Chapter 13: a little sun

thank you so much for all the comments! there's quite a few of you with questions. i can't really answer any without giving things i DO have planned away... and i always write this on the spot. generally all in one sitting, off the top of my head. the path this fic takes is almost entirely random and in-the-moment rip HOPE U ENJOY

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

Kakashi clears his throat, pale, scarred fingers brushing the sheets pooled in his lap. Unkempt silver strands fall artfully across his bare forehead and his face is still hidden by the white medical mask Toshiro had put on him almost a whole week ago. The hospital window is open, sunlight streaming in and seals glowing around the sill to stop their voices from floating out of the room.

His one open eye tracks to the side lazily, "Jiraiya-sama stopped by to make sure we weren't planning on giving Naruto access to the dog contract."

Toshiro pauses in his peeling, apple skin sticky against his fingers. He's on break, and as he's been doing the whole week Kakashi has been stranded in the hospital, he spends it at Kakashi's bedside. It's probably the longest Kakashi has actually stayed in a hospital bed.

Perks of living with a Medic-Nin, you couldn't escape to lick your wounds at home.

"Why is that any of his business?" he says, unable to stop his frown. Technically, they couldn't have Naruto sign the contract, as he wasn't a Hatake. They never planned to have him do so. The boy was far too Uzumaki over all else. Still… it feels like there's something he's forgetting—

"Jiraiya-sama wants Naruto to sign the Toad contract."

The beginning hints of dread sink into Toshiro's heart. Glimpses of Konoha's history flash through his mind and it clicks together a second later. "He was Yondaime-sama's sensei."

The air is still. Kakashi's dark eye traces Toshiro's frame, catching whatever emotion his body language doesn't hide. "You're angry. That's unlike you."

"Is it?"

Kakashi tilts his head, eye flinty with the barest hint of amusement. "You know, I suppose it really isn't."

Toshiro doesn't smile. "I don't particularly care about what Jiraiya-sama wants."

"You never do anything by halves, do you?" The Copy Nin drawls, just on the dull side side of exasperation. "I didn't think you disapproved of the man so heavily."

Toshiro starts peeling the apple again with swift, practiced motions. "Does naruto know who he is?"

"No." Kakashi replies, eyeing the knife in Toshiro's hand.

"Then," A poisonous smile splits Toshiro's lips, eyes glittering a toxic shade of rose. The blade in his hand slices the apple into neat little pieces, juice damp and slick on his fingers and palms. "I don't care what he wants. If he thinks he can waltz into Naruto's life and start making demands he has another thing coming. Naruto will sign a contract that he decides to sign, if at all. He will learn whatever he wants to learn, from whoever his sensei is or whoever he wishes to train with. Jiraiya-sama, no matter his relation to Naruto's father, no matter his relation to Naruto, can not expect to face no consequences for his abandonment. Whether that abandonment was for good reason or not doesn't matter. Naruto is a very forgiving boy."

He drops the slices on the plate at Kakashi's bedside table, shaking his hands. "And that easy forgivenness is given because he's desperate for any kind of relationship, no matter the past offenses. I don't care if Naruto trains under Jiraiya-sama. I don't care if he signs the Toad Contract. I care that he decides it for himself, and because I care about him I'll be the one doling out punishment in his place."

"He's Naruto's godfather."

Toshiro lines the apple slices up in the shape of a blooming flower, then forcefully puts the plate in Kakashi's lap. The man accepts it without complaint. He doesn't move, doesn't take his eye off of Toshiro.

Wiggling his sticky fingers, