9 YEARS A.N. [After Naruto('s birth)]
Hatake Kakashi had a dream.
It wasn't a particularly complex dream, not even all that unreasonable as far as he was concerned. It was a simple, wholesome dream, for a simple, wholesome man.
He wanted to raise the greatest shinobi to ever exist.
That's all. That wasn't so hard, was it? Lord Hokage had promised him the name of Team 7 long in advance, so as far as he was concerned, he was already half there. Look at the previous Team 7's, exceptional one and all.
Except for that one. The old one under Minato, before Obito and Rin. Now, that had been a disappointment, hadn't it?
Oh, people tended not to talk about that one, but Kakashi firmly believed that the only reason the man-eating tigers had gotten involved at all was because they were unworthy, and the heavens had decided to correct that particular injustice.
No, Kakashi decided, standing in front of his mirror with a halo of discarded clothing about him. He needed to be careful to only choose the perfect children to bear his dream and dominate the planet. Or not. As long as the option was on the table, Kakashi was satisfied.
He carefully combed his hair once more, trying to get his hair at the perfect, most rakish angle possible. Pea green chuunin vest, strapped over a classy midnight blue jacket. Pants - snug, Forehead protector - shiny, shoes - tight. The handsome bastard in the mirror winked a gorgeous eye and Kakashi swooned.
He fanned himself on the ground with his notecards, and he began reciting them from memory again.
This needed to be perfect. Absolutely perfect. He'd show Genma.
The dented alarm rang, and Kakashi gave it a once over.
2 minutes past meeting time by the way the broken hand hangs.
Or two hours.
He eyed the cards, and weighed them.
Eh, he had time. This had to be perfect.
Kakashi strolled quietly past the Academy, the bustling crowds long behind him. At this time of day, it seemed that no one wished to approach the squat structures, the smell of blood and paper blotting the olfactory painting of the area. A thin stream of people quietly hurried away, shoving the gates apart with sounds of audible relief. Kakashi raised a brow; most of the people leaving were jounin, with none of the smell of sadness and disappointment he'd come to associate with would-be-genin.
A few questions later after cornering the poor bastards, and it turned out that his (potential) future disappointments-in-training had left the academy. A few more questions to random passerby he'd offered to help with groceries, informed him that they'd headed for the Hokage tower.
Broken-hearted over the ruins of his perfect entrance, he sped off to the massive color-stained monolith, while debating whether or not this turn of events was a good thing. On one hand, they were showing initiative, which he approved of. They'd even gone as a team. On the other hand, they'd forced him to move further than he wanted.
Yes, he decided, ignoring priority lanes and dashing through anyway. They were most certainly on his shitlist. Nobody not named Gai or Sarutobi made him move more than he felt like.
Coasting over a few rooftops with his last jump, he arrived at the Hokage tower as it opened for D-rank assignments, the place already riotous. His boots landed and crunched in, layers of brittle paint crushed under his feet. He knew that when he stepped off, there would be a new starburst of colors unveiled, adding to the chaotic monument. The desk-chuunin didn't notice the flakes drifting down as he swung over the doorsill and landed casually on the roof. Probably too busy corralling the zoo of pasty genin garbed in just the most ridiculous colors, bumbling around and dropping their weapons.
Kakashi shuddered. Imagine being so terrible at life that you dropped the only thing defending it.
God forbid he need speak to incompetents. No, Kakashi tripped around them easily on the ceiling, ignoring the occasional jealous glare from jounin teachers.
He could see the Secretary's writing from here, and yes, his precious, precious little vermin had indeed signed in.
He sighed and moved up, casually waving off a couple Anbu, and signing hello to a few he recognized.
The ones he recognized blanched. They'd failed to disguise their body language, and thus would either be sent to re-training or be fed to the Chakra Tigers in the Forest of Death. Kakashi personally hoped the latter; Ibiki had kept the cute beasties pretty well fed on the blood of foreign insurgents, but nothing quite revved them up for a fight like the taste of home.
Kakashi continued ambling his way across the layered Chakra Birch paneling, shoving the cute little trainee Anbu in the face if they got too close. But as he stepped up to the staircase, his ears did spot something good.
One of the little deadbeat genin was looking curiously at the whiskered ninja manning the desk, and Kakashi watched with visibly growing excitement as it opened its mouth.
"Why did Sensei call you a desk-chuunin?"
The whiskered desk-chuunin just looked at the child, like he could see his past unfolding. "Because," he said softly. "I'm a chuunin while I sit at this desk."
The boy cocked his head. "What about when you leave the desk?"
A huge gusty sigh from one of the neighboring desks echoed through the now-silent room.
The desk-chuunin looked at the small child with eyes deader than Kakashi's soul.
"A disappointment."
The boy visibly withered and beat a hasty retreat.
Kakashi, shot through the heart, dropped down near silently from the ceiling behind the desk-chuunin even now staring blankly at the floor.
Some of the jounin teachers winced and looked away.
Kakashi clapped the desk-chuunin on the shoulder, and leaned in to his ear. His hot breath tickled the man's skin and he saw goosebumps rise.
"This is your life now."
"This is my life now," The desk-chuunin whispered.
"Kakashi, I order you to stop driving my desk-chuunin to depression."
Kakashi scoffed. "I did nothing, it was obviously a pre-existing condition. Terminal failure."
Sarutobi puffed his pipe, and narrowed his eyes, but he wasn't quite fast enough to hide the twinkles of amusement. Equally amused, Kakashi rocked back on his heels. "You're even calling them desk-chuunin now, instead of - what was it Shikaku penned? Merit-based promotions?"
"Yes well," the Hokage coughed a little on his pipe smoke and tipped his hat to hide his smile. "I am the Hokage, and far be it for me to suppress the voice of my men."
They both loudly snickered, though perhaps "smoky death-rattle" would be a more apt description for the Hokage. Not that Kakashi would say that. He wasn't feeling Border Patrols right now. Speaking of unwanted responsibility, Kakashi turned to see his brats lined up against the wall looking rebellious.
The Hokage was looking at Kakashi when he turned back, eyebrow raised. The question was implicit.
So, this is a quest on SB. To be honest, I didn't plan to put this up, but I ended up somewhat needing to, as I started to grow unhappy with the way a lot of the style was vanishing in favor of more jokes. So, I'll still be updating there, but I'll put up finalized and more improved chapters up here when I feel happier about them.