Your reviews have moved my cold, cold, unfeeling heart, and therefore I shall update again. Send some good thoughts to o0-Constance-0o who really needs more sleep. Or some caffeine. Either is probably welcome, am I right, Con? ;)

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Some unknowable time later, Kakashi stared silently at the shinobi memorial stone. He wasn't sure how long he'd been here–didn't actually remember arriving. He'd just come out of his horrified fog to find himself on his knees beside the stone.

A few minutes passed before he realized he wasn't alone. Kakashi looked over to see Asuma standing a few feet away. A casual observer would have thought him relaxed, but Kakashi had known the other jounin long enough to note the way his hands hung near his chakra knives and how supposedly lounging beneath that particular tree gave him a clear view of the entire area–and he realized the older jounin was actually standing guard over him.

Kakashi wondered if it was to protect him, or to protect others from him.

Asuma nodded as if reading his mind. "You seemed pretty mindfucked when you took off," he said, relaxing a little and crossing his arms over his chest. "Thought I should tag along to make sure you didn't do anything crazy."

"I specialize in crazy." Kakashi meant it to come out as a joke. His voice was too cracked to really carry any humor, though.

"Well, crazier than your usual, then," Asuma replied with a crooked smile, letting Kakashi's tone slide. "By the way, Naruto is pretty pissed at you. Your reaction… well, let's just say he wasn't impressed."

Kakashi winced and scrubbed a hand over his hair. He could just imagine what the teenager had thought of his freak-out and quick exit. He wondered what he'd done in the hours since leaving Suyo's hospital room because the time was a total blank. He briefly considered asking Asuma, but he didn't–mainly because he knew the jounin would tell him. "I'm surprised he's not here with you, ready to beat some sense into me."

"Oh, I won't lie, he wanted to be. But I convinced him to leave this one to me."

"How many punches did it take to convince him?"

Asuma grinned again. "Just one. But it was a really good one."

Kakashi sighed and returned his gaze to the stone. He couldn't get into the lighter mood Asuma offered. Gods, how he wanted to just give this over to the dead, to tell Obito and Minato and Rin about Suyo's pregnancy and her coma, and then wash his hands of it and walk away as he had with so many other problems before. But this wouldn't be solved so easily.

Asuma's quiet words broke the silence several minutes later. "You got one hell of an inheritance, Kakashi. I don't envy you."

He didn't answer at once. Inheritance? Even though the Hatake compound still stood, he didn't live there. It had been so heavily damaged by the Kyuubi's attack that only a few buildings were liveable, and those that were had too damn many memories. Other than that, Kakashi had nothing else of Sakumo's, just the face he kept so carefully hidden. "All I had of his was the white chakra blade," Kakashi finally said when it became clear that the other jounin wasn't going to speak until he replied. "And that's been broken for years."

"I'm not talking about the damn sword," Asuma said impatiently as if he thought Kakashi was being deliberately dense. "You think I don't remember you as a kid? Walking into the Academy, this little squirt half my size, but you had an aura that screamed don't fuck with me, I can tear you a new asshole without breaking a sweat. Why do you think none of us ever picked on you? Even then, you were seriously scary shit."

Kakashi just nodded wearily. All those pre-dawn training sessions with his father had paid off in skill, that much was true. He remembered Asuma back then, too–strong, proud, big for his age and with a mouth and ego to match. For a day or two, Kakashi had thought the Hokage's son could be a worthy rival before realizing that he'd already far outstripped him. Had outstripped all of his much-older classmates.

"That's your inheritance, Kakashi," the other jounin went on in a softer tone. "White Fang did a number on you, that's for sure. You were strong as hell–still are–but I still wonder what the fuck he was thinking, training his own kid like you were born ANBU."

He heard Asuma move, tensed as the footsteps came closer, but apparently the other jounin knew him well enough to realize that Kakashi would shatter with the slightest touch right now and he didn't try. Instead, he stepped past him and reached out to trace his own father's name on the memorial stone. "My father gave me an inheritance, too," he said quietly. "Always putting Konoha first, before his own life, even before his family. We fought about it all the time–it's why I left to join the Twelve Guardian Shinobi. But now I understand why he thought that way, why he did all the things he did. Now I know what kind of inheritance I want to pass on to my child."

