Kakashi woke up with a throbbing, pounding headache, a tongue so dry he could have used it to start a fire, an insistently full bladder, and the sinking feeling that hemight have fallen asleep on the couch while playing with Naruto's hair. He wasn't sure, but he thought maybe he could remember it, the wavy, silky strands between his fingers, and her sitting on the floor in front of him with a notebook open on her lap, working on the practice work she'd been assigned that day.

Things were adding up that would suggest this memory's veracity. For one, he was definitely on the couch, face down with his head turned painfully to the side. For another, his arm was dangling off the side of the couch like maybe he'd fallen asleep while petting his genin like a dog. And there was her notebook on the coffee table, and beyond that, her quilt and a pillow from her bed on the futon, like she'd slept close to keep an eye on him, and the guilt and shame and warm affection swirling in his stomach made him nauseous.

Or, no, maybe he was actually just going to vomit. Yes, that was it, that was definitely it.

…

Naruto watched bemused from the kitchen as her sensei seemed to wake up all at once and book it to the bathroom, the sound of painful retching reaching her ears a moment later. "Oh, poor sensei," she murmured to herself, turning her attention back to the bacon and eggs she was frying. She'd heard it referred to as 'good hangover food,' and figured it was worth a shot. She'd not been around many people who were drunk, other than her landlord and grabby strangers in the street, but her sensei had been…

Well, pleasant. Playful, and affectionate, and unguarded, and a bit more expressive. He'd complimented her new clothes, and thanked her for dinner at least a dozen times, and it had been sweet of him to consider that his drinking might upset her. Really, she didn't mind, she knew alcohol was an excuse for bad behavior by people already rotten, not a cause of normally decent people being bad. But it was still sweet. And he had asked to play with her hair, reaching out for it from his place half-unconscious on the couch. It had been really nice. She was beginning to realize she liked having her hair touched, and if sensei liked to touch it, well, that was a win-win.

Naruto had taken full advantage of the fact that her sensei had passed out in the living room, first by sleeping on the futon across from him—to make sure he didn't get sick in his sleep, yes, but also because she slept so well with him around. Then she'd taken further advantage by entering his room that morning to strip his bed, and maybe snoop just the tiniest bit. She'd never seen it in the light, after all, having stumbled her way out of it in the dark the morning she'd woken up there.

His room was as spartan and lacking in personality as the rest of the house, with light grey walls and dark grey bedding. There was a small, tidy desk, and a bedside table with a book open and face-down on it, and she noted that some of his clothes had been strewn near the hamper rather than in it. She saw that his curtains were very thick, and pinned into place against the wall to prevent any light from coming in. Most interesting by far though was his bookshelf. Naruto had naïvely assumed that the boring tomes on topics ranging from mammalian taxonomy to theoretical astronomy lined up in the living area were the extent of his collection, but no, the colorful paperbacks arranged lovingly in alphabetical order by the author's name were evidence to the contrary. She'd approached them intending to browse them just briefly, but the titles— … Well, the first one she pulled off the shelf was called Bound to You, and the cover featured a photo of a woman in lingerie, laying on her stomach with her hands tied behind her back.

Naruto had replaced it with trembling hands, stomach flipping and twisting and fluttering and her face hot, and she'd pulled another one off at random. Geisha in Spring, that one was called, and it had seemed harmless enough, with a pretty watercolor cover of a sakura branch, but she'd flipped it open to a random page only to read the single raunchiest thing she'd ever heard it her life, something about spreading her legs open to reveal her wetness and trembling with need for his member. Naruto had snapped it shut, mortified, and busily finished throwing her sensei's sheets and haphazardly discarded clothes into the hamper, leaving without a second look back.

That load of laundry was near the end of its cycle by then, and as she heard the shower switch on, Naruto hoped it hadn't taken up all the hot water, though she hadn't actually experienced running out of hot water yet in his apartment. It was possible there was much more available to them here than at her old crappy place.

When her sensei emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later looking like death warmed over, maskless and without his headband, his hair dripping wet and slicked back as it soaked into his rumpled shirt from yesterday, Naruto had eggs, bacon, toast, water, and coffee laid out on the table for him. And honestly, he looked like he could have kissed her as he thanked her and tucked in, clearly starving. He downed the water in one go to wash down his first bite, and she went to refill it without being asked.

By the time half the plate and his first cup of coffee were gone, he was starting to look and act a little more like a human being, and he gave Naruto a sheepish look as she refilled his coffee. "Sorry," he said shortly. "I promise I don't make a habit of drinking until I pass out and get sick. First time in at least a decade."

