Title: At Full Speed
Premise: Four years before Kakashi became the leader of Team 7, he was an ANBU operative without a partner. He and Tenzou team up, and it leads to ventures that neither of them were really expecting. The story is told in third person from Kakashi's point of view.
Warnings: Language and violence. Chapters that might be particularly triggering will be topped with content notes, but please read with discretion.

It was five o'clock on a Monday morning, and Kakashi's alarm clock was a lot more excited about it than he was.

With a deeply unimpressed grunt (he considered it a talent to be able to grunt with feeling), he rolled over and prodded the snooze button with one finger.

Thirty seconds later, it started beeping again. It was loving this - up until Kakashi swatted it across the room. It landed with a rattle and a sad little boop as though he'd broken its tiny circuitboard heart, but he didn't care. He was at least twenty years too young to have to wake up at this hour every weekday and trudge off to a boring office - he was only twenty-two, he should've still been partying and drinking with all the girls. Or whatever else entertained kids these days.

Kids these days?

Grunting again - incredulously, this time, trying to figure out when he'd become so old - he sat up, his singular exposed eye slowly adjusting to the dim light. His curtains were closed, and he didn't need to peek behind them to know that the sun was blaring outside. For anybody else, today would be a glorious summer's day; it was late August and the temperatures hovered around boiling point, as far as he could tell. But for him it would be another day trapped in his stiflingly hot cubicle, sorting papers and running errands.

Maybe his boss was trying to kill him off by slowly cooking him to death. That actually wouldn't even remotely surprise him, he realised vehemently, as he forced his body (which sobbed and asked him why, to which he had no response) out of bed, and trudged to the shower.

It was becoming a neat, if uncomfortable, little routine. Each morning he'd stagger out of bed, after severely offending his alarm clock, and clamber into the shower which would, without fail, run cold and make his hair ridiculously poofy for the rest of the day. Then he would drip-dry, freezing to death even in the middle of a hot summer, while trying to choke something down for breakfast. Next - and this really was his favourite part - he would get dressed in his 'office clothes', which were invariably a white button-down shirt and black pants, and a dark blue undershirt with a neckline high enough to cover most of his face. This led seamlessly into his staring at himself in the mirror and reassuring himself that he was a ninja, really, and a good one… and then he'd knot his tie and wonder what the hell he was doing with his life.

He had been an active ANBU operative, but then his partner had fallen pregnant and she'd dropped out - Kakashi couldn't blame her one bit - and so his boss had shunted him into an administration role until someone else cropped up. For some reason, he wasn't allowed to join one of the pre-existing squads, but he had an inkling that it was to do with his inability to get on with most people. But he would've rather been partnered with a murderer with a penchant for collecting the heads of poofy-haired ninja, than be forced to work in an office.

His boss didn't care. Obviously. That was why he expected Kakashi to clock in every morning at six, and not leave until twelve hours later. Everybody he worked with found it absolutely hilarious that he had fallen so far from grace - from everybody's favourite Copy Ninja to a loser office lackey. So it didn't surprise him when, the second he arrived that morning, three people had already stuffed empty coffee cups into his hands. He was more than used to it.

"Black, two sugars, thanks Kakashi," a coworker rattled off, and Kakashi frowned behind his mask.

For the next five hours he sat in mind-numbing tedium, slowly boiling alive in his work shirt, trying to ignore tendrils of sweat beading down his back. He wanted to tear off all his clothes and streak around the cubicles and air his naked body in front of the fan, but that probably wouldn't have gone over particularly well with his boss. He glanced down at what he'd been writing, only to realise that he'd absently doodled a rather abstract depiction of his boss trapped in a filing cabinet-style iron maiden. Admiring his own handiwork, he barely noticed when the man himself materialised in his cubicle.

"What's that?" his boss said, but Kakashi had already flipped the paper over and leaned back in his swivel chair.

"Nothing, nothing," Kakashi said smoothly, adopting the simpering smile that he'd seen so many of his colleagues point in his direction. "What can I do for you, boss?"

His boss - Genkei, the commander of the whole of ANBU - looked completely out of place in this office environment. Actually, it was a bit hilarious. People were peeking over the tops of their cubicles, trying to get a better view of him; he was dressed in black, but wearing a white cloak, and his face was completely hidden by a mask in the image of a dog. He bristled with quiet strength and radiated an aura that said don't mess with me, and that was mostly the reason why Kakashi so loved pushing his buttons.

"Memo for you. Hope you don't have any plans for tonight, Hatake," Genkei said, dropping a folded piece of paper on his desk.

Of course he didn't have plans. Plans were for people who still had their youth, Kakashi thought irritably as he went to say thanks to Genkei - but he'd already disappeared. He stared down at the paper in front of him, and hoped that it might be a command to throw himself out of the nearest window. But actually, it was nothing remotely as exciting.

Be in my office at 6:05PM sharp. Some people you need to meet.

Once he'd read it, the note caught fire and turned to ash before his very eyes. That was definitely overkill, he thought, raising an eyebrow as he considered it.

Then he went to fetch a dustpan and brush.

Kakashi burst through Genkei's office door, looking harassed.

"Sorry I'm late, commander, the copier -"

"Save it, Hatake."

Kakashi didn't really need to finish his excuse: the impressive splatter of blue toner across the front of his once-white shirt told its own story. He realised as his eyes adjusted to the lowlight (his boss' office was at least two hundred feet underground, lit only by a few buzzing incandescent lamps) that there was a line of about twenty people in front of him, all staring at him. Were they a firing squad? Had his boss finally had enough of him? Because if so, the feeling was mutual.

Each of them was wearing an ANBU uniform, and he couldn't deny the envy that he felt - compared to them, in their form-fitting black clothing and tough chest and armguards, he looked like a civilian. They were all holding their masks at their sides, and the few that were peering at him looked fresh-faced and innocent. Naïve. They must've been new recruits. Kakashi met the gaze of one boy who looked about twelve years old (or maybe he was just feeling old again), with darkly-ringed eyes and a crop of messy brown hair. The boy's eyes widened visibly and he stared at the ground, looking traumatised.

"Good to see this year's recruits are looking tough," Kakashi remarked flatly, casting his unimpressed stare up and down the line. They all either looked a bit too scrawny, a bit too shaky, or a bit too young.

Genkei must have completely missed his sarcasm, because he said, "These are the best of this year's intake. I thought you might like to meet some of them."

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. So this was like speed dating, but with ninjas?

"All right. Well, nice to meet you all," he said with an eye-smile, raising a hand in a tiny wave, "My name is Kakashi."

They all stared back at him. Two of them appeared to have realised that he was the Kakashi, but they were now laughing behind their hands, which was a far cry from the kind of reverence he was used to. He loosened his tie a little and stared listlessly at them, but they didn't notice. This was a nightmare. He was their senior. They were supposed to respect him.

The boy who he'd locked eyes with a moment ago stood out only because he looked almost exaggeratedly average, and for some reason, familiar. Suddenly he remembered - he'd had to save this kid's file from the shredder the other week because of some careless newbie, and, curious, he'd leafed through it. He was Konoha's Wood style user, but he looked considerably less impressive than his abilities suggested; Kakashi stepped to him to see that they were both of similar build and height, but the boy was a little shorter and leaner.

"Your name is Tenzou, right?" Kakashi said, and the kid nodded, this time unafraid to stare steadily back at him. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen," Tenzou said, and Kakashi exerted a great deal of effort to not laugh in his face. He was baby-faced for an eighteen year old, but still - he had a katana strapped to his back, and last time he'd checked, Kakashi had… nothing.

Tenzou was four years his junior, which could actually work quite nicely - he considered the kid for a little longer, up until the point where Tenzou was pointedly staring at him as if to say why the hell are you still looking at me, creep, then he stepped through the line and strolled over to the long desk that Genkei sat behind.

"None of them are a good fit, commander," Kakashi said, looking as apologetic as he could with just one eye. He really just wanted to go home, and as much as he might've liked to pick a random ninja from the line and call them his new partner - just to escape the office job - he knew that wouldn't end well.

Genkei stared at Kakashi over his steepled fingers, looking marginally irritated.

"Be that as it may, Kakashi, they're the best we have to offer of this year's new recruits. You can have a few more days to think on it," he intoned. And then: "Don't come back in until Saturday."

Kakashi could've kissed each and every one of them.

Hands pocketed, Kakashi wandered down the quiet streets that led to his part of town. By this time - about nine at night, because Genkei had given him a couple of hours' overtime - the sky had faded to a dusky blue, and the first stars were just showing up. As Kakashi walked, he thought. While being given time off until Saturday was pretty much the best thing that had happened to him all year - he still couldn't believe his luck - that meant that he had exactly four days to choose a partner from that group of twenty. And he could barely even remember anything about any of them, even though he'd delved into their files - except for the Tenzou kid, who seemed more like a liability than a real option.

He was interesting, though. There had been parts of his file that were protected with a technique that made them indecipherable; the boy had secrets, and troubles. Kakashi did know that Konoha wanted to keep his existence as private as possible, but he didn't know how well the village was managing this - Orochimaru was heavily implicated in his past, and Orochimaru had disappeared from their radar, untraceable.

Once he'd finally gotten home, Kakashi just about had the energy to kick off his shoes and throw his tie on the floor before he collapsed onto his bed, where a transferred blue toner stain would be waiting for him the next morning.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading, and if you have the time to review it'd be much appreciated. I've been struggling to get this story into a form that I'm happy with, so if you like it too, I'd really love to hear from you! :)