Author's Note; Hey, two reviews in comparison to the hundreds who've actually checked this out. Awesome. Well, thanks to you my lovelies. Your time wasted was greatly appreciated! This was supposed to come out sunday, but my baby sister's christening was right around the corner so umm... right, no excuses. Well, here we are! Happy read!

SPECIAL THANKS TO PURPLE DRAKE !

Purple Drake : I've got it outlined, and you're not the only one with a morbid sense of humour :D I found myself cackling at the news. (tee hee hee hee) I didn't want it coming out looking rushed, so I'm taking my sweet time in reviewing it. I want it specially looked after just for you! It'll come out during the week(hopefully) so just keep an eye out for it. :)

Disclaimer : Maybe I can get the original authors to sign over the characters.. hmm, what's the plot? --cackles--

Konoha's Flying Shadow
Chapter 3 : Enter Pakkun!

Another large blast erupted, sending many body parts flailing about. A blue, blood coated arm sailed past Hiei's head as he watched, eyes wide. His chest heaved, blood pumping in his veins. Without another thought he ran forward, ignoring the startled and anguished cries of his team mates. Sweat glistened against his third eye, but he paid it no heed, only one thing in mind.

Yukina...Yukina...Yukina...

Blood rang in his ears as he panted, unknowingly hyperventilating. He swatted at the empty space, stretching his senses, hysterically feeling for the familiar spirit core that was his life's sole meaning. He closed his eyes, desperate, forcing his clogged nose to find her scent; anything, a glimpse of silvery hair, a pained cry.. When the smoke dissipated, he himself let out a strangled cry.

Similar, ruby orbs stared back at him, lifeless.

No...

"YUKINA!"

Hiei swam in the darkness, feeling strangely at peace. His mind was awfully clear, for a painful death. Plummeting into an abyss, crushing his skull and buried by the many boulders that had once made the cliff that he'd fought atop...wasn't exactly how he'd pictured dying, no matter how honourable his actions had been. He had always thought that it would be a more exciting journey, to have his soul rescued by a ferry girl, and brought back to the spirit world where his fate would be judged.

He waited patiently, unmoving. Not a single sound could be heard, nor a gust of wind to disturb the stillness that the empty space he occupied had fallen into. He couldn't exactly pinpoint how long he'd been there, floating about, wandering in the nothingness, freely accepting, embracing, even, the feel of his death. Not that he was actually counting; he was dead now, after all. Time didn't matter when you had nothing to run after.

Nonetheless, he knew there were smiling faces awaiting him at the end, and he felt a pang of guilt hit his none-beating heart. His sole purpose in life had been Yukina, and he felt that with her death, he had failed her. What was the use of swearing an oath of protection, Hiei asked himself angrily, if he had not even been able to stop her from running headfirst into danger for the love of her life? He sighed, feeling defeated. He may have failed her, but he felt the gods had been generous with her. They had been gifted with mercy; Yukina and Kuwabara. They had been enamoured by each other, despite his obvious disgust and disapproval, and it only seemed appropriate that they had gone together. He couldn't imagine one living without the other, no matter how much he had wanted that to be, it was plain cruel. He may have been a demon, but he wasn't the devil.

Let their spirits rest with peace and love(har har.. --ahem), he thought, emotion building in his chest and he sighed. At least, he had been able to save the others.

He wondered briefly how much longer he'd have to wait before any shinigami would ferry his soul into the gates of spirit world.

He blinked. There was something there, in the distance; a dot.

Hiei took a step towards it, but the dot stayed as it was, merely a point. Curious, he ran at it, using his speed to his advantage and letting his desire to know what it was get the best of him. But with every step he took it got no bigger. Frustrated, he ignored the sudden change in temperature, from cold to warm and back again to the stillness of this darkened coven, and forced himself upon that point in the distance.

He smirked in triumph as it got bigger, slowly inching to form a shape, and he noticed soon, that it was not a dot, but an opening. Light seeped slightly from it, and thirsty for the heaven, or hell to come, he forced it to widen. If he bore a physical form, then he most likely would be sweating from the effort he was fusing with his determination. He looked forward to seeing Yukina.

As it got bigger, and bigger, he let the rays of the light warm his spirit as he sighed with relief, now merely content with focusing whatever lay beyond this light. It wasn't blinding per se, but it was definitely blurry. There was a shape looming above him, curiously, almost scarily, but he could barely make it out, only seeing the vague shape of a splash of silver hair. As the view came into focus, he let himself stare into a single black eye. It crinkled into an awkward smile.

What the FU—

Hiei screamed bloody murder.