"It's okay," Naruto forgave him easily. She had a strong hunch that she was at least partially responsible for his drinking, if not entirely, so she really couldn't be too upset. It can't have been easy on him, adjusting to having a roommate he was responsible for after so long being so private. "Feeling alright?"

"Been better," he answered through a mouthful of toast. He swallowed it, and frowned at her, confused. "Are you not going to eat?"

She tried not to laugh at him out loud, but a giggle definitely slipped through. "It's almost noon, sensei. I ate hours ago. Sakura is going to be by soon, we're going to hang out, eat lunch, and then go grocery shopping together. If that's alright?"

He hummed an affirmative, taking another bite of eggs, and gestured with his fork at where his vest was hung up in the entryway. "Take some money from my wallet for groceries," he said when he'd swallowed. Naruto shot him a look, wondering if she could get away with not doing so. He really had given her a lot of money the day previous, and she had enough left for groceries if she skipped her plan to stock up on instant ramen. But he returned her gaze expectantly, giving her the distinct impression he could read her mind, and she huffed as she went to go dig his wallet out. But it was empty. From across the room, she opened it and held it out for his perusal, and he groaned, running his hand through his hair. "That's right," he thought aloud. "I didn't have enough to cover my part of the tab, and Asuma emptied out my wallet."

"It's because you gave me too much money yesterday," she scolded him. "I have plenty left for groceries. … Do you guys always drink during Saturday lessons?"

Like he had the day before, her sensei raised a finger to his lips in a shh gesture, but there was humor in his eye. "Yes," he admitted readily. "And if you tell anyone, I'll make you run laps until you collapse. Every day for a week. Got it?" When Naruto made a show of looking cowed and nodding, he hummed, apparently satisfied that she would keep his secrets. "Usually we don't drink anywhere near that much, but—"

He paused, apparently at a loss for words, and took another bite, seemingly to buy time. Naruto pitied him and let him off the hook, though, acknowledging, "It's okay, I know it's probably because of me." Her sensei's eye jerked up to hers, and he shook his head insistently, but the expression on his face was unmistakably guilty. "I get it, I'm not offended, it's not every day that a damaged teenaged girl moves into your bachelor pad."

The man swallowed hard, guilt turning into sincere concern, and he turned away from his meal to face her more fully. "You aren't damaged."

She snorted and gestured at herself, at the clothes she was being forced to wear that made her feel positively naked, that she'd had a panic attack about wearing out just that morning. "I'm clearly damaged, sensei. I cried this morning because I have to wear this outside, and be seen in it. Nobody who's healthy and well adjusted has that much trouble leaving the house in anything other than what Sakura kept calling 'an orange potato sack.'"

He gave her that sad, helpless look she'd been getting a lot lately, and tilted his head, looking her up and down perfunctorily. "You look lovely—maa, very nice. Most of your skin is covered. Why don't you want to be seen in it?"

"It's tight," she complained, pulling her shirt away from her stomach to demonstrate the way it immediately shrank back against her skin upon being released. "I don't want people to look at me like that."

"Like..?"

"Like a girl."

Her sensei looked lost, the way he always did when she talked about her feelings. "You are a girl," he said again, still not seeming to grasp what she was trying to say. "There's nothing wrong with that."

She huffed. "I just—I don't want anyone to look at me and think—that I'm—… I don't know, I don't want them to think I'm an option. Does that make sense?" He paused, then shook his head, and she sighed, deflating. "It's fine, you don't need to understand. I just don't like how I look."

"I like how you look." Baffled, Naruto whipped her head around to look at him, loose hair flying everywhere, only to find her sensei looking equally confused about why he'd just said that. He cleared his throat, resolutely turned back to his plate, and added uncomfortably, "That is, you should like how you look. There's nothing to dislike. You are not an aesthetically displeasing person." He took a big bite, clearly not keen on any further elaboration.

"… Thanks, sensei," she told the side of his head, touched but knowing that showing him that would make him more uncomfortable. The only response she received was a noncommittal grunt, and that was just fine.

…

After so thoroughly humiliating himself in front of the girl that Kakashi deeply and inappropriately wanted to like him, look up to him, find him attractive, think he was cool, he was almost glad to see her leave on Sakura's arm. Gods, but how many distinct ways could he embarrass himself in a twenty-four hour time period? Delivered a shitty lecture, rolled up drunk despite knowing the circumstances of her abuse, pet her (?), made her babysit him sleeping on the couch, got sick, revealed he'd been drinking because of her, called her cute and said he liked how she looked… He spent a while after she'd left with his arms crossed on his dining table, head buried in them, hoping he would sink into the earth.

