Kakashi's childhood home was not what Sakura expected. Not that she was sure what she had expected. But the main house on a large, empty clan property was not it. Clearly, at some point the Hatake's were many and important. Before the Second Shinobi War had decimated them.

It was sad.

What would Kakashi have been like if he'd grown up a major clan brat? If there had been aunties and uncles and cousins. Had his father been the head of the family? Was that why only he had survived the war? Would Kakashi have been more like Shikamaru? Quiet, reserved, almost frighteningly intelligent but softer and more friendly without so much pain and loss?

While he would never have the large clan, if they could save his father he would at least have him.

Kakashi knocked on the door and waited, his entire body rigid beside her. Deciding they might as well commit—even if it was suddenly awkward now that they were married—and wanting to remind him that she was with him, Sakura looped her arm around his. His sigh was jerky as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

After a reasonable amount of time with no answer, Kakashi tried again. When still no one answered, Sakura began to grow uneasy. He had been sure Sakumo would be there. Not currently being sent out on missions and with few remaining friends, his father barely left. "Did you get a chance to ask your grandmother what the date was?"

Before she could reply that no, she had not thought to do that, a panicked sounding yipping suddenly started from inside, growing rapidly closer. When it got to the other side of the door, Kakashi crouched. "Pakkun? What's the matter, boy?" He frowned, listening to the pups frantic barking turn to whimpering before standing and forcing the door open.

"Shit."

Heart in her throat, Sakura followed Kakashi through the house, the little ninken at their heels. She did not pay much attention to the rooms they passed through except to notice they were all dark. Not a single light was on in the whole place.

Abruptly Kakashi slid to a stop, throwing a door open but not going inside. He stood frozen, fists clenched and staring into the room. Oh no. "Karasu—" Standing on her tiptoes, Sakura peeked around him. His father lay on the floor in the middle of the room, blade in hand as he bled out. She gasped. They were too late. Then the crumpled heap that was his father made a choked, gurgling sound, one of his hands moving towards Pakkun who had squeezed between Kakashi's legs and into the room. He was still alive. "Move, dammit!"

Shoving Kakashi aside, Sakura dashed into the room, dropping to her knees by his side. There was so much blood, still leaking from the massive, jagged wound in his gut. Pulling chakra to her hands, she set to work putting him back together. "Shit!" He had torn clean through muscle, his mangled viscera beginning to slip out onto the floor. You can do this, Sakura. She worked fast, reknitting the damaged organs and cut arteries. Shit! There's so much blood, too much.

Bloodstained hands limply tried to push her away, a shattered, barely audible voice pleaded with her to stop, to just let him die.

Fury burned through Sakura then, replacing the fear and worry in a single hot flash. How dare he. She was going to save this selfish piece of shit, and then she was going to smack some fucking sense into him. "No. You don't get to die. You're not doing this to your son."

Kakashi was there somewhere, and distantly she could hear Pakkun's anxious whimpering, but she ignored them both. The only thing she cared about was saving this man.

Sweat ran down her neck and pooled uncomfortably between her breasts, but finally she sat back on her heels. She had done everything she could. "Karasu?"

He did not respond. "Karasu!"

Still nothing. Grumbling, she looked back over her shoulder to see him crouched in the corner, the puppy version of his best friend in his arms, whimpering and licking his fingers and chin. She sighed, gentling her voice. "Kakashi, I need your help."

Jerking at his true name, he blinked slowly at her. "Is he…"

"He'll live, but I need bandages. Are there any here?"

He seemed to think for a moment before standing and striding from the room. Half a minute later he returned with what she needed.

"Thank you. Here. Hold him up so I can wrap this around him."

When she was done, Kakashi sat back on his heels, both of them staring down at the groaning man. His voice was choked and raw and miserable. "Why… Why did you save me? I… I wanted to die." The deep, boyhood hurt she could see reflecting in Kakashi's eyes reminded her why she was so angry.

Her teeth ground as she leaned over his father. Grabbing a fistful of his ruined shirt, she slapped him hard across the face. "Because your son needs you, you selfish bastard! Do you have any idea what his life will be like without you?" Truthfully, Sakura didn't know many details about her sensei's early life, but one thing had always stood out. He had needed his father. With no one to look out for him, the village had thrown him into the war at the tender age of six. It was something that had always bothered her. "Don't you know how they'll use him if you're not here to protect him?"

His whispered defense only made her more angry. "He's going to be a shinobi. He's smart. He'll survive."

She slapped him again. "He's five-years-old. Practically a baby. He has no business fighting this war already, but they'll make him and tell him he's a genius as if that makes it okay. Don't you even care?"