Kakashi paced back and forth, eyes wide and face set into a permanent cringe. The stupid thing had woken him at the wee hours of the morn and hadn't stopped screaming since. It's been six hours, he thought furiously, and twenty-four, yes, twenty-four, had come barrelling on his door to scold him about the baby. Six of those had been shinobi, calmly warning him, and then later suggesting he knock out the little piece of—

He winced, grabbing his silver mane and tugged tightly at a particularly high pitched squeal. His head was pounding and for a good portion of those six hours (approximately four hours of the time) he had been looking for that stupid note handwritten by the Hokage himself, which he had guessed had been full of tips and instructions on how to shut up the kid, but alas, his blank memory served him well and reminded him of the rather nasty gust of wind that had blown it out of his grasp.

"Can't you shut it up?!" something hollered from beyond his window.

He glared, "I'm trying!"

It wasn't really a lie, since he was trying to think of a way to get it to stop screaming. Kakashi continued his pace, multiple scrolls he'd pulled from his shelf in an effort to find something kicked to the side and out of his path. He groaned and fell back on his futon with his face in his hands. Turning over, he grabbed his thick pillow and pulled it over his head, relishing the slight moment of silence, or as close to it that he had come to, before something struck him.

Sitting up abruptly, a glint entered his eyes as he stared at the screaming infant. His eye twitched; it wasn't even crying; no tears seeping from those scrunched eyes, he was just bawling and shrieking and—Kakashi jumped forward with the grace of an experienced ninja, landing in a crouched position over the basket, he held the fluffy pillow above his head proudly, prepared; he took a breathe, eyes narrowed... and promptly stuffed it into the howling thing's face.

The jounin sighed in relief as the noise subsided, quickly wiping sweat from his temples. He sweat dropped at the distant cheers of victory outside his window and turned back to the twitching mountain of feathers. The screaming that had been muffled was now just plain silence, if not for the rustling of the pillow. He stared at it, slowly inching towards it before tentatively placing a calloused hand atop it. He applied pressure, leaving his hand there for a good thirty seconds, before lifting the pillow.

Dark eyes, almost black, specked green, glared up at him.

Kakashi returned the glare ten-fold, a tick appearing at his right brow.

He sucked in his breathe, almost choking as he gripped the pillow tightly at the sight of that tiny puckered mouth, widening, ready to scream... his shoulders tensed, muscles clenching—a stomach growl echoed in his apartment.

The baby whimpered.

After searching and successfully finding a bottle prepared in the baby knapsack, he fed the thing and placed it back in his basket, content with the quiet. Kakashi almost literally hit himself for his stupidity, but I mean of course the little thing was hungry; he didn't exactly remember it eating since he'd arrived in his apartment. He nodded to himself, lying back on his futon. He let out a contented sigh at the calm atmosphere and let himself fall asleep, intent on regaining those six hours of sleep lost.

Then again, nothing ever goes the way you want it to.

Kakashi had barely shut his eyes when the irritating noise of blankets rustling began. Groaning, he rubbed his only available eye and sat up, glaring in the general direction of the basket. Deciding that since it was not in any sort of danger, and was definitely not crying, then it was safe for him to place his head back onto the pillow. He sighed, relaxed.

There was an inaudible whimper, one the silver haired man wouldn't have been able to catch had he not been trained in all areas of shinobi. He sat up sluggishly, and crawled over to the infant. Black eyes, specked green, stared up at him hatefully. He returned the gaze with a glare of his own.

"Stupid thing," he muttered, yawning, "the hell do you want now?"

His only reply was another suppressed whimper.

Kakashi sighed, this time in annoyance, and hesitantly inched both hands to grab the baby below the armpits. He plucked it from beneath the food imprinted blankets, oblivious to the shiver it emitted on contact with the cold air and held it in place for a few moments. He stared unblinkingly into equally dark eyes, unaware of the staring contest that had taken place before them. Time passed, and Kakashi could feel his eyes stinging, watering from the dry air, but he refused to blink; not when the thing, as he had dubbed it, was looking at him like that.

Even with an equally food imprinted bonnet hugging his head, light silvery strands poking from beneath and being completely naked despite the loincloth, the baby still managed to look successfully contemptuous regarding the silver haired jounin.

They exchange heated glares, the only interruption being the occasional accidental whimper that would escape those tiny lips, but they didn't let it hinder them; moving forth with their little contest. Kakashi watched in morbid fascination as its eyes screwed shut, letting himself waft in the slight satisfaction of triumph (He won! He won!), the thing's body shaking, curling on himself, muscles clenching under tense arms... the jounin prepared himself for the oncoming scream, ready to drop it and reach for the pillow, but soon later he himself let out an uncharacteristic scream of his own.

