Endurance

Chapter 1 – Introspection

Kakashi dumped himself gratefully onto the settee and clutched at his head, sighing as he dropped the long-held pretence that he was fine.

It was almost 11 months since he had been gifted with Obito's sharingan eye, and for those 11 interminable months the whole left side of his head had burned continuously with an intense, white-hot pain. A week after the transplant, when the pain had not subsided, Kakashi had mentioned it to Rin, who had told him there was nothing that could be done save remove the eye if it didn't stop hurting.
So of course a month later when Rin had asked Kakashi in for a follow-up check, he had told her it was fine.
It was damn hard to put up with, but it was Obito's parting gift to him as he left this life, and Kakashi would not throw it back in his face. He would endure the pain, and he would master the eye. It was his duty in remembrance of his friend.
But now he had this damn baby to look after, and the eye always seemed to get worse when he was tired. And since taking in his dead Sensei's son 3 months ago, Kakashi had stumbled upon a whole new level of tired.
And he would not give up with this either. Like the eye, the kid was the legacy of one of his precious people, and he would protect it with everything he had. He would endure. For Sensei, for Obito, for Rin. It was his duty after all, and he owed it to them all.
But he was so damn tired.

Having not been able to sleep properly since the death of his father six years ago, and having found it even more difficult after the loss of his two teamates and the transplant of the eye, Kakashi was used to snatching whatever sleep he could whenever his mind would let him. Now though, the baby would inevitably start to cry just as Kakashi could feel himself starting to drift off. After seeing to him, or 'it' as Kakashi couldn't help but call the baby, it normally took several hours to wind down enough to enable sleep, by which time the baby would be waking up again.

Whenever he did manage to grab a few precious hours of sleep, he tended to suffer from nightmares that terrified him, so he would wake up sweating, and sometimes shaking so badly he couldn't catch his breath, and which left him feeling far worse than he had done before sleeping.
And if not the nightmares, the pain in head sometimes became so strong that he could no longer blot it out, and with his eyes tightly shut in agony, and his body trembling in fear and pain, the young jonin would lie silently beneath his blankets wishing he could still cry.
But he couldn't. Kakashi could never cry for himself. The pain was payback for his life being saved and for the eye he had received. The nightmares were punishment for everything he had failed to do to protect those he loved. And the baby? Much as he would like to, Kakashi couldn't view it even to himself as a punishment. It was the last thing he could do for any of them. The last promise he had made to his Sensei, to protect the kid, and the only promise left that he hadn't broken.

Yet.

There was plenty of time still to break it. His entire lifetime in fact.

Kakashi had reasoned with himself that, in order to keep his promise he would have to prevent the kid dying before he did. Additionally, he would have to avoid dying himself in order to see the kid die of something there is no protection from; old age. Therefore, unless Kakashi was able to outlive the kid naturally by at least his current age of fourteen years, there was no way to keep the promise.

But this train of thinking would get him nowhere at all. Kakashi's pessimistic half would often curse him to failure before he had even begun, but his optimistic side always won through in the end. There was no way he would quit, so even if he did fail and ended up breaking his final promise, Kakashi would be able to face Minato-Sensei in the Afterlife (if there was one – Kakashi was sceptical about that as he was about most things) and his teacher would know he had done his utmost for the kid.

In spite of his physical exhaustion, Kakashi did not feel sleep coming to him as he slumped on the settee in the moonlight, so unwillingly took up his latest unfortunate pastime, worrying.

He worried that, even if he were able to keep his promise to his Sensei and protect this baby, what the hell kind of person would the kid grow into? And how on earth did you even go about 'raising' a kid anyway? Kakashi was sure he didn't have the first clue about teaching or parenting. All he knew was how to be a ninja, so he guessed the kid would have to be a ninja too. Although Kakashi had no intention of forcing a ninja life on this boy as his own father had forced it upon him. Sure, he had wanted to do it at the time; what two year old boy doesn't want to learn how to throw sharp pointy things at innocent rabbits and squirrels. But what two year old boy wants to then have to retrieve his accurately-thrown shuriken from the warm, soft, twitching body of a snow rabbit and watch the blood flow from he creature, stoking it gently until it stopped moving forever, realising that his own shiny new toys had rendered this beautiful creature forever still and silent.

