Contrary to popular belief, the Hatake clan does not make it a goal to produce child soldiers, but every ten years or so, at least one prodigious talent makes himself known.
Such is the case for ten-year-old Hatake Jiraiya who makes history as the youngest battle-ready clan heir. The Hatake are beyond excited; while it is not unusual for future clan heads to be well-rounded fighters, more of their education is focused on military strategy. To have a clan heir who is a talented warrior and will likely grow into a fine tactician is an exciting prospect indeed.
Sakumo hears the whispers. Every single one of them.
Despite being the tender age of seven, Sakumo is not naïve enough to think he is the first Hatake to bear the brunt of the standard "heir and spare" jokes, but still, it is hard not to feel unwanted.
Especially when his father clearly favors Jiraiya by virtue of Jiraiya not being responsible for their mother's death.
The whispers, in all their casual cruelty, are so heavy he almost buckles under their weight.
But Sakumo does not buckle. Instead, he keeps his head down and works hard over the next year, stunning his father, older brother, and the rest of the clan when he passes the second test in record time.
"How old is he?" one of the elders murmurs as Daichi-taichou checks Sakumo for broken bones and any other debilitating injuries.
"Sakumo turned eight in September," his father says, and for the first time, there is undeniable pride in his voice.
"You've produced two talented boys, Koji-sama," the same elder says. "It is a shame Seiko-sama died in childbirth."
Koji grunts then says, "Seiko's sacrifice was worth it after all."
Before Sakumo leaves for the third test, Jiraiya finds him out in the mountains, playing with a wolf pup.
"The runt of the litter?" Jiraiya says, crouching down to glance at the pup.
It is a skinny little thing with patchy white fur and cloudy grey eyes, and it yips when Jiraiya pokes its belly with a finger.
"How do you know it's the runt of the litter?" Sakumo asks, irritated.
Jiraiya shrugs.
"Because it's alone. The runt always gets left behind." With an exaggerated yawn, Jiraiya stretches his arms above his head before slapping two heavy hands on Sakumo's shoulders. "Listen, I came here to say be careful. For the third test."
"I'm always careful," Sakumo mutters, shrugging Jiraiya's hands off.
And it's not like Sakumo has much of a choice. His father sat him down earlier that evening and made it clear that Sakumo might as well come home dead if he didn't pass the third test.
Laughing, Jiraiya says, "I know. I meant up here." Then he taps a finger against Sakumo's skull. "Don't think too hard about things when it comes time to do what you need to do. It will mess with you."
"I think you're messing with me right now," Sakumo says, cradling the wolf pup into his neck.
"Maybe," Jiraiya says, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. He glances at the pup once again and says, "It would be a mercy to kill him now. He won't survive the winter."
Perhaps. But Sakumo sees no honor in killing a creature after it has placed its trust in him. Besides, if the pup is destined to die, Sakumo should at least grant the poor thing the dignity to fight for its life.
Ignoring his older brother's skeptical hum, Sakumo tucks the wolf pup into a tiny nook within the mountainside before heading home.
Weeks pass. Sakumo completes the third test, and as the blood spills over his hands, he hopes the little wolf pup has had his first taste of blood too.
Months pass. When Sakumo returns home battle-hardened and thrumming with life, he seeks out the wolf pup on his first day back. He is relieved to see the wolf pup has grown, paws too big for the awkward gangly legs attached to them. Sakumo nods at the hare clenched within the wolf's sharp teeth.
Years pass. During a bitter war with Earth Country, Jiraiya earns a reputation for his plucky behavior and theatrics on the battlefield, and civilians begin to call him the Gallant Jiraiya.
Because of his particularly vicious fighting style and merciless nature, Sakumo slowly but surely earns a moniker of his own towards the end of the war: the White Fang.
Hardly anyone outside the clan knows his real name or the extent of his connection to the Gallant Jiraiya, and Sakumo prefers it that way.
A decade passes. The Gallant Jiraiya has been clan head for two years, and everyone watches with bated breath as the fearsome White Fang, who has finally been summoned home from his duties in Wind Country since Jiraiya's ascent to power, faces his very own son as he proctors the second test.
It is bittersweet to see how much Kakashi has grown in his absence; the little boy Sakumo remembers has been replaced with a deadly fighter, but perhaps Sakumo can buy his son another year of childhood innocence. Deliberately avoiding Aiko's furious gaze, he slashes the left side of his five-year-old son's face, breaks his ribs, then snaps the bones in his right arm.
It is all for nothing; Kakashi lands a third and final strike, slicing a thin disciplined line across Sakumo's throat without nicking any major veins or arteries.