Mouth hanging open, he first stared at the white chunky liquid dripping down his shinobi attire, which he had yet to change out of. Slowly he turned to the window, eyes, narrowed, easily locating the barely visible Hokage Tower in the distance, and placed the happily gurgling baby down. He plugged the thing's ears with gentle fingers.

He cursed long and loud.

The weeks passed in similar fashion, to the Hatake's dismay. He had gotten less sleep then he ever had on his missions, high ranked and not, but he did not falter in the success of the mission. Even when it slept, he would watch it, fearful of the child's lung capacity, with a scroll in lap ready to report any disturbance. The first day since receiving the monstrous creature had been just plainly depressing, but after some thought (and swearing. Lots of swearing.), he decided to prove to his village leader that he was not very easily defeated. So he there he was, eye bags deep enough to match the Kazakage's youngest son, sitting on the opposite wall, with the basket across from him.

The baby stirred, but otherwise stayed asleep. In the weeks since getting acquainted with it, he had been puked on eighteen times, had been sprayed with urine at least nine times and had dropped a poop-filled diaper on his floor twice, the brown substance splattering everywhere. He shuddered at the memories of the last one. He was positive he smelled as awful as the baby did, and that his crap one room apartment reeked as much as he did.

All in all, it was a pretty obvious how well exactly his mission was going.

A poof resounded outside his window, and he jumped, glancing fearfully at the sleeping baby. It had sensitive ears, and the smallest noise, he learned, after tripping on a bottle, could awaken it. And once woken, it was highly difficult to shut up.

He tiptoed over to the ledge of his window, peeking over the sill. The mask of an ANBU member stared back at him blankly. The other shinobi sweat dropped at the crazed glint in the copy ninja's only visible eye, his gloved hands swaying in different signs, signalling him to be as quiet as humanly possible before opening the window.

"Shhh!"

The ANBU rolled his eyes at the obviously driven insane Hatake. He pulled a scroll from his pocket and handed it to his fellow shinobi.

"Hokage-sama is expecting you." He said in a way of explanation.

There was a sign of a groan of despair in the way those silver brows twitched, but, deciding he'd rather not know, and it wasn't any of his business anyway, he nodded curtly and left the Hatake alone. The man in question swatted at the leftover smoke of the man's poof unconsciously, other hand holding the scroll in place as he read the contents. His brows inched into his hairline with every word and by the end; he frowned, pondering his new dilemma.

A meeting with the Hokage.

He glanced at the basket; what is he supposed to do with it while he's away? He scratched at his silver mane, wondering, when an idea bloomed. He smiled, forming his hands into seals.

"Oh, Yumi," the man moaned deeply, thrusting his hips forward and—

The third Hokage shut his book tight and threw it in a drawer of his desk, easily locating the key in his hat and locking it. His accomplishment lasted barely a second. He smiled at his young friend, Hatake Kakashi, as he appeared from beyond the smoke, approximately two and a half hours late, with a copy of the orange book he'd been reading only a few minutes prior tucked in his gloved hands.

Screams a lot. Is always hungry. Has barely grown. Always whines. Has specked eyes. Poops a lot. Sleeps a lot. Hardly cries with tears, though—

Sarutobi slowly rolled the report mission back, face blank. He looked up at the triumphant face of his pupil, trying to get his message across. What the hell kind of report was that? He shook his head, deciding against scolding the young man, instead leaning on the satisfaction he got whenever he thought of the baby in his—speaking of which, he glanced around, letting out a puff from his pipe.

"Where..." he started wearily, "is the subject of your mission?"

Kakashi scratched his head, a habit he was very easily falling into.

"Well, you see..."

Hiei glared at the white ceiling hatefully. Hunger clawed at the insides of his stomach, but he pushed back the tears despite his body's sensitivity to the pain. He also hates his blankets; he was wrapped in a green sheet with sushi patterns all over it, making him ache more for food. He closed his eyes, hating his child's body, not caring anymore how that had come to be. He tried to turn over, attempting to block the sun's harsh rays from disturbing his sleep, but to no avail. He was right next to the window. He didn't budge. He hated that too.

He shifted; he hated everything.

Imagine his surprise when he was so readily welcoming death with open arms, only to wake up alive. Yes, alive. Life meant no Yukina. Meant more living, more fighting and oh, did he mention no Yukina!? And in a child's body, no less! He narrowed his eyes, cursing Koenma and Spirit world endlessly. He hated them. Loathed them.

A yip broke his hateful trance and he looked to the side.

