Chapter 2: Circumcised
Warning: (M) Contains Gore, Explicit Language, and Death.
Rating: (T-M) Not for kids. At all.
Pairings: For now? None. Kind of a Gen-fic.
A/N: I have a terrible feeling Gojo is going to be written OOC here. If he does sound OOC, please let me know! I'm not too good at writing characters. Also, yes, Kakashi's mom IS an OC. One that these people happen to know. She's not a big deal. She died anyway. Oh wow, that sounded so asshole-like.
[. . .]
"My father is a hoe." - Probably Kakashi.
[. . .]
Chapter 2
Circumcised
[. . .]
"So, what is it?"
Shoko turned away from her monitor to look behind her and immediately her previous fatigued expression formed into a glower. "Still processing," She answered briskly.
Gojo feigned a groan. "This is taking so long."
"It's been two hours, you knuckleheaded bitch, have patience," She grumbled, rubbing her temple in annoyance. Thanks to Gojo's unplanned visit with a literal baby, her temper was sporadic. She'd been in the middle of finishing the last few of her papers for a student patient, prepared to go home, when Gojo had crashed in unannounced and demanded her to fix the little boy. She was right to be livid since now the three hours of sleep she could've gotten were out of the question.
"Two hours too long," Gojo mumbled, taking his lanky frame and raising himself to full height to go observe whatever else she was currently scrubbing at. "How long do these stupid tests take, anyway?" He began poking at the device with his lips pulled forward gleefully.
She smacked his hand. "Probably a week," She lied.
He slumped dramatically over her head. "A week? I don't have time for a week, I've got people to see, curses to exorcise!" Gojo whined. Though, it wasn't like he did those things constantly anyways. Shoko knew that as well. Most of his time was spent annoying others—that, or shopping. Definitely shopping. Oh! And Digimon. He loves that.
"We don't even need this test," Shoko reminded, slapping him off while giving him a tired glare that caused his expression to go slack. "We both know this kid is yours. Those eyes of his wouldn't be on just anyone."
Gojo grinned at her. "You never know. What if there's some sorcery out there that can replicate eyes? Huh, huh?" He pressed closer, lowering his bandages to give her a stern eye.
It did nothing to the woman all too used to his stupid antics. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," She said plainly.
He shrugged. "Could be true, though."
Shoko stared at him, eyes muted.
Gojo gazed back, seeming completely serious with his exaggerated theory.
The woman closed her eyes and sighed. She turned to the tubes of blood. "If you don't want the kid, you could say that instead of coming up with stupid shit to annoy me with all evening."
Gojo crossed his arms. "Never said I didn't want him—okay, no, I did say that. I lied. I don't want this kid." He cupped his hands in a mocking wave.
Shoko rubbed her head hard with the knuckle of her finger in annoyance. "I'm not going to bother asking why since it's you I'm talking to, and I frankly don't care. What I do care about is if the tests come back positive, you're stuck with him and you're getting him out of my sight and taking all these extra problems I don't have time for with it."
"Not if he isn't mine, I won't be. I'm positive he isn't!" Gojo hadn't bothered correcting that if the child had potential, he'd keep it regardless. It was a bit contradictory on his part, but that was because he didn't want it, but he would train it if it meant something better for the world. Sort of. He honestly hoped it wasn't his flesh and blood. It'd complicate a lot of things for several reasons.
If it wasn't for how eerily similar the boy looked to him, he'd have already snuck the poor sucker in and labeled him another potential Megumi 2.0 protegee.
"Says the womanizer."
"What's that got to do with anything?" Gojo suddenly gasped, "Are you admitting I get more action than you, Shoko-chan? It's okay, not all of us can be stunningly sexy and rich."
Said woman walked away and grabbed a bottle of alcohol from behind a few jars on a counter. Champagne, to be specific.
She ignored his leveled gaze while she reached into a cabinet and took out a glass, pouring herself the sizzling liquid before downing it in one go.
Gojo watched, waiting. Oddly enough, he was eerily silent.
She downed two more glasses before throwing the drink onto the wall and setting the bottle down. "I haven't seen Mami in a while," She started easily, narrowing her eyes. "Last I heard she was visiting here, in Tokyo," She paused, "For you. Said you knew where you'd find her."
The teasing gleam vanished from his face. "...How should I know?" He asked her, casual. "She hasn't talked to me in five years." He wouldn't admit that he didn't have a clue as to who this was.