"Sakumo's boy is talented. Far more talented than Nagato and Yahiko," one of the elders says loudly to Jiraiya because Junko, who has taken yet another self-indulgent trip away from Mount Myōboku, can hardly give him a piece of her mind all the way from Tea Country.
The brothers exchange a weary glance; it has taken them years to understand how the clan and especially their father have fueled their rivalry to sharpen each other's skills since their childhood, and they only fall into those old competitive habits on bad days.
But today is not a bad day. Despite his sentimental desire to keep Kakashi a child for a little longer, Sakumo is pleased with his son's unbreakable spirit. And Jiraiya, restraining a livid Aiko from entering the sparring ring by holding her to his chest, is suddenly in a complacent mood, no doubt because he sees prime opportunity to provide a shoulder for Aiko to cry on.
Sakumo scoffs; in their letters, he and Aiko have been poking fun at Jiraiya's transparent attempts to get closer to Aiko during Sakumo's absence.
But later that night when Aiko coldly orders him not to touch her, Sakumo almost buckles under the weight of all the childhood insecurity that suddenly bears down on him, especially when Jiraiya casually reminds Sakumo that his regiment is scheduled to defend the border between Fire Country and Wind Country in two weeks.
But Sakumo does not buckle. Instead, he places his trust in Aiko, begs Aiko to place her trust in him, and when the time comes, Kakashi, along with the other successful candidates, travels with Sakumo to the border of Wind Country.
Kakashi stares at the man kneeling before him before looking up at the legendary White Fang.
"He's bound, taichou."
The White Fang nods.
"That he is."
Kakashi grimaces underneath his mask.
"This doesn't feel like a fair fight," he says with some doubt.
"Because it's not a fight. I'm asking you to kill a man. So kill the man."
The man in question isn't injured badly enough for Kakashi to think him half-dead, and something about the life that still flickers in his eyes is enough to make Kakashi hesitate.
"How?" Kakashi asks, and he hates how weak his voice sounds.
"However you see fit."
The man is bound but not gagged. When Kakashi inches closer towards him, he begs, "Please don't. I have a son. Around your age. I'm all he has left."
Kakashi resists the urge to look at Sakumo again.
"I'm not lying," the man says desperately, tears cutting a path through the blood splatter on his cheeks. "His name is Sasori. He —"
Kakashi slices the man's throat with a kunai, breathing harshly when blood spills from the gash and onto his hands. The sand beneath them bleeds red as the man chokes, and Kakashi watches as the light slowly dims from the man's eyes.
Sakumo rests a heavy hand on Kakashi's shoulder.
"It is a heavy responsibility, to take a life. If I ask you to kill another, will you do it?"
He is Kakashi, the White Fang's only son. Does he have a choice?
"Point me to him and I'll do it," Kakashi says with more confidence than he truly possesses.
Sakumo shows Kakashi another man, bound and gagged. Kakashi can already see the story behind this second man's eyes; just like Kakashi, this nameless man has hopes, dreams, and loved ones who are praying for him to come home.
But unlike Kakashi, he won't live long enough to see any of those things through.
Kakashi's kunai slices through this man's throat as well. This time, Kakashi opts for a beheading; it is messier, and it requires more strength, certainly, but the man suffers less for it because of Kakashi's decisiveness and speed.
Sakumo nods.
"Put on your armor tomorrow morning. You will fight with us."
Some fresh hurt blossoming in his chest, Kakashi wonders why Sakumo does not sound proud of him. But he pushes the resentment away and resigns himself to the fact that it will take much more to impress the White Fang.
That night, Kakashi's limbs seize up in his sleep, and through the garbled mess of whispers crowding his ears, he swears he hears the words: I have a son. His name is Sasori.
Two weeks go by until the White Fang sits him down and says, "You're getting sloppy. If you keep this up, I can't take you out there with us."
The White Fang's son. An embarrassment. A failure. Kakashi grits his teeth and nods, swiping some tears out of his eyes.
Sighing, Sakumo crouches down so that he is eye-level with Kakashi.
"What's wrong?" Sakumo asks.
Stubbornly, Kakashi looks away.
"Nothing, taichou."
Surprisingly, something that looks like hurt flashes in Sakumo's dark eyes.
"I'm not asking as your taichou. I'm asking as your father."
Kakashi's hands squeeze themselves into fists. Sakumo tugs his mask down, and when Kakashi sees the lines of exhaustion on his face, he realizes that the White Fang is flesh and blood just like everyone else.
"Please, Kakashi," Sakumo says quietly.