Kakashi's father had never shied away from the realities of shinobi life. He had encouraged his son to kill, then made him watch the life drain from he animals he struck down. Showing Kakashi death first hand had been an easier and more effective way of explaining is permanence to the tiny child than talking to him. But this had scarred Kakashi. His kind heart had broken for the creatures he had needlessly killed that day, but he had understood the lesson.

There are consequences to everything in life, and you should not act without being aware of those consequences.

That was when the nightmares had started, but Kakashi was brave and he hadn't wanted to disappoint his beloved father. He had gone into the forest every morning before sunrise, alone amongst the calls of the waking birds, and had used his shuriken to kill rabbits, learning the best ways to make the kill as quick as possible for the poor creatures. He had taken them inside, stroking their beautiful fur and crying big, childish tears for them, before skinning them and preparing them for his father's breakfast.

Life and death was a cycle, Kakashi's father had told him. Everything is born for a purpose, it lives until it fulfils that purpose, then it dies and becomes a part of the earth once more to be reborn as part of something else. The purpose of a rabbit was to fill the belly of a carnivore, and if that carnivore were not Hatake Sakumo it would be another human, or maybe a wolf, a bear, and eagle. That was the rabbit's role in the circle of life, and there was no avoiding it, so was it not kinder to learn how to take the rabbit's life with a minimum of pain than to smile as it scampered by, only to be caught up in the talons of an eagle and ripped slowly to shreds? At two years old Kakashi had not had the mind or the will to disagree with his father's twisted logic, and besides, his father was his hero and he could not disobey or answer back to him. So the child became a silent hunter, able to sneak up on forest creatures and snap their necks before they knew he was there. The hunter became a ninja, using his stealth, speed and agility in combination with his chakra control to perfect many techniques. The ninja became a soldier, thrown into the midst of war when he was little more than knee-high, using his small size to move undetected to disrupt enemy supply lines. The soldier became an assassin, putting his ninja skills together with his tiny frame and beautiful, innocent face to gain the sympathy of targets and take them out like the rabbits in the forest when they took pity on him.

And Kakashi's father was proud. His son, the youngest ever fully-fledged ninja at five, the youngest ever chunin at six, the youngest ninja ever sent out on solo assassination missions. This was all due to the war and the desperate lack of shinobi, but in any situation, Kakashi's father knew his son would still have shone brighter than any other. That little, deceptively fragile silvery sprite who could do anything, accomplish anything he put his brilliant young mind to was his son, and he wanted the world to know it. Hatake Sakumo was truly a happy man. He had lost everything, but now he realised that to see his son's angelic little face every day was all he needed to make him a contented man.

But Kakashi had not been happy. He had often watched other children playing and had asked his father if he could join in, as it looked like fun. His father had said no. He had to train. He had to complete the henge no jutsu and then he would get a treat if he was goof. That treat would turned out to be a new jutsu, the kage shuriken no jutsu. For his fourth birthday, Kakashi had received a specially-made, hand-crafted wakizashi made by the finest smith in Fire Country, lacquered with beautiful patterns on the guard and hilt. The blade was barely longer than that of a tanto, but on Kakashi it was a full-sized longsword. Kakashi had feigned that he loved it , but all he really wanted was a friend, he already had plenty of means to kill.

Now that he was facing the same dilemma his father had faced, Kakashi realised that Sakumo had only meant well. His father hadn't meant to scar him, he had simply tried to prepare him as best he could for life as a shinobi, because that was the only life he knew and he had no more idea of how to raise a child than the fourteen-year-old Kakashi had.

So, if he wasn't going to teach the baby ninja skills until it was old enough to make up it's own mind, what else could he teach it?

