Chapter Fourteen: Sacred Eye, Secret Oath
Kakashi placed one foot in front of the other, taking a moment to be sure his heel sat steady on the water before pressing his weight into the rippling surface. It held. He took another and then another, stepping across the pond, picking up his pace to slide around the ripples that bounced and melded together under the hazy morning light. It was good to find that old sense of balance once again after a miserable week of wet feet.
At the centre of the pond, Kakashi raised his eyes above the treeline that huddled the perimeter of the training ground. Long birches and black pines climbed the hill to circle a grassy summit. A large black stone stood atop it, the base obscured by swaying branches. It was large enough that the polished rock bounced the light that managed to pierce the shifting clouds. It didn't take smarts to guess what the stone was for and Kakashi hadn't plucked up the courage yet to make the journey. It was different from the memorial stone that kept a lonely corner of the old training ground in his own world. He knew those names a hundred times over. His relocation had forced him to break the habit of scouring line after line. Part of him feared finding new names. A presence lingered at the summit, hidden by the dense branches.
Sighing, Kakashi turned to face the open field, centering himself. Chakra swirled in his core. With practised fingers, he flew from one hand sign to the next, coming to rest on 'tiger' with a deep suck of air into his lungs. Sluggishly, his chakra rode the pathways up his throat and pooled on his tongue. He released the breath. A small ball of flame shot across the dry, swaying grass. Kakashi's stance faltered. His right foot dipped beneath the surface of the pond, water rushing over his toes. He pushed and kept it from sinking any deeper.
It felt like progress.
The lone man wrung the water from his foot, padding over to the grass to wipe his sandals. The moisture would dry soon enough with the oncoming heat of the day already causing the air to feel heavy. The cicadas hummed, chatting to one another, unminding the way the dried grass loudly crunched underfoot.
It had been a quiet couple of weeks in Obito's apartment. Kakashi largely only had himself for company with Obito and the hounds absent; sent along to southern Fire. A staunch reminder that the world didn't stop with Kakashi's presence.
Kakashi shoved his hands into his pockets as the breeze softly tugged at his shirt, his mind wandering to dinner at the Hokage's home and the promises made there. Things had been... unsettlingly calm since. With the sudden and unexpected cooling in what had been a hurricane of weeks since Kakashi had dropped out of the sky, his mind had repeatedly pulled back to the evening at the Namikaze-Uzumaki household.
When the dishes had been set to dry, the night had returned to a more serious tone. Kakashi remembered the way Minato had run a hand through his hair as he confided that he had received reports of Kirigakure making some overtures at the Benisu Islands; the Mizukage sending agents out as far as the Land of Noodles to sway opinions. He remembered the scowl on Rin's face as she pointed out that it was bold of the Mizukage to wander so close to Fire's shores. And to the ruins of the Uzushiogakure, came Kushina's grim reminder.
Minato had set his mouth. "It's uncertain how serious Kiri is. Or even if they are at all. They may be simply using Konoha's distraction with this recent business to prod some holes."
Kakashi had looked down then, swirling the contents of his glass.
"Obito," Minato said, turning to the man as Obito was in the midst of downing the last of the umeshu in his glass. "I apologise for bringing it up tonight when this is supposed to be a quiet dinner, but it might be best to give you some warning before the official order comes in."
Obito had been startled enough to choke on the last few drops. His face flushed as he thumped his chest. "What?" He asked, coughing the word out.
"I'm sending you to southern Fire to meet with the nobility and the well-to-do there in a meet with those from Noodles. It'll be good to assure them of Konoha's support. And to ward off Kiri."
Obito had given him an incredulous look, his jaw slack. "But why me?"
"You're my student," Minato reminded with some insistence, "that grants you some trust and an assurance to the people there that whatever they tell you will personally get back to me. But that's not the only point of it." The Hokage's expression had softened and Kakashi saw Obito's throat bob.
"There's diplomats for this," the other man argued.
"I want you to show your face as your own person, Obito. They'll know who you are, but it should be more than simply a name and an entry in a bingo book." Minato gave a crooked smile. "I'm afraid this is what the job is like from out behind a mask."
Obito still looked as though he had wanted to argue but it died before it reached his lips. Kakashi had silently offered him the last of the umeshu and Obito scowled at the amusement on his face. "Looks like you'll be babysitting this one for the next few weeks then," he had told Rin before flicking off the cap and taking a swig.
He hadn't been happy. But this Obito was mature enough to hide the curl of his lip behind the thick glass rim of the umeshu bottle.
A crunch of dried grass drew Kakashi's attention back to the present.
He threw his senses out. A chakra signature brushed the edge of his mind and he imagined a soft green glow growing brighter. Behind him, eastward. Familiar. Kakashi didn't instinctively tense as Rin came into view, following the browned, well-worn path that wound itself down the hill. Sensing her had become an ease. That in itself became a comfort. He had been diligent in working to regain the ability, the sense of civilian blindness as dangerous as it was irksome. Still, his senses were far from perfect. Rin had assured him that this training ground was private — secluded from the rest. But Kakashi didn't have to have the full breadth of his ability returned to know they were being watched, even if these ones were smothered enough that he couldn't sense hide nor hair of them. He had to be the worst kept secret in Konoha at this point.
He watched as the woman gave him a little wave as she stepped into the clearing. If there was anyone around, Rin seemed unperturbed. Perhaps they really were alone.
He followed her path to a creaking birch. She unclipped a belt with his approach. An unhappiness lingered in her expression, downturning the edges of her mouth as she sucked her bottom lip. It was gone by the time he came to a halt.
"Morning," Rin said with a smile. She held up the belt; old scratched brown leather with a small pouch and sewn hoops that held several scrolls in place. "I brought along some training ideas."
"I take that to mean that you think my approach is lacking."
Rin shrugged and dropped the belt to the grass. She invited Kakashi to sit, folding one of her legs under an arched knee and propping her elbow. "New ideas couldn't hurt."
Kakashi held up a limp hand as he settled himself. "I'm open to anything, Sensei." She pushed at his hip with a sandalled foot.
"I see your trousers aren't soaked today. Well done."
"Mah, ever a diligent student."
"I guess you really haven't changed much at all—" Rin paused as the last word escaped her. She quickly shook her head. "Ahm, before I introduce my latest brain-child, I thought you might want a small update on the Demon Star."