It takes some time, but eventually Kakashi tells Sakumo about the whispers, the frightening sensation of his limbs locking in place, the suffocating press of the cold desert air against his chest. It is the most he has ever spoken to his father.
And for the next two months, Sakumo cocoons his body around Kakashi each night they sleep. Gradually, Kakashi is able to make it through the night without freezing up or hearing voices. Gradually, Kakashi stops seeing Sakumo as the White Fang and starts thinking of him as his surprisingly gentle-hearted otou-san who cannot resist cuddling tiny animals to his chest and feeding them scraps of meat before letting them run off.
Two decades pass and Kakashi administers the third test for the very first time as the Hatake clan's newest taichou of the primary regiment. In times of peace, they are able to conduct the third test in the safety of the compound, taking criminals scheduled for execution from nearby villages.
Hideo, the youngest of this year's candidates, passes the third test easily, and the fury in his eyes make it all too evident he is thinking of his father and older brother who were killed in battle years ago. Sukea, the second youngest, completes the necessary task because it is his duty as clan heir, an unusually grim expression on his exposed face.
"Will it feel like this every time, taichou?" Sukea asks quietly later that night as he and Hideo volunteer to sharpen weapons with Kakashi.
"You'll get used to it," Kakashi says immediately. And because it is Sukea, he clears his throat then adds, "How do you feel?"
Sukea stares at his hands.
"Unlike myself," Sukea answers.
Kakashi pats Sukea's back, unsure of what to say. Before he can respond, Hideo grumbles, "Get over it, Sukea-nii. It's either us or them."
Sukea glances dismissively at Hideo before shaking his head, which is probably the worst thing anyone can do to Hideo.
"What, are you too good to get your hands dirty, Sukea-sama?" Hideo says mockingly.
The two boys have always had a special way of getting under each other's skin. Hideo has swung wildly between respecting Sukea's innate talent and sneering at Sukea's inherently soft nature, while Sukea, despite his seemingly infinite patience, has become increasingly irritated at being the focus of Hideo's obvious insecurities.
"Stop putting words in my mouth," Sukea snaps.
"I wasn't. I was asking you a question," Hideo says, the smarmy expression on his face apparent despite the mask.
Shoulders slumped, Kakashi barely restrains himself from strangling both boys. If this is a glimpse at fatherhood, Kakashi is somewhat relieved he and Rin cannot have any children of their own.
"Enough, both of you," Kakashi says with a sigh. "Get some rest."
Almost another decade later, nine-year-old Kenji mindlessly flits through the Hatake camp after passing the third test, blood splattered all over his mask and hair. Since Ichiro got tested on the other side of the camp, it takes some time to find him, and Kenji is relieved to see that Ichiro is splattered with blood too.
Wordlessly, both boys touch their foreheads together.
Are you alright? Ichiro asks with a twitch of his eyebrows.
Yes, Kenji nods back.
This is the first time Kenji lies to Ichiro. And when Kenji cries in his sleep that night, Ichiro holds him, his eyes wide, blank, unseeing.
Someone is knocking on their door.
Grimacing, Kakashi glances out of the window; the translucence of the moon and the lilac bleeding into the indigo sky tells him dawn is only two hours away.
A disturbance like this at such an inconvenient hour would usually be enough to put Kakashi in a sour mood, but one look at Sakura — Sakura, who is in love with him, he recalls with some giddiness — convinces him to try approaching the situation with an uncharacteristic measure of patience.
As much as it pains him to do so, he calmly detaches himself from Sakura's warm body, puts some clothes on, and opens the front door.
Kakashi scowls when he sees nothing but empty space before him.
"What the fuck," he grumbles.
"Oji-san?"
He looks down.
Kenji blinks his big blue eyes at him.
"Oh." Kakashi clears his throat. "Sorry, Kenji-kun." But it occurs to him that Kenji is the one who should be apologizing. Or at least explaining himself. Kakashi tilts his head and asks, "What brings you here at this strange hour?"
"I'm sorry, oji-san. I didn't know who else to ask," Kenji says, squirming under Kakashi's gaze. "But Ichiro has been gone for at least an hour."
For a moment, Kakashi wonders why Kenji thought to ask him, of all people. But then he remembers that Takumi is off on a scouting mission.
"I'm sure he's just relieving himself," Kakashi says, scratching the back of his neck. "Maybe he ate something funny at dinner?"
Kenji shakes his head.
"I looked for him all over the compound, and I checked home one more time before coming here." Kenji shuffles his feet again. "Something's wrong. I feel it."
