well this turned out a bit longer than I was expecting, not much to say about this one except gIVE ME KANK/BAKI FATHER-SON BONDING OR GIVE ME DEATH

Day 2 - Then and Now

His teeth grit painfully as he launched himself at the man, fist not even brushing his clothing as he calmly stepped out of the way.

Kankuro caught himself before he stumbled – barely – but was quick to follow up with another strike, and another when that one was also dodged easily. It didn't matter though, every punch, every kick, touched only air as Baki-sensei danced away, face not so much as twitching, plastered with a permanent, blank, bored expression.

Backing away to catch his breath and figure out his next move, the boy couldn't stop the scowl from twisting his face.

What had he done to deserve any of this? Why did he suddenly have to start proper taijutsu training under some dull, stone-faced old man? He was a puppeteer; the whole point was that he didn't get close enough for his opponents to hit him!

"Your skills are severely lacking," the man said, sounding entirely too smug, he opened his mouth to continue, but didn't get so much as a syllable out before Kankuro leapt forwards again, screaming wordless rage at him.

Of course he was angry – he'd been angry for as long as he could remember – but this, this was different, this wasn't just frustration at a world too slow and overwhelming for him to cope with, this was pure, righteous fury. He was the Kazekage's oldest son, he was supposed to become one of the single best shinobi that Suna had ever created, but here he was, being mocked by some random jounin, because the Kazekage – his father – was too busy mentoring his little pet project Gaara.

It wasn't fair, he was the elder one and Gaara was practically still a baby, why did he get the special training from father?

Ok, maybe Temari wasn't getting much attention from him either, but she had a whole retinue of wind-style tutors to choose from, including the man who was dodging his every move right now and that just made him even angrier; not only was he not good enough for his father, but he wasn't even good enough to get his own pick of tutors, all he got was the harsh, distant mentorship of the puppetry core and his sister's cast-offs.

Another scream ripped from his throat, before he punched again, missing the man yet again and crashing his fist into the rigid, clay wall he'd not noticed he was being guided towards.

Breath heaving, he didn't even register the pain until he spotted the dark red building up along his knuckles, before spilling across the back of his hand and dripping to the sandy floor. His cry of pain was absolutely pathetic, if Temari had been there she would've laughed, and his father would've given that disappointed glare that always seemed to be pointed in his direction.

Beside he, Baki-sensei sighed and pulled the injured hand roughly towards him, ignoring the boy's complaints. "Are you done now?" he asked, holding his other hand up to the wound, a gentle, green glow emanating from it.

Kankuro blinked as the pain gradually ebbed away, until there was only the faint sting left where newly-closed skin stretched too far.

"You should not be so careless with your hands; as a puppet master, they are your greatest tools."

He grimaced and snatched his hand back, idly rubbing his knuckles, wondering if it'd scar. "Then why're you making me learn taijutsu," he muttered, glaring at the blood-stained sand, "this is stupid, you don't know anything."

A single eye narrowed at him – Kankuro wondered what was behind that cloth the man wore, his fingers itched with the urge to rip it off.

He almost didn't get out of the way of the kunai slashed at him, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to escape the follow-up attack, he fell to the ground. Panicking, he instinctually curled up against the third strike, only opening his eyes and glancing up when ten seconds passed without it coming.

Baki hovered over him, lips turned down harshly and spinning his kunai easily on his finger. He scrambled to sit up, but before he could stand, his teacher had sat down facing him.

They stared each other down for a long time before he finally spoke, "I am not here to be your friend, indulge your anger, or console your inadequacies, and I'm certainly not here to be your father; I will offer my advice and you will either take it and succeed, or ignore it and fail. That choice is up to you."

Kankuro's jaw dropped slightly, but he found a grudging spark of respect flicker into life deep inside him.

"My first recommendation-" he flipped the kunai still in his hand towards him, point hovering a few inches short of his neck "-anger is the most useless emotion in battle, you would do well to purge it from your system before you lay hands on any weapon."

He snorted, leaning forwards enough that he could just feel cool metal brushing his skin, glaring hard. "I thought my hands are my greatest weapon?"

"Exactly."

Kankuro fell to the ground in a limbless heap, panting lightly, but unable to stop grinning.

"What's that look for?" Baki grumbled as he rolled his shoulder, frowning at the slight stiffness to it, but apparently deciding not to bother using his rudimentary healing jutsu on it, sitting down next to his former student instead, knees clicking loudly as he did.

He winced at the sound, desperately wanting to make a crack at his age, but deciding the responding crack at his already-receding hairline wouldn't be worth it. "Just remembering old times," he said, closing his eyes and letting the warm morning sun dry away the sweat dripping down his neck, "how'd you ever put up with me as a kid, I was a such fuckin' brat."

"Are you not a brat now?"

"No, I'm an adult now, I believe the correct term is 'vexation'-" he snickered to himself softly, remembering the time Gaara had finally snapped enough to actually call him that "-and you didn't answer the question."

Baki rolled his eyes – it was so common for him to go without the face covering these days, that Kankuro had almost forgotten what he looked like with just the one visible – but still took the time to think on his answer. "I suppose the fact that the Kazekage would have had me suspended if I half-assed the job might've had something to do with it."

"Wow, thanks."

He ignored the comment, smiling and leaning forwards and ruffling his sweaty hair gently. "And I could sympathise with the angry young boy, just wishing to be recognised for his own strengths."

"Not so angry anymore." The warmth of Baki's heavy hand lingered, even after he pulled it away.

Baki nodded, a wide, genuine grin on his face. His rough, comforting voice cracked just slightly as he said, "And given the admiration he rightly deserves."

Closing his eyes again, Kankuro pretended that the liquid dripping down into his ears was just sweat and thanked the old gods of Kaze no Kuni that Baki had been so utterly wrong about not wanting to be his father; he was the best dad anyone could ever ask for.