I do not own Naruto.
Chapter 4
He sat naked on carpeted floor, staring towards a door, blaming it for his current predicament. To preserve some semblance of modesty, he bent the knee closest to her so she wouldn't continue to witness what he carelessly bore for the past hour. He dragged a hand through his hair, thinking that no matter how far into peace he was ministering the shinobi world into he was a flawed man—
An incredibly flawed, stupid, stupid man.
Kakashi stared at the double doors of the office, agitated at the persistent daydreaming. He could not stop thinking of Ichiraku Ayame.
He knew for months she had fancied him. At the wedding she kissed the top of his cheek and he repaid her innocent flirtation by following her home and taking what was not his to take. It had been years since he'd been with a woman. He'd been so busy with a fledgling team seven, Sasuke's desertion, the war and then the kage promotion. Obtaining romance was the last thing on his mind—no matter the rare and fleeting fanciful thought.
He had not planned to take things as far as he had with Ayame. But she had been so responsive to every kiss and touch. He did not think she would permit him such liberties with her body. What inexperienced woman allowed a man to do so? But she practically melted into him the moment he put his hands on her. The sake had loosened the reins of his discipline—but the way she had looked at him severed every chain of control he possessed.
"Please don't leave me."
She had said it while holding a pale blanket against her chest. The tops of her cheeks were as rosy as the petals on that pretty comforter. Her eyes were enormous and dark and she pleaded with him not to leave after their first bout of lovemaking. He recalled how her nimble fingers touched his in uncertainty and perhaps even fear. Her expression and demeanor mirrored everything he felt inside. And so, he grabbed her again, making her entirely his for a second time only for her to have left him in the morning.
A lonely woman, he reasoned. A lonely woman allowed a man to take such liberties with her untried body.
Kakashi grabbed the colorful pinwheel in his mug and gently blew at it through his mask. The vanes propelled into a languid rotation. Today's workload had practically done itself and there was nothing to occupy him but a pretty little ramen chef who'd recently developed a penchant for occupying space in his thoughts. All this without trying, really. In fact, he was completely sure she would rather be anywhere but in his thoughts now. Whatever misguided merit he had earned with her in the past all but vanished due to his momentary inability to control his lust.
She did not behave as before, with long glances and accidental touches. Her once ready smile was no longer instantly present the moment he was within her line of sight. He would always act as if he did not notice her peculiar inclinations towards him—the times were infrequent anyway. He'd seen her very little the past year and now she could not even look at him.
Kakashi caught himself.
If there were things to do and people to boss around, then this new disturbance would not have developed as far as it had so early in the morning. If he was working, he would not have allowed thoughts of a woman to deter him from his responsibilities—not again anyway.
There was simply nothing to do. Shikamaru had taken charge to distribute census administers and Sasuke was remaining in the village until the Tsuchikage was ready (Kakashi could not make any further moves there until he had the go from Iwa and Ame).
Continuing to fiddle with the pinwheel, Kakashi lifted his feet on the edge of the chair and spun. The pink swivel chair with extra cushioning had been a gift from Tsunade. He loved it. Everyone else hated it.
What he wouldn't give for an assignment of his own, but kage level missions were few and far between. This was good, of course, as kage missions usually indicated something was very off with the world and were exceptionally dangerous. Tsunade had made that very clear. Kakashi vaguely remembered when the Sandaime would arrive from missions—no one knew when he had left, only that he had returned. Kage missions were always hush-hush and for good reason. It was never safe to openly disclose that a village's military leader had gone AWOL.
That still, small voice private to him, with a partiality for morality and goodness, took back the desire for a mission. Although it was good, Kakashi's thoughts slipped backward.
What he'd done yesterday had also been detrimental to controlling the unwanted musings of feminine wiles. He had deliberately gone through Ichiraku Teuchi and Ayame's records after sending her home with Naruto. It was not truly an abuse of power since it was his right to keep tabs on all Konoha citizens, but the fact that the investigating derived from private curiosity rather than a professional one was tell-tale.
