The room was deathly quiet as Kakashi stepped inside, the sound of the door closing heavy on his shoulders. He walked automatically to the bed even if his brain had been shut off, simply refusing to work after the hellish day he just had— and even that was a massive understatement. The compound was cold, and Kakashi tried desperately to shove away the thought of the big bloody stain on the tatami mat next room while taking off his clothes. His eyes stung with unshed tears and trembling hands gripped the edge of his futon, tugging it back so he could lay down and cover himself.

That night there would be no goodnight kiss.

Not ever again.

Sakumo was gone. And for the first time in his life, Kakashi felt lonely.

But he was all grown up, right? Grown ups were able to control their emotions and pretend like nothing happened. They could hold the tears for as long as they wanted.

But... if that was true... why were tears rolling down his cheeks? Why was he shaking so badly?

Kakashi curled up in a tight ball, biting down on the inside of his cheek until his mouth was filled with blood— but that didn't stop him, so he kept biting and tugging until his mouth was completely numb. Thunder echoed outside and his little frame trembled almost uncontrollably, though it had little to do with the way the house seemed to shake so violently.

His dad was dead. Not Konoha's White Fang, not one Sandaime-sama's best shinobi in the entire force. His father, the one who had made him breakfast that morning and promised to train with him after school. The one who had held him extra tight before he had even had the chance to escape their little tradition before he left for the Academy— the one who had promised him he'd never leave his side.

Why, why, why?!

Had Kakashi not been enough for his dad to stay? Had he done something wrong? Had it been because he had refused to sleep with Sakumo the night he had returned from his last mission? Or because he had tried to disentangle himself from that fierce hug his father— his daddy— had pulled him into the moment he had stepped into the compound?

Had Kakashi been that bad of a son?

As soon as the question hit him he couldn't stop the heart-wrenching sob from escaping his lips. Then came another, and in no time the now only member of the Hatake ichizoku was wailing in his room, with no one to comfort him this time.

That is, until a gentle hand gripped his shoulder.

He let out a shrill scream, not having sensed anyone's presence— not that he could've in his state. The rain made the air around him slightly humid, and his nose had already been assaulted by the smell of blood. His hand reached out for the kunai he always kept in his bedside table, but as soon as dark gray eyes meet golden ones, his whole body froze.

Orochimaru was there, in his room.

"I mean you no harm, hatchling." His tone, usually cold and authoritative, was now soft like velvet and held warmth the Sannin wasn't known for showing. The little boy simply looked at him, a thin trail of blood running down his chin the moment he had opened his mouth. Orochimaru frowned at that and reached out to clean his chin, but Kakashi scrambled back until his head hit the wall.

It was normal to be scared— he had walked into the house after the poor boy had found his father laying on the ground with the end of his sword poking out his back earlier that day. Orochimaru was not a man of emotions. Sometimes he even doubted he was human, but Rikkudo knew he could relate to the pain in the boy's eyes all too well.

He had witnessed the murder of his parents, after all.

"I would've come earlier, but Sandaime-sama called me to the Hokage Tower. I knocked on the door, but I suppose the thunder didn't allow you to hear me." He decided to keep the fact he had heard Kakashi's cries all the way to the front door to himself and waited for him to finally realize he indeed meant no harm. "I do apologize for not being here with you."

"With..." Kakashi's voice was raspy and he coughed a couple of times, having choked on his blood. Orochimaru's presence was not an unknown one to him— he had seen him frequently at the compound whenever he decided to stop by and have dinner with the two Hatakes. It was no secret Sakumo and the Sannin were best friends— in his father's eyes, at the very least. Though Orochimaru regarded him in a way that didn't let anyone think otherwise even if he hadn't quite called Sakumo that. The little boy then thought about Jiraiya and Tsunade. One had gone rogue and one had left the village to apparently find his destiny, but that meant leaving the three of them alone— something Orochimaru had not appreciated at all, and if it hadn't been by Sakumo's stubborn nature, he would've done the same thing to or devote himself to his mysterious investigation.

He wondered if they'd ever get to find out what happened. Something akin to anger settled in, because they hadn't been there to stop his father from doing that. They should've been with him after the mission like Kakashi had tried. They should've done something, anything to help him get better.

But they hadn't.

"May I sit?" Orochimaru's voice reached him, successfully distracting him from his train of thought, who took a good five minutes to give a nod of his head. The Sannin removed his jōnin vest and sat on the edge of the futon, one hand reaching out in a slightly hesitating fashion until his fingers brushed against Kakashi's cheeks, effectively wiping his tears. "I want you to talk to me, hatchling."

Kakashi didn't even blink, and Orochimaru noticed he vague resemblance he held with his younger self. That was the last thing he had ever wanted to see in that no longer innocent face.

"Kakashi, I know—"

"You don't," he snapped and coughed again, yet he didn't quite dare to pull away or slap Orochimaru's hand— probably because he was too emotionally unstable to do so. "You don't even know what it's like."

"I do." The older of the two sighed and looked out the window, his eyes distant for a brief second. "I do more than you'd ever know."

Even in his grief, Kakashi seemed too curious— maybe too much for his own good, Orochimaru mused.

"How?"

"I saw them die. My parents," he elaborated, offering a wry smile before his face became emotionless. "We were in the middle of the War, hatchling. Death doesn't care about our loved ones— she's always been a selfish lady." The silver-haired boy looked a bit startled, and his eyes became damp again as a new wave of tears threatened to fall. The shinobi didn't know what to do— he hadn't been able to comfort Tsunade when Nawaki and Dan died. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to help the little Hatake.

"Does it..."

"Yes?"