Kakashi didn't. A dark pit opened in his stomach every time it was mentioned. He nodded anyway.
Rin cocked her head, watching him, her brown eyes too observant. "Your involvement is being handled," she said frankly after a pause. "There's been efforts to redirect and plant notions of a group being at fault for this."
They're not wrong, Kakashi thought, sardonic. Perhaps Minato was channelling what he had been told of the newer, reinvented Akatsuki. It had not been one of Kakashi's most lucid moments and the memories of his first encounter with Minato were pitted against the white buzzing lights of the underground clinic.
"Konoha has been allowed to pull on its resources as part of the official investigation. As it stands, we're currently waiting on the results of Kushina's tests about any side effects the demonic chakra might have had. Short-term. Long-term. It'll be good to get assurances that it'll dissipate in time with no ill effects."
"That explains Kushina's, uh, fleeting presence." Especially when he had first arrived. "Her work takes priority."
Rin hummed in agreement but said no more. He nudged at one of the snuggly wrapped scrolls. "What's this brain-child of yours?"
Rin coaxed one out and handed it to him. Unfurling it, Kakashi was greeted with a medical text. Neatly stamped characters bowed in and out of the way of delicately detailed figures that carved out their spaces on the parchment. They described different parts of the chakra system, the thin, black slivers representing the flow of one coil to another.
"I thought maybe a change in tactic will help you regain your abilities faster," Rin explained. "Practising old methods that your body already has memorised and hoping your repaired system will eventually strengthen and catch up is proven to work, but—" she tapped the purple tape on her cheek, eyes glittering, "I think we can speed up the process. How much do you know about medical techniques and their flavour of chakra control?"
Kakashi rested the scroll on his lap, thinking. "The basic theory and not much beyond that," he admitted. "Usually there's no point in learning more. It's rare that many techniques beside medical ones need that finer degree of control. Time is better spent fine-tuning a technique enough that the chakra use is efficient to suit your needs before moving on to the next jutsu. To be honest, since Obito had given me his sharingan, I'd been more focused on using it to learn as many jutsu as I could." He blinked his eye under the cloth that had replaced his hitai-ate. The dojutsu had lain dormant for weeks now. Kakashi still hadn't plucked up the courage to try and use it. "You want me to learn medical-grade chakra control."
"Exactly," said Rin with a nod. "As you said, ordinarily this might be a waste of time if you were at your usual capabilities and not looking to learn medical ninjutsu but if we were to tweak things... I think you could not only have more intimate control of the chakra available to you now, you could actively help your body regenerate by continually having a grip on the fluxing of your chakra. It'd help strengthen your system to a tighter level. We could channel this towards aspects like your elemental based techniques. Though you'll have to put aside practising the jutsu you already know for a time."
A more controlled Chidori would make it sharper. More precise. Perhaps even to the degree he didn't have to rely on his sharingan so much to manage the speed. He thought of Obito and the bandage over the man's eye. There was no promise of keeping it forever, he reminded himself. "Sometimes less is more," Kakashi agreed.
"Right. Plus, simpler ninjutsu and genjutsu can still be extremely effective." Rin tugged out the rest of the scrolls, unrolling them and laying them out for him to see. Leaning over, he saw the texts were a mixture of more medical humdrum, some on the structure of the chakra system as well as theory and instruction on control techniques ranging from basic to advanced.
"I may no longer be a medic," said Rin, "but I've found useful application in directing the techniques to more damaging styles."
The concept made Kakashi think. With less chakra, I'd need to be more efficient in taking the enemy down and down quickly to spare the use of ninjutsu. That would require a greater pinpoint understanding of the body's weaknesses. And that would require a greater amount of medical knowledge than he currently had.
He shared the line of thought with Rin. Her expression turned sly. "My specialty."
She dropped a senbon from her sleeve. With a subtle bloom of chakra, the air surrounding the metal surface became hazy and warped. Wind chakra. Rin flicked her wrist. The deadly, enhanced senbon shot toward the row of wooden training dummies standing a ways out in the open field. Metal shore into wood, the sound like paper tearing in two. One of the dummy's heads lurched to the side and swung, hanging from the remnants of its neck by thin slices of frayed timber. Rin flexed her hand. Kakashi caught the look in her eyes before it faded: cold. Obito wasn't the only one in ANBU, he reasoned, but he couldn't help the way it disturbed him.
"You could achieve something similar," Rin continued, heedless of Kakashi's sudden unease. "Your lightning affinity would be a boon here. It can be sharper and more precise than a senbon and how much kick it has depends on how much chakra you dedicate to it. Stiffening muscles at the very least. Full paralysis depending on the placement of the strike."
It made sense. Moreover, the prospect of high damage using minimal resources was alluring. Kakashi knew exactly the kind of practice she had in mind too as the gears in his own mind were turning. The irony wasn't lost on him.
He tried not to groan.
An hour later, the summer breeze picked up the leaves and the musky heat finally began to beat down on the field. Kakashi was thankful for the shade as he pulled off his gloves and swiped his sweaty palms on the dark cotton of his trousers. Around them the cicadas trilled, they too seeking a cool shelter in the crevices of the bark. He picked up the small leaf he had been practising on. A blot of brown discolouration sat at its centre, noticeably missing any hole through the networks of tiny veins. Not enough power. He was feeling more sympathetic to Naruto than ever. The teenager had taken a hard fortnight of carrying a leaf everywhere with him to finally slice it in two with his wind chakra. Naruto had been so excited that he pulled another leaf from his pocket to try again and sliced the ceramic bowl of ramen beneath it too.
Flicking the dried leaf away, he watched Rin from the corner of his eye. She had toed off her sandals and closed her eyes to the breeze, head tipped back, strands of her hair dancing across her cheeks. She mindlessly fingered the end of her long braid where it slung over her shoulder. Kakashi imagined he could lie back in the grass and the present would be gone. That time could run backwards. Neither of them hardened shinobi; just children enjoying the high summer.
A few more hours under his belt granted Kakashi minor success. To be fair to his former student, he did have many more years of practice on Naruto, technical knowledge (and a lack of aversion towards gaining more), as well as a lack of unwieldy chakra reserves. Kakashi plucked another leaf from the litter amongst the grass and held it aloft, sharpening down his focus. A little more determined. He drew chakra up from his core.
Release.
An electrical current jumped from the finger he pointed at the leaf. It blackened and fizzed.
Kakashi inspected the ragged hole his efforts left, his nose filled with the scent of acrid greenery. It had none of the elegance of precision, but it was a start.
The sun dimmed near the horizon when he parted from Rin. Kakashi stole away from the forest surrounding the training ground and down to the heated rooftops, taking the longer way around than was necessary. The higher calibre of shinobi in the village knew of him, sure, but Kakashi had avoided walking the streets and making himself known to store clerks and local food vendors. It was still uncertain just how far that information had filtered down the various branches of Konoha's great tree. Kakashi had noticed a greater presence of ANBU and ROOT about the place since his arrival. Likely the result of Minato and Danzō's agreement to keep a lid on things.
And spies weren't chosen for their ineptitude.
He focused on his footing as he leapt up the side of Obito's apartment building, springing off railing and wall to mount the next floor. Even with the drain of training, Kakashi felt confidently stable. His grip stuck as he pawed at a guard rail to hoist himself up to the top floor, only to be halted by Obito's loud voice.
Not only had his roommate returned from his mission, he had already started an argument.
Obito's poorly hawked joke about someone's mother bounced down the walkway to where Kakashi was half bent over the railing. A masculine voice responded in a snarl. "You speak about my mother as if yours wasn't some lowborn clan cur that managed to whimper her way into your father's bed!"
Obito only scoffed. "I'll take the bet you haven't managed to convince many to hop into yours. Not many notches on that frame with a face like that, Uchiha or not." An incensed growl came in reply. Kakashi rolled his eyes. Childish.
Another man's voice cut their posturing at the knees and had Kakashi taking the leap over the railing. "Enough of this, both of you! We didn't come here to quarrel with you, Obito. We know he's staying with you. Where's Hatake Kakashi?"
Kakashi tensed. He kept his body hidden by the jutting angles of the building, sliding to crouch in the junction of a pillar and the wall of another apartment.
"He isn't here," Obito insisted with a gruffness that made it sound as though it was not the first time he had said so "Come back later or not at all. Preferably not."
"Then tell us where he is. We know you know. Must we get the military police involved—"
Obito's bitter laugh slapped the concrete walls, drowning out whatever his clansman had to say. "The military police sent out on clan business? What happened to at least feigning neutrality?"
Kakashi peeked around the pillar and spied the silhouettes of two men leaning into the threshold of Obito's apartment. The smaller of the two straightened, preparing for another jab. A soft metallic whine drew Kakashi's attention to an open window a few hands away from his hiding spot. There was movement inside; the muted clatter of plates and metal scraping metal. The tip of a blocky nose came into view, followed by the bearded face of an old man with a cut on his brow. His gaze was directed down the walkway to where the trio of Uchiha quabbled. Something was said down that end, quieter. The man leaned further out to listen. Kakashi fished out a pebble trapped between a rusting pipe and the grimy concrete. He sent it toward the staircase, bouncing against the steel frame of the stairs to the lower floor. With a suspicious sense of urgency, the older man whipped his arm out, slamming the window shut on its squeaky hinge. Kakashi frowned.
They really were making a scene.
He hung his head in resignation, sighing deep. Kakashi picked himself up, brushing his knees.
"Hatake Kakashi."
With his approach, Kakashi got a better look at Obito's kin. They looked Uchiha through and through. Pale to lightly tanned with dark eyes and dark hair, though the taller of the two's leant more toward browner tones. Their bodies had noticed Kakashi's presence before their minds registered him enough to turn to look. Shinobi then, but either green or out of practice. The taller, younger one with slanted eyes perked. It was him that spoke with the voice that had attempted to cool the hotter tempers of Obito and the other.
"Yo," Kakashi replied lazily, giving the man a limp salute. Obito was stood in his doorway, freshly showered and arms crossed tightly over his chest. He greeted Kakashi with a thrust of his chin and an exasperated look toward the shortest member of their entourage.
"I hear you're looking for me," Kakashi continued, looking between the pair.
"That's right! We—" The tall Mr. Sensible shot out a hand out to quiet his partner. It earned him an accusatory stare and a noise of indignation. Behind them, Obito shook his head and shot a glance to the heavens as if to check if the gods were testing him. Kakashi's lips twitched in amusement.
Mr. Sensible bowed, his large hands cupped over his knees. "Greetings to you, Mr. Hatake. I apologise for this interruption. Your immediate presence has been requested by the Honourable Clan Head of the Uchiha, Lord Fugaku. We are to escort you to the Uchiha grounds anon."
Obito rolled his eyes and turned up a palm. "What, he can't even say 'no'?"
Mr. Sensible made an expression of awkward apology. "It wouldn't be wise."
They did, at least, allow Kakashi to shower first.
Obito invited himself along, trading the odd quip as they snaked their way parallel to the village roads, taking the rooftop path all the way from one side of the village to the other. The displeasure at his presence was evident in both his clanmates. Even Mr. Sensible's face fell to a deep frown at Obito's presence, clear that he had only tolerated interacting with Obito for the task at hand. Obito, for his part, seemed to delight in making an annoyance of himself. But even he was only tolerating his clanmates presence. As they drew closer to the compound, the quips became noticeably more clipped. Obito had always been a black sheep of his clan, apparently in both words. It only made sense that the black sheep would tire of being treated as such and move on to a different pen.
The gates of the Uchiha compound rose into view, its traditional piled stone walls and winged roofs peeking through the modern storeyed buildings that reduced in folds towards the western outskirts of the village. It almost gave the impression that the civilian side of the gates leaned away from the territory of the powerful shinobi clan watching over them. The compound was as large as that of Kakashi's own world. No, larger, even, with clusters of housing only visible if one climbed to the roof of one of the central civilian apartment complexes in the middle of the village. Kakahi had seen as much one afternoon, wanting to take a proper lay of this 'new' land he was now forced to deal in. Here, as in his world, the Uchiha had taken up a whole district of the village; full to the brim of houses, shops, and gardens. A veritable village within a village.
The sight bore mixed memories. The few times Obito had invited him onto the grounds in his youth clashing with the ruthless, bloodthirsty display of Itachi's massacre.