Glancing at the bedroom doors over his shoulder, Kakashi suppresses a mournful sigh.
"Alright. Let's look for him."
There is no way Ichiro could have left the compound without alerting any of the guards, but Kakashi decides to make the necessary inquiries at all the watchtowers anyway, starting with the eastern watchtowers overlooking the river that took the twins' mother from them.
To his relief, no one has seen Ichiro.
"We're always on the lookout for the boys. And for Takumi-oji," Hideo says, his eyes alert as he glances down from his post one more time. "In case one of them decides…"
He trails off, shifting uncomfortably.
Kakashi nods.
"Thank you, Hideo-kun. Keep up the good work."
Kakashi moves towards the northern watchtowers, keeping an eye on Kenji to make sure he is able to keep up. In his haste, Kenji has forgotten to wear his mask, and Kakashi finds himself concerned by the severity of the dark circles underneath Kenji's eyes.
"You haven't been sleeping much," Kakashi says casually.
Kenji keeps his eyes trained on the ground and says, "Losing sleep is better than having nightmares."
Side-eyeing Kenji, Kakashi asks, "How long have you been having nightmares?"
Putting on his bravest face, Kenji says, "Not that long. Only two months."
In other words, since the third test.
Kakashi suppresses a sigh; he knows better than most about the challenges of coping after spilling blood for the first time, especially at such a young age. And while he promised Takumi he'd keep an eye on the twins, the only thing he'd looked out for was whether the twins' performance on the battlefield suffered.
It hadn't.
On the other hand, the twins had quickly racked up an impressive number of kills, using their size and intuitive partnership to their advantage.
Perhaps most tellingly, the twins had been less exuberant during their time at Ryuuchi Cave, but Kakashi took their muted behavior as a sign of fatigue and nothing more.
Kakashi looks at Kenji again and for a moment, Kenji's eyes appear a shade closer to green than blue. It rattles Kakashi more than it should.
"I had trouble sleeping too. Afterwards. It's normal," Kakashi says baldly.
Kenji glances up at him, abject misery on his face.
"When will the nightmares stop, oji-san?"
"It's different for everyone. But things get better eventually." Almost certain he will regret the decision to share something so personal, he says, "Can you keep a secret?"
Despite the fatigue, Kenji's eyes light up with curiosity. Then he nods.
"No one knows about this. Not even your Sakura-oba," Kakashi says, scratching the back of his neck. "But sometimes I write. To remind myself I'm more than just a killer."
A tentative smile stretching across his face, Kenji asks, "Poetry? Like Sukea-nii?"
"Stories."
"About what?"
Kakashi shrugs and says, "I'll write about almost anything. But I like writing epic romances the most."
Kenji giggles. Usually, Kenji's ominously innocent laughter precedes chaos and mischief, but this time, Kakashi is glad to hear it.
"Why?" Kenji asks.
"Our world is a cruel place, Kenji-kun. It's kill or be killed." Kakashi puts a hand on Kenji's shoulder and squeezes lightly. "And when you're the one doing the killing, one of the only ways to keep your head up is to remember what makes life precious in the first place."
Kenji nods, his blue eyes thoughtful.
After a fruitless search that ends at Takumi's house right before the light of dawn, Kakashi walks home, carrying an exhausted Kenji on his back. Kenji tried his very best to be brave the entire time, but Ichiro's mysterious disappearance has clearly taken a toll on him; although the boy is asleep, Kakashi's shoulder is soaked with Kenji's silent tears.
When Kakashi slips through the front doors, he freezes when he sees Sakura fully clothed and awake by the dining table, holding a lightly snoring Ichiro to her chest.
"When?" he mouths, nodding at Ichiro.
"One hour ago," Sakura mouths back. She tilts her head towards the open window of their bedroom. "He climbed inside and frightened the living daylights out of me."
Kakashi blinks.
"So he saw you naked?" he whispers.
Sakura blushes.
"No!" she whispers crossly. "He was sleepwalking. Look."
She loosens her grip around Ichiro and moments later, he stands, walking towards the wall. Feeling somewhat charitable, Kakashi places his hand between the wall and Ichiro's face.
"Maybe it's better for them to skip training today," Kakashi says mildly.
Sakura nods in agreement.
"I'll watch them."
She stands up, gently steering Ichiro into the bedroom. They settle both boys down onto the futon, and thankfully, Ichiro stays put, apparently having gotten his fill of adventure.
To give the boys some quiet, Sakura brings Kakashi's warpaint outside the bedroom and gestures for him to sit at the table. He does, closing his eyes.