Kakashi couldn't even read and write properly himself, let alone teach a child, and this scared him half to death. How many fourteen-year-olds did he know who struggled to decipher a mission scroll?

That's right, none.

Only he, who was praised as a ninja genius, lacked this most vital and basic of life skills.

Minato-Sensei had always told him it wasn't his fault, that he had never had time to learn given the level of his physical skills, but Kakashi had always felt it was because he was not smart enough. He had all but begged his sensei to teach him, and Minato had done his best, but he wasn't the most patient teacher when it came to teaching something that was second nature to himself. They would sit up late by the fire when on missions, and Minato would try to teach his eager student. Progress had been slow, and Kakashi had berated himself for it, but Minato had praised him constantly for his efforts, and had proudly watched him as he wrote his name in large, wonky characters in the sand by the fire.

But the Third Shinobi War had intensified, and the six-year-old Kakashi was given a field promotion to chunin rank, and there was no more time for reading and writing. Kakashi had tried to learn by himself, and at night when the nightmares became too much he would practice so that he could surprise his sensei with something new when they were reunited. In spite of his best efforts, Kakashi did not get much further with his studies, and when his father killed himself the eight-year-old had dedicated himself wholly to the ninja code, and to becoming stronger, finding no more time for literacy lessons.

The war which had taken the lives of so many Konoha shinobi that a five-year-old was sent to act as a messenger on the front lines had only just come to an end a year ago shortly after Obito's death at Kannabi Bridge, but the peace had been short-lived.

After his final team mate Rin had died and Minato-Sensei was made the Hokage, Kakashi had cut his losses and joined ANBU, Konoha's elite Black Ops force., still unable to read and write

During the eight months of peace that followed, he discovered there was no such thing as true peace in the ninja world.

Working as a top-level assassin, Kakashi learned things which most outside the Black Ops division were blissfully ignorant of. Inter-village and inter-country relations were never smooth, and never entirely peaceful. He had posed as a shinobi from almost every Hidden Village during that period to carry out assassinations, and he knew his actions were designed to spark conflict, playing other villages off against each other, but he could not disobey his orders. As much as it worried him, Kakashi had faith that those issuing the orders knew what they were doing, and that this work was essential to the long-term security of Konoha.

It wasn't until lately that Kakashi had begun to wonder on his many sleepless nights how much his sensei had actually been aware of, and whether someone else had been issuing those orders and controlling the ANBU without the Hokage's knowledge. He was sure that Minato-sensei wouldn't want to start wars between other nations to weaken them for Konoha's benefit, but at the time he had blindly gone along with it. After all, what could he have done if he had realised this at the time? He knew the answer; to reveal his suspicions would have simply got him killed.

But three months ago, even that fragile, shadowy peace was shattered when the Kyuubi attacked the village.

The Fourth Hokage, Kakashi's Minato-Sensei, had given his life to save the village, and sealed the Demon Fox into the body of his own newborn son.

That very newborn son which Kakashi had promised to his dead sensei that he would protect, and which he now had under his sole care.

After the attack, no one had seemed to care too much about what happened to the baby. Many wanted it killed or cast out of the village, preferably on a enemy's borders. Others wanted it for experiments or to use its power. But most didn't give it too much thought. The village was safe. The Hokage had given his life to protect it, as was his sworn duty, and everyone could get on with grieving for the many lost in the Atack, and with rebuilding the village and their lives.

This state of mind had lasted for about a week. After the memorial service for those killed in the Attack, people seemed to remember the baby, and started asking where the Demon Child was.

The Third Hokage had been quickly reinstated until a suitable replacement could be found, and he had tried to quell the anger rising in the village, but even he could not do much. He tried to hide the baby in an orphanage some mile outside the village, but one observant nurse spotted the whisker marks on the it's cheeks, and it had almost been killed there and then.

The Third had tried to punish those responsible, but public opinion swayed so violently against him that the Council let the thugs off with a warning.