"Does it ever get better?"

If Orochimaru knew the answer, he wouldn't have begun to experiment in hopes to find a way to stop Death. Another sigh left him.

"That I don't know, Kakashi. Matters regarding Death are" — still— "a mystery to me."

"I thought you knew everything." No kid's voice should never sound like Kakashi's did at that moment. No kid should ever be hopeless.

"I apologize," he said sincerely.

Silence consumed them. Minutes dragged by, and just when Orochimaru thought about leaving, that little raspy voice surprised him.

"I didn't saw him do it. He had promised we'd train after the Academy, but... when I got here he..." Kakashi's voice broke at the end and a son escaped his blood-stained mouth, one hand pressing desperately against his lips. "He was laying on the floor... a-and I—" he stopped suddenly and bolted to what Orochimaru assumed was the bathroom, because in no time he could hear the boy retch and heave through his sobs. The Sannin got up at a measured pace and followed Kakashi's steps, pushing the door open and walking up to the boy who had his head in the toilet, blood smeared all over the ceramic bowl. His pale hands rubbed circled on his back in an effort to soothe him, using his special jutsu to elongate his free arm to reach over to the sink and turn the water on. He cupped a bit of the cool water and splashed it over the silver hair, making sure the mask was properly tugged back, folded neatly at the neck.

"Just let it all out, hatchling. I'm here for you."

Even if his father was no more. The fact hung heavily in the air, and Kakashi gagged a couple of times before turning his head slightly to look at Orochimaru, perhaps looking like a child for the first time since he was a baby.

"I don't feel too—"

"I'll take care of you."

"W-Why?"

Why, indeed. He didn't owe this child absolutely anything— nor he owed Sakumo, for that matter. But still... he had always been undeniably connected to Kakashi. Orochimaru had never been able to define the true nature of it, but dwelling on it had always seemed pointless. Kakashi was a bright child, who couldn't do wrong. Sakumo has thought so and he had never been able to disagree with him.

One could even say he... loved Kakashi. He has never understood the full concept of it, but— he had felt the same way regarding his teammates and White Fang. Tsunade once called it love, so it had to be, right?

"Because you're a child and you still need to be taken care of. You need protection. I will honor my relationship as a friend of Sakumo and do just that."

"I don't need your pity. I don't want it."

"I don't pity you, child." His tone became slightly dry, and he forced himself to relax. Kakashi was hurting, and his social abilities— much like his own— had never been the sharpest. "If I can help you become the very opposite of who I am, then I will do everything in my power."

Kakashi wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and he stood shakily, flushing the toilet before moving to brush his teeth and wash his face and hands.

"What do you mean?"

"All in due time, hatchling."

Silence again.

"I feel better now, thank you." Kakashi looked at his face in the mirror and sighed, clearly not liking his red eyes or puffy nose. "Are you going to stay here now?"

"I doubt either one of us should stay here," he said slowly, allowing Kakashi to understand the meaning of his words. "You have yet to graduate from the Academy, and this means you can't live on your own. My living arrangements should be enough for the both of us." Rikkudo help him, he couldn't believe he actually meant every single word he said.

"Do you really want me to...?"

"Would I be offering if I didn't? I'm not Jiraiya. I am not made of kindness." After a pregnant pause, Orochimaru sighed mostly to himself. "No child should ever be on his own. It does your mind no good. I might not be able to offer the things he— I am no father material. Never will be. But, I can be your mentor." But Kakashi could say no for all he knew. The thought made him on edge. "If you so desire."

"I..." Kakashi trailed off and looked at his hands, there was no blood in them anymore, but he could smell his father's two rooms away. "I don't want to be here anymore, Orochimaru-san."

Orochimaru realized it was the first time Kakashi had actually said his name that night. Thunder roared outside. Going to his house at this hour would surely be unwise, and it looked like the kid wouldn't really handle a cold after all this.

"Will be you able to handle one night?"

Kakashi looked almost panicked for a second. "..."

"I won't be leaving, if that's what you're wondering."

"Will you stay with me in my room, then?"

The Sannin resisted the urge to fidget uncomfortably, the refusal already on the tip of his tongue.

"If that's what you want."

The boy suddenly grabbed him by the hand and led him all the way to his room as if realizing Orochimaru could change his mind and leave at any second. He climbed into the bed but refused to look up at him, his breathing slightly irregular.

Sometimes it was so easy to forget he was still seven years old.

Slowly, Orochimaru followed and laid down on the futon, wondering what would be his next move. To his astonishment, a smaller body than his own pressed up against his side and Kakashi hid his face in his shoulder, not bothering to cover his mouth again.

"Tou-san would hold me on rainy days, but... if you don't want I'll just move away."

The shinobi sighed through his nose and wrapped an arm around the small frame, one hand rubbing his back. "Sleep, hatchling. We'll be leaving tomorrow at dawn."

Kakashi didn't complain and closed his eyes, Orochimaru doing the same.

Neither of them were able to sleep that night. But even if Kakashi's bags under his eyes were extremely noticeable against his pale face, Orochimaru knew better than to bring it up. He just grabbed the small hand and gently tugged him along out of the compound and into the streets, the scrolls containing Kakashi's things heavy on his pockets as the sudden responsibility weighting down on his shoulders.

He swore he could feel Sakumo's eyes on him from the window as he locked the door of the compound.

A/N: Hello, hello! I come with a new story! Clearly AU, clearly OoC but it's my muse urging me to write this. I originally had a very dark storyline for this, but suddenly it turned very antsy and I'm not so sure if I want to go that way. This story will probably stay as a one shot unless you guys want me to write more. Do let me know! xx