"Five years," Shoko repeated, tired.
"Yep."
She rose an eyebrow. "And how old is this kid?"
"Three months? I don't know how babies age. They're bald-headed gremlins," He waved off.
"Gojo."
He hummed at her.
Shoko frowned. "That kid looks like he's five years old. And the corpse you brought in looks like Mami," She stated sourly, "Isn't it a little suspicious that she didn't speak to you for five years?"
Gojo shrugged. "No? Why would I care?" He put his arms behind his head and whistled. Mami did sound familiar though...
"Don't be an asshole," She warned.
He remained idle.
Then, a beep announced itself in the silent room, notifying them of a finished test. Gojo eagerly leaped forward to see but pouted upon realizing it wasn't the kid test.
"It's her," Shoko confirmed, reading the information on the screen with her usual exhausted expression. The sight of her friend caused a crinkle of pain to appear on the corner of her eyes and an ache in her heart, but the male didn't share the sentiment. Why would he? He only met her on that one night he popped her cherry. People were insignificant to him, even now. Most of the time.
He caught sight of the picture and he 'ah'ed. That's right. That one girl.
She looked at him. "He said that was his mom, no?" She asked, even though it was stupid. He had given a calm explanation of what he'd seen, which at the time had spooked her because it wasn't every day anyone saw Gojo being calm. Like always, he cleaned up after any mess, leaving no witnesses behind. An expert in the making and the fact that it was only one casualty (that he placed without care on one of the cots) shouldn't have been alarming.
But this was her friend she was speaking about. A good friend she'd met over drinks a decade ago. A normal civilian woman by the name of Mami Hachimitsu, a kind, snarky woman she'd made Utahime contest for drinking—
She's dead. Why hadn't she told her anything?
"Yep," Gojo answered. "That's what the brat said."
She clutched her head. "I need another drink," She breathed, sticking her hand into the drawer. Out came another cup, and grudgingly, she poured the liquid into the red container. She drank it just as quickly as the others. It was surprising she wasn't downing the bottle in one go.
I wish I never stopped smoking, She internally moped.
"So..." Gojo scratched his head, "Is it my kid yet?"
Her eye twitched. "You—"
Beep.
Immediately, Shoko was shoved aside with a yelp by Gojo's hand. He stood where she stood seconds ago, face raking over the information like a starved man, imploring, and hopeful.
Green reflected shamingly against his skin, and his heart plummeted. Actually no. The best way to describe how felt at the moment was vaguely disbelieving and numb. His heart was still on beat, albeit a little slow.
Flipping him off, she took a look for herself, only to pause.
"Huh," She grabbed the bottle, reading herself for a long gulp. "Son of a bitch. Would you look at that."
In bold, green lettering, the static screen announced a confirmed and mocking match.
"This machine's broken," Gojo mumbled to himself. He poked at it again.
She drank and sighed. "So you're denying it now?" She asked him, blinking slowly.
"Nope," He was picking at the tubes he wasn't supposed to touch at all, "You probably put in the wrong blood! I know you're very tired, Shoko-chan."
He shoved in another dial of blood, messing up the other ones carefully in place. He poked at the machine a third time. "It's okay, this one should work!" He grinned, easy and nice.
Her temper was steadily rising.
"Shame on you, trying to trick me. You're terrible with pranks!"
It flared. "Shut the fuck up and look at the facts," She growled, and he paused to look at her intriguingly with a slightly raised bandage where his eyebrow would be. "You saw me put the right one in. You waited with me for the results. You know this machine isn't broken, or else it wouldn't have confirmed Mami's body."
He was passive as he moved himself to look directly into her eyes.
She was serious. "That's your damn kid." She took a swivel at the alcohol, "And you know it."
"Not possible," He shook his head. "Trust me! I would've—"
"Known?" She asked, and a grim line set itself on her lips. "I didn't even know. Do you really think she'd have told you? With who you are?"
He silenced, considering.
"Clan politics are ass. They're the most annoying shit on the planet. It was obvious that a woman in her situation wouldn't have said not a thing," She breathed in, trying to calm herself. "Her freedom would've been revoked. Her child taken away."
He opened his mouth again—
"No," She interrupted, "You wouldn't have helped. You don't care about people, Gojo. That's just who you are. You're a dick." Her eyes were becoming increasingly exhausted.
He didn't know how to answer that.
"I know you. You'd have told her to get an abortion."
"That's true, but—"
"She always wanted a kid," Her voice cut in again, melancholic but harsh. "She wouldn't have done it."
