Chapter Two: The Smoldering Remains

"You taught me the courage of stars before you left; how light carries on endlessly even after death. With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite. How rare and beautiful it is to even exist." Saturn; Sleeping at Last

KAKASHI WAS EARLY that morning, hoping that the extra hour to think and prepare himself to see his old sensei would be enough to prevent the tide of emotion that he'd feel. Not true. Any pretense of "control" evaporated when the blonde-haired ninja strolled through the field, a gentle smile playing across his lips as a greeting. He seemed so young, so happy… so… free.

Little feet trampled over the grass as he scampered away, bending over at the waist behind the tall tree. Off came his mask and out came the contents of his stomach.

"Is this a casualty of whatever landed you in the hospital?" Minato inquired, rubbing Kakashi's tiny shoulders with a broad hand.

Kakashi leaned back, wiping his mouth off with his forearm. He repositioned the mask, breathing out through his nose as he tried to calm himself. 'Get it together,' he thought angrily. Sighing softly, he straightened and turned back toward his sensei, already schooling his emotions into submission. "Ohayo, sensei… I am not sure what it is that happened."

"Your father mentioned something about foreign chakra being in your system. What could have caused that?" Kakashi studied his sensei's face wearily.

"You've spoken to my father? That's probably good. He hasn't told me a whole lot." Kakashi snorted, trying to emulate Sasuke's too-cool-for-you attitude. He couldn't remember what he was like as a child. Some quick thinking was sparking in his mind and he found the lie tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. "I remember some genjutsu. It was awful… I'm having horrible nightmares and sometimes it's like I'm having a nightmare but I'm wide awake."

Minato nodded, his hand still resting gently on his student's shoulder. "What kind of nightmares and waking dreams?"

Kakashi paused, unsure how honest he could be. He settled on a vague answer. "Well… it's a little hard to talk about. But people I love dying in awful ways. Ways I didn't even know were possible…"

It was moments like this that Kakashi was grateful for his lack of innocence in childhood. He'd always been somewhat an adult and had always been some sort of serious.

Minato was quiet for a long time, his hand resting on Kakashi's shoulder as the wind blew through the trees. "I am always here if you need to talk. I lost my family to the war efforts when I was a little older than you, you know."

When Minato had first mentioned any loss to Kakashi, he had only mentioned that he lost his father. In the past, young Kakashi had immediately bristled and been angry at Minato because he hadn't understood that Minato had been just as alone as he was. "Was it hard? I'm so scared to lose my dad. Ever since these nightmares started I'm just… I'm scared, sensei. I can't tell my dad that I'm scared."

"Why not?"

A good question. Why had they never talked about these things? "I don't know… I told him I loved him that night, when I woke up. I thought I was dead to be honest. I don't know why. But I just regretted so much that we never talked about anything."

Minato laughed, his eyes scrunching up like Naruto's did. "He's your dad Kakashi. I've seen that man cry over you enough these past few weeks to know that he will absolutely not be upset if you talk to him about how you feel."

"But the village–"

"But nothing. The village has many ninja. You have your father, me, and eventually a team! We all take care of each other. All of these leaves have branches and other leaves to cover them. Do you see these trees?" Minato gestured out at the expanse before them. "These trees grow up big and strong; the branches grow together to form a canopy that covers the saplings so that they can grow up. No leaf is ever grown without a tree. A leaf apart from the tree will wither and die. To survive, the leaf must remain a part of the tree and be nourished by the branches."

Kakashi pulled his mask down to wipe at the snot leaking from his nose. He had forgotten how sensitive and poetic his sensei was. That part of Naruto only appeared on rare occasions. Kakashi was crying into the man's shoulder before he could even sort out how he ended up in an embrace. His six year old body was not accustomed to the ultra-aloof lifestyle he led as an adult.

Minato hugged him close and then leaned back to ruffle his hair. "You healed up enough to train today?"

"Maa, I'll be fine," the man-child croaked.

"Will you? We're playing cat and mouse today. You're the mouse."

The youth groaned, closing his eyes and lifting his face to the heavens. He turned from Minato, clutching at his stomach. For a moment he looked for his teammates before remembering that he was the only student at the moment. Obito and Rin would join in a few years. They were still in the Academy. Minato was a new instructor and a busy one at that, so Sarutobi had only given him a single student. It was a highly sought after position. Kakashi hadn't realized how special it was when he was in this position the first time.

Sorrow swelled like the tide, bringing salty water into his eyes. "I'm sorry for crying, I know shinobi aren't supposed to cry."

"Ah, but when I am sharing beautiful thoughts, perhaps it is okay to cry? From the sheer beauty and majesty of my speech?" Minato laughed heartily at that, and pushed himself into the air with a big jump. He landed on a high-up branch and tightened his hitai-ate.