He looked up just as Kakashi glanced at him in shock. Asuma smiled. "Yeah, that's right–Kurenai's pregnant too. Scary as hell, isn't it?"

That lump was back in Kakashi's throat. Just hearing the word pregnant was enough to nearly choke him. "At least you had Sandaime to show you how it's done. You have no idea what it was like to live with White Fang," he said hoarsely. Fuck not showing emotion, he knew his terror was clear in his voice. "How the hell could I ever be a father, Asuma? Look at me! You know what I've done in my life–I'm a fucking monster! I could fill a goddamned lake with all the blood I've spilled. How can I be sure I won't be worse than White Fang?"

"Well, that one's easy. You can't," Asuma said. He straightened and brushed his hands together, the picture of casual relaxation. "All you can do is try your best. Yeah, you got a shitty inheritance, but I don't think you've realized one thing yet–you don't have to pass it on." He laughed at the shock Kakashi knew showed on his face. "Yeah, see? I knew you hadn't thought of that. Try this one on for size–what if your kid wasn't a shinobi? What if you skipped sending him to the Academy entirely and let him do something else?"

Kakashi was speechless for the second time that day. In truth, he hadn't really had time to consider or imagine anything about this baby, but even so… could any Hatake ever really escape the shinobi life? Being a ninja was all he'd ever known. If not this, then what?

Asuma just shrugged as though hearing the unspoken thought. "There's other things out there, you know. As for fucking the poor kid up, I don't think you give yourself enough credit. If you were just a monster, I doubt your Suyo would've given you the time of day. In fact, I bet she'll kick your ass back in line if you start acting like White Fang. She seems like she's got her head on straight, even though she somehow fell for a porn-addicted punk like you," he added, shaking his head sadly. "I think that's her only instance of insanity. Let's hope it's not incurable."

"Blow me," Kakashi shot back. In truth, though, his mind was barely on the banter. It was too full of new imaginings of that silver-haired, green-eyed child… this time playing, laughing, running from Suyo's arms to welcome Kakashi home after a mission.

Actually being a child.

Asuma laughed. "Not on your best day," he said. Kakashi gave him the finger and the tension eased considerably. Asuma surveyed Kakashi carefully after a moment more, then cocked a thumb toward the village. "You look mostly sane now–well, as close to it as you ever get. Ready to go back and try to keep Naruto from killing you in your sleep?"

"Sounds like fun." His tone was pure sarcasm, and Asuma laughed again. Kakashi smiled but shook his head no. "I'll be back in a little while. You go on without me." The older jounin nodded, but Kakashi spoke once more before he could leap away. "And Asuma… thanks."

"I'd say anytime, but since it's really disconcerting to see someone who could kill half the village with his pinkie freak out like that, let's make this a one-time thing. Deal?" Kakashi nodded and Asuma flipped him a salute. "I'll warn you, Naruto will probably check here first when I come back. If you don't want to deal with him, I'd suggest you go somewhere else."

Kakashi looked back down at the stone, his gaze falling on Minato's name. "It's all right," he said. "I'm sure the new big brother has some things he wants to share with me anyway."

"Naruto as a big brother? God, that's a scary thought." Asuma shuddered theatrically. He leapt away, leaving Kakashi alone with his dead.

Kakashi reached out and traced the names of those he'd lost, rereading them as he had so many times before. It took several minutes to honor every one of the etched names this way, but he did it slowly, carefully. So many of these dead heroes had left no one behind–no parents, no siblings, no spouses or children. He'd always thought he would be the same. Honestly, he'd always wanted to be the same. He would have been quite happy to let the Hatake name die with him.

But apparently Fate had something different in mind for him. "I don't know what to do, Obito," he murmured as he traced the characters of his name, feeling the familiar prickle in Obito's eye that always made him wonder if his old friend could somehow hear him when he spoke to him like this. "I'm not father material. Just being a halfway decent lover is more than I ever thought I could handle. Suyo might… she might not be around to help me do this right. What should I do if she doesn't wake up? How can I possibly raise a child without her? What do I do?"

And the answer came as though Obito had whispered it in his ear. You do what you know.