Clansmen went about their evening errands as Kakashi and his own Uchiha companions breached the gate of the compound, waved through by the gatesman that leaned back against his post. Folk looked at them as they passed through the old compound, curious stares lingering on Kakashi before straying to Obito and their pair of handlers. Some appeared to know Obito by the way their eyes widened every so slightly or the soft words they passed on to those they lingered with in doorways or leant close to one another, throwing looks over their shoulders. Others acknowledged him as a fellow Uchiha with polite half-bows and greetings. Kakashi quirked an eyebrow at the blatant display of formality until he turned to see that Obito had his sharingan activated, the three tomoe lazily spinning in his iris. Mr. Angry also had his own sharingan activated; two tomoe churned in one eye, and a lone tomoe in the other.
"Less questions and more manners," Obito said to Kakashi's silent question.
Their destination lay in the centre of the more luxurious section of the housing district. The road that led them was lined with old and lavish houses boxed away by tall, walled timber and daub courtyards topped with their own small, tiled roofs. The carved morikuni decorations and thick central beams of the hip-and-gable roofs were large and elaborate; each one likely costing the same as an entire apartment on the east side of the village. Everywhere the red and white uchiwa fan appeared; stitched onto long banners hanging from the courtyard gates, brightly painted onto wood, stamped on threshold frames. Lest anyone forget what clan resided here.
At the end of the street lay the impressive timber gates of the clanhead's courtyard, swung open to greet them. Their chaperones slowed, coming to a stop at their wings.
"We leave you here," said Mr. Sensible. He gave Obito a hard look.
His companion aired whatever it was Mr. Sensible had wordlessly implied. "Don't cause some damn trouble, Obito. Lord Fugaku is waiting."
Obito rolled his eyes. "Trot along. There must be some other poor bastard out there to torment."
Curled lips and irritated sighs followed them back the way they came. As Kakashi made for the stone steps of the residence, Obito kept pace, having no intention of waiting alone in the tiled courtyard. Kakashi voiced his curiosity. Obito returned a look of surprise as if there was something important about him that Kakashi was blatantly unaware of.
"As much as my clan might generally hate— well, dislike me, Fugaku can't refuse me without looking pretty impolite."
"And why's that?"
"Because I'm currently seventh in line for clan head," he said, as though it were somehow obvious and Kakashi the idiot for being unaware. "There's Sasuke, Fugaku's son and heir whose first in line. Then there's my cousin Etsuko, head of the police. She's the first kid of my uncle. Etsuko's son is after her, then all her siblings. And then there's me. Gran was Fugaku's aunt. You know—" he gesticulated with his hand. "My, uh, dad and Fugaku were cousins. Me in your world really never told you, huh?"
"You failed to mention that."
Obito's smile was sheepish. "Welcome to the mess of Uchiha inheritance. In these times, it's pretty easy to knock out seven people. Next thing you know, it could be me moving into the big house. Even if I am just a bastard," he added with a shrug. Bastard. Kakashi wasn't unaware of the importance some of the old clan placed on trivialities. They'd hate the Hatake, then.
A point stood out to him. "You'd actually take the position," Kakashi stated, disbelieving.
Obito made a face that was halfway between aggrieved and disgusted, pulling at the scars on his cheek. "Not if I can help it."
It wasn't a no. Strangely, there was no mention of Itachi. He might be dead, Kakashi considered. Whatever he felt about the man Itachi became in his own world, it had seemed like this one had stood more of a chance. He didn't particularly want to ponder the fact that the only reason the Uchiha might still be living here was because Itachi could be dead. And that included Obito. Would Obito have stood a chance? To this day, Kakashi wondered how one young boy had managed to kill so many on his own, prodigy or not.
Obito nudged his shoulder with a fist and together they ascended the steps to the clan head's front door.
Lady Mikoto was as happy with Obito's presence as Mr. Sensible as he opened the door to greet them. She, at least, seemed to accept that he wasn't going anywhere.
Mikoto was the image of a proper clan wife; her blue silk yukata neat, her long dark hair just as satiny, brushed half a hundred times over until it laid shining down her back, toned orange in the evening light. Her almond black eyes, lined with her growing age, shined with intelligence and a pointedness that had Kakashi feeling he should not underestimate her in whatever situation they found themselves adjacent to. Sasuke was her spitting image. Kakashi had forgotten the look of her with time; in his youth he had only encountered her occasionally by Kushina's side when they all happened to be in the same place decades ago.
"Mr. Hatake," she greeted with a polite bow that didn't linger. She turned to Obito. "...and Cousin Obito."
Obito tried to wink, but with one eye covered it just looked like he blinked at her. "Evening, Mikoto. I heard Fugaku was interested in speaking with Kakashi. Since he's not a native to these parts and to our customs, I thought play guide."
Mikoto appeared thoroughly unimpressed. But she said nothing, and bid them to come in, her gaze lingering for a pause on Obito's eye; a brief frown, there and gone. Her gaze passed over Kakashi as he slid by to allow her to close the door. In a flicker, she scrutinised him, lingering too on his own covered eye. This one was dark and distrusting.
She bowed again. "I am Lady Mikoto, Lord Fugaku's wife. As I'm sure Obito has informed you. Please, my husband awaits you in the washitsu."
She led them through a set of dog legged passageways that sharply turned this way and that until it turned back on itself. The house was sprawling, even for a mansion. His own clan's head house wasn't nearly so large or so traditional in its layout. Then again, the Hatake had come from old farmhouses rather than rich noble compounds. The ones they had built on the southern outskirts of Konoha were now as old and rotting in their own right, hunched over in overgrown fields. Kakashi felt a prickle of guilt. Every panel of the Uchiha clan house boasted the clan's pride and nobility, maintained to a fault. They passed a panel screen depicting the great sage Indra, his sharingan eyes wide and his expression solemn and serious. The lines of his long white robes looked newly retouched with careful strokes of paint.
With a kunoichi's grace, Mikoto slid back one of the shoji doors and bid them inside with a tilt of her head. The Uchiha clan head was already seated at the low hardwood table in the centre of the tatami mats along with — to Kakashi's surprise — his eldest son.
Fugaku did not stand as Mikoto ushered them in but he greeted them with a stern nod and rumbling words. His features were strong — had always had been, from what Kakashi could remember from his appearances in the council chambers and viewing the man through the grate of a vent. With age, sloping jowls had angled themselves around hard bone. Fugaku had always appeared older than his wife, seeing him now, it was all the more apparent. There was not much black hair left around his ears and white stubble speckled his chin.