Kakashi closed his eyes, cursing his emotions and tiny body. He stirred his chakra within him, pushing it into his muscles. This had been an unconscious practice as a jounin. Now it required a lot of effort. He knew that whatever the mystical reason was that had brought him to this place in the past, he should be grateful. But it was hard when his body was so useless and his mind was overwhelmed by the prospect of single-handedly saving the world. It was like digging a trench with a tea-spoon.

It was so hard. It was so hard to see his sensei like this, so happy and carefree. Kick. Kick. Kick. Minato was alive. He was here and he was real. Why did he not rejoice at this?

Kakashi was not sure that he was capable of doing this. Tears were leaking. They slid past his eyelashes, little wet intruders that betrayed his emotion. He wanted to die. He wanted to give up and be with everyone else that had passed. Yet, he knew that they had not passed, though. They were right here. Right now. His only solace at the moment was the opportunity to recapture, to reclaim their livelihood and that he was not alone. Naruto was not here, but he was tucked away as a promise for the future. Kakashi decided to take comfort in that and brushed the tears from his ruddy cheeks.

He lept after his sensei, his heart fluttering when the man gave way to a game of chase. They darted in and out of the branches, and Kakashi relished in the movement. It was the most he'd moved since he'd come to a few days before. It was also the quietest his mind had been.

It felt like no time had passed at all and Minato was calling their chase to a halt. Kakashi slowed down to a shaky halt, his feet almost slipping off of the tree he'd latched his feet to. Minato's body was next to his in an instant, a steadying hand holding preventing him from falling to the forest floor below.

When he tried to speak, the words wouldn't form. Kakashi leaned into Minato, comforted by the man's smell—it reminded him of his childhood. Minato smelled of fresh-cut grass, pine, and a slightly peppery undertone that Kakashi assumed was from all the ramen he ate with Kushina. It occurred to Kakashi that Minato was only seventeen. He was hardly a young man, let alone an adult. "Ne, come live with Tou-san and me. I'll call you Minato-nii. I'm sorry for crying all over you earlier."

"Maa, don't beat yourself up." Minato smoothed Kakashi's hair where it had been mussed. "Tell you what… if you can avoid being caught for at least half an hour I'll at least consider spending time with your family. Moving in sounds… intrusive. I hardly feel that your father would want that. I'm an adult."

Kakashi knew that seventeen was not so 'adult' as an adult would think, but he nodded in agreement. "Seventeen is so old."

Minato laughed and grasped at chest in jest. "You wound me, you little twerp!"

Kakashi laughed, true joy bubbling forth. It was good to be with his sensei like this. Perhaps this time around, it wouldn't be so terrible. It couldn't all be bad, right?

"I been worryin', I been worryin'. I will become what I deserve. I been worryin' that my time is a little unclear. I been worryin' that I'm losing the one's I hold dear. I been worryin' that we all live our lives in the confines of fear." The Fear; Ben Howard

"YOU'RE IMPROVING, GAKI," whispered Minato, leaning in to poke Kakashi on the shoulder. He chuckled when Kakashi flinched, then narrowed his eyes with determination. They'd been training for days and he still didn't feel that he was making any progress with his physique.

He moved as fast as his body would take him. It was frustrating to move so slowly—it felt like a waking nightmare where he was desperate to move and his body refused to speed up. He was so used to his old speed that now it felt as though he were trying to move through molasses. His body didn't react quickly enough when he tried to shift around a tree; he clipped it with his shoulder. At his seemingly slow speed, it was enough force to tilt his momentum and send him flying.

'How did I make Chunin again?' he thought exasperatedly, flipping himself over in mid-air so that he landed less than gracefully on the tree branch below him. 'Feels like I'm wading through syrup.'

Kakashi gasped in surprise when suddenly Minato was upon him, striking out with a kunai. "You're gonna have to the better than that, Kakashi-kun!"

With a grunt the smaller figure's speed increased. 'Don't think… react,' he reminded himself, jerking to the left when he heard the distinct whistle of a kunai hurtling towards him.

The apples of his cheeks lifted in a soft smile as he remembered the joy of a deathless fight. He enjoyed the feeling of the wind in his hair and the blood pumping recklessly through his veins—it was the liquid freedom of a natural high that would not quit until he did.

Kakashi grabbed onto a tree branch with both hands, the sound of the leaves rustling no doubt alerting Minato his presence. He needed a moment to think and regroup. He knew that he needed to work on his sensory training—his younger body's senses were far less tuned in and wise to the world and it was quite annoying, actually.

The next hour was spent with Kakashi constantly on the move, trying to find a decent hiding spot in the field. The general bruised sensation he felt in his spirit was still there, though less tender and angry. He was doing his best to keep the feelings from bubbling over.