She has not painted his eyes for him since the first time she customized his design, but Kakashi won't question why she feels the need to do it again, especially not if it means being able to sit close to her before another busy day.
Sakura cradles his cheek in one hand and paints with the other, listening as he explains how he and Kenji searched for Ichiro for the better part of the past hour and a half. Then she kisses the bottom of his scar when she completes the final brushstroke across his temple.
"You looked so sweet carrying Kenji on your back," she says, her voice brimming with affection.
Kakashi frowns, but he cannot help the warmth that spreads over his face.
"I'm not sweet," he deadpans. "I've killed at least a thousand men."
"Yes, yes, I know," Sakura says, and he does not have to look at her to know that she is rolling her eyes. "You'd better go. You're late for sparring with Genma."
If he's already late, a few more minutes won't make a difference. Kakashi pulls her close to him, trailing kisses down the length of her graceful neck.
Sakura giggles before pushing him away.
"We'll do that later," she says firmly. "Now go."
Distinctly wounded by Sakura's ability to resist his charms, Kakashi sighs an exaggerated sigh as he steps outside. But before he shuts the doors, he takes one last look at his wife, his gaze lingering on her fingers as she tenderly brushes some hair off Ichiro's forehead and wipes Kenji's face dry.
When he arrives at the training grounds, Genma raises his eyebrows then grins.
"Busy morning?" Genma asks innocently.
With a noncommittal hum, Kakashi shrugs. And although poor Genma has no idea that his question only reminded Kakashi of what he had been denied, Kakashi indulges himself by allowing his strikes to land a little harder than usual.
Back at the house, Sakura lights a lantern and leaves it on the window ledge facing Sakumo and Aiko's home. Moments later, there is a soft knock on the front door, and Aiko pokes her head inside.
"I saw your signal. Is everything alright?"
"For now," Sakura says thoughtfully. She gestures to the open bedroom doors, and Aiko blinks when she sees the twins. "Ichiro had a sleepwalking episode early this morning."
"Sleepwalking?" Aiko repeats, her eyes wide with alarm. "The poor thing."
"And Kenji has been having nightmares every night for the past two months," Sakura says, frowning. "Who takes care of them when Takumi is away?"
Aiko glances at the boys.
"No one, really. Everyone takes turns checking on them, but the twins learned to be self-sufficient when Hamako died."
Of course they did. Sakura sighs.
"What helps them feel better?"
Aiko takes a moment to think before her eyes light up.
"There's a stew that Hamako used to make for them. Ume has the recipe for it."
Aiko insists on getting the recipe from Ume — "Please, Sakura; it makes me nervous to see you walking around when you're this far along!" — and she returns half an hour later with a scroll and a basket of the necessary ingredients.
"The communal kitchen is busy," Aiko says. "I'm afraid we'll have to make it here."
Sakura shakes her head. Aiko and Sakumo are scheduled to leave the compound at noon to meet with the Sarutobi clan, and the last thing Sakura wants to do is add to Aiko's already busy day.
"It's alright, okaa-san, I think I can manage on my own. Thank you for all your help."
With that warm fondness radiating from her silver eyes, Aiko pats Sakura's cheek affectionately before leaving.
As the doors close, Sakura takes a deep breath and opens the scroll. Sakura is not a stellar cook by any means, but she is decent at following instructions. As she reads through the recipe, the nervousness pulsing under her skin slowly replaces itself with confidence, largely because the dish is one she has seen and tasted before.
It is a beef bone stew from Water Country. Her father's favorite. Although Dan died shortly before her fifth birthday, one of her most vivid memories of him involved sitting on his shoulders as he cooked a large indulgent pot of the hot and sour soup.
She smiles, tears springing to her eyes.
"If you're not too busy, I could use your help, otou-san," she says out loud.
Some hours later, Sakura takes a sip of the broth and hums in relief. Ume's recipe was a good guide, but little details gave away Ume's lack of familiarity with the dish; still, with some deviations, Sakura has managed to produce a fragrant broth with nuanced layers of flavor that would make her father proud.
"What are you doing?"
Sakura almost drops the ladle into the pot. She glances down and sees Ichiro standing right next to her, staring at the soup curiously.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Sakura says, "Making a beef stew. Or rather, I was making it. It's done." She smiles when out of the corner of her eye, she sees him trying to comb his hair flat with his fingers. "Do you want some?"
"Yes, please."
She pours some stew into two bowls and places them down on the table. Ichiro sits with her, taking a small experimental sip. Sakura takes a sip as well, mostly to distract herself from the self-consciousness suddenly prickling at her skin.