"Noble Cousin," Obito stepped up to bow, shielding Kakashi with his shoulder. Fugaku's eyes slid between the two of them, regarding Obito, his covered eye, then Kakashi. Obito didn't move with Kakashi's nudge, and he was forced to take a step back in order to complete his own bow.
"Obito. I see you've made it your prerogative to ensure that Mr. Hatake has a guide."
Obito gave the man half a smile. "He's not Uchiha. He'll need one."
"Indeed." Fugaku turned to Kakashi and dipped his chin. "So we meet at last, Mr. Hatake. I should think this is some time coming."
"I think so too," Kakashi agreed. His eyes wandered to Itachi.
Fugaku extended a hand across the low table. "My eldest, Itachi. You must excuse the absence of my younger son. Sasuke is currently on duty as a captain of the military police. I'm sure you understand."
"It's no bother," Kakashi said with a lightness in his heart. Sasuke is home.
From his cushion, Itachi inclined his head at him and Obito both. But as he lifted his gaze, Kakashi kept himself from frowning at the sight. Itachi's black eyes were blank and wide. Hazed. He didn't focus on them, but stared somewhere over the men's shoulders. He's blind, Kakashi realised.
"Heya, Itachi," Obito said, raising a hand in greeting that the younger man wouldn't see.
"Obito," Itachi replied, his thin lips pulling in a small, gentle smile. "I hope you've been well. And this is—" Itachi paused, blinking. He strangely seemed to shift his gaze over Obito's shoulder to stare right at Kakashi. "Hatake Kakashi." His smile stayed and he dipped his head. Shifting on his cushion, he leant back so subtly that Kakashi wouldn't have caught it, had he not already been watching Itachi. But then Itachi had a hand to his chest and bowed his chin. "It is good to meet you. I hope Obito hasn't been giving you trouble. He has a reputation, you see."
"Mah, I'm aware," Kakashi replied. "It is good to meet you too, Uchiha Itachi."
Behind them still in the doorway, Mikoto bade them to seat themselves as she disappeared back down the hall. Her absence was short-lived as she returned to their polite and wholly silent arrangement with a tray topped with a steaming pot of tea. Only once every man had been attended to and her own tea poured, did Fugaku address them.
Directly opposite the clan head across the table, Fugaku had eyes for no one but Kakashi. "Thank you for attending to my request," he began. "I understand that living on the other side of the village as you are, and no doubt busy with your own... situation, you must have taken some time out for this matter."
Kakashi made sure to move his mouth enough that Fugaku could see the pull of the fabric of his mask. "I couldn't refuse such an honour."
"I do hope you've been well. The summer has been long and hot. Such extended periods of heat can cause sickness in even the hardiest of men." Barely looking at him, Fugaku addressed Obito. "And how do you fare, Obito? I heard you were sent to see to the concerns of the nobility in the south."
"I'm fine, Cousin," Obito said flatly. He hadn't touched his tea. "My mission was short-lived."
"Indeed."
"And your health, Obito," Mikoto followed. "Are you well?" It was clear by how her eyes lingered on his covered eye that it was her focus. Her husband made a noise of agreement, almost tracking Obito from the corner of his eye. They didn't appraise Obito any lower than his face. No search for injury, no inspection of his clothing, no notice of the tear on the collar of his flak jacket that had yet to be repaired, or the small cut across the first knuckle of the index finger of his left hand. Kakashi sensed their concern was more limited to Obito's Mangekyo sharingan, than Obito himself. Obito noticed it too.
"My eye is fine, just strained in training. The doc advised resting it for a couple of weeks and it'll be as good as new."
Itachi frowned, lowering the tea he was about to sip. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. I promise," Obito said, far more gently.
Suspicion negged Kakashi's gut. Something had happened to Obito's eye. And recently. How recently? Recent enough to do with him? Such is likely, shinobi, his old captain's voice piped up before the ghost was gone again. He folded the question away amongst the list of others that waited to be asked.
Fugaku lifted his hand, demanding quiet. He folded them neatly, one hand over the other on the table. Polite enquiries over. Now the business began.
"Mr. Hatake, are you aware of the happenings over these past years? I'm afraid, knowingly or not, that you have placed myself in a unique position."
Kakashi cupped the tea he had also yet failed to drink. "I'm aware of the situation."
"Good. Then you must also understand the... political nature of this matter." He didn't allow for Kakashi's response before he continued. "I have invited you here this evening so that an understanding may be shared. Since we have not previously made an acquaintance, it is only proper that we do so first as fellow heads of our respective clans. You must understand how this looks, I'm sure. The head of a clan of Konoha bearing the dojutsu of another with no record of this eye being passed over." Kakashi could feel Obito glance his way.
"Believe me when I say I understand the predicament and mean no offence, Lord Fugaku," Kakashi replied. "I wholly acknowledge that this is a delicate situation. I will say I also understand that there is hesitancy as well as distaste at myself."
Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say. Fugaku stared across the table with steely eyes and the slightest of curls to his lip. The atmosphere cooled. Even Mikoto looked away, finding a thread of flax to stare at over her shoulder.
"Father," Itachi called, gentle yet firm.
Fugaku's expression twitched. Then hardened.
"Have you heard of Kirigakure's exploits on the battlefield, Hatake?" Fugaku asked, all pleasantry (the scant wisp of it that had been present) leaving his voice. "The brutality they committed themselves to before this ridiculous ceasefire?"
"Some," Kakashi lied.
"Then you have some idea of the atrocities committed against my clan." His layered hands separated into rounded fists. "Near a decade ago, I was called to the battlefield of Konoha and Kiri on the Dawn Fields. I had been called because a young kunoichi of our clan had been found; not on the bloodied battlefield itself, but dragged away into a secluded part of the nearby forest. When I entered the medical tent that held her, what I saw deeply disturbed me. Her assailants had not only removed the girl's eyes, but the entirety of her face and the front lobe of her brain in some vain attempt to preserve her dojutsu.
"Examinations of her body revealed that the enemy had utilised some of the latest and most advanced medical techniques they had to try and save the eyes from any degradation during removal. While the girl was still living. It could only be surmised that they had wished to preserve them in order to implant them elsewhere."
Kakashi felt a lick of nausea.
"Now, you must understand that in the days of the old clan wars, while certainly a worry to the Uchiha, this act was somewhat insipid. Medical ninjutsu was in its infancy and the potential of the sharingan was often lost with shoddy removal. Even more rare was the ability of the person to be able to use transplanted dojutsu. However, with the flourishing and growth of the hidden villages, so too came new collaboration and techniques. Advances in manners of the like I need not explain, I'm sure.
"The girl, Min, was only the first. Kirigakure — for it was this nation that came to be the most common assailants — targeted many more Uchiha to remove their eyes. Quickly, their techniques had advanced enough to simply take the eyes and the optic nerves. However, there were occasions in which our kin disappeared altogether, themselves never found by the Uchiha nor Konoha's forces."
A dark rage boiled in Fugaku's eyes. "During the war one of our boys went missing. And then one of our women. The cause of their disappearance and what service they may provide for the enemy is not difficult to ascertain."
It wasn't. It was as clear to Kakashi as it was that this scrutiny he now found himself in was a different beast to what his younger self had faced.
"As a clan, we have since taken... measures to protect our heritage. In life and in death. Lest we be targeted again."
A morbid admission. A means for the Uchiha to destroy their own dojutsu? And what else? Kakashi checked a glance Obito's way. He received a long look in return before the man averted his eyes. The nausea returned. Whatever the pact, Obito, despite not being the most loyal clan member, had also agreed to partake.
"Uchiha Sota and Uchiha Yui," Itachi supplied in a soothing voice. "It has been some years now since they disappeared."
Kakashi was truly sorry to hear it, and he said as much.
"Your condolences are appreciated," Fugaku replied, unmoved.
Kakashi understood this for what it was. Yet strangely, the Lord of the Uchiha didn't move to take the next step. Instead, he noticed Kakashi's empty cup, unfussed at how it got to that state with none to notice. Kakashi's tongue burned. "My son will provide you with more tea."
Itachi did just that, taking the silence at the table to feel around the cups and teapot with ease. As he handed the steaming cup to Kakashi, cradled in both hands, it was Kakashi that made the slight misjudgement, brushing his hand against Itachi's as he made to take the cup.
Itachi stilled. The tendons on the underside of his pale wrists bulged with tension. Kakashi almost had to pluck the tea from the younger man's hands before he remembered himself and let go. Concerned, Kakashi almost asked if he was alright, but then Itachi was moving again, fixing the same for Obito. Kakashi breathed, catching a whiff of sweat from the skin on Itachi's neck. His concern deepened. Something's happened. Whatever it was, it was Kakashi himself that brought it out. He pitied the young man. Kakashi was an unknown, trained killer in his home. This wasn't the same young ANBU that had once relied on the elder man as his captain. A sudden uncomfortable heat burned in Kakashi's breast. He kept himself from rubbing at it.
He turned to Fugaku. "Lord Fugaku, thank you for sharing this with me. Believe me when I say that I understand the implications and am sympathetic to them. I'm fully willing to liaise."
Fugaku stared. Something soured in his dark gaze. Strained and formal, he said "very well. If that is the case, then we will proceed with this liaison in front of the clan elders. You will be expected to state your case and the nature as to how you obtained this sharingan. I pray that we will come to a fruitful understanding." If the summer heat were not so all consuming, the room might have cooled at Fugaku's shift in tone, "it will be in the best interests of all that I not be forced to invoke clan law and that you will see reason before the elders. We will meet in the smaller of the clan halls at noon tomorrow to discuss this matter. I look forward to seeing you there, Hatake. Alone. In a show of sincerity that you so adamantly share."
Obito's head shot up, but he managed to hold his tongue. Kakashi nudged his knee with his own to keep it held. Fugaku rose to his feet, his joints audibly popping. He looked down his nose at Kakashi. "Please, I bid you and my cousin stay for more tea. You must excuse me; I have matters to attend."
Obito's expression was pensive as he watched Fugaku's back. The light stretched thin through the panes of the doors. As he disappeared down the hall, the evening's shadows claimed the folds of Fugaku's yukata.
Kakashi was a man of orders. On his word, he returned to the Uchiha compound the next day. There hadn't been much room for conversation after he and Obito returned to the apartment. After a short dinner, both retired to bed and their thoughts; Kakashi exhausted from training and Obito from his newly returned mission. Still, he had come to know Obito as predictable. Left to fester for hours, come the next morning, the other man was up early to share his opinion.
"Don't let them twist your words," Obito warned before they made their way across the village once again.
Their destination lay in the middle of the compound, nestled within a small garden of clustered flowers and worn rocks. The hall was simple as it was small, sized for only a chamber or two with shoji to slide back on every side. As the sun peaked and the heat was humid hot on their temples, none of the walls they could see lay opened. The cicadas wailed; a shrill sound that beat down with the sun.
"I'm not sure about this," Obito confessed as they neared, his mouth in an unhappy twist. "We've been locked into a corner too easily."
"We can handle it," Kakashi assured.
A servant saw their approach, stepping down from the shaded verandah. He bowed before he tiptoed back up and away, slipping inside to inform the Uchiha elders of Kakashi's arrival. His return was quick, and the man was audacious enough to shoo at Obito with a flick of his hands, pointing to a bench on the other side of the garden. Far enough away for a civilian to be out of earshot, even if those in the hall raised their voices. Obito grunted, irritated.
"Don't give these old bags of skin the time of day," he said, voice low and eye full of a glare for the plainly dressed servant. "You have a right to that eye."
Kakashi was struck by the hard conviction with which Obito spoke. "You could ask for it back, you know. It's your eye."
Obito returned an odd look. "It's not technically mine, even if it kind of is. Anyway, why would I? It was a gift." His expression turned contemplative. "I think I would've done the same," he said after a pause. "If I was in your Obito's position." Kakashi's heart flipped beneath his ribs.
Their sudden, awkward silence was rudely interrupted by the padded steps of the servant's approach. He bowed; his stiff, starched yukata folding into pleats. "You may come."
Obito clapped Kakashi's arm. "Go on, you're keeping the Elders waiting. They've probably melted into the floor by now."