Minato caught up with him, as Kakashi had no doubt he would. He knew better to think that he'd done a good job. The Jonin could have found him in a minute if he was actually trying. After Minato caught up, the blonde called it a day.

"I have a mission I have to head out on, little man. But… I'll think about it. Perhaps your father won't be opposed to some tea." The man disappeared with a swirling of leaves and Kakashi exhaled his relief.

The time traveler slumped against a tree, completely spent. His immature body couldn't keep up with his intentions. He lazed about for twenty minutes, wishing plaintively that he had something to read. He'd even settle for a boring magazine at this point.

Lifting himself to his feet with a resigned scowl, he began to drag himself home. He was a bit worn out; some of that probably came from his frustration with the tree but the rest… he was just not good enough. Kakashi loathed being this weak. He would be doing his best to fix that as soon as he possibly could. He may have been promoted to Chunin but he knew he wasn't as good as the Chunin of the future generation. He needed to be better.

It was war time and countries often pushed their shinobi up through the ranks faster than was technically appropriate in order to bolster the higher ranks. Kakashi sighed as he walked along, angrily kicking a stray pebble out of his path. The Academy has slowed down its violent churning-out of Genin; too many had been dying and the undertrained shinobi were proving to be more of a hindrance than a help. That meant that people like Kakashi were expected to get better—and quickly.

As he neared home, Kakashi's lips gently pressed upwards in a smile. He was only beginning. This was day one. He still had 245 days to save his father and even more to save his teammates. He was going to save them all, but for now… his focus was his father. Kakashi could forgive his father for leaving him when he did, but he couldn't forgive himself for not being a better son. He wouldn't make the same mistake this time.

[.-_-.]

"OTOU-SAN, I WAS wondering if you could teach me some of the clan jutsu…"

Sakumo set the scroll he'd been perusing aside, studying his young son. His chubby hands rested at the edge of the high table in the family study area. He could smell the salt of tears clinging to the dark mask on the child's face. "Have you been crying?"

The boy averted his eyes and Sakumo frowned. Kakashi scratched at his cheek, knowing that he'd neglected to think about the fabric covering his visage. He decided to answer truthfully. "Aa, actually. I had a nightmare last night, it…"

Kakashi trailed off and wrapped his arms around himself as though he was cold. His father abandoned the pen in his right hand, having depleted his motivation to study. "Come here, shinme."

The man's arms wrapped around him like a shield. Kakashi had forgotten how to let himself be a son; he wasn't sure he'd ever known how to be a child. He'd lost his father shortly after his advance to Chunin, but even before that devastating blow he'd struggled to relate to other children because of his advanced intellect.

"It's okay to be afraid," Sakumo murmured, his voice warm against the fabric of Kakashi's headband. "It's not okay to stay there. Fear is a checkpoint; that is all. It's a place where we assess, never where we live."

The man-child pulled back, a gentle smile on his lips. "That's what I did, Tou-san. I assessed and… I want you to help me get stronger."

A bee buzzed relentlessly against the glass, bumping into the dusty pane over and over again. Sakumo glanced at it, letting out a sigh. "Okay."

Kakashi beamed, waiting for his father to say something—anything—else. Sakumo instead, stared at the little bug with a pensive expression. "I need you to go run an errand, first. Pick up a package for me."

"Ships are launching from my chest; some have names, but most do not. If you find one, please let me know what piece I've lost." Welcome Home; Radical Face

THE LONG WALK he'd had to endure was a painful reminder of just how much weaker this new, younger body was compared to his normal body. Kakashi found himself staring into the window of a humble bookstore that he knew very well. In his youth, he'd spent many a journey here to pick up packages and various other things for his father here, though it only struck him many years later that he had been picking up the smutty Icha-Icha knock-off books that preceded Jiraiya's masterpieces for his father.

Kakashi leaned against the counter, standing on tiptoe. Shiori Tomomi peered down at him, her soft smile putting him at ease as he reached up as far as he could with the bills in his hand. "Here you go, Tomomi-san. Tou-san said he has a package?"

"Aa, here it is, Kakashi-kun! You can call me by my first name, you know. You make me feel so old when you call me Tomomi-san!" Mirth danced in her soft brown eyes like a little fire behind each pupil. She delicately handed him the package and Kakashi noticed the calluses on her fingertips and knuckles.

In his previous youth, he'd written the woman off as a simple clerk. Now, he realized that her situation was much like Ino's had likely been: her family probably owned the bookstore and she put in time for them so that they didn't have to leave the shop unattended.

He glanced down at the package, giving it a small jiggle. "Is this another one of his smut books?"

