says and he eats some of the familiar grass and Kakashi perches on the center post like some great raptor with clipped wings.
Tension makes deep the lines of Kakashi’s face. Pakkun chews up more and more grass, his stomach twisting up.
They smell the pups long before they see them, of course. That fox-musked wildfire scent that almost drowns out the dark embers of a campfire and the sweet mint. Naruto rushes ahead of the other two. “Kakashi-sensei! You’re… early?” He cocks his head to the side.
Sasuke approaches, his dark eyes fixed on the old earth beneath the posts. He doesn’t look at Kakashi. He doesn’t look at his teammates. Maybe—maybe Kakashi will take pity on him.
But Pakkun has a job to do. He bounds over to where Sakura lags behind the other two, her face almost her normal warm brown again. She blinks down at him with her bright eyes as he places his paws on her knees. “You’re my seat, pup. Go on. Sit.”
Her brow furrows but the dark circles under her eyes, the stiffness of her movements, make her obey like a good girl. Pakkun settles into her lap as she peers up at Kakashi on the post. The boys follow her lead and sit on the grass as well. The three students, before their sensei. It’s familiar. Aching.
There was once another man on the post. Other children.
Blood.
Sakura pets him. Kakashi looks down at the three of them—the rising sun glittering in his hair. “This,” he says, grave and final, “is the last time the four of us will be meeting like this.”
It hangs over them for a long moment. Sakura stops petting him, but her hands are shaking. Naruto frowns. “Kakashi-sensei, what do you mean? Are you leaving?”
“…As of today, Uchiha Sasuke is no longer a member of Team 7.”
Sakura gasps. “Sensei, I—I forgive Sasuke. It—he didn’t mean—“
And Naruto shouts, his voice drowning out Sakura’s, just the way his scent down, “What do you mean, not a member of Team 7? Of course he’s a member of Team 7—“
“…You can’t,” almost a hoarse whisper, “I’m sorry, sensei. It was just—a mistake. If she hadn’t gotten in the way—“
“Enough.”
Sharp, like his father’s blade. Pakkun nuzzles into Sakura’s lax hands. It’s going to be okay. She’ll be okay. The pups are silent: “…You apologized to me, and blamed Sakura instead of yourself in the same breath,” Kakashi voice drips venom. “People who abandon their teammates are worse that trash, but those who kill their teammates are undeserving of the title of Leaf Shinobi. You should be grateful, Sasuke, that she didn’t die for long, or I’d have ensured you spent the rest of your life in a cell.”
“But you’re abandoning Sasuke for a—a mistake!” Naruto shouts. “That makes you worse that trash.”
“…Sensei, please,” Sakura whispers, thick with tears. “I’m going to heal. It’s—not his fault.”
Sasuke stands, staring at Kakashi. “…This is bullshit. You were the one who taught me—“
“And I’ll regret passing you and teaching you the chidori for the rest of my life. You’re lucky I’ve made arrangements for you to get a new sensei, instead of stripping you of your shinobi status,” Kakashi says. “Naruto, you’ll be traveling and training under Jiraiya-sama. Sakura, you’ll be with me. And Sasuke, you’ll meet with Anko-sensei in the Forest of Death tower tomorrow if you want to continue as a shinobi.”
His eye, flat and furious, turns to Sasuke who looks down at the grass, his hands in fists at his sides. “Whatever. I don’t need any of you,” Sasuke says, “…I’ll be stronger without you holding me back.”
“Sasuke—“ Sakura says—
But Sasuke leaves, with Naruto shouting on his heels but he throws back one furious glare at Kakashi as he calls, “Wait, Sasuke—!“
Sakura pets over Pakkun’s back, her hands cold and quivering. Silent tears run down her face, dripping down off her chin. "Sensei,” she whispers, her voice small and firm, "You’re giving up. You’re giving up after everything you told us about teamwork. After promising that we’d be okay. Don’t… don’t pretend like you’re doing this for me. Don’t—“ tears swallow up the rest of her words.
He doesn't look at her, instead watches the sun lighten the leaves. “You'll understand someday. Go home. Get some rest,” his voice so distant.
Pakkun licks Sakura's hand one last time as she struggles up to go chase after her boys. He settles himself at Boss's feet. Except. Kakashi shakes his head. "Say hi to the others for me. I... Need to go talk to sensei."
And the dawn gives way to the shimmering spirit night, the sky dappled with the ghosts of the farflung stars. Bull wags his tail at his side. “Boss sends his love,” Pakkun says, and wishes wishes wishes that Minato-sensei could talk to Kakashi back.
+
It’s been a long time since Kakashi has summoned Pakkun back and forth so frequently. Not since much darker days. But Pakkun appears in Kakashi’s kitchen, a steaming bowl of chicken feet and chunks of pork sitting on the table for Pakkun. He stands on the chair, his front paws resting on the table, and wolfs down a hunk of pork. “Thanks, boss,” he says.