After directing him to toe off his sandals, the servant brought him to an elegant inner chamber. A red cushion had already been laid for him at its centre, barely wide enough to keep his folded legs off the fresh tatami mats. The flax creaked as he settled before the raised platform of a small dais. Water-washed paintings lined several of the walls. Kakashi hadn't the time to inspect the artwork, quickly eyeing the white-robed figures he guessed to be the seven sages. From the corner of his eye, Kaguya the First stared down on him, her expression cold in its serenity.
"Hatake Kakashi."
The shoji door slid closed. On the raised dais four more figures sat, their posture proper and their chins raised. Fugaku was framed by three elderly creatures; two men and a woman. Behind, an enormous paper fan had been installed on the wall, the scarlet and white of it bright and crisp. Fugaku, the youngest and most familiar of the four sat tall and proud beside the drooping, wrinkled figures. Kakashi tried to recall if they were the same elders he had encountered in his youth but he found no recognition. There wasn't much to them. In truth, they all looked wildly similar, save for patches of white hair a little more scant on some heads than on others. The elderly woman wore a deep purple kimono in contrast to the dark blue of the men but it was as plain in accents as their robes. Despite the frugality, it was plain to see that the material of the garments themselves were thick and expensive. From their raised dais they watched Kakashi with keen, disapproving eyes.
Kakashi gave them each a polite nod before he bowed low, the grey strands of his fringe scraping the tatami. When he raised himself, the disapproving stares alleviated. If only a little.
Fugaku raised one of his hands in offer. "State yourself."
Kakashi cupped his knees. "I am Hatake Kakashi, son of Hatake Sakumo, sworn clan of Konohagakure and loyal to the Nation of Hi in life and death. I come here today in service to that allegiance as clan head and as shinobi."
"An allegiance of one," the old man at Fugaku's left hand rumbled.
Fugaku sidled the elder a look. "I am Lord Uchiha Fugaku, head of the Uchiha clan and foremost elder of our people," he said, ignoring his clansmen's comment. "To my left is Elder Keii; to my right Elder Idai and Elder Risei. We have requested your presence under the jurisdiction of the second clan law of Konohagakure. We will keep this meeting short and direct."
At the man's side, the Uchiha elders voiced their agreement, discontent unmistakeable in their expressions and tone. The lone woman sniffed, the sinking folds around her eyes creasing as she narrowed them further. "It is not so surprising to me that one from a clan with poor breeding and little in the way of power would resort to theft from their betters." Unexpectedly, the jab had a sting that pinged Kakashi, souring him.
"We shall also keep this formal, Elder Riseii," Fugaku reprimanded, leaving the woman to indignantly hush and tuck her hands into the large sleeves of her kimono.
Fugaku's steely eyes returned to Kakashi. "On behalf of the Uchiha clan, blood of the noble sage Indra who was blessed by Amaterasu herself, I request that you, Hatake Kakashi, relinquish the sharingan eye you hold back into the care of its birth clan. You are aware of how members of this clan have suffered both in war and... peace." The word hung crudely. "Given this and the historic pact the clans of Konoha swore themselves to — to respect the sacred techniques and blood of the other clans — to which the Hatake also swore, it is both a political and moral insult that you carry the Uchiha dojutsu. What say you, Hatake Kakashi?"
"With the utmost respect, Lord Fugaku, I refuse."
Anger. In the pull of the elderly men's brows and the harsh twist of the elder woman's mouth. Elder Keii on Fugaku's left peeled back to reveal browned teeth, ready to spit an insult. A sudden and loud clap of Fugaku's hands silenced him.
"The sharingan was a gift. Not stolen. Not taken," Kakashi continued. "Offered during my assignment within ROOT by a comrade. Lord Danzō can vouch for my involvement and records of the surgery involved in the transfer. Proof of this—"
The old woman laughed. "What proof? Lord Shimura has said nothing to us."
Kakashi tensed.
So, Danzō had said and done nothing. And Minato believed him. If true then they had both been made fools of. He didn't have time to reflect on Minato's belief in Danzō's assurances. Kakashi had to think quickly, and so he did as a shinobi does: lie.
"Proof is forthcoming, on the condition that the presentation will have witnesses." An insinuation laid bare: he didn't trust Fugaku or the Uchiha elders to respect any proof given, lest they hide it. "Forgive me, I had to have some kind of insurance, being called here without direct support."
He needed Minato. Kakashi wished he had the Sandaime at his side too, like last time. Or even if Danzō himself...
Ah, Kakashi realised.
So, that's what Danzō wants.
Time, then. Kakashi needed more time.
"Perhaps we could set up a more formalised meeting with both Lord Danzō and the Lord Hokage so that the situation can be explained—"
The "no" was near thunderous in the small chamber.
If Fugaku held any compassion at all, it was gone. Along with his patience. "If you will not cooperate with providing evidence of this gift then I will be impelled to invoke clan law. Again, I ask you, Hatake Kakashi, will you return the sharingan to the Uchiha?"
Kakashi swallowed. "I'm sorry, Lord Fugaku, but no."
"Very well. I hereby invoke the Fourth Clan Law of Konohagakure as acknowledged by the founding clans of Uchiha and Senju, and recognised by all shinobi clans that swore their loyalty hence. As stated by this law, the Uchiha have the judicial right to put you, Hatake Kakashi, on trial before the eyes of the clan. You must provide indisputable proof that the sharingan eye you hold was freely given. If you did not, as clan head I am obligated to remove the eye then and there, with the Uchiha as witness in the interest of protecting our heritage. Should you retaliate against the removal, by law the clan is given leave to execute you."
His last words fell like a hammer. Shit.
"You are not obligated to leave the grounds of the Uchiha compound until the day of the trial. You will be provided with a guest house and you will remain. You will not be permitted to relieve yourself of the grounds of the guest house. I will call for the trial to be in three days hence."
Kakashi's brow furrowed. Seems I've walked right into this one.
The pair of them were shown to a guest house, already prepared with one set of sandals and bedding clothes. It was a neat little property, one that looked as if it had housed no small amount of guests in the century since it was built. The interior was relievingly cool. If Kakashi focused, he could sense the sharp, pulsing seals hidden under the boards of the house. If he were to step outside the boundary of the house's immediate grounds, the military police would be warned. And there'll be a whole lot of displeased Uchiha shinobi heading my way.
He could feel Obito becoming more fidgety with every moment that passed in silence. Obito took one glance at the laid out tea set before his curious, nudging, and pointed looks returned to Kakashi. Guess that hasn't changed either. He shook himself and corrected the thought. "My resistance didn't satisfy," he said, giving the poor man some relief. "Fugaku is calling a clan meet."
Obito balked as Kakashi explained further, detailing in what he hoped was more casual than the drilled precision that was easy to fall back into when the pressure rode high. In the end Obito swore under his breath.
"They haven't called a clan trial like this in a while. Last one was Fuju who turned traitor. Fugaku had his eyes removed and he was beheaded." Kakashi grimaced. "By Uchiha law, every single member of the clan that's currently in the village has to drop everything and go. Since the old days, Konoha's even allowed them to be released from non-critical missions to go. Fuck," he swore again. "This is serious."
Like it wasn't before? Kakashi imagined himself in Fuju's place and fought down another grimace. If it came to that, Minato couldn't lift a finger unless he wanted the Uchiha to turn against him. And with how important clan law is to the clans, half of Konoha's shinobi clans might turn against him too. Kakashi folded his arms and watched the motes of dust settle that had been cast about with their intrusion.
"How many Uchiha are in the village?" He asked.
"About six hundred give or take."
Kakashi blew out a long breath through his mask.
"Yeah," Obito agreed, swinging one of the chairs around to seat himself on it backwards. He used the back of the chair to prop his arms. "So, how in the hells are we going to convince those old skin bags and the clan? We need proof. What in the hells is Danzō doing? He said he was going to—"
"It's fine, Obito," Kakashi said simply, cutting him off. 'Lord Shimura has said nothing to us'. The way the old woman's drooping cheeks had pulled away from her mouth in papery lines had looked almost gleeful. "I just have—" Behind the walls, the seals pulsed. Better not risk it. "—to state my case. And give details of my experience."
Obito followed his gaze to the old timber walls. "So you've been told?" He countered.
"It's been taken care of. There's been contact," Kakashi lied effortlessly. Leave it, Obito, he thought. I don't want you involved in this. Not with Danzō.
Obito narrowed his eyes. "So who...?" Obito shook his head. "Guess there's no point in asking, huh?" He grunted.
"It'll be alright," Kakashi assured. "I do know what I'm doing. Go home, Obito. The guest house is for me, not you."
Obito gave him a mock look that bore no heat. He inspected the simple kitchen and leaned back in his chair to appraise the small sitting room across the hall, complete with ageing tatami mats and faded velvet cushions. What he found didn't seem to impress him.
Obito picked himself up, not bothering to right his seat. "I'll pack some things and drop them off. Doubt you want to be wearing this crap." The look he gave the striped bedclothes was one of disgusted sympathy.
As he went to take his leave, Obito drew close, looking as if he was about to grasp Kakashi's arm, his hand outstretched. He made a fist to softly nudge his bicep instead. "I'll be in the stands of the clan hall. If things go south, I'll take us both into Kamui," he said with a grin. Something dark gleamed in his eye. A promise.
"Sounds like you have a death wish," Kakashi joked.
Obito's grin grew wider.
Obito's eventual return was brief at Kakashi's suggestion. The military police were irritable enough. He settled himself in for the long night. A meal was brought to his door by a teenage girl on the younger side with a larger, uniformed man at her shoulder. Kakashi could see that she was nervous and he bowed deeply, taking the linen wrapped package with his gentlest thanks. The complementary tea set came in use and Kakashi pondered his predicament over a small, steaming cup.
Danzō had said nothing. Minato had promised his assistance but the Hokage had said nothing more on the matter either. Had they both been blindsided by Fugaku suddenly taking control of the situation? Surely not. That was inevitable. He wondered about Minato himself. Surely there had to be more of an explanation that Kakashi was simply missing. Surely Minato knew what kind of a man Shimura Danzō was. Had Minato been fooled so easily? Kakashi wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. This isn't my world, he reminded himself. Perhaps there was some bond, some past agreement that would cause Minato to trust. The Hokage had seemed stalwartly confident. Whatever the case, it was painfully obvious to Kakashi now that nothing would be forthcoming until he showed up for his bit.
Perhaps that was inevitable too.
He waited until the sliver of moonlight had been curtained by cloud on the horizon and the stars were faint. Late enough that even the insects quietened and the lights of the village were near wholly doused. Keeping his chakra use low and using his hands to feel, Kakashi carefully slipped up to the roof. He kept his feet light on the old ceramic tiles, leaning low to use his hands to adjust around ones that were loosened in place. Coming to position, the man crouched beneath the cover of the ridge beam, hidden on the darkest side of the roofline.
Mah, it's been a while since I've thought of this. He practised first, recalling through his sharingan-gifted memory the hand signs a very young Tenzo had once taught him when Kakashi had almost become Danzō's man until the Sandaime had reversed the play. During his short time in Foundation, he had never had to use it, had only watched the ROOT agents that he followed slip through each sign as easy as breathing.
Once he was confident, Kakashi made the callsign: Mission report.
And he waited.
Minutes passed. Kakashi cocked his head to listen and cycled slivers of chakra through his nose. No movement. The grasshoppers stopped singing as though they listened with him. An old shinobi adage suddenly came to mind: Good shinobi see opportunities. Better shinobi take them.
So take this one, he dared with an unexpected note of bitterness that he quickly stamped out.
Minutes turned into an hour. Kakashi was ready to try a hawk when a figure silently stepped onto the roof's ridge beam dressed in black. The agent was covered, not a sliver of skin to be seen beneath the black cloth that folded around their feet to the blackened mask that covered their face. By the stature and build, Kakashi guessed a woman. He hadn't sensed her. Kakashi had never hated being at his current disadvantage more.
She said nothing as she watched him stand, knowing exactly which tiles he had placed himself on and how he had angled his body to hide behind the bounce of the streetlight.
"I'd like to speak on the agreement made by the Yondaime Hokage and Lord Shimura Danzō about myself."
When she spoke, the cloth around her neck kept its place, although she did not move her jaw to speak at all, "agreement?" She asked in a voice that was softly sweet. "My lord made no such agreement."
Kakashi's stomach sank.
So he had thought right, and Minato, to their misfortune, had been led on. Kakashi lifted his chin and steeled his words.
"I know the price."
Silence as the agent waited. Waiting for him to elaborate, or to reconsider? Kakashi did neither and kept the quiet.
"His name was Yūshi," she said, and then she was gone.