He tried to turn away, tears rolling down his face to mingle with his drying blood on the floor. "Of course I do… more than anything. But… I can't protect him." His voice caught. "All I can do is bring him more shame. Even fighting a war… surely he'll be better off without me. I can't even…" His chest heaved with a sob. "I can't be what he needs anymore."

She scoffed, letting go of his shirt. "How could such a foolish man have fathered such a brilliant one? Do you honestly think he cares so much for the opinions of lesser shinobi and snack vendors that he'd rather you be dead? Surely, nothing you could have done would ever make him hate you so much."

Sakumo slowly faced her again, his dark eyes so like his son's filled with pain and confusion. "Who are you?"

She didn't know what to say. Hadn't Kakashi come up with a story? Did it matter anymore? Thankfully, before she could say the wrong thing, Kakashi interrupted.

Not her Kakashi. Not the grown man that had already lived this nightmare and so many others. The boy, small and still innocent of the blood and suffering she wanted so badly to spare him.

"Who are you? Dad?" He noticed the blood soaking the tatami mats and dashed across the room. "Dad!"

Sakura sat back on her heels so the little boy could kneel beside his father. His small hands picked up one of Sakumo's, tears pooling in his eyes. "Dad, what happened?" He reached out to inspect the bandages, glancing around at the bloodied floor and blade. To her dismay, it seemed he was smart enough to put the pieces together. His face fell. "Did… Dad did you…" Hurt and anger filled his voice as he too yelled at Sakumo. "You tried to kill yourself, didn't you?" Little fists struck his chest. "They're right, you are a coward!" His voice cracked as the tears finally spilled over. "How could you?"

Shame covered Sakumo's pale face as it crumpled. "I'm so sorry, pup." When he reached for him, Kakashi resisted at first—too hurt and angry to forgive him so easily. But it did not last.

Her Kakashi set Pakkun down beside them and quietly walked out of the room. After patting the little pugs head, Sakura followed. She found him standing in the still open front doorway, one hand gripping the lintel. He'd damaged it earlier, she realized. The whole door would need to be rehung.

At some point it had started to rain.

She didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. It occurred to her now that the fury had gone out of her that she may have overstepped. It wasn't her place to punish his father. If he didn't want to shout at him, what right did she have? Then again, she'd hardly given him the chance. Maybe she should apologize.

Embarrassed and hoping he wouldn't be upset, Sakura cautiously stood beside him. She looked up, tucking a lock of sweaty hair behind her ear as she studied his profile. He was staring out at the slightly overgrown front garden with unseeing eyes. As usual, very little of what he was feeling could be seen on the exposed half of his face.

That morning she had seen it all. She had woken to him watching her, amusement dancing in his eyes and turning up the corners of perfectly shaped lips. And then he had laughed and Sakura thought it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The whole of his face was so handsome and expressive.

What was his mask hiding now? If they really shared the intimacy of husband and wife, if she could reach up and gently slide it down, would his face reveal to her what he was feeling now?

But they did not truly belong to one another in that way, the hidden emotions of his face were not hers to gaze upon. That morning had been an accident, a memory she would treasure. Whatever he hid from her now, whatever he was thinking, they were friends and they were in this fucked up situation together. She might not know exactly what he was feeling, but she would be there for him if he needed her. Like he had always tried to be for her.

Reaching out, she slipped her hand in his. He expelled a shaky breath but remained quiet for several more minutes. Eventually, he peered down at her from the corner of his eyes. "I think… he would be upset if he heard you call him a baby."

Sakura ducked her head, hiding the embarrassed flush she felt burn across her cheeks.

He squeezed her hand. "You were right though."

She blew out a tense sigh. "I'm sorry, Kakashi. It wasn't my place to say those things to him."

He tugged gently until she looked at him again. "Don't apologize. You didn't say anything he didn't need to hear. And… I don't think I could have done it. Thank you, Sakura."

She nodded, a weak smile flinching around her face as she let her hand slip from his grasp.

The rain was letting up and the air smelled sweet and damp.

"How did you know how old I was when I started working?"

Her cheeks burned at being caught and she was thankful for the storm clouds and dim light. Not sure what to say, she thought about lying to him. She wasn't sure which story would feel like more of an invasion of privacy. "It's public record. When you first became our sensei—" she shrugged. "I was curious." Risking a glance in his direction, she found him watching her. "You passed the Chunin exams at six? It's as impressive as it is disturbing."

"Hmm." He looked back out at the garden. "They offered and I knew I was good enough. Took me a long time to understand that it shouldn't have been allowed."

She wanted to know more. She had so many questions. But this was not the time. "So, what do you want to do now?"

