Author's note.
This story is an Inari OC-insert story. It just takes place in Kakashi's point of view because when I wrote this I had no plan, so I didn't know how I was going to write an introduction from the insert's point of view. That being said this story will likely get a few more chapters, or maybe not. Who knows?
Anyways please read and review if you like, but you don't have to. I'll probably update regardless.
Kakashi was convinced that the universe had a personal vendetta against him. Every twist and turn in his life seemed carefully orchestrated to be as inconvenient as possible. Regrets clung to him like a second skin—heavy, suffocating, inescapable. If fate had a sense of humor, it was a cruel one.
There were days, more often than not, when he longed for the cold detachment of ANBU. The missions had been brutal, the blood on his hands never quite washing away, but at least the solitude had been a comfort of its own. No lingering attachments, no fragile bonds waiting to be severed. But instead of the numbing silence of his old life, he now found himself saddled with the thankless task of being a jounin sensei. And really, was it too much to ask for a competent trio of brats who could at least grasp the concept of teamwork?
Apparently, yes.
Out of the three, only one showed genuine potential—though "potential" hardly meant much when all three of them seemed determined to either get themselves killed or drive him to an early grave. Still, despite their shortcomings, they were beginning to understand teamwork, and for that, he supposed he should be grateful.
If nothing else, he could have done worse than the loudmouth superweapon, the brooding avenger, and the hopeless fangirl. And yet, every glance at them was a fresh wound, a relentless reminder of everything and everyone he had lost.
Naruto was the hardest to look at. It wasn't just that he was the spitting image of his father, the Fourth Hokage, or that he carried the will of the woman who had once treated Kakashi like family. It was the way he acted—unruly, stubborn, unshakably optimistic. The same kind of reckless bravado that Obito had once possessed, the same unwavering determination that had gotten him killed. Naruto's every grin, every declaration of becoming Hokage, was an echo of a voice Kakashi would never hear again.
Then there was Sasuke. Kakashi had only needed a single week as his sensei to recognize the ghosts that clung to him, mirroring his own past with unnerving accuracy. The boy carried his pain with quiet bitterness, letting it fester into something darker. Kakashi had seen that road before. He had walked that road before. And he knew all too well that it led only to regret. But Sasuke was young, stubborn, convinced he knew best—just as Kakashi had been at that age. If history was doomed to repeat itself, then Sasuke was well on his way to becoming another cautionary tale.
Sakura, at least, was easier to bear. She was loud and prone to infatuation, which, if nothing else, provided some comic relief amidst the ever-present storm of Kakashi's thoughts. But then there were the quiet moments, the ones where she reminded him too much of Rin. The gentle way she looked after her teammates, the innate kindness she carried even when they didn't deserve it. It was a relief, really, that she wasn't a medic. If she were, Kakashi wasn't sure he could handle it. He had failed one medic-nin already—he wasn't sure he had the strength to bear the weight of another.
With all the barely suppressed trauma his team stirred in him, one might think he should have simply refused them outright. He had tried, in his own way. The bell test had been a deliberate attempt to weed them out, to send them back before they had a chance to dig their way under his skin. And they had failed. But in his infinite wisdom—or perhaps his infinite stupidity—he had given them a second chance. And miraculously, they had passed.
Now, here he was, watching history repeat itself, reliving his genin days from the perspective of a teacher instead of a student. Only this time, he vowed that things would be different.
This time, he promised himself a happy ending.
"No! No! No! Come on, old man! There's no such thing as a Hokage who's only ever pulled weeds and caught cats! Give us a better mission already!"
Predictably, it was Naruto who had the audacity to shout at the esteemed Sandaime Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, his voice echoing off the wooden walls of the office. The sheer lack of restraint prompted Iruka to immediately launch into an exasperated argument with the knuckleheaded shinobi, reprimanding him with the familiar mix of frustration and fondness that only a former teacher could manage.
Without looking up from his little orange book, Kakashi absently reached out and bopped Naruto on the head, a casual motion honed from weeks of necessary practice. "Quiet," he murmured, as if it were a mere afterthought. He knew better than anyone that Naruto's enthusiasm was uncontainable, but really, did the kid have to be this loud in front of the village leader? Then again, given how ridiculously fond the Hokage was of the brat, Kakashi doubted Naruto would face anything remotely resembling punishment.
And, as expected, rather than reprimanding Naruto, the Sandaime launched into a lecture about the organization of missions and the shinobi chain of command. Kakashi, having been a shinobi longer than his entire team had been alive, had no need for the refresher. Still, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of something unpleasant as he idly twirled a strand of silver hair between his fingers. It was a little disheartening to realize that in a few short decades, people would look at him and actually be right in calling him an old man.
Unsurprisingly, Naruto lost interest halfway through the explanation. In a manner that Kakashi could only describe as audaciously disrespectful—or perhaps just profoundly Naruto-like—the blond plopped himself onto the floor and began enthusiastically listing off his recent ramen consumption.
"I had this bowl of miso ramen last night, and I'm thinking tonkotsu ramen would be good for—"
"Hey! Listen!"
Hiruzen's voice cut through the chatter, an edge of irritation laced beneath his otherwise grandfatherly tone. The aged Hokage finally seemed to register that none of the genin before him were actually listening. A little sad, honestly, Kakashi mused. Feeling vaguely obligated to at least feign responsibility as their squad leader, he scratched the back of his head with a sheepish air.
"My bad," he offered lazily.
Naruto, utterly undeterred, crossed his arms and pouted. "Geez, old man, you're always lecturing me about something! But you know what? I'm not the same little kid who pulls pranks all the time! I'm a shinobi now, so I want a mission as great as myself!"
Kakashi resisted the urge to groan. The boy technically had a point—he hadn't pulled a prank since earning his headband, which was impressive in its own way. But Naruto still had an utterly unrealistic idea of what being a genin actually entailed. Kakashi sighed, feeling a headache creeping in. I'm the one who's going to get yelled at later, so can't the kid quit being such a bother?
Hiruzen hummed thoughtfully, his sharp old eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh? Since you're only a former prankster, I suppose I can assign you a C-rank mission."
Kakashi's eye flickered open slightly, surprise flitting across his face before he schooled it back into indifference. A C-rank? Already? His team was talented, but he hadn't planned on taking them on a mission above D-rank for at least another month—at the very least, not until they had more training. It wasn't uncommon for C-rank missions to unexpectedly escalate in danger, and for inexperienced genin, that could be the difference between coming home and not coming home at all.
"Really?!" Naruto shot up from the floor, vibrating with barely contained excitement. "Is it someone important like the Daimyo?! Or maybe a wise old man who needs our help in defeating an ancient evil?!"
Kakashi pinched the bridge of his nose. Where does he get these ideas?
"Calm down," Hiruzen chuckled, clearly amused. "No need to be so imaginative. I'll introduce him now."
On cue, as if rehearsed, the door to the right of the Hokage's desk slid open, and two civilians stepped inside.
Kakashi exhaled slowly, already feeling a bad premonition settling in his gut.
"What's this— hic? They look like a bunch of dumb brats."
The slurred remark came from the older of the two civilians standing in the doorway, his dark eyes sweeping over the assembled shinobi with blatant skepticism. He was a broad-shouldered man, built with the hardened musculature of someone accustomed to labor, his thick arms marked with the occasional scar that spoke of years of work rather than battle. His gray hair was short, unkempt, and paired with a heavy beard that only added to his rough, world-weary appearance. Dressed in a sleeveless V-neck shirt, an obi wrapped snugly around his waist, plaid pants, and black sandals, he gave off the air of a man who had long stopped caring about impressing anyone.
And in his calloused hand, gripped with the kind of familiarity that only came from habit, was a half-empty bottle of beer, which he periodically brought to his lips without pause for decency.
"Grandfather, what the hell is this!?" The second, much smaller figure spoke up, his voice high-pitched with indignation. "These damn brats look like they couldn't protect their own candy on the playground, let alone a grown man! Especially the little blond one with that super stupid face—seriously, you were better off just relying on me."
Kakashi had been expecting some skepticism, but the sheer audacity of the small boy's words was enough to make him quirk an eyebrow. It was amusing, really, considering the child couldn't have been more than eight years old, yet he spoke as if he were some seasoned warrior.
"You brat!" The old man turned sharply on the boy, scowling. "Didn't I tell you to mind your manners!? And quit swearing—that's not super cute at all, Inari!"
To emphasize his words, the older man—Tazuna, if Kakashi remembered correctly—reached out and unceremoniously smacked the top of the boy's head with an open palm.
Inari, undeterred, crossed his arms and shot back with a scowl. "Yeah, and I told you if you hit me again, I'd throw out all your booze, you old goat! Anyways, I'm not wrong! What kind of village sends a bunch of babies on an important mission like this?"
Naruto bristled immediately, his temper flaring at the insult. "What was that, you little—!?" He lunged forward, but before he could get anywhere near Inari, Kakashi casually reached out and snatched the back of his collar, holding him in place with no effort at all. The blond kicked uselessly in the air, arms flailing.
"Lemme go, Kakashi-sensei! He started it!"
Kakashi hummed, tilting his head slightly as if considering it. "Mm, no." He tightened his grip slightly for emphasis before glancing back at Tazuna.
The bridge builder, for his part, seemed entirely unfazed by the commotion. He simply took another swig from his bottle before speaking, his tone gruff but ultimately resigned. "All that matters is that you lot can do what I paid for. Since this team is all we've got, might as well introduce myself." He straightened slightly, an air of forced importance settling over him. "I am the super expert bridge builder, Tazuna. I expect you to provide me with super protection until I get back to my country and finish my bridge."
His words were spoken with weight, though Kakashi noticed how his gaze flickered, just for a moment, toward Inari.
Standard introductions followed, though Kakashi hardly paid attention, his mind preoccupied as he accepted the mission scroll from the Hokage. As expected, the mission parameters were simple—escort and protect the client to the Land of Waves. A standard C-rank. However, as Kakashi scanned through the details, something peculiar caught his eye.
The mission file made no mention of Inari.
Kakashi's lone visible eye narrowed slightly. Missions involving multiple clients always charged per person, yet the contract listed only Tazuna under the protection clause. Inari, on the other hand, was specified as a third-party presence. That was strange. If this were a clerical error, it was a convenient one—one that would conveniently save Tazuna money.
His gaze flicked toward the boy in question. Inari, still sulking from being reprimanded, was now energetically swiping at Tazuna's bottle of beer while his grandfather warded him off with one large hand. The kid looked like an ordinary civilian—small, messy hair tied into a long rat tail that reached his chest, clad in a simple sleeveless shirt over a yellow undershirt, black pants, and shoes. Nothing about him stood out as particularly unusual.
And yet…
Kakashi had long learned to trust his instincts. Something about this detail—or lack thereof—felt off.
But it wasn't his place to question it. If the Hokage had an issue with what looked suspiciously like an attempt to lower mission costs, he hadn't voiced it. Still, that didn't mean Kakashi wouldn't be keeping a close eye on the boy for the duration of the assignment.
His fingers brushed over the edge of the mission scroll before slipping it into his pocket.
'I wonder… Just who are you, Inari?'
Regardless, it seemed this trip to the Land of Waves would be more interesting than expected.