Kakashi had been furious. He had gone to the Old Man Hokage, and had told him of his promise to protect the kid. He had offered to look after the baby, and the Hokage had agreed, eager to get the kid out of the way, and out of people's minds so the healing process could continue. He had expressed concern for Kakashi, and had promised financial support as well as relief and help in the form of several well-trusted and experienced women, including his own wife, whom he would knew wouldn't harm the baby.

But none of this had been forthcoming. Kakashi had visited the Hokage's office to request money to buy essential to fit out his tiny flat for a baby, but he had not received a penny. He had been told to complete the necessary forms. Of course, he couldn't do this, so he had asked to see the Hokage in person, but had been refused entry.

Unable to even get an audience with the Old Man, Kakashi had found himself totally alone in the world, struggling to cope with his own very fresh grief at his sensei's death and the stress of a newborn baby.

He had emptied his entire small savings account to buy baby furniture and necessities. He had to rely totally on the advisor in the baby shop to tell him what he needed to buy, but luckily for him she had taken pity on him and had sold him the cheapest of everything, and even found him many second-hand items.

Of course, she didn't know the whole truth of the situation. Kakashi had not lied; his sensei and his wife had died in the Kyuubi's Attack, and he had promised to take care of their newborn son, who had no one else.

There were so many dead, and so many orphaned children in the village that the woman hadn't asked many questions, recognising the fourteen-year-old's unspent grief and delayed shock. She had lost her husband in the last weeks of the war, so like most of Konoha's citizens, she also knew grief.

Of course, it helped that Kakashi had the foresight to disguise himself using henge no jutsu before entering the shop. His disguise consisted of Obito's face with Minato-Sensei's wife Kushina's flaming red hair, and Rin's soft brown eyes, so it was easy for him to replicate it each time he went to the shop. Those faces were burned into his brain, and cavorted cruelly through his nightmares.

So Kakashi had to spend everything he had on the baby. Three months in and his savings were long-since gone. He'd had to take a few ANBU assassination and guard missions to earn enough to buy food, but he didn't make much as he couldn't leave the kid with his dogs for more longer than two days at a time, at a stretch, and one-day and overnight jobs didn't bring in much cash.

Now, laid out on the couch trying to release the nervous tension from his muscles, Kakashi resolved that he would learn to read and write once and for all. He could not ask the Academy teachers, as rumours might start to spread that one of Konoha's best young jounin was illiterate, and he didn't want to attract any more attention than he had to.

The Old Man Hokage wouldn't have time. Hell, Kakashi hadn't even been able to see the man since he'd taken the kid in.

That left Jiraiya-sama. Whenever he returned from wherever the hell he was - doing his 'research' combined with high-level espionage – Kakashi would ask for his help. His sharingan would no doubt help him to quickly memorise the characters, so he was sure that with a little guidance from Jiraiya he had a great chance of finally mastering the arts of the pen. He was supposed to be a genius after all.

Kakashi grinned wolfishly to himself. He could do this. He would teach the kid to read and write, he would teach him everything he could, but he would let him play. He would make sure this baby had the chance to make friends his own age, and would try to keep the horrors of the world from him for as long as possible. He would give Naruto everything that he had never had.

Feeling more positive than he had in a long time, Kakashi stretched his slim arms and legs and laid back n the cushions, and within minutes he felt himself drifting off into blissful sleep.

Kakashi had only slept for about an hour and a half when he was woken by an insistent knocking at his door. Waking slowly, he eased his tired body from the sofa and dragged himself to the door, wishing they would shut up knocking before the baby woke up, and hoping that whoever it was wouldn't stay long so he could get a bit more sleep before the kid's next feed.

To Kakashi's surprise, it was the Old Man Hokage and his wife.

He invited them in, ushering them to the sofa, his only piece of furniture save one kitchen chair, and offered them tea out of politeness.

While Kakashi prepared the tea, the Sarutobis looked critically around his apartment.