canon isn't super clear on when wolf started serving kuro, but i'm opting to believe it's before the hirata incident

Wolf stood in the threshold to the balcony, facing outward.

The high peaks of the Hirata clan's estates stood dark and shadowed against the sun behind them. Clouds streaked the sky, light and puffy, and the setting sun painted them beautiful, delicate hues of orange and pink. It was a gentle spring breeze that rustled Wolf's clothes and hair, pleasant and smelling of sakura. The evening was peaceful, even Wolf releasing some of his hypervigilance in favor of enjoying the quiet moment.

His young master scuffled around the room behind him, playing something-or-other alone. Kuro was incredibly young, so young a less devoted shinobi might even refuse to call him their master, and were it not for the dragon blood running through the child's veins Wolf would wonder why he was even assigned to him. Sometimes, still, he wondered if someone else would not be better for the task - Wolf had never been anyone's personal retainer before, only ever a fighter. But Owl had offered him for the role with pride, the head of the Clan had accepted him graciously, and Kuro seemed satisfied enough with him, so Wolf kept his mouth shut.

Kuro was tumbling around the room, but doing what Wolf didn't bother to look. Unless the young Lord had something to ask of him, Wolf's top priority was to keep an eye out. Threats could come at any time, even if he doubted an attack would occur under the conditions. He did, however, listen as the thuds came closer to his position near the balcony, curious at what the child could be up to.

Then, with a sudden battle cry from Kuro, something thin hit Wolf's back. A small stick, feeble, something he must have picked up from outside. Startled, Wolf whirled around to see Kuro brandishing it aloft, the child's best attempt at a surly frown on his face.

"Aha! Take that, Ministry scum!"

Then Kuro stuffed the stick into his obi as though sheathing it, nodded with satisfaction, and crossed his arms expectantly. Wolf could only stare at him, dumbfounded. Was he . . . supposed to be doing something?"

"My Lord?" he hesitantly asked, lowering to one knee.

Kuro's pretend frown slipped into a tiny pout, making it clear that Wolf had failed him in some way, but the shinobi had no clue how. There was no way he had missed an order - if his master had asked something of him, he would have noticed.

"You're not supposed to kneel," Kuro huffed, and Wolf blinked at him. "I got you, you're supposed to be dead."

"I . . . am?"

Another tiny huff, impossibly cute, and Kuro puffed out his little cheeks in exasperation with his hands on his hips. "Haven't you ever played pretend before?"

"No," Wolf answered truthfully, and the way Kuro's jaw dropped at the admission had his cheeks heating with embarrassment. Of course he could guess the game's contents quite well, but Wolf had spent his childhood partaking in far less fun activities. It had been far more important to work on his shinobi training back then, with no time for fun or leisure, the commanding barks of Owl and Lady Butterfly all he heard most days.

No loud footfalls pretending to silent. No playful tackles. No laughter. Downtime was rare enough; play was nonexistent.

"Well," Kuro said finally, offering him a bright smile, "we can try again another time. You have a lot to learn!"

"Of course, my Lord," Wolf agreed, merely glad he was not upset by his mistake.

Wolf had gotten better at knowing when Kuro was playing with him, but had not improved much at dying.

This day, Kuro had seen a rifle for the first time, and though he was incredibly startled by the noise at first (almost to the point of tears, leaping behind Wolf when the first demonstrative shot had been fired and clinging to the hem of his haori), once Wolf had helped him protect his ears properly Kuro had become fascinated. Now he rolled around his grand bedroom, making loud crashing sound effects, pretending to shoot anything and everything with his pointer finger.

Wolf, of course, knew why guns were being brought to the family. The rooftop guards were armed with them, and makeshift range had been set up in the training yard for quick lessons, for the Ministry was on the move and it was essential for their forces to even the scales before the threat arrived. Wolf, too, was meant to have his share of lessons once Kuro had been put to bed. For now he kept a close eye on the grounds from his master's room, his nerves on end.