Kakashi immediately leapt into the trees. He had to employ all his stealth to get past Naruto–true to Asuma's prediction, the teen had headed straight for the memorial stone. If he'd been a heartbeat later in hiding, Naruto would've caught him, and Kakashi didn't want that… not yet.

Right now he had something important to do.

He crossed the village at top speed. Moments later, Kakashi dropped through Suyo's hospital room window, glad to find it empty, and locked both door and window to ensure that he wouldn't be interrupted.

It might be the last moment he had with her. He wasn't going to share it with anyone.

Well, only one other.

Kakashi sank down onto the bedside chair and just looked at her for a long moment, gazing at her as though every feature hadn't already been committed to memory long since. Her face was paler than usual from the extended bedrest. It made the fine scars noticeable even though he knew Tsunade had expended all her skill to erase them from Suyo's face. But her lips were the same–full, pink, inviting. He brushed a fingertip over her lower lip, thinking of her kisses, her smiles, her laughter. Her nose, a bit too long, an almost-imperceptible bump in the middle from a break–he traced this, too, hating the evidence of the long-ago injury. Her dark hair was like silk beneath his hand and he inhaled, catching her unique scent despite the hospital smell permeating the room.

It wasn't a beautiful face, yet it captivated him in a way that the most beautiful women in the world had utterly failed to do. Kakashi touched every feature, honoring her scars in the same way he honored the names on the memorial stone.

Dark rings encircled her closed eyes. He pulled his mask aside and pressed a gentle kiss to each eyelid. His lips followed the same path as his fingertips, paying homage to each feature. He prayed with everything in him that he would see those green eyes again–not glassy and vacant, as they were now, but again vibrant and full of life.

Perhaps I will, he thought, trying to take a cue from Naruto and be hopeful for once. Perhaps it will all work out for the best.

But for now… now, he had a job to do.

Kakashi replaced his mask and closed his eyes. As always, it was disturbingly easy to slip into that dark place in his mind, to find that which could never be fully locked away. He broke the seals over the mental door and very deliberately stepped through.

The Hound snarled from the back of the long, narrow room. Feral and bloodthirsty, his torn ANBU uniform and wild silver hair were perpetually streaked with blood. Silver shackles and chains bound him to the wall. Crimson streaks dripped down his upraised arms, testament to his never-ending fight to break those shackles and free himself.

Just out of his reach, the porcelain Hound mask lay on the floor.

Kakashi met the mismatched gaze of his other self unflinchingly. "I need you."

The Hound sneered at him. "I thought you prided yourself on not needing me any longer," he growled. "You're human, right? No longer just a stone-cold killing machine." Hatred dripped from every word. Like any predator, the Hound had never adjusted to being chained.

Kakashi shrugged. "Well, right now I need a stone-cold killing machine more than I need to be human."

The feral creature gave a short, harsh bark that might have been laughter. "I always knew you'd come around. Who are we killing?"

This time, when Kakashi replied, he dropped all pretense of calm. "The Sound. And it's not we this time. It's you." He took out his Icha Icha and watched the Hound's attention fix on the orange cover. Slowly, deliberately, he stepped forward, crossing the long room stride by stride. The Hound's mismatched eyes never wavered from the book.

Kakashi stopped within inches of the mask. "No mercy. No survivors. And don't come back until they are all dead."

The book hit the floor with an echoing boom that was too loud for its apparent size, but even that sound was mostly obscured by the Hound's long howl of triumph and bloodlust. In the blink of an eye, Kakashi hung against the stone wall, bloodstained shackles clamped tightly around ankles and wrists, and the Hound stood just out of reach with the ANBU mask in his hand.

"No mercy. No survivors."

The Hound looked down at the woman on the bed. So, this was the one who finally drove Kakashi to give in to the brutality he'd spent so long burying, was it? She didn't look like much, even though Kakashi rattled his chains inside when the Hound thought it. Something urged him to touch her hair, but he pulled away quickly–the softness was jarring to his hypersensitive skin. He didn't like it. Softness… confused him. Pain made more sense.

But that same something also convinced him to take the little braid from within Icha Icha and tuck it into his kunai pouch.

And then the Hound was gone, only the discarded orange volume on the bedside table leaving any indication he'd been there at all.