He hadn't felt this mixed up and awkward and fumbling since he was a teenager and he'd had no idea how to handle his starstruck, obsessive crushes on his mentor and his mentor's wife. What was wrong with him? Well, apart from the obvious. His daddy issues, his control issues, his obsessive personality, his pathological need to keep people who loved him at arm's length, his PTSD, his childhood trauma, his dead best friend's eye in his head, his memory of being wrist deep in the shattered ribcage of the last girl who had loved him…

Yeah, okay, maybe it was obvious what was wrong with him. He was damaged, actually damaged, and he'd somehow let Naruto think she was the fucked up one. Which was clearly not at all the case, especially as the realization that her journal was unprotected in her room made his joints itch with the need to read it, the sensation refusing to recede as he clenched his fists in his hair.

Kakashi was going to do it. He was going to read a little girl's diary, and he was probably going to use what he read to manipulate her. He was a fucking monster.

It hurt him that he didn't even have to look for it. He'd been prepared to feel under the mattress, look in her sock drawer, but she trusted him implicitly and it was sitting on her desk like she knew it would be safe there, like she knew he'd never look in it. He cracked open his sharingan eye for a fraction of a second, effectively taking a snapshot of where it went so he could replace it perfectly, and then it was in his hands.

It was old, and clearly well-loved. The hard covers were covered in stained pale pink fabric, and there was a flower embroidered on it, a little white-petaled daisy. The pages were dog-eared and wrinkled through the first three-fourths or so, while the last section laid flat and undisturbed aside from some water damage in the top corner. He wavered for just a second, then opened it, self hatred and satisfaction competing for dominance as he looked down at the first page.

Her diary began with big, childish letters, with lowercase B's and D's often switched and rampant spelling errors, and explained that the counselor at school—civilian school, by the dates she would have only been six—was making her keep a journal because she kept getting into fights and becaus i pulled kimis Hair. The first few entries reiterated over and over that this is stupib, but as her handwriting and spelling improved, and as her entries grew longer and more thoughtful, she began to take it more seriously. Especially after an early entry in which she explained that someone had told her that naming the journal makes it easier to pretend you're talking to someone. She'd dubbed the journal Daisy, and began to draw pictures in the margins, mostly butterflies and geometric patterns.

After that, the journal began to paint a portrait of a desperately lonely little girl. She described dozens and dozens of failed attempts to make friends, mostly in one-line entries that said things like Ichiro didn't let me play tag with him and his friends today or Hana didn't like the drawing I did for her. There was an entry dated to September of the year she turned seven that said You and pochi are my only friends at the bottom. It hurt him. He ached to think that maybe there was something he could have done, and it pained him that he'd kept his distance when she needed someone so badly. He found himself sitting on her bed, leaning against the headboard with the book on his lap as he continued to read.

It hadn't clicked for Kakashi that he was going to hit the start of her abuse until he came across an entry dated a few weeks after her eighth birthday, towards the end of her first semester in the academy. Until that point, the diary entries, though largely rather short, rarely more than three sentences, had been frequent, many pages including a solid week of daily updates on a myriad of mundane topics. That entry was different, though, written in shaky letters, a few lines down from the previous entry where there typically were no gaps. It read:

Something bad happened. I don't

He felt his throat close up and his eyes burn as he read those words over and over, imagining her alone in that awful apartment, with no one to talk to except her journal and unable to articulate what had happened even to Daisy.

The next few pages were blank, and then the entries resumed as normal a month later, though with some changes that were subtle enough that they occurred to Kakashi slowly, causing him to flip back and forth to confirm what he'd noticed: she no longer spoke about trying to make friends, and there were no more butterflies in the margins. For the next two years, entries about budgeting for groceries and having trouble with math and worrying about her plants were dotted with occasional entries that just said Another visit, each one followed by a few days or weeks of silence. The dread and rage those entries made him feel were consuming, but the only thing he could do was keep reading.

There was one such entry dated to the spring after she turned ten that was followed three days later by one that said Bleeding. Don't know why. Maybe because of visit? Then one two days after that which said, Bled through toilet paper and stained my clothes. Iruka-sensei sent me to the nurse, she said it's okay, it's called a period and gave me some stuff for it.

There was something so heartbreaking and sweet about the phase that followed, entries about "visits" becoming fewer and farther between as Naruto's focus turned inward and onto her changing body, just trying to figure things out by herself. Chest hurts, one of them said. Cramps suck, said another. Some were longer. Kiba said he can see my nipples through my shirt. I told him why are you looking, dog breath? But it made me feel weird & bad. They've been talking about how important it is to wear the same clothes everyday if you're a ninja so you know how they move with you & stuff. I'll pick something so no one can see my nipples. Maybe with a jacket would be good.