Then she drops her spoon when Ichiro bursts out crying.
"It's alright," she stammers, nudging his hand so that he puts his spoon down. "You don't have to finish it if you don't like it —"
"It's really good," he says through a series of hiccups. "You make it the same way Mama does. Did."
Her eyes watering again, Sakura swallows hard and asks, "Was your mother from Water Country?"
Ichiro nods.
"My father was from Water Country too," she shares. "This was the only thing he knew how to cook."
"It's really good," he repeats. "Thank you, oba-chan."
Through his sniffles, he picks up the bowl and sips directly from it.
Some warmth spreading through her chest, Sakura continues to eat with him in silence. When she is halfway through her bowl, she says, "Ichiro-kun, you haven't asked why you woke up in my house."
He pauses mid-sip. Then he sets his bowl down and says, "I already know why. I've been sleepwalking again."
Again? Sakura frowns.
"How long have you been sleepwalking, Ichiro-kun?"
He keeps his eyes down, using his spoon to nudge a stripped-down bone around in his bowl.
"Not that long. Only two months," he says sullenly.
Sakura tries not to look too stricken but it doesn't work.
Ichiro adds, somewhat defensively, "I always wake up. And I always get back before Kenji notices."
"Not this time," Sakura points out. "Kenji woke up and saw you were gone."
Apparently, this is the wrong thing to say. Ichiro hugs his knees to his chest and hides his face, his shoulders trembling. He is crying again.
Unable to help herself, Sakura embraces him and combs her fingers through his hair, untangling some errant knots. The repetitive motion seems to soothe him; in time, the silent, shuddering sobs that tremble through his body dwindle down to the occasional hiccup, then a few sniffles, then finally regular breaths.
"Kakashi had trouble sleeping too, after the third test," Sakura says quietly. "I can't imagine what it must be like to fight a battle, much less kill a man."
Ichiro glances up at her.
"Nothing's as bad as when I saw Mama die," he says frankly. "She slipped and fell in the river when we were washing some clothes and —" he stops to take a breath. "And she broke her head open. On a rock."
Sakura's heart aches deep in her chest for this boy.
"I believe you. But I also don't think it's a coincidence that you started sleepwalking after you were declared battle-ready, Ichiro-kun," she says carefully.
Ichiro clenches his hands into fists, looking away stubbornly as he blinks some tears away.
"Can I tell you a secret, oba-chan? You can't tell anyone. Not even Kakashi-oji."
Sakura nods.
"I promise."
Ichiro relaxes his hands. Then slowly, as though he is frightened to say the words out loud, he admits, "I was going to fail the third test for Kenji. I knew he wasn't ready. But I also knew he would pass because he thought I would. And he wouldn't want me to go into battle alone. I didn't want that for him either, so I did it."
Sakura's jaw drops open.
"You feel guilty," she realizes.
His bottom lip trembles. Without his mask, Sakura is reminded all the more of how young he is. She closes her eyes and holds him tighter.
"It's not your fault, Ichiro-kun."
He doesn't believe her. She can tell from the way he shrinks tighter into himself.
"Ichiro. Why is it that you're allowed to worry about him, but he's not allowed to worry about you?" Sakura asks, her voice sharp and unforgiving.
The question stuns him into peering up at her.
"I don't know," Ichiro says, confused. "I've always had to take care of him."
"And now that you need someone to take care of you, he's stepped up," Sakura says. "Kenji searched for you all by himself for an hour, and he only came to our door last night because he knew it would be smart to ask for help." She squeezes his chin lightly. "I think it's honorable of you to be a pillar of strength for your brother. But you don't get to decide that he can't do the same for you."
For the first time, Sakura sees the tiniest hint of a reluctant acceptance on Ichiro's face.
"I'll try," he says, begrudging. Then he stares into his bowl and says, "Can we add some lotus root to the stew? It's Kenji's favorite."
Sakura smiles.
"Yes. Of course we can."
She sees Ichiro sneaking a longing glance at the pot of stew, so she pours more into his bowl and tells him to keep an eye on his brother while she fetches some lotus root from the kitchens. It is almost lunchtime, and although she and Kakashi usually eat with the elders on Mondays, she wonders if her absence, along with Sakumo and Aiko, means he'll opt to eat with his men instead.
After thanking Fune for the lotus root, Sakura makes the trek back home carefully. Despite her size making it a challenge to do something as simple as walking, Sakura finds that the more she moves, the less her body aches.
But perhaps she should have made a greater effort to return sooner. She frowns when she enters the house and sees the dining table empty, but her ears pick up the sound of Kenji's hysterical giggling.
As quietly as she can, she sets the lotus root down on the table and inches closer to the hallway, peering around the corner. The twins are laying on their stomachs right in front of the storage room, their heads propped up on their hands so that they can read the scroll unfurled before them as they swing their feet in the air.
Then Ichiro snorts and reads: "Kazumi purred deep in his chest as he dragged his tongue across the soft skin of Sayuri's breasts and —"
Sakura clears her throat, crossing her arms. The twins, maskless and very, very guilty, immediately glance at her — specifically her chest — and blush a bright red.
"Oba-chan!" Kenji squeaks, trying his best to nudge an open box of scrolls out of line of vision with his foot.
"We're sorry, oba-chan," Ichiro says, scrambling to put the scroll away.
Then in unison, they say, "It was my idea to look through the storage room."
Ichiro glares at Kenji. Kenji looks helplessly at Ichiro then shrugs one shoulder.
Sakura bursts out laughing, but stops when behind her, she hears Kakashi deadpan, "Try the truth this time, boys."
Abject terror on their faces, the twins glance at each other one more time.
Then Kenji says in his bravest voice, "I'm sorry, Kakashi-oji-san. It was my idea. I wanted to read your scrolls."
Kakashi stares at the twins for an eternity. Then he glances at Ichiro and says, "Have you kept your promise, Kenji-kun?"
Kenji dutifully nods his head.
Shoulders relaxed, Kakashi says, "Alright. I forgive you. Ask for permission next time you want to look around."
Then he smiles pleasantly, which seems to make the twins even more nervous.
"We're sorry, oji-san, oba-san," the twins say again, looking for all the world like Kakashi had just killed a puppy in front of them and has threatened to kill another.
Sakura can't bear it. She gestures for the boys to come to her, and they glom onto either side of her, but not before glancing cautiously at Kakashi one last time.
"Boys, why don't you chop up the lotus root I brought back and add it to the stew?" Sakura says brightly.
Visibly relieved, the boys scamper off. Then Sakura smiles at Kakashi and says, "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to check on you and the boys," he says, tilting his head. "You cooked something for them?"
Sakura blushes.
"I did. You can have some, if you want."
"Maybe later, when they're not so nervous around me," Kakashi says idly.
Sakura raises her eyebrows.
"So that's the kind of father you're going to be," she says, contemplative.
For some reason, Kakashi's shoulders tense up.
"What kind?" he asks.
She glances over her shoulder to check on the twins.
When she sees that Kenji is dutifully chopping up the lotus root while Ichiro is watching the pot to make sure it does not overflow, Sakura grins and leans in close to Kakashi, stopping before she touches his lips.
"The frightening but forgiving kind," she says.
"You like that?" he asks doubtfully.
"I think I do," Sakura murmurs, finally granting him a kiss.
He reciprocates with a hungry eagerness, tangling his fingers in her hair as she pushes him into the storage room.
"What were you asking Kenji earlier? When you asked if he kept his promise?" Sakura whispers against his mouth, sliding her hand down his chest.
"I can't say. It's a little secret between me and Kenji," Kakashi says.
When her fingertips ghost over his erection, he tries to press himself into her hand but she moves it away.
He pulls himself from their kiss and looks at her, betrayed.
"Are you trying to seduce information out of me?" Kakashi asks.
"Yes," she says, grinning. She presses her palm against his cock and he exhales heavily out of his nostrils. "Is it working?"
"No," Kakashi says, his voice strangled. Then with the most regretful sigh, he removes himself from her and exits the storage room, holding a hand out towards her. As she takes it, Kakashi asks, "What were the boys reading?"
Sakura winces.
"Something out of Gutsy Shinobi. They're very aware of what breasts are now."
Kakashi disguises his laugh under a cough with very little success. Then he peers around the corner to spy on the twins again. They are eating at the table, pleased expressions on their faces.
"I should have checked on them after the third test," Kakashi says. "But I didn't."
There is an undercurrent of self-loathing in his voice that makes Sakura frown.
"You're helping them now," she reminds him quietly.
Kakashi closes his eyes.
"I can't believe I'm saying this," he groans, his shoulders slumped in defeat, "but maybe they should stay with us until Takumi returns next week. It will be easier to make sure Ichiro doesn't sleepwalk too far."
Smiling, Sakura squeezes his hand.
"I was going to suggest the same," she says. "Hopefully they'll say yes."
The twins accept the idea with great enthusiasm. And as the boys help Kakashi clear the table and wash dishes, a small thoughtful smile spreads across Sakura's face.