He waved the little tube in the air playfully, but the grin on his face was plastic. "Shoko-chan~! Stop bullying me! You know what'd happen if it were my kid! That kid can't possibly be mine," He said, sure of it. There's a hard edge to his tone now, something that hardly comes by with his who-the-fuck-cares personality type. And it's creepy enough that he looked calm, despite being far from it. "I made sure I—"
"Well, you fucked it up," Shoko said, plain and simple.
"That's not—"
"Regardless if you think it isn't," Shoko pushed the bottle on a table, setting aside the plastic cup, "We can't deny that by the looks of it, this kid is yours, Gojo. The evidence is right here, and don't even get me started on what he looks like. White hair, those creepy ass eyes that look exactly like yours—" She wavered, looking behind her to take a look at the cameras before turning back, "And the features? It screams ugly white-haired bastard."
"Pretty, actually. And I don't have a mole," The man replied as if that was something to be proud of.
"Oh, for the love of—this is your damn kid, and you know it. Stop being in denial."
He looked away.
Then hummed good-naturedly.
"The kid's gone."
Shoko swerved her head to the cameras.
Sure enough, the bed was empty and the window was open.
She closed her eyes. "You're fucking shitting me."
"I'm not," He said, and his idiotic stupid ass-whistling lips began to play the mariachi band. Or, in better terms, he was whistling again.
She glared. "Go find him. He couldn't have gotten far."
He huffed and did as she asked.
[. . .]
Kakashi hated hospitals.
It was a known fact among everyone who knew him (or once knew him, morbidly said), a so-called personality trait that all had branded him with since he was but a boy of four years old. He had an immense dislike for clinics of any kind, and with it came the knowledge that no matter the circumstance, Kakashi would be kept under surveillance for as long as he needed to be for him to properly gain his health back.
Due to that qualm—because he'd rather be caught dead than in a hospital—Kakashi had a very hard time leaving in his lifetime.
He always managed it one way or another, but it was difficult nonetheless. Still. He got out.
In this life, it would be no different.
So, when the doctor and the abomination said doctor called his father had left, he removed everything attached to him and forced himself out of bed.
And made his escape.
It was sickeningly easy; Kakashi planned it all after the shock of waking up subsided, ignoring the probing questions of that Yeti while doing so. The questions were more so demands than anything else; "Who's the baby mama?" or "Was it booty call number one or two?" Whatever the hell that meant. Kakashi answered by feigning sleep, finding that it did cease the questions, until, well, he was almost rattled awake by the shaman.
The doctor thankfully stopped it, and with the new angle (ignoring the pain upon being lifted like a ragdoll)he was permitted to see better around himself.
Although extremely sensitive, Kakashi forced himself to assess his surroundings at the time, recalling similar objects the mother of this life had once shown him when he was still just an idiot toddler gathering traumatizing memories. This included the beeping machine that the man-now-boy recalled making a fuss if removed and a regular old I.V fluid thing he'd always known about.
Two things to watch out for. Noise, and bloody messes.
So, to avoid noise, he unplugged the machine. More so cut the cable, which hissed his skin in a way his Chidori used to do. It was fine, it only numbed his hand for ten minutes. No biggie.
The I.V thingy was ripped off. It didn't hurt nearly as much as he thought it would have, since, well, his arm was fucking numb.
Anyway.
He stumbled and righted himself, making sure his steps were silent as he grabbed onto a chair and dragged it. His eyes still hurt, but it was less now than before due to the lights off for his convenience. "You want him blind?" He was reluctantly thankful for that doctor.
With the chair against the wall and the window locked tight, he swiftly made his way to the drawers in the room, taking out a small knife-like device—a scalpel, thank you Sakura—and a doctor's mask he happened to find within it. He returned to his planning.
His hearing was still as acute as his old life's, taste and smell all the same, and he was thankful those traits were things that wouldn't make him forget who he truly was. With his mask on and his new weapon in hand, he climbed the chair and jammed the metal into the lock.
Which was super stupid of him because he only needed to turn the rusty metal to open it from the inside out. Windows are meant to keep things out, remember, remember.
His tiny head peeked out, puffy silver strands (whiter, now, he guessed) moving with the freezing breeze. The drop wasn't that long, probably two or three stories high, and there were smaller boards steeply decorated onto the building that would allow him a slower but safer scaling. All in all, it was safe enough. The fact that he was lucky this building was climb-approved was disorienting.