Another spoke at length about someone having asked her why she didn't shave her legs, and wondering if she should. Seems hard, that one concluded. There were several about funny dreams, and many which remarked upon the mysteries of the opposite sex.

Boys are mean & stupid & they smell bad, one entry began, ending on the thought I wish they weren't cute. That made him smile, imagining her blushing and frustrated by her nascent feelings of interest in her male peers. It was so different from how he knew her. He had even thought from time to time she might be asexual, given her total, unilateral disinterest in dating and the disgust with which she responded to discussions Sakura initiated about boys or crushes or kissing. He was glad she had those feelings; it would have been disappointing to discover she wasn't attracted to men.

A comment about Shikamaru being the cutest boy in our year, I don't care what Ino & Tenten & Sakura say about the teme, dated two months before Naruto became his genin, made Kakashi irrationally jealous, an emotion he instantly identified as being completely unhinged, an insane thing to feel about a girlhood crush. He was a grown man, a shinobi of the Leaf, sitting on a teenager's bed, reading her diary and getting upset that she thought a boy other than him was cute. He'd lost it. He'd really, finally lost it, he'd taken a dive straight off the deep end. He was horrible, and selfish, and crazy, and bad for her, and turning the page to read more.

The entries around her graduation were long and expressive, with lots of exclamation points, recounting in great detail how she'd learned to make shadow clones from the stolen scroll, how Iruka had taken a heavy blow to protect her, and given her his hitai-ate. Kakashi hadn't known that, though maybe he'd noticed her headband wasn't as new looking as the others. He'd chalked it up to her general rough-and-tumble approach to things causing wear.

Then Kakashi entered her life.

Naruto first described him as super super tall, with weird hair & he wears a mask over everything except his right eye. He's sort of mean, but I bet he's a great ninja, so I'm going to learn everything I can from him, believe it! Later, he got labeled a pervert, always reading those gross books, & a bully, too. She spoke at length about being Kakashi's least favorite, documenting every mean and dismissive thing he'd said to her. And when she mentioned his praise, first in a very long entry telling the story of their trip to the Land of Waves, she preened over it, writing it out with careful lettering and saying he's so cool, I want him to like me so badly.

All Kakashi could feel was regret, so intense it felt like it was crushing his chest. Couldn't he have been nicer to her? But no, it would have been better for Naruto if he'd kept his distance, remained barbed and remote from her. If he had, she wouldn't have a man in her bed, reading her diary like a sacred text and stoking the flames of his possessive affection for her.

Most of the recent entries were about training, or venting her frustration about Sasuke, but she also spoke about finally feeling like I'm friends with everyone, speaking about the other genin her age, and recounted stories of social outings and nice things her peers had said to her. Sakura said she hates me for my hair, but I think that was a compliment, one of them said.

One from two weeks ago mentioned him outside of the context of training or missions for the first time in months, the last having been musings about his mask. Ino went on another one of those confusing rants about the differences between boys & men, it said. She said Asuma-sensei is hot, & knows how to treat a woman. I don't know what that means. She asked me if Kaka-sensei knows how to treat a woman, & I asked her what that meant, & she said I'd understand when I was older, but I think she was bullying me. Then she asked me if I thought Kaka-sensei was hot, because she thought so, & I didn't know how to answer that, either, & she said I didn't understand the first thing about being a woman. I guess I don't.

Kakashi briefly marveled at the fact that he felt the appropriate disgust and horror at being considered attractive by one thirteen year old girl, even as he burned to know if another saw him the same way. The cognitive dissonance was astounding.

The remaining entries before her move into his apartment were standard, boring, the most interesting thing being that Sasuke had apparently called her an unspecified ugly name a few days before that terrible night. The day that he'd been called upon to pick her up had a normal entry, clearly written before bed: Training w/ team tomorrow, hope we spar so I can kick the teme's ass.

Underneath, listed as the same date, were the words Last visit. He traced them with his fingertips, aching for her, wishing like hell that he could fix it for her. The rest of the page was blank, and he had to turn it to find the entries she'd written after she'd moved in.