Some days later, Sakumo and Aiko return from their journey, and Sakumo's eyes crinkle in amusement when Kakashi greets them at the gates with Ichiro by his side and Kenji on his shoulders.
"The three of you make for an interesting welcoming party," Sakumo quips, ruffling Ichiro's hair.
When Kakashi allows himself a strained smile, Sakumo exchanges a glance with Aiko.
Aiko then says, "Boys, can you help me bring our things back home?"
The twins jump at the opportunity to do something new, leaving Sakumo and Kakashi alone.
"It's Sunday, isn't it?" Sakumo says idly. "Come on, son."
Since Kakashi's sixteenth birthday, the two men have had a standing appointment to share some good shochu on Sunday evenings, but in between lengthy clan meetings and Kakashi's months long departures, it has been increasingly harder for them to make time for each other.
They pick up two bottles from the reserves and ascend the mountain that overlooks the highest point of the compound, sitting with their legs dangling off the cliffside.
When Kakashi shares that the twins have been staying with him and Sakura for the past few days, along with the reason for it, Sakumo raises his eyebrows and says, "This is good practice for when you have your own."
Kakashi sighs.
"I'm not doing very well. I already want to strangle them."
"Oh. Did they walk in on you and Sakura again?" Sakumo asks, smirking as he remembers the unfortunate incident that happened the day before Kakashi's departure to Ryuuchi Cave.
Kakashi glares at him.
"No," he deadpans. "But they're exhausting, and that's with them being able to walk and talk and take care of themselves." After taking a generous swig, Kakashi says, "All of it makes me wonder if I'm ready to be a father."
Sakumo blinks. Then he chuckles, tilting his bottle towards his mouth.
"No one is," Sakumo admits. "I certainly wasn't. And I didn't want to be one either. All I wanted was your mother. Then you showed up."
Kakashi huffs.
"I'm very sorry for ruining your plans," he says wryly.
"And I'm very glad you showed up to ruin them," Sakumo says, grinning as he clasps Kakashi's shoulder. "Listen, Kakashi: you're going to be a great father. I know because you always try your best."
Shaking his head, Kakashi asks, "Sometimes my best isn't good enough. It wasn't with Rin."
Privately, Sakumo had always thought Rin and Kakashi's best efforts were ill-suited for each other's needs. But it seems to be a different case with Sakura, who despite her disarming appearance, possesses teeth that seem to sharpen Kakashi's claws, and vice versa.
"Something tells me things will go differently this time, son," Sakumo opts to say. He squeezes Kakashi's shoulder. "Trust me."
A small reluctant smile tugs at Kakashi's mouth. Then his eyes widen slightly.
"Is that them?" Kakashi says, pointing downwards.
Sakumo peers over the cliff side and smiles, nodding at Kakashi. His old wolf pup friend had died long ago, but not before finding a mate and creating a pack of his own.
The males have white fur, just like his old friend. Trailing close behind them is a collection of tiny white wolf pups, snuffling as they take in the cold sharp air of Mount Myōboku. The smallest of the pups is some distance behind them, and he stumbles as he tries to keep up with his brothers.
"Do you ever think we should stop letting child soldiers into our ranks?" Kakashi asks suddenly.
Sakumo side-eyes his son.
"Truthfully? No," he says.
He does not have to elaborate because Kakashi has seen it for himself; child soldiers who survive into adulthood often make for inspiring leaders within the clan and establish extraordinary legacies through their own progeny.
"But change is necessary sometimes. If your ideas will strengthen the clan, I'm willing to hear them out," Sakumo offers.
Kakashi nods, his eyes focused on the smallest pup. And soon they head back down to the compound for dinner, but only after drunkenly smiling over the sight of the pups play-fighting with each other.
All the way in the center of Shikkotsu Forest, Tobirama bursts into Tsunade's study, holding up one of the encrypted scrolls from the Uchiha hideout.
"Niece."
Tsunade freezes before setting down her saucer of untouched sake. Out of some ancient, ingrained habit from childhood, Tsunade straightens her spine and says, "Yes, Tobirama-oji-san?"
Tobirama glares at her.
"Do you want to tell me why your supposedly dead friend has been making payments to one Uchiha Madara?"
Scowling, Tsunade sighs, "Many of my friends are dead, oji-san. You're going to have to be more specific."
Tobirama tosses the encrypted scroll onto her desk. Tsunade reads Tobirama's neat annotations, her face gradually losing color.
"Impossible," she breathes out as her eyes linger on the incriminating name:
Otsutsuki Orochimaru.
N