He hummed thoughtfully, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Well, we just changed something pretty significant and we haven't disappeared or woken up in an altered future. I guess that means this is either a dream or some kind of new timeline." Shaking his hair from his face, he glanced back inside."I'm not sure what that means. I guess we should probably introduce ourselves, but I don't think now is the time."

"Hm." Sakura was too tired to contemplate the possible complexities of their situation. "I'd offer to see what food they have and make them something to eat, but I think it will take more than one lesson with my grandmother to not burn rice." He snorted softly, probably remembering the few times he had had to choke down her cooking. "We could come back tomorrow?"

"Alright."

Kizashi, Sakura's father, was a cheerful, outgoing twenty year-old who had decided they would be friends immediately. He reminded Kakashi a little bit of Gai, and it made him homesick for their proper time. At least he still had Sakura.

Ume had inquired over dinner the evening before what kind of labor he usually did and not knowing what to say, he'd gone with a vague, 'whatever pays.' She had evidently interpreted that to mean he would be helpful to her son. As they weren't Konoha shinobi in this time—or dream, wherever they were—and they would need ryō eventually, he accepted her offer.

Not that he had ever in his life done anything remotely resembling woodwork. He was smart, a fast learner and, as Sakura had so eloquently pointed out the day before, quite strong. She was pretty sure he'd be fine. After all, they were hardly expecting him to be a master carpenter.

As it turned out, she was right. Kizashi mostly needed a second set of hands. They had recently lost their last employee to the violence outside the village walls. He'd gone to visit family and never returned. So Kakashi had spent the better part of the day hauling raw lumber, learning how to use a table saw and helping assemble a rather ostentatious chabudai.

The work was a decent distraction from everything he was still feeling after almost watching his father die again the day before.

When they were done for the day, they closed up the shop and headed back. On the way, Kizashi eagerly pulled him into a small corner bar for a drink. "I like to celebrate whenever I finish a project. Wouldn't have gotten it done today without your help."

There were two other civilians and a surly looking Chunin drinking together at one of the only tables but Kizashi paid them no mind, walking right up to the bar. "Two glasses and a bottle of saké for me and my cousin."

The man behind the bar gave Kakashi an unfriendly once over. "Cousin, eh? You don't look much alike, Haruno."

Kizashi chortled, pouring them each a drink. "Well, more of an in-law, I guess. He's married to my cousin—on my mother's side. They're new to town. Had to relocate on account of all the nastiness near the border." He handed Kakashi his glass. "Kanpai!" He threw his drink back, hissing through his teeth at the burn of the alcohol, and laughed again. "Always wanted to meet my cousin. My aunt left before I was born. Wish the circumstances were better, but…"

He shrugged as he refilled their glasses, ignoring the way the barman was still watching Kakashi. "Hmm. You remind me of Hatake Sakumo. Used to come around once in a while before he disgraced himself. You look like you could be his brother, even with half your face covered. What did you say your name was?"

Kakashi rolled the bottom of his glass along the bartop. "I didn't." He glanced over to see Kizashi watching him with interest. "Hatake Karasu." Addressing Kizashi, he said "I heard yesterday while we were out that I might still have family here. Hadn't realized when we got to town. We were planning to pay him a visit this evening."

The only shinobi in the place came up to the bar, reaching between them for another bottle of saké. "Don't waste your time. Everyone's saying it'll be his fault when we go to war again. Who knows how many better shinobi will die for his mistake. His name is dirt as far as most people are concerned these days."

Better shinobi. Kakashi's teeth ground.

Kizashi scoffed. "That's all shinobi gossip and tall tales. How can one man possibly be responsible for a whole war? I heard he botched that mission to bring his team all home alive. Must have decided the objective wasn't worth the lives of three good men. If all it took was one failed mission to start a war, it's been brewing for a while. Which any moron can see is true." He sucked his teeth before throwing back his second drink. "A man with a reputation like that… You give your whole life for the village, a real war hero he was—even had a cool name, the White Fang. But one mistake and they all but run you out of town." He poured himself another drink, frowning at Kakashi who still hadn't touched his second. "Glad I got out early. Don't have to make hard choices like that building tables, eh Karasu?"

Kakashi had not realized Sakura's father had ever been a shinobi. "Right."

The Chunin, clearly half drunk, scoffed. "What do you know about hard choices, civilian? You flaked out before you even made it this far." He smacked the front of his vest.

Kizashi's smile may have looked friendly to anyone else, but Kakashi had seen the exact same look on his daughter's face enough to know he was probably imagining sending the other man through the wall. "You're right. Lucky me, too. I won't be sent to the front with a team of kiddies fresh from the Academy." He smirked as something occurred to him. "The neighbor's kid tells me Sakumo's boy is some kind of mini genius. With a war on, there's no doubt they'll graduate him early. I'd watch what I say about his old man. Might be taking orders from him one day. If you live long enough, that is."