There was a few days' pause, the entry he'd interrupted her writing apparently her first since the incident. It read: Lots has changed. I live with Kaka-sensei now, & he's really a lot nicer than I thought he was. I'm sitting in my new room that he painted & put together for me. I love it. I'm having trouble sleeping, but just because I keep worrying the window is unlocked. I saw sensei's face. I never thought that

The entry dated to the next day explained the interruption. Sorry I didn't finish yesterday. Well, not sorry, I guess, because you're a book & don't have feelings, but you know what I mean. It's just that sensei came into my room. He wasn't wearing a shirt, or anything on his face, & I just. I've never seen that much of him before. Or any man I guess. He's so muscular, & his stomach is

The word pretty was crossed off, with a question mark beside it, and no replacement word was offered. Also his back & especially his arms & shoulders, it continued, and Kakashi was feeling rather warm and smug. So weird. I guess I get what Ino meant about him. I feel bad for thinking anything like that—he's been so kind to me. He stayed until I fell asleep again. I wonder if he'd do it every night, if I asked? It makes me feel so safe.

Then, in the style of the majority of her entries, it finished, back to training today. Felt good. Sakura & Sasuke were being too nice to me. Wonder how long that will last? Sakura's mom gave me a haircut & deep conditionered my hair, whatever that means, & Sakura gave me stuff to keep it nice. I don't really think I care, but Kaka-sensei seems to like it, & that combined with Sakura wanting me to is as good a reason as any.

That was Tuesday. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were normal, documenting meals prepared, trainings done, and other random thoughts, such as Sasuke had a big twig in his hair for like an hour today, it was fun seeing Mr. Perfect look like an idiot for once or Sensei seemed like he liked the roasted broccoli, have to remember that. The entry for Saturday was long.

I don't even know where to begin. I finally got to be one of the girls, & it WAS fun, really, it was great. But they made me go get bras, & I wanted to die. They all took off their shirts to make me feel better, & Sakura even arranged it so we'd be alone in the store, but I was so close to breaking down the entire time. I kind of like the sports bras, they're comfy enough even if they are a little tight, & they make me feel secure, but Ino picked out some lacy black ones & they kind of freak me out. Unfortunately the comfiest one is one of the lacy ones. Kakashi snorted, amused by her prioritization of her physical versus emotional comfort.

I thought it would be over after that, but then they took me clothes shopping, & I think I disassociated for a while. I don't remember most of it, but people kept asking if I was okay. Ino asked me why I don't shave my legs, & I didn't know how to tell her I didn't know how to, & that it makes me feel weird that I can't do it. I'm afraid to ask the girls, because I think they'll make me get into a shower with them to show me. There was a little distressed face drawn here. The clothes they picked out for me are cute, I know they are, & I really, really like how they look on me, but the idea of anyone seeing me in them is

Naruto didn't finish that sentence, instead picking up on the next line. Sensei saw them, & I think he liked them. He looked at them a lot, anyway, but he was pretty drunk. I guess I didn't mind him seeing them as much, but it still made me feel twisty. He had no idea what that meant, but he hoped vaguely that it was good. But more importantly, sensei was DRUNK! He was drunk before lessons ended, & he was STILL drunk when I got home! It was funny, he was very affectionate & sweet, really wanted my attention. He flopped down on the couch fully dressed, & made grabby hands at me asking to touch my hair. I actually really like it when he touches my hair, I wish he'd do it more. So I worked on stuff from lessons today while he pet me, & after a while he passed out and started snoring. I took off his hitai-ate, I hope he doesn't mind, it just looked so uncomfortable with the metal being pushed to the side by him laying weird.

Well, huh, yes, his headband had been on the coffee table that morning. He'd assumed he'd put it there himself. I'm about to sleep in the living room with him. I keep telling myself it's so he doesn't get sick or start wandering around drunk, but it's because I sleep better with him around. The best night's sleep I've gotten in weeks was that first night here, when he let me sleep in his bed. That was so

Another set of crossed-out words, the options being sweet, weird, and nice. There was only a bit more, and Kakashi had to read it twice before it registered. Plus, sensei is kind of cute like this. Makes my stomach twist up and my face hot, like Sakura said.

Oh, fuck, Kakashi thought, even as a large part of him celebrated the very clear message on the page that he had a chance. She's so screwed.

Then he was flipping through blank pages, the last fourth of the book yet to be written, and Kakashi had spent all afternoon neck deep in getting to know things about the girl he wanted to know everything about, things she would have never, ever told him. He felt guilty, really, he did—this was a moral low point for him, no doubt about it. But his guilt was belied by his pleasure at spending an afternoon inside Naruto's head. Even as he replaced the journal precisely where he'd found it, referencing the image stored by his sharingan, he knew he was going to be back. And he hated himself for it, but he hated himself for a lot of things, so what's one more on the list?