Kakashi could practically feel Shiori blanch and looked away, feigning boredom. He noticed the stools near the counter and the comfortable chairs near the front of the shop, two of which were currently occupied by two youngsters. The rest of the chairs appeared to be filled with either shinobi or civilians, nose deep in scrolls and books. The two youth were Genin, no doubt. They were blathering on about a recent mission, a simple D rank, where one of them had been tasked with delivering storage scrolls full of simple food supplies to Konohan forces.

"No, baka! It's—well, it's not that, but it's for your father!" Shiori swatted at his hand reproachfully. "I'm going to have to have a talk with your father about his poor supervision."

Kakashi laughed and bowed his thanks. "Arigato, Shiori-san! I'll see you next time."

He exited the shop and began his walk home, amused and settled. This wasn't so bad… in this moment, he felt capable of the task at hand. He knew that he wouldn't always be at peace with his role in protecting Konoha, but it was helpful to know that he wouldn't always be at odds with himself. That had been enjoyable.

Kakashi even stopped to pick a small sunflower for his father. He was a bit relieved that no one was there to witness the display of tenderness. There was restraint in the limitations of his body at this point in time, but an overwhelming freedom in his ability to be less aloof than before. Granted, he had to be on-guard to protect his identity as a time-walker but beggars could not be choosers. He smiled beneath his mask before quashing the expression. Just in case, he told himself, he'd need to stay on alert and continue to school his features. It couldn't hurt to be in control.

Upon entering his home, Kakashi set the flower on the table in a small vase, pausing to inhale the smell of the lived-in home. He'd never realized how different it smelled without his presence until his father was gone. That small realization had somehow left him later in life, though now it returned with full-force as he re-remembered his childhood home.

The front door opened into the living area that doubled as a dining room. Straight across from the entrance was the door to the kitchen area, though in the middle of the floor was a small low table, set just off-center of the honey-coloured room. It was a rich, dark brown and rested just inside the dining area; this was divided from the living room by a simple arch that skimmed the ceiling and walls, barely inhibiting the space. It, too, was stained dark brown. The walls of the living area were a subtle jade green colour, adorned with weapons racks and pictures. A small fireplace graced the wall nearest the kitchen, facing towards the backdoor that led into the training yards. Sakumo would always sit at the table on the side closest to the door so that he could see both into the kitchen, towards the back door, and the front door. The man was paranoid, though better at hiding it than Kakashi.

The hallway, if one entered from the back door and turned right and kept walking, led down to the study and bedrooms. The Hatake's did not have a sprawling estate like the Uchiha, but it was sufficient for the dwindling clan. There'd never been an overwhelming number of ninja in the family.

Kakashi sighed in appreciation as he basked in the familiarity of the room. This room had always been his favourite. He didn't much remember his mother; she'd died when he was very young. However, his father had taken extra means to protect him when he was growing up. His father had begun training him as soon as he could walk—he was determined not to lose Kakashi as he had the boy's mother. Perhaps this was what had driven him to take up the philosophy of taking care of his teammates first and the mission second. Kakashi couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty as he eyed the various tools and mementos that his father had saved over the years.

On a small peg was the kunai from Kakashi's first bulls-eye at age four. It had been a lucky throw, but his father kept it all the same. There were similar shuriken, a first pair of ninja sandals, all the way up to his first lost-tooth (his father had sealed it inside a small box). The tooth was the most recent; Kakashi snorted as he realized he'd be losing his teeth all over again.

He pressed a hand against the jade walls, tears welling in his eyes. He was still learning to cope but it hurt to be reminded of how unappreciative he'd been of his father's doting the first time around.

"I'm sure she'd be proud of you, too, ya know."

Kakashi turned quickly to face his father, feeling guiltier than he should have.

"Your mother," supplied Sakumo. The older man shrugged and then smiled. "She'd be so proud of you. Might even tell me to let you take it easy sometimes… but you take after me in your tenacity to improve, ne?"

Kakashi chuckled ruefully, sighing theatrically. "I wish I knew her," he said truthfully, tilting his head to the side. "Maybe I'd be less…" Kakashi bit his tongue, knowing that six-year olds didn't understand the concept of 'emotionally available' or 'occasionally impotent.' "Well, I think that maybe I'd be less prone to skipping meals if she was still around."

His father laughed heartily, his cheeks blushing with faint embarrassment. "Yes, she was definitely a better cook than I ever was…"

"Guess you ought to ask Shiori-san if she has any cookbooks," smirked Kakashi, settling down at the low table as he forked over the package for his father.

Sakumo accepted it, laughing. "Capital idea." The book that tumbled out was definitely smut. Kakashi leered jealously, then brought his hands together into a ram seal under the table to perform a simple jutsu that he knew Naruto would find appropriate for the situation.

"Hey, so I learned a jutsu just for you, Tou-san. Oiroke no jutsu!"