Kakashi has a simple bowl of rice with raw egg cracked over it. Pakkun crunches his way through the feet. “Morning, Pakkun,” Kakashi’s voice is gruff, like he spent all night howling. “Sasuke starts training with Anko today. Would you… keep an eye on them? Tell me how it goes?”
“…So you are worried about the pup,” Pakkun says, and gulps down some of the soft pork. It’s the good stuff. The stuff Gai will eat even on a bad day. “Well, someday he’ll learn to be a good boy.”
He knows his tail is wagging. If he gets his favorite treats for breakfast, he’s been the best boy. Kakashi tugs his mask up before he’s finished half his own bowl. Years ago, Pakkun would have had to bully him into eating, somehow, and probably failed—Bull was always the best at being a papa dog. Pakkun let Kakashi get away with too much. But Kakashi’s grown—first in his eyes, and then taller. It’s different now, but—as Ningame always says, the more things change—
“Sasuke and I both have to live with our mistakes,” Kakashi says, and he is heavy, heavy, and time writes itself on mortals with sharp sticks. “They’re meeting in the Forest of Death. Follow Anko’s scent. She’ll have been there a while.”
+
The Forest of Death smells the way it always does: earthy and dank and a soothing soft rotting scent. It makes it hard to smell Anko, with that sweet decay of hers, but she and Sasuke are already in the Tower. He shuffles under the stairs, and is glad that the tower echoes enough he can hear them easily.
“Whatever, blah blah, you don’t wanna be here,” Anko says. “You are. The question isn’t if you want me to train you. We’re well past that. The question is: do you still want to be a shinobi of Leaf?”
There’s a beat of silence where Sasuke must nod or scowl or something, because Anko continues, “Great. So you’re stuck with me, at least until you make chuunin. Introductions. You’re Uchiha Sasuke and you want to kill your brother or whatever. I’m Anko. I’m not a sensei, so don’t bother with that Anko-sensei junk. And I don’t know what I want anymore.”
“…Fine,” Sasuke says, his voice small and breaking into little bits as it echoes. “So why’d they stick me with you, if you’re not a sensei?”
Oh. Sasuke doesn’t know, does he? Why would he know? There’s a soft rustle and Sasuke sucks in a little breath that becomes big as it bounces around the Tower. “The curse seal you’ve got? I was the first one to survive. Probably,” she says, voice fanged. “I can help you control it. And, uh, teach you whatever else you need, I guess.”
The smoldering ashes of Sasuke become a blaze. “…Could you beat Uchiha Itachi? Because if you can’t do that, you’re as useless to me as Kakashi-sen—as Kakashi was.”
“Oh, that’s all?” Anko laughs, sharp and mean. “Easy. I can teach you a way to kill your brother tomorrow. Before Sandaime beat me to it, I was going to kill my sensei. I know all about finding a way to kill somebody who you could never dream of beating normally. All you need is to be strong enough to get an opening, and my jutsu will do the rest.”
“…What? Just like that? Who the hell was your sensei? Wait. Sandaime—does that—”
“Bingo. Orochimaru was my sensei.”
“He was?” Sasuke’s horror bleeds through his anger, and whatever expression Anko makes in the silence must quell him somewhat, because he says, softly, “It can’t be that easy. You can’t just… have a jutsu that can kill my brother. And even if you did, it has to be… complicated.”
“I do,” Anko says, “And learning the jutsu isn’t the issue. It’s having the drive to see it through, and the ability to wait for the perfect opening. If you’re interested, meet me here at dawn in the morning. If you’re not, we’ll go tomorrow afternoon to turn your headband in to Godaime. Dismissed.”
Pakkun scrunches himself smaller under the stairs as he hears Sasuke’s soft footsteps. His campfire scent gentled to embers. As Pakkun’s deciding the fastest way back to the apartment, Anko appears before him, a terrible smile stretched across her face. “…Tell Kakashi that I let you watch today out of the goodness of my heart, but if I catch you here again…” her fangs are a sharp promise, “Kakashi abandoned him. He doesn’t get to do that halfway. Now shoo, before I really lose my temper.”
And he doesn’t need telling twice. He’s been killed by snakes before: it’s never fun.
+
Kakashi is sitting on the floor of the kitchen when Pakkun returns. He doesn’t look up, instead he holds the picture frame more tightly in his hands. Pakkun crawls on his belly until he can slide up into Kakashi’s lap and—Rin and Kurenai and Gai beam back at him—and Kakashi’s voice is nearly a whisper when he asks, “Well?”
“…I think they’ll make it, boss,” he says, and relaxes as a heavy hand settles on his head.
He thinks, maybe, they’ll all make it.