He was not a lucky man. Er, Child. Toddler.
Whatever.
Tiredly, he shuffled his little legs and turned one over onto the ledge followed by the other. His bare feet slid against the colored concrete, but he kept himself stable after quickly stabbing the wall hard enough to create a hole. From there, he used his other hand to clench the bare wall, nails going bloody from the tension as he ripped out the scalpel and did the same.
He continued this process, skipping a few times when the ledges were merciful, and then when he was close enough to the ground, he threw himself away from the wall.
He landed with a roll, grunting—squeaking, because he was a fucking baby—and heaved. His stomach clenched with hunger and his throat became drier with his pants for breath, and he collapsed again when his head made a heavy-huffed twirl of his surroundings.
It took him two minutes (yes, he counted) before he continued his trek.
(Within those two minutes, he thought about life. Where would he go? Did he have more family besides his mother? He refused to believe that vile man was his father. He was ugly.
Seriously though, where the fuck was he going? He'd escape and then what?
Oh, Kami. Everything was so damn painful. He hated it here.
This was Obito's fault, somehow.)
He crawled first, thought hard about his situation, and promptly said fuck it. He either survived his dilemma now or died trying to. Either way, it was a win-win for him. If he survived, he'd get to go Scott free and live this life remembering his regrets and hating himself all over again. If he died, he'd meet everyone else in the afterlife.
There was nothing for him here, in this life. He didn't care that he was blessed with another. All he wanted was his family. He wanted to see his father again, his friends, and his (*sob*) kids. Everybody from his old life.
All that waited for him here was more death. More people he'd get attached to, and inevitably fail. He wasn't even completely conscious at the time when he lost his mother. All he remembered, grasping at the memories of this child's past, was her smile. She looked a lot like how Sakumo—his true father—described his real mother from his past life.
He wondered if it was the same woman, just reincarnated, like him.
The thought numbed him. He'd never have a mother, would he?
Four years at a fresh start, and he fucked it up. Who else was next? That worm he sees wiggling like a circumcised penis beside him on the ground?
Whatever, it was the same. Either he died now, or lived in isolation.
These were perfect circumstances.
Until they weren't.
"Well, well, well," The Rake said, tone varying between serious and impressed as he snatched him up from his hospital clothes, "Guess who I found crawling like a fetus?"
Suddenly all up in his face with no eyes to stare into but bandages, there the Yeti—shit, father—was. Smiling all calm, as if he didn't just catch Kakashi escaping prison—hospital. The elation on his face was completely fake, bordering on annoyance. To what, it was clear, but Kakashi didn't give a shit. What he did give a shit about was how cold it currently was.
Because hospital gowns didn't have a backside, the air was spreading through Kakashi's buttcheeks. He did not like this. It was apparent this man that was supposedly his father was a big stinky pervert too. The adult checked behind where his butt was exposed with further lifting before facing him again, inspecting for weapons he likely thought he had on him. Or chasing him, but Kakashi didn't know that. To Kakashi, this looked like a weapon check. Kids were dangerous, okay?
Bloody nails and all, Kakashi sniffed and scratched his nose through the mask. What would a child say? They'd act dumb, no? "Maa... What's a fetus?" He asked, casual and completely normal. Yes, a perfect response. Nobody will suspect a thing.
Except his pronunciation was spot on, and Gojo wasn't that much of an idiot. Actually, Gojo just didn't care to notice it. So, he stared, thought about how he was going to miss booty-call number three because this demon-spawn escaped, and grinned.
To Kakashi, the grin was predatory. "Look in a mirror, and you'll know what a fetus is!" He chirped, putting Kakashi under his arm tucked on his side like a fucking box. "For a copycat, you're adorable! Without the blood and all." The audacity this wendigo had—
With his butt facing the front and his head staring behind (mocking, he swore, his escape), Kakashi fussed. Then stopped. No, no, this was fine. He had something up his sleeve. No, literally, he had a fucking knife—a scalpel, Kakashi-sensei.
Idly, Kakashi tugged the object from his hands, wriggled a bit more for a decrease in suspicion, and stabbed the man's arm.
The blade made direct contact, and the Yeti—father, again—dropped him but made no outward yell to assume the blade made any damage. All he heard was a muttered, 'Since when did mosquitos have anti-infinity?' before he'd gone and dipped.
Kakashi immediately made a run for it, ignoring the screams of his muscles as he crawled under a bush. And another bush.