Sakumo sputtered, eyes widening at the sight of the white-haired, nubile woman before him. Small puffs of smoke covered the essential parts. Kakashi laughed doggedly as his father began to beat him with the book. His father hit him especially hard and the jutsu evaporated. Kakashi fell to the floor, laughing relentlessly.

"Got you, ya super pervert!"

"You little brat, I just got blood on my new book! UGH!"

Kakashi laughed himself dry as the old man stared at him in disbelief.

"Shinme, where on earth did you learn that jutsu?"

The gray-haired child frowned slightly. Kakashi felt only partly bad for stealing the jutsu of someone who didn't technically exist yet. "Ah, well, I actually made it up. I call it, uhm, well…. Sexy Jutsu."

Sakumo reddened, looking embarrassed. "How—?"

"Heh, you always leave your smut around, old man!"

Sakumo was suddenly and decidedly very interested in the sunflower that Kakashi had put in the vase. He picked up the little vase, smiling slightly. "Sunflowers are one of my favourites," he commented. "Practical and pretty…"

Kakashi remained silent, still grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"Alright, let's go," resolved Sakumo. They both stood.

The White Fang's long, ground-eating stride forced Kakashi to lightly jog so that he could keep pace. The white-haired Jonin moved past the back door, turning left down the long hallway that led past the various bedrooms to the indoor training area. Kakashi had frequently used this area when his father was alive. As they walked, Kakashi vowed to himself that he would become stronger; maybe then his father would be able to survive? He banished the thought almost immediately, knowing his own strength had nothing to do with his father's survival. He'd have to find a way.

Kakashi was lost in thought that he bumped into his father when the man stopped abruptly in front of him.

"You sure you're ready for this?"

"Yes! I was just thinking, that's all." Kakashi ducked his head in shame, biting his lip as he forced himself into control over every muscle in his body. He was getting better and better at school himself.

His father outfitted him with a long, searching look before sighing and walking slowly across the smooth wooden floor of the room. His ninja sandals were silent on the hard surface. Sakumo moved to a weapon rack, shifted an old, battered sword that hadn't seen the thrill of war in nearly half a century over to the left. A small crack appeared in the wall. Kakashi hadn't noticed this crack until he'd gained the Sharingan and was trying to figure out how to use it. Sakumo produced a few small scrolls and then turned around to face Kakashi with a satisfied smile on his face.

"I remember when my father agreed to teach me these. I was ten years old when I made Chunin, you know. I am so proud of you…"

Kakashi beamed underneath his mask. He'd not heard that in a long time. "Thanks Tou-san… I … I have found my nindo, you know."

"Oh?" Sakumo looked up from the scrolls, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. The man selected the largest scroll, turned to replace the others, and then turned back to his son, putting his thumb in his mouth as he did so. With a sharp bite, his incisor sank through the skin of his thumb, producing a few droplets of blood. Sakumo smeared it calmly across the seal, which released with a puff of smoke. Sakumo unrolled the scroll, his eyes flickering across the encased knowledge with a simple casualness that made Kakashi feel uneasy. His father considered the scroll for a moment before closing it and looking up at his son again. "And what would that be?"

Kakashi swallowed the lump of apprehension in his throat. "I know that you worry about your teammates… Those who abandon their teammates are trash and all that but… The mission is important, too."

Sakumo's eyes narrowed when his son paused. Kakashi smirked slightly. "Ah, chichi, perhaps you need a mask, yourself. I haven't finished. I think the mission is important, but I do think keeping my teammate alive is more important than anything. I… I want to protect my precious people and complete my mission, whenever possible. That way… everyone is happy."

Sakumo chuckled. "Ah, shinme. I see you've finally grown into a great ninja. We are tools, but… we are much stronger when we strive towards a goal that has meaning to us. Tools are useless when they have to be controlled every step of the way. I just hope that… I hope that you do not lose sight of yourself in an effort to please others."

Kakashi nodded, somber. It was ironic that his father would be the one to say such a thing. His father instructed him to kneel and he obeyed, crumpling into a cross-legged posture.

The elder ninja calmly accompanied his son, spreading out the scroll before them. "This is the most basic of the jutsu. However, in the beginning of the scroll are chakra exercises that you must master before I will begin to teach you jutsu. Our clan has… an interesting conundrum. Our jutsus consume massive amounts of chakra though we are plagued by small to medium chakra reserves. I fully expect you to begin these exercises, master them, and begin increasing your reserves. We have small reserves on our own but we can expand them. We make up for what we lack naturally with our sheer stubbornness."