He knew her mother had passed away long ago, but he was taken aback to discover she had died during the Kyuubi attack. He marveled at Teuchi and Ayame then. Their treatment of a young Naruto had been nothing but excellent since he first discovered their relationship. When an entire village had hated the boy, a widowered Teuchi had served him ramen and taught his daughter to do so as well. Even Kakashi, who more than anybody should have been there for an infant Naruto, had avoided the jinchuuriki like the plague.
At the time, losing Minato had been the final straw that led Kakashi into a very, very dark place. The Sandaime had basically run out of options and thrown genin at him, removing him from Anbu and insisting Kakashi would make an extraordinary sensei. The guys back at headquarters had sure thought that was funny until the conclusion of the 4th Shinobi War.
Since the very beginning, Ayame's handling of Naruto was nothing short of virtuous—no one would think the boy housed the very thing that robbed her of a mother. Even now Ayame loved Naruto like a brother and Kakashi was more than sure Naruto held the same regard towards the woman.
Kakashi tried not to sigh in audible relief when Shikamaru wordlessly entered the office and set shogi up on the desk.
"Done so soon?" Kakashi returned the pinwheel to its rightful place on the desk and grabbed his share of koma pieces, carefully watching Shikamaru set the game.
Kakashi had never said anything, but he knew this was a game the young man had played with both his late sensei and father. Asuma used to boast about Shikamaru's strategic ability in shogi to anyone who would listen—or not listen. Kakashi had belonged to the latter group. Talk about blatantly showcasing favoritism—and everyone was always so quick to accuse Kakashi and his partiality towards Sasuke.
"It's not like I have to be the one to count heads. Immigration is killer though. We have to send more people down there."
"Duly noted. Now let's play."
One day, a few months after becoming Kakashi's assistant, Shikamaru had nonchalantly asked if he wanted to play shogi. Kakashi had responded as dispassionately and agreed. Ever since the two went at it whenever there was downtime. Kakashi had been pleased to find a likeminded strategist and he was sure Shikamaru thought the same—whereas Asuma always lost and Shikaku always won, Kakashi and Shikamaru were evenly matched. It was seventeen to fifteen now, in Shikamaru's favor.
Shikamaru smirked during one of his moves and Kakashi frowned. They took turns and Shikamaru was ahead in protecting the king. He knew what it meant to Shikamaru—the king. Before he died, Asuma had confided to the young man that the piece represented Konoha's next generation, and more specifically, Asuma's unborn child. Over tea, Kurenai had volunteered the information to Kakashi, who at the time had been deciding whether to take Shikamaru as an assistant. Kurenai had been looking off into the distance then, voice think with emotion, holding Asuma's sleeping child.
The shogi failed to distract him and Kakashi recalled the way Naruto, eyelids red with sage chakra, had looked at Ayame's abdomen.
It was entirely possible, he knew. The idea had vaguely crossed his mind once or twice, his brain trained to strategically produce potential outcomes in any given situation. He had not been careful that night and he did not think she had known how to. She had been just as taken aback as he when she bled—he at the general appearance of blood during such an intimate act and she at the sheer amount of it.
How could he ask if she was pregnant? It would be presumptuous, and he had done enough. But if she was and she chose to keep it from him, what would he do? Or if she told him, what then? He would take responsibility no doubt. Would she allow him that? She wanted nothing to do with his sense of responsibility before. She could very well feel the same about even this. He did not know her half as well as he wished—another reason why he had done a very stupid thing by sleeping with her. He could have approached her differently that night. He could have offered to walk her home and perhaps even stolen a kiss or two before departing, leaving both their integrities intact.
This was all hypothetical. She could very well not be and Naruto's directional gaze meant nothing.
"Your turn, Hokage-sama."
Kakashi closed his eyes. He was thinking much too often of Ayame, and if he was honest, it had not started on that night over two weeks ago. He thought he had consigned such musings years ago but evidently it was not so.
Shikamaru made a move that sobered Kakashi. It was time to redirect his thoughts and get the upper hand.
"So, how's Temari-san these days?"
On cue, the young man startled and accidentally dropped a koma on the board. Any accidental moves counted as a real turn in shogi and could not be taken back. Kakashi nearly patted himself on the back.
Shikamaru was truly an asset. He was pragmatic and frank—qualities he shared with Kakashi. At times, Shikamaru's practical bluntness could come off as rude and Kakashi would have to redirect and cushion his matter-of-fact mannerisms. But lately, the young Nara had shown remarkable improvement in his social skills. Even geniuses had their faults—Kakashi knew this very well. But failure begot perseverance and eventually it brought success. And Shikamaru was succeeding and Kakashi was sure the Suna girl deserved some credit for his transformative people skills.
One day, Shikamaru would be Naruto's assistant and that brought Kakashi a great peace of mind. Naruto, in all his cleverness, needed strict individuals like Sasuke and Shikamaru by his side. And Hinata, too. She was a good match for the young Uzumaki. Her kindness fueled and encouraged his, and she came from a noble clan. Her softness would drown out Sasuke and Shikamaru's intensities when the occasion called for it. Her tenderness would also douse Naruto's own proclivity towards intensity.
What had the Sandaime always quoted back in the Academy? "'An excellent wife is the crown of her husband,' as the Hokage's wife is the fuel to the Will of Fire." The Sandaime had gotten the proverb from one of many antic writings authored by the Sage of Six Paths. Since the war, Kakashi himself had picked up a lot of literature that Otsutsuki Hogoromo had written or inspired. The man had been wise and cared deeply about the human condition, advocating strongly for the connections between people, especially the unity between husbands and their wives.
Close to beating Shikamaru, Kakashi got an idea.
"An excellent wife who can find? She is far more precious than jewels. The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good, and not harm, all the days of her life. He who loves his wife loves himself."
"Why are you quoting that?" Shikamaru dropped another peace, completely mortified at the idea of Temari and marriage being brought up in the span of two minutes. One would think Kakashi had just told him Asuma had been alive all these years and was waiting for the right moment to surprise everyone for a good laugh. Shikamaru's people skills might have transformed, but his opinion of women and commitment to them was as strained as ever.
Kakashi smiled. "Checkmate."
"How's baker boy these days?"
Ayame shrugged a shoulder, continuing to watch the film playing out before her. Raiden had brought Otousan's projector and hung a white sheet on the wall of her tiny living room. She'd been in bed since Naruto brought her in yesterday and Otousan warned her to stay quarantined until she was better. Too bad what she had wasn't contagious.
Pitying her enough, Raiden had decided to take time out of his morning to move her from the bed to the sofa. He sat on the floor, back against the sofa. He eyed her from his spot near her feet. She was taking up the whole sofa, obviously miserable. She hadn't laughed once at the comedy. And she had kicked him when he tried to sit near her feet.
He said, "Seriously? You used to talk about him all the time the last time I was here. When you weren't talking about him, you were with him."
"Are you bored or something?" She drank bottled vitamin water through a bendy straw, curtesy of Otousan. She had fifty more in the kitchen. Her father was free today and dropped the cases off earlier. He'd worn his scarf around his face. To ward off the disease, he had said.
"Konoha doesn't exactly have a red-light district." She flung a pillow at his head and he laughed as it missed him by several feet. "Kidding. I was kidding! But seriously, Yuu was a cool guy. What happened?"
"Tomoe the cobbler's daughter happened."
"Ouch."
"Ouch." Ayame had moved on to bigger and better things like one nightstands with the most influential man in the Shinobi world and then accidentally getting pregnant by him. She unattractively slurped the last of the vitamin water. Life was great.
"Hey, Raiden-kun?"
"What's up, kiddo?" He munched on some almond flour cupcakes she'd made days ago but never ate, thanks to her constant state of nausea.
"How long are you staying in Konoha?" Last time he had only stayed for a few days but more than a week had passed so she wondered what was up. Otousan had met Raiden during the Third War. He had been seven or something—apparently he had been an Amegakure orphan and her father had taken him in. He found him eating trash leftovers in one of the war campsites and the rest was history. At the time, she had been two when her father returned from his service with Raiden.
"I thought your old man would have told you. I've been trying to get my citizenship but Konoha's policies are tough."
That got her attention. "You want to live here?!"
"Sure. If immigration can get it together. It's a mess down there. Apparently all of Hi no Kuni wants to live here."
It was good news—but then she remembered her current predicament and not even the prospect of having Raiden permanently nearby could cheer her up. She wished she could hate men but all her friends were men and her extended family only seemed capable of producing boys. She had an older sister named Yumi but Ayame saw her as much as she saw Raiden, which was sadder because she lived in Konoha. With her husband and three boys, Yumi-nechan lived on the fancier side, far from ramen chefs, bakers and cobblers.
"You're really staying?"
"Yeah, well. It ain't such a bad place after all."
She laughed bitterly. "And here I was thinking you could take me with you when you left."
That got his attention. "Are you serious, kiddo?"
Ayame shrugged. "Maybe for like a year?"
She could give birth in that timespan and maybe…maybe give it to a family that could take better care of it. Or maybe she could come back with it, acting like she found it abandoned out there in the great wide open and decided to keep and raise it as her own. But what if it looked just like her—or worse, just like Kakashi? Silver hair wasn't exactly common in Konoha. She could say she found it up north.
"Yeah right. Your old man would wither away if his little girl left him for more than a week. Remember when your sister got married? I'd never seen the old man so depressed." Raiden had a point. But her old man would also wither away once he found out what she had done.
"He was sad when Okaasan died too," she said offhandedly. Ayame had been four so she couldn't remember her mother too well, but Raiden did. Raiden had already lived with them for over two years when the tragedy happened. He had left weeks after, never to be seen again until years later.
"Hm." Raiden frowned. Her father said Raiden had really loved her mother.
"Do you miss her?"
"Not as much anymore. She was your mom."
"Was she a good one?" The film was all but forgotten.
Raiden smiled that smile. "Oh yeah. She was the best. She was always running after you and Yumi, dressing ya up in all this frilly crap." He made a show of looking around her apartment. "I am almost sure all this furniture is made from those dresses."
She laughed. "That would be super creepy."
"Super. But that's you. Super creepy."
The projecting image began to stutter for the second time that morning. The projector—it was older than her. Raiden reached for it, cursing under his breath. Ayame examined his tattoo sleeve as he worked to fix the projector. There were three bold ringlets encircling his forearm and one thick line that started from his shoulder, went through the rings and ended at the wrist. He had it ever since she could remember. As children, she used to call it a double-edged toothbrush and he used to get so mad.
Back then she hadn't thought it odd that an orphaned child had a tattoo. But when she was older, educated in an academic system where shinobi lifestyles were part of the curriculum, she understood Raiden wasn't so much an orphan with a sleeve as he was a child ninja, branded by a village he had abandoned.
But now it reminded her of what Kakashi had said about tattoo summoning—oh Kakashi—everything reminded her of him.
So much had she pretended nothing happened—going as far as asking him to do the same—that she did not even consider the possibility of conception. Kakashi had tried so hard yesterday to be cordial and considerate. Whatever teasing behavior he had set his heart on the previous week ended once he saw how ill she was. It had been sweet and Ayame knew she could not hide this from him.
She had a feeling he would figure it out on his own—that the authority of being Hokage somehow granted him supernatural powers of omniscience and omnipresence. That absurd notion aside, time would be the telling factor here and then not only would Kakashi know, but her family and acquaintances would too. Her belly would grow and then there would be a baby in her arms with the very pressing question of who the father was.
What was she supposed to say? That the father was the Hokage and simply continue with her life as if bearing the child of Hi no Kuni's most powerful man wasn't a big deal? Unlikely. Konoha held great reverence for all of the previous and present kage's clans and relatives. She knew this was bigger than her—and it scared her to death.
That old receptionist had said it best. Ayame wasn't the sharpest kunai in the pouch but she really outdid herself this time. She had planned on burying the one-time affair in that dusty, plain box everybody kept at the back of their closets. But she could not with this—not with something like this. Nothing in the world that was hidden could not be made manifested, nor anything so secret that it could not eventually be known and come to light.
This was certainly one of the more obvious things in the physical world.
And she was not a selfish person. She was hard working and independent and could be kind and genuinely cared for people, and although she was not the smartest girl in the world nor the most even-tempered person, she knew she could not keep this to herself. And more importantly, she could not do it alone.
She had cried all yesterday and woke up in tears that very morning. When Raiden arrived, he dismissed her splotchy face for whatever virus she had. He even threatened that if she got him sick so help him God, he would burn everything that had embroidery in her apartment—basically everything.
Raiden repaired the projector and resumed watching the film.
Ayame paid minimal attention, far, far away in mind and emotion, wondering how on God's green earth she was to tell Kakashi that surprise, surprise—you're going to be a father!
It was past noon and Raiden had left to do whatever he did in Konoha during his sporadic visits. Ayame briskly passed buildings and people and friendly vendors. She had neatly separated her hair into two inverted braids and wore her best yellow shirtwaist dress with accordion pleats on the skirt. Her face looked like it had been slapped around from all the crying but there was nothing she could do about that. She even donned her mother's pearl earrings, hoping to look her best.
Maybe another woman could do it—live like the world could go burn and only care for herself and a child she had in secret—but not Ayame. There were too many people in her life whose opinion mattered, who would feel confusion and anger if she did this all alone. There were also too many things she wanted to do. Whether or not she would be able to do them anymore, telling Kakashi was the right thing to do.
Noble talk aside, Ayame was terrified.
She was not sure where life would take her after talking with him, and she was less sure what his reaction would be, but she knew he was a good man with an incredible reputation for intelligence and leadership, notwithstanding the circumstances surrounding their affair. It was what had attracted her to him in the first place—what had dared her to make passes at him for the past year. If he had noticed them or not didn't matter, not anymore. She did not know what to do in her current condition, nor could she still believe this was happening, but she had an inkling that Kakashi would come up with a solution.
It was presumptuous and even a little rude of her to cast off all decision on him, especially since she had been the one giving him the cold shoulder. Now she would also be the one dropping a red oak sized bomb on him and forcing him to be the one to defuse it.
She already began to tear up at the confrontation that was about to take place. She prayed for strength and guidance as she neared Konoha's administration building. Her legs might as well been lead with the pace she struggled to keep. Her stomach was still not one hundred percent, and never mind her torrential emotions. She repetitively told herself the sooner she got this conversation over with, the better.
She was not a child. She would meet this head on and face the consequences of her actions.
"Hokage-sama, you have a visitor."
"Oh?" Kakashi looked up from a scroll. No one was scheduled to come in for another hour or so. The ones who casually visited were Gai or his old students. They typically came impromptu, much to the inconvenience of Kaede and every stationed Anbu in the Tower. In a wheelchair, Gai would still come with challenges, Naruto out of boredom, and Sakura would drop by with interesting lunches—by interesting he meant uneatable. But lunchtime had come and gone today, with it Kakashi's victory over shogi. Even Sasuke had shown up unannounced last week.
He was running out of excuses for them and made a mental note to have a conversation about propriety and consideration for others. A conversation, Kakashi felt, he'd been trying to drill into his team and closest friend for far too long.
"Let them in," Kakashi said. Fuko nodded, uncertain. Kakashi blinked. Now what was that for?
"It's that civilian girl again, Ichiraku Ayame. With lunch, milord. Do you want to take this?"
Kakashi sat straighter. "Yes, Fuko. Thank you. She's a friend."
"Well—yes." Fuko bowed respectfully and exited. He returned not a second later, holding one of the doors open for Ayame.
She held a familiar paper bag and wore an attractive yellow dress with white stockings. Kaede must have waved her off downstairs, probably used to the girl coming in and out of the administration building.
Kakashi immediately noticed the splotchy red of her cheeks and around the eyes, reminiscent of that night. Although not in her work uniform and dressed very nicely, she still looked pale and restless, more than yesterday.
She bowed in greeting. "Good afternoon, Hokage-sama." Her voice was toneless, free hand clutching at the skirt of her dress. Fuko lingered at the door.
"Fuko, you may go," Kakashi said with a hint of command, eyes honed on a permanently bowing Ayame. What could she want? After she had dismissed him—
"Yes!" Fuko bowed deeply and closed the heavy door.
Kakashi immediately stood and Ayame unbowed, eyes wide. He could spot fear a mile away and he knew she was afraid. He took a step around the desk and she took one backwards. He paused and she seemed surprised that she had so obviously retreated from his advancement.
Hoping to break the awkward silence, he tried pragmatism. "You're still not feeling well. A week of Ichiraku's has already passed. Although I'm very appreciative of your father, there's no need to continue—"
"No," she interjected and then quickly bowed because of her interruption. "I mean, I'm sorry, I just—there's no food in the bag. Otousan doesn't know I'm here."
Kakashi raised a brow. "You're carrying an empty bag?"
He watched her cheeks turn pink as she nodded. "Um…I…needed to speak with you and I thought maybe if I came with it…"
"They'd let you pass again?" It was a clever idea. Fuko was main branch Hyuga so the empty bag paired with Ayame's devastated demeanor must have made him vigilant.
She nodded and then looked down at her ankle boots. She was doing that a lot with him—avoiding eye contact. He understood it, but that did not necessarily mean he enjoyed it, much less did he wish for the behavior to continue.
"Alright," he said. "You wanted to speak with me?"
She nodded again but said nothing else. His thoughts from earlier returned and Kakashi sighed. He made his way towards her and she glanced up at him then, eyes enormous as ever.
"Would you like to sit somewhere and talk?" he tried to offer.
Ayame's splotchy eyes searched the room. "I…I think it's fine here."
He nodded then, not knowing how she wanted to do this. If she had been candid with him when he had confronted her, perhaps they would not be as awkward as they were.
Squaring her shoulders, she began, "I have some news—I brought some news." Then her hand covered her mouth at the same time her shoulders rose. She released a muffled sob into her palm and looked mortified that such a sound could escape in his presence.
Kakashi's own eyes widened. The paper bag fell and its contents spilled. Two empty containers. Whatever dam she had built between them crumbled and Kakashi saw it all happen.
Her trembling fingers pressed at the corners of her eyes. "Oh—oh I'm so sorry. I don't want to cry right now."
"What is it, Ayame-chan?" he said to her, needing her to say it aloud. His gentleness unraveled her.
Her knees gave out and he grabbed her upper arms, steadying her. He had not touched her since that night, but it was not the time to enjoy it. She spoke through her hands. "I'm—so sorry. Please, please know that I'm not—that this isn't—ohGod—how am I supposed to say this?" She released a self-depreciating laugh.
It may have something to do with that day during Pein's attack, but at her most vulnerable, Kakashi found her to be lovely. Despite her weaknesses and physical limitations, she tried to do what was right. Even when she had allowed him into her home that night, he had seen how she had struggled to control herself and how she had mourned when she failed.
"Ayame-chan," he said and there was finality to his voice.
She looked to him then, lowering hands to her chin, mouth forming into a wobbly frown. Two braids started at the top of her head and hung over her breasts with little white ribbons tying the ends. His chest paused in breath, breaking whatever misplaced spell had overcome him.
"Are you pregnant?"
Her eyes widened as many decisions passed through Kakashi's mind, analyzing, hypothesizing, concluding—this time she did not break eye contact, and then, just like that, she gave a tiny nod of affirmation.
Though I may speak some tongue of old
Or even spit out some holy word
I have no strength from which to speak
When you sit me down and see I'm weak
-Mumford and Sons, 'Learn Me Right'