And another...
"Wow. Rude," He heard the Yeti speak again with a stunned tone from a distance. What an idiot, Kakashi thought. Weapons first, sentencing later.
Although now weaponless, Kakashi would have no trouble escaping and looking for another. All he needed to do now was catch up on some ground and find a nice little hiding—
"Hold it."
Kakashi squeaked like a squirrel when a hand grabbed his clothes again.
It was the woman this time, and Kakashi's previous blankness formed into child-like innocence that made his eyes look big and doe-like when he came face to face with her. All cute and snuggly, just the way he looked at her when the Yeti shook him for answers hours ago. You know, she was kind of pretty.
The woman stared back with some sort of shit-less exhaustion. "You, kid, are definitely Gojo's child," She grumbled, tossing him over her shoulder without a care for his injured state.
Kakashi bit his tongue from crying—he was a toddler in pain, for fuck's sakes—and accepted his defeat when something bound his hands together. The plan was perfect, but his execution was ass. Maybe there were secret seals around this place that alerted them of his poor attempt of leaving unannounced? Whatever. His record was officially broken.
"Who's Gojo?" He asked the lady innocently. He assumed the name was the Yeti, but he wasn't so sure. He hadn't been paying attention.
"Your dad," She replied breezily.
Kakashi did not move. He blinked slowly, sniffled, and spoke. "Is he the ugly big yeti?" His voice was nauseatingly cute.
The young pup didn't see the subtle quirk of her lips. "Yep. That's him," She said.
Kakashi moved his little fingers, withholding a wince from the pain as he connected the dots. Gojo, he thought, Does that mean my last name is Gojo? Because assuming that this woman held contempt for the Yeti, it was likely she didn't give him the time of day to call him by his given name. Assuming. "He's mean. He called me a fetus."
"Aren't you a fetus?"
Kakashi scowled beneath his mask. It was clear this woman wouldn't help him. "No. I'm big."
"For a walnut."
He had enough. "I came out of my mom's vagina," He promptly stated with no hesitation whatsoever.
There was a tentative, abrupt, silence. It stretched for who knew how long—
Seriously how long did he run for?
—Until she finally talked.
"I'm not going to ask how you know what a vagina is."
He sulked internally. This woman was boring.
They stalked in the night through the bushes he scurried under, and every step made him squirm lightly from the pain of having his ribs brush against her shoulder. The air was stifling.
"Can I play?"
"No," She said.
Kakashi scowled, but he looked more-so like a whiny puppy. "Why?"
The woman made sure to take an extra big step. "You're sick."
"Says who?"
"Me, the doctor."
Ew. A doctor. He'll set the room on fire next time.
Once again, he was at the place he landed on, and the scent of girl perfume reached his nose. The Yeti was still around...
"Is that blood?" The lady abruptly asked, coming to a stop. For a moment, Kakashi thought she was asking him. Curious, he snuck a peek, bored and defeated and utterly spent—
The scent of iron and brooding assaulted his sinuses. "No, this is jam," Came the sarcastic response, "Jam that looks suspiciously like blood coming from my arm where an obvious medical thingy-majiggy is currently hanging from. Yes, Jam."
Scalpel, Kakashi corrected in his mind.
The area was quiet. Crickets chirped in the night, and the loud sounds of wind were caught by the little boy's ear, feeding the silence.
Then, "Did this kid just pass through your infinity?" It was choked.
Kakashi decided to amuse himself by facing the Yeti—father, again—head-on. Eyes on eyes, er, bandages.
"Yep," He said, and Kakashi knew his eyes were bound to burn holes through the wrappings.
A groan Kakashi was able to hear due to his angle came into fruition from the pretty lady's mouth, sounding like music to his ears.
"I'm too fucking old for this," The pretty lady said, palming his back before having him in front of her like a cat. He stared at her with a dull silence, completely unrelenting for any reaction. Truthfully, he was bored.
"You look old," He insulted pettily.
Upon looking at him, the pretty lady sighed. "And you keep saying this isn't your kid?"
"Obviously?" Yeti said, scandalized.
Kakashi looked at him. Gojo's stance was completely still, his face devoid of any playful nature. Oh, so this is what he looked like all upset? Loser.
Kakashi sniffed. "He's a pedophile," He spoke, tiny and adorable.
The silence after that was deafening.
[. . .]
A/N: Haha, hi. I mean, Goodbye.
Toodles~
Ana.