Kakashi nodded absently, his eyes already skimming over the text that he could recite in his sleep. He'd spent hours poring over this as a teenager. After Obito's death, his familial connections had dwindled to none and he had been seeking the familiarity of something belonging to the Hatake line. He knew that time was short, but needed to relearn these and master them completely so that his father would teach him the more advanced jutsu that wasn't in the scrolls. He hadn't found it anywhere inside the house—and he'd looked very thoroughly. That meant that any of the more advanced jutsus belonging to his family were either directly passed down or hidden incredibly well somewhere else.

"Start with the dirt one… wait. We need to check your affinity—"

"Isn't it likely that it's the same as yours?"

Sakumo was quiet, then shrugged. "Probably, actually. I'll have to get some chakra paper so we can check that out, just to be sure. We specialize in lightning based jutsus, but as farmers we do have a fair few Doton. They won't be the easiest to pick up, but that will definitely grow your reserves. I don't see you being a master of Doton within the next five years, but hard work can get you anywhere as long as you stick with it.

Kakashi curved his eyes up into a patented 'eye-smile,' wishing that his father would get on with it already. He'd known all of this. As if reading his son's mind, Sakumo chuckled and pointed to the third technique on the scroll.

"I know this isn't the first one, but learn this first. It makes learning the first technique easier. We're going to go outside and you're going to do what the scroll says and I'm not going to help you. I'll tell you if you're doing something wrong, though."

Grabbing the scroll with an irritated sigh, Kakashi pushed himself to his feet and sprinted outside as quickly as he could. His father laughed when he received a dark glare from Kakashi, but otherwise ignored the boy to stare with great interest at the leaves of a nearby tree.

Kakashi plopped down into a cross-legged position again, unrolling the scroll only far enough to see the technique he needed to learn. 'Fuketsu-Hira… This took me forever to learn last time.'

How had he mastered this the first time? Oh, that's right… through labourious hard work. Kakashi groaned, trying to remember the tricks that had worked for him as he re-read the scroll.

It helped him to think of different ways that chakra interacted with the different states of matter. Lightning and fire were more chaotic chakra types, because they were raw energy. The human body was basically run by electrical currents, making Lightning chakra one of the most difficult to contain but also most powerful (at base levels) chakra types. All one had to do to form an effective attack was focus the chakra in one point and the bleed-off alone of the power could be harmful. Next were fire and wind.

Heat moved through everything, though always on a gradient. It was always seeking an area of lower temperature. This required the user to focus it in one space and wall off the heat so that it didn't lose temperature.

Wind was somewhat similar in that it required he control the force behind the wind—it was like holding together the loosely bound molecules in the gas. It required a lot of chakra; most wind-types had large chakra stores.

Earth and water were the more stable of the elements. This required that they be acted upon. Whereas it was a lot easier to generate lightning, heat, and wind from one's own self, earth and water users needed a medium to function, and only the very skilled could produce the element with purely chakra. They channeled their chakra out of themselves, forming it to the structure they were using. Earth was more solid, the atoms tightly knit together. Water was more similar to a gas in that the chakra was needed to hold the amorphous shape together, though it was more difficult to manifest water from the air itself rather than from a river. Because these jutsus required the user to act outside of their body, they took less chakra but took more control, depending on the technique. Any jutsu when ramped up with chakra took just that—more chakra.

The seals for the Fuketsa Hira were simple enough. Uma, Hitsuji, Tatsu. Kakashi racked his brain trying to remember what he'd done to bend his chakra to fit this jutsu the last time he'd mastered it. He'd never used it for anything; the only thing it had helped him with was introducing him to Doton jutsus. Kakashi breathed out though his nose again, lifting his hands in front of him. He could feel Sakumo's gaze on him, but reminded himself that he was a Jonin, not a six-year old, and refocused himself.

Almost clumsily, his fingers took the form of the seals. First Hose, then Ram, then Tiger. After a practice run through, to test the speed of his sealing, Kakashi grimaced and cracked his fingers. He'd have to work on that as well. It was annoying, but there was nothing to be done about it at the moment.

Kakashi centered his mental focus on the task at hand and relaxed his body. He reformed the seals carefully, calling upon his meager chakra stores to perform the jutsu. He felt the chakra come forth willingly and then his palms grew warm. He sighed when there was only a slight dusting of dirt—the palms in the scroll were covered with dirt, almost an inch of it. Kakashi relished the smell of the dirt, wet and earthy.

He formed the seals again, faster and more deliberately this time. Beneath his mask, he scowled. He demanded his chakra to obey him. Sakumo tsk'd in approval, nodding his head at Kakashi's intense desire to prevail. Kakashi formed the Tori seal, forcing as much Chakra into his hand as he could. He was rewarded with a thin layer of grime on his palms.

"I admit, this is better than I had hoped for, shinme," mused Sakumo. He was smiling. Kakashi looked up in surprise; he'd been rather unimpressed by his results.

"Really? But the picture—"

"Portrays mastery of the jutsu. I have faith that you will achieve that." Sakumo walked back to where Kakashi sat so that he could tussle his hair, something he knew Kakashi loved more than he let on. "Now do it again. If you're starting out like that I expect this to be perfected by dinner. If you do… I might order you a new book."

Kakashi smiled slightly, remembering all the times he and his father went to the bookstore so his father could get him a new "kid appropriate" book for him to readapt his leisure after he'd somehow managed to make his father proud. "You got it."

"Oh, and Kakashi? Don't just channel it into your hand…"

Kakashi huffed in irritation. Of course.

[.-_-.]

"WELL, WHAT'LL IT be, eh?" Sakumo raised a brow as he watched Kakashi browse through the books on the shelves of the bookstore. Kakashi paused at the slightly more progressive kid's books and then forewent them all together, heading instead toward the back of the shop where ninja books were stacked neatly on the shelves. "Wh—... Are you looking to further your studies?"

"Aa," Kakashi hummed. He tapped his right index finger against his lip as he browsed, pausing when he noticed a book on simple cooking for "ninjas on the go." He almost grabbed it but then faltered once more. With a soft gasp of appreciation, he pulled a thick tome free, grunting when the full weight of it fell into his hands. He eased himself on his knees, setting the book on the floor so he could stare at the cover of the book in awe.

His father sighed in irritation, stepping closer so that he could read the title. "Fuin Theory? … Aren't you a little young for that?"

"Please?"

"Well, how much is it?"

"...420 Ryo…" Shiori said evenly from behind the counter. Her black hair was twisted up into a bun today. She blushed when Sakumo turned his incredulous gaze upon her.

[A:N/ This equates to 50 US dollars, which equate to 4200 yen. Ryo is a 1 to 10 ratio with Yen. Therefore you get 420 Ryo. Yatta.]

"What?! No! No way in hell am I-"

"Tou-san, please? I'll pay you back, I promise!" begged Kakashi, doing his best to perform the puppy-dog eye trick that Sakura had often attempted to use on him. His father froze, his lip quivering. Kakashi mentally high-fived himself for perfecting the look on the first try.

"K-Kakashi that is the ugliest face I've ever seen you make," his dad chortled. The laugh turned into a wheeze and even Shiori giggled a little.

"Shut up! I'm cute, dammit!"

"Hey—ha! Hahaha! What did I t-tell you about your mouth?"

"I don't remember—I'm too busy being embarrassed by all the porn you read!" Kakashi huffed, turning away from his father. Sakumo immediately went red in the face and turned to an amused Shiori.

"I—I swear it's not like that—I'm a gentleman, a scholar even." Sakumo's scalp had turned scarlet at this point and he looked like a tomato sage, ripe with wisdom.

"All right, scholar, that'll be 420 Ryo. I don't think you're getting out of this one without the dent to the wallet," laughed Shiori. She smirked at the white-haired shinobi when he glared at his son as he shoved his hand into his pocket, searching for his wallet.

"All right, all right. I'll get it for you but I'm only paying for half. You owe me the rest."

Kakashi pouted, jutting out his lower lip. "What happened to 'I'm a gentleman, a scholar even!?'"

Sakumo grimaced and forked over the rest. "Fine, pennypincher. You didn't see any of this, you hear me, Shiori-san? This stays between you, me, and…. Well, everybody else here." He eyed the people seated in the reading area at the front of the bookstore. "There goes my reputation."

Kakashi simply smiled and bid Shiori goodbye before practically skipping the rest of the way home. As they walked, Sakumo pointed out various bits of historical information about the village. Kakashi reveled in the sound of his father's voice, having forgotten how soothing it was to be in the company of someone he trusted implicitly. He hadn't had the luxury in about twenty-one years. He trusted Naruto with his life but had never felt truly at ease. A man in a protective state of mind versus when he is in a relaxed state of mind is a very different thing.

That night, Sakumo tucked him in. Later on, he woke up from terrible nightmares again. He'd been back in this time for almost two weeks already and they were still there, right at the forefront of his mind whenever he tried to sleep. He was ashamed that he had woken his father with his screams again. Sakumo seemed as confused as ever, though there was nothing Kakashi or Naruto could do to alleviate the man's growing distress.

Kakashi continued his work with the Fuketsu Hira until he could produce a patch of dirt an inch-and-a-half thick. He was determined to perfect it before his father taught him the next jutsu. After that, he began to cut back on the handseals. First, he nixed the Tori seal at the end. The results were disastrous—his chakra was misguided and he ended up forming a small patch of dirt beneath his headband. It wasn't what he was intending, but it was interesting nonetheless. His father had been quite amused.