A grin crept up Kakashi's face as the Chunin glared at both of them before staggering back to his table. Throwing a few ryō on the bar, Kizashi nodded toward the door and they left. "Don't listen to him. If you're really family to the White Fang, well I've never met him, but I bet he could use family right now. If you want, I'm sure ma would be happy to send you with enough to share a meal with them."

"That would be kind of her."

His companion only shrugged.

As they walked on in comfortable silence, Kakashi's curiosity was piqued. Since the younger man had already brought it up, he figured he wouldn't be offended if he asked. "You were a Genin?"

Kizashi glanced at him, a self-deprecating chuckle filling the cool evening air between them. "Yeah… I graduated from the Academy when I was nine, right at the tail end of the last war. Thankfully they weren't so desperate as to send fresh Genin to the front, but it wasn't an easy introduction, that's for sure. I wasn't anything special, besides slightly better than average chakra control, so they weren't in any rush to promote me and then the war ended—thanks in no small part to your cousin."

He sighed and folded his hands behind his head. "I was set to take the Chunin exams after I turned thirteen, but my dad got sick so I decided to retire and take over for him. Best decision I ever made." He chuckled again but there wasn't any humor in it and it was several long seconds before he spoke again. "I've seen too many good, loyal people I knew treated like shit by the whole system. Your cousin isn't the first broken tool they've discarded as easily as garbage, and he won't be the last. But so many of our shinobi are just blindly obedient, loyal to a Hokage that doesn't care about them beyond how many enemies they can take out before they destroy themselves…"

He had always known he was nothing more than a tool for the Hokage to wield however they saw fit. It was his birthright, his duty as a shinobi of the Hidden Leaf. This wasn't the first time he had heard arguments against the shinobi system he himself had dedicated his life to—Obito's entire reason for starting a war had been one long, convoluted indictment—but tonight it felt jarring. Everything he had experienced in the last forty-eight hours: seeing himself so young, nearly losing his father for the second time, Sakura's passionate defense of his innocence… Especially after witnessing the way his father had been treated by the village, something he'd previously only had foggy memories of, both due to his age and how hard Sakumo had tried to keep it from him. If they hadn't been there the day before, he would have killed himself again and hardly anyone would have cared.

'He has no business fighting this war but they'll make him and tell him he's a genius as if that makes it okay…'

Sakura's words came back in a painful rush. That was exactly what had happened. He, a small child, had been thrust into the middle of a war along with dozens of other early graduates. He was a genius, and he had been capable, but he had still been six. After his own experiences, he knew sending young, unprepared children off as soldiers was obviously wrong. It was why he'd failed so many Genin before finally passing Team Seven. Still, he had been unfailingly loyal to the Hokage. That had been his choice.

But he could not deny there were problems with the system beyond the intentional use of children as weapons. How much of that was something that could even be changed? Surely Obito's plan wasn't the only way.

Realizing he'd been quiet for several minutes and wondering how someone so seemingly disillusioned would have allowed his daughter to become a kunoichi, he asked. "If you have a child of your own someday, would you let them become a shinobi?"

Kizashi frowned at him like he'd asked something exceptionally strange before humming thoughtfully and staring up at the sky for several steps. "I guess that would depend. Since we're about to get dragged into another war so soon after the last, I have no doubt the graduates will get younger and younger and the next Chunin exam will get pushed up with lower standards. If I had a kid now… my answer would be no. But if things were generally peaceful and it was something they really wanted…" He shrugged. "I certainly wouldn't allow them to graduate early, that's for sure. Nine was too young." Something seemed to occur to him because he looked up at Kakashi with an interested grin. "Why are you asking? Is Ayame pregnant?"

Kakashi nearly tripped over the air between his feet, everything in his brain screeching to a halt. "What?"

He barked a laugh, clearly having noticed Kakashi's flush of confused panic. "Is your wife pregnant? Are you asking about my hypothetical children because you're about to have one of your own?"

The image of Sakura, a few years older and heavily pregnant, snuck into his brain. He wasn't sure what to make of the confused feelings that inspired, so he ignored them. "No, no. We've only been married a few months and we're both civilians…"

Kizashi only smirked. "Right. I'm sure that's what you told my cousin. If a man that looks like you, belonging to a clan renowned for turning out extraordinary shinobi, is just a day laborer, I'll eat my own sandals."

"Hm." Kakashi made a show of eyeing the other man's footwear. "Let me know if the sawdust adds any flavor."