He stared at the wrinkly face of the dog and scowled.

He hated the masked man as well.

"You left him with PAKKUN?!"

Kakashi glared defensively, "Pakkun is perfectly capable of—"

Hiei glared at the ceiling, tears threatening to fall. He took a quick glance at the singing dog, and closed his eyes, willing the ground to open up and swallow him. He really hated being alive.

"—oh and Kashi-kun also taught me this one; itsy bitsy spider went up the water—"

He was going to murder Koenma.

The third Hokage massaged his temples, already feeling the start of a migraine. Kakashi had stuffed the baby with a pillow. He sighed, wondering if he had made the right decision in handing over parentage to him. He shook his head. He had made his decision; he wasn't going to go back on it now. It had been five years since Kyuubi's attack, and the silver haired man's fragile state had been completely obliterated by the death of his mentor. Many were known to tiptoe around him since Obito, but Minato had just sent him over the edge.

Kakashi was known to hog all important and high classed missions. Already an ANBU captain at the age of 13, his high position allowed him leeway. Though some admired him for his abilities and accomplishments, others were jealous of his skills; of course, benefiting from being the legacy of the disgraced White Fang and that Sharingan eye he'd received... but Sarutobi knew better. The way he snatched every extended high classed missions like a baby did candy; the man was suicidal.

He had seen him walking into the path of self-destruction, coming back from his long-termed missions haggard and bloody. He was worn, Sarutobi could tell, and though it was done unconsciously, his actions spoke louder then his words. The silver haired man, still a boy in his eyes, would dive head first into danger expecting his death, hoping to join his loved ones. But he always came back unscathed. It was a pitiful sight.

But then... then he'd returned one mission with a baby clutched tightly to his chest.

And he'd known.

It was obvious by Kakashi's report that the child had been left out in the forest to die, having probably been the brunt of a nasty prank or ritual by the way his younger peer described the scorch marks. The third Hokage hadn't even bothered checking for missing newborns; why would he return the baby to those who had thrown him away? He glared at his hands, feeling the pain of the world on his shoulders. He was deeply disappointed in his village. First Naruto... and now, this.

But on sight, the awkward stance they'd made; hugging each other as though hungry for love. Sarutobi had known. They would help each other. It would most probably take time, but it could work. He just had to wait it out and watch. The baby would save Kakashi, as he had saved the baby.

Kakashi poof'ed back home, wary of the gusty winds that had taken over the country. The first time he'd been victim to the winter's wrath, losing the note to the vengeful air currents. But not this time. With childish glee he rubbed the scroll against his masked cheek before greeting his long time friend.

"Kashi-kun," was the gruff bark in reply.

He waved a lazy one hand salute, plopping down beside the pug. The baby was awake and glaring at him with teary eyes. He glared back. There came that whimper again.

"He's been doing that since you left, boss." The pug reported, before continuing on morosely. "I tried singing to him. It didn't work..."

Kakashi sweat dropped, images from his childhood coming to mind. He glanced at the pained look on the baby's face. Maybe he shouldn't have taught the dog the joys of karaoke...

Babies, newborns specifically, are very sensitive creatures. The smallest action could harm it; wounding it fatally. They are in a state of fragility, wherein uneven temperatures would most likely disturb them. We may be able to withstand the heat of the summer and the cold of the winter, but they cannot. They are also to be handled with care. Under no circumstances should they be handled with but the utmost tenderness. They are also more prone to hunger, as they are in need of nutriments and many other vitamins to grow older and thus, stronger. Sleep is as essential to them as the milk they drink. Until their teeth have grown, they are strictly forbidden any sort of solid food. They may face the dangers of choking with their inability to chew. They should be fed at least once every two hours, and burped right after, if they are not asleep. Disturbance of sleep result in cranky children and no burping in puking. Also, unlike their adult counterparts, babies have yet to develop the strength to hold up their own head. The caretaker must place a hand beneath the neck to support it. Without support, the head will loll back and snap its own neck. It—

The scroll ended with the flourished signature of the Hokage.

Kakashi swallowed audibly, exchanging a glance with Pakkun, eyes wide. Slowly he rolled the scroll back, tossing it away. He looked at the newborn in his lap, happily sucking away at his bottle. Who knew taking care of babies could be so complicated?

He shook his head, taking the empty bottle away from the puckered lips. He placed a hesitant hand under the infant's neck, supporting it so it would lean onto his shoulder and tapped on his back, afraid of his own strength. Next to him, Pakkun hummed tunelessly.

A-ranked indeed.

HAH ! well, that was alot longer. You know what to do; now go make an author happy :)