The next time he slept he endured terrible nightmares of his father's suicide. Kakashi managed to avoid emitting a shrill scream this time. A small shout of terror was enough to rouse him from his dreams. He was tempted to call for his father, simply for the fact that he was there and able to be called. Instead, he crept outside to work on the Fuketsu Hira some more. No matter how hard he tried, he kept ending up with a dirty forehead and bitter frustration. He didn't notice his father's door slipping silently shut as he trudged back to bed, bone-tired and completely unable to rectify his jutsu conundrum.

"Breathe, keep breathing. Don't lose your nerve. Breathe, keep breathing. I can't do this alone." Exit Music (For a Film); Radiohead

THIS TIME, IT was going to work. Kakashi grunted as he forced his tired hands to cooperate, forming the first two seals and leaving out the last one. Yet again, he found himself covered in dirt. Only this time, it wasn't just on his forehead. His mask was also covered in a pseudo-beard of dirt and sweat. Kakashi groaned in frustration and flopped back onto the ground. He needed a break. He took deep breaths, his lungs dragging in the air that smelled of dirt and sunshine and grass.

Kakashi didn't bother to sit up as he formed the three seals again, trying to recognize the feeling of his chakra as it cycled through him. On the last seal, he could feel the draw in his wrists as those tenketsu exuded more chakra. He pressed his hand to the ground and felt the soil gather.

Once more, he did the jutsu, forgoing the Tori seal at the end of the short sequence. He focused on his hands, recalling the sensation he'd felt just before when using the seal as a guide. He pressed his hand to the ground at his side.

At the last moment, he remembered his father's advice—don't just channel it into your hand.

Kakashi pushed the chakra out from his palm, imagining that he was forming little bricks in the soil and the little bricks were forming a little wall on his hand. A thin layer of dirt erupted onto his palms and only a trace of the grime appeared on his forehead. Kakashi smiled to himself as he exhaled loudly. He was starting to get the hang of this.

He carried on until lunch. There was no way that he'd managed to get any further with this technique in terms of using less seals until he was able to grow his reserves and hone his control. Kakashi would be able to produce results that were more or less consistent, however. The amount of dirt appearing on his face was significantly less than the first time he'd attempted it.

Kakashi sighed as he trekked to Icharaku. He was unsure whether or not to be happy that Sakumo was off on a mission for the week. It meant he was left with money to pay for his meals that week—which also meant he was spared his father's atrocious cooking—but it also meant no Sakumo for a week.

He eased his tired body onto a stool with a soft sigh, trying to not look too dejected as he ordered a bowl of miso ramen. Teuchi was so much younger that it was almost disconcerting. When Teuchi's wife waved at him, he waved back, whispering 'yo,' and wrinkling his eyes into his famous smile.

Kakashi surreptitiously selected a pair of chopsticks and broke them apart. "Itadakimasu," he murmured, biting his lip as he collected some noodles. The sound of footsteps and laughter jarred him from his thoughts of introspection.

"Kaa-san, I can't wait to start training with chichi! He's gonna start teaching me to throw the shuri… shu… what are they again?"

"Shuriken," giggled the older woman, hugging him to her hip. "You're such a silly boy! If you're not careful, you'll get kicked out of the Academy before you can even join!"

"Nuh-uh! I'm gonna be the best ninja ever. You'll see," the boy boasted, lifting his chin defiantly. He screwed his dark brows together in a pout.

Kakashi immediately averted his eyes, remembering who the boy was. He didn't have the horizontal slash over his nose but even back then he'd had the same distinct aura about him. It was a pleasant aura that Kakashi quite enjoyed, but hadn't been quite ready to experience. He couldn't bear to look at the kid.

"Gommensai," he muttered, flinging his money onto the counter before quickly departing. He couldn't handle that, not today. Knowing that there was no familiar face waiting for him at home had been making it a little more difficult to maintain optimism. The reality of his emotions and discomfort was a stark contrast to what he thought he should be feeling.

He knew he should be hopeful. He knew that this second chance was an incredible opportunity to change the ugly tide of the bitter water headed for his people. But separating himself from the feeling and reality of having already drowned was taking some time.

Kakashi silently leapt from the roof, jogging towards his house as he tried to avoid human contact. The feel of air ruffling his clothing and mussing his hair was surprisingly refreshing. As he neared his house, he realized that he didn't want to stop running. So he didn't. Instead, he continued on until he came to the Memorial Stone that he was so fond of. It was strange to see it without Obito and Rin's names carved into it. But he was going to find it within himself to get used to that.

Author's Note:

October 24.2022

Mystery is a beautiful thing. What a wonderful thing to find my muse returning after so much time.

Kishimoto is a respectable man. A lot of his warring states and Kakashi Gaiden timeline is not. I'm taking the liberties I need.

I will however accept any help keeping my characters …. In character.