It was very possible Wolf would have to lay his life on the line very soon for his young master, and yet Kuro was as carefree as ever, energetic in the face of new, exciting things. Suppressing a sigh, Wolf turned his attention away from his self-imposed watch for just a little while to watch the child play, hoping it would calm his nerves

He was just in time to see Kuro, hiding behind a low bookcase and peeking between the shelves, pretend to shoot him with an invisible rifle. Having yet to offer a satisfactory false death, Wolf hesitated, thinking hard, and dropped suddenly to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. The crash that followed was uncharacteristically loud where Wolf was typically silent, something he figured would be the case were he to truly perish.

Kuro's pleased squeal was an encouraging sound, so Wolf remained down as his master's footsteps rapidly approached, his eyes closed and cheek pressed against the soft tatami. The giggles faded as their source came closer.

"Got you," Kuro chirped.

Wolf remained silent, not sure how long he was meant to fake his death. Surely if he sat up too soon Kuro would claim he was meant to be dead? But after moments passed in silence, Kuro's voice trembled a little when he spoke again.

"Wolf?" he called out, small and alarmingly vulnerable, and in an instant all of Wolf's muscles tensed. Before he could even think to rise, the little Lord was sniffing. "Wolf!"

Eyes shooting open, Wolf fumbled to his knees, but he was too late. Kuro's eyes shone with unshed tears - he had failed again, this time in the opposite direction, and at the sight of his very startled shinobi sitting up Kuro began to weep. Panicked, Wolf reached out with both hands, hesitating before touching his master, whose little hands came up to cover his eyes.

"I t-thought you really - I know it's s-stupid - "

"My apologies," Wolf managed, the sight of his master crying making him markedly uncomfortable amongst the guilt tugging at him. "I am unharmed."

Kuro nodded, but his tears hardly faltered; then, with a surprised grunt from Wolf the child threw himself into his shinobi's arms. Little fingers curled in his haori as Kuro hid his face in Wolf's chest, and after a moment Wolf reluctantly laid a hand on his Lord's back. At the touch Kuro seemed to relax minutely, though he still remained in the embrace, unwilling to let go.

"I'm glad," he mumbled.

Wolf hoped this much was enough. He had no experience with children, and his own childhood was not one of comfort. He could not remember even once that Wolf had held him, had let him cry, had spoken soothing words. They were things Wolf was only familiar with in concept, not execution, and it made his interactions with Kuro all the more difficult and confusing.

Wracking his brain, Wolf tried to think of anything like comfort he had ever experienced. Any memory where he felt calmed by something Owl offered or did for him. There was only one, and it took a while to recall it.

"My Lord," Wolf spoke up when Kuro's weeping had faded into the occasional, quiet sniff, "do you have any paper?"

"A lot," Kuro replied, sounding a little stuffy but altogether better. He peeled away from Wolf, and though his eyes were still a bit puffy, he looked significantly less upset. "For practicing my letters. Why?"

"Would you like to learn how to fold a shuriken?"

Eyes widening, Kuro nodded fiercely, and he scrambled to his feet to trot over to his bookshelf. Wolf stood, himself, and walked over to the low table Kuro frequently practiced both writing and drawing at, and knelt there just as Kuro tottered over with a stack of brightly colored paper. Not for the first or last time, Wolf was surprised by the sort of luxuries Kuro had on hand.

"What color do you want?" Kuro asked.

"Any," Wolf replied, and Kuro offered him a slip of orange paper that matched his haori, taking a pink one for himself. "First, we must make this into a square."

Kuro watched him before copying the movements. He was remarkably good at making the folds precise, though when it came to tearing the excess paper he was admittedly not as talented. But Wolf nodded encouragingly anyway, proceeding to split his paper into two pieces once more, and Kuro copied the motion with growing interest. Finally, He began the proper folding of the project, the steps ingrained in his memory, but slowed for Kuro to keep up.

"When did you learn how to make these?" the Divine Heir asked as they started on the second piece, folding it similarly to the first.

"Before I was allowed to train with real shuriken," Wolf responded, finishing the second set of folds, "I was to use paper ones. They do not last very long, so I made many of them alongside my father."

"Mister Owl?"

"Yes."

"That's a bit hard to picture. He's a little scary." That came as no surprise to Wolf, who spent much of his life under the man's wing. "I wouldn't want him as my father, but at least he was kind to you."

"Hm." Wolf did not think kind was a word he would use to describe Owl, but he would not tell an impressionable child such. It seemed Kuro was wary enough of him.

Instead, he busied himself with showing Kuro how to attach the two pieces they had made. Tucking the corners of each into themselves, he was left with a pristine imitation of a shuriken. Kuro's was notably a little more ragged, but the child looked upon it with elation anyway, holding it out before him with all but sparkling eyes. He held out his hand for Wolf's, comparing them, then reached for another piece of paper to try again.

"I'm gonna make one as pretty as yours," he declared, and Wolf couldn't fathom why such simple praise had his chest swelling with pride.

"Do you remember when I was small, and you humored me by playing pretend?"

"I was not very good at it." Wolf watched with interest as Kuro's nimble fingers folded a scrap piece of paper. His master huffed out a laugh.

"You got better," Kuro said, "with time. Quite good, I must say."

"Not long before you grew too old for such things," Wolf replied, and Kuro hummed agreement.

"It was quite the sight," he chuckled, "seeing a fully grown shinobi act on my whims. Who was truly too old?"

Wolf had no response to that, hiding an embarrassed flush in his scarf. Instead, he continued to watch Kuro work, finally asking, "You're making a shuriken?"

"I am." Kuro delicately tucked in the corners. "There is much scrap paper laying about the castle to practice with." He held it up to Wolf, beaming. "What do you think?"

"Well-made," Wolf answered simply, but honestly. Crisp edges, cut finely with a sharp blade rather than torn, and folded precisely. Kuro nodded in satisfaction, then stood, brushing dust from his clothes.

"Well," he sighed, "I suppose you should be going. Do be careful, Wolf."

"Yes, my Lord."

Wolf stood as well, bowed, and made to leave, but as an afterthought Kuro called out to him again.

"Wolf."

The shinobi paused, turned his head. Kuro closed one eye as though he was aiming, then, grinning brightly, tossed the little paper shuriken at him, which bounced harmlessly off his head.

And despite all of Wolf's gruff insistences that it was in the past, that they were both too old for this, the deep, visceral need to play along won over his pride in a heartbeat. Staggering, Wolf clutched at his head where the shuriken had hit. He swayed dramatically, his free hand reaching up toward the ceiling in some tragic reach for help, before he was crumpling to the floor with a poor imitation of a death wheeze.

Kuro's delighted laughter made it completely worth it, and Wolf waited spread-eagle on the floor with his eyes closed as his master's footsteps crossed the room. Kuro fell theatrically to his knees before Wolf with a hand to his forehead.

"Oh, my shinobi! Felled so easily! Who will protect me now?"

Felled so easily? Wolf cracked an eye open, matching Kuro's amused stare with a raised eyebrow. Kuro's giggles started up again at his incredulous look, and Wolf dared to roll his eyes in exasperation. The nostalgia softened it, though, and fondness spread through his chest at the first laugh he had seen from his master in weeks.

"What exactly are you two up to?" came a new voice, an intruder on their moment.

Wolf shot up like an arrow, face burning red, only for his head to knock painfully against Kuro's. The Divine Heir let out a pained noise, clutching his head, as Wolf immediately fell to his hands and knees with his own temples pounding. A woman's laugh started up in the doorway as Wolf pressed his face shamefully to the floor, ears and neck on fire now along with his face, certain he was bright red with embarrassment.

"I had killed Wolf," Kuro said, sounding strained, "but he seems to have gotten me back for that."

"My apologies, Lord Kuro - "

"It's quite all right, Wolf, please stop groveling - "

Emma's feet came into view as Wolf reluctantly raised his head, and as he rose into his usual kneel he saw Emma inspecting a red mark on Kuro's forehead. "Just a bump," she declared, sounding quite amused. "You'll both be fine. Aren't you a bit old to be playing pretend, anyway?"

"Was there something you needed, Lady Emma?" Kuro asked instead of replying as Wolf only tried to shrink further in on himself with embarrassment.

"I thought I'd investigate all the crashing around," Emma responded lightly. She cocked her head at Wolf, who could not muster the courage to meet her eyes and see the laughter in them. "Should I check you over, too? Death is quite a serious ordeal, Master Wolf."

"I must take my leave," Wolf denied, standing swiftly and bowing to them both. "My Lord has sent me on an important mission that must not be delayed any further."

Kuro's look of utter betrayal and Emma's loud laughter haunted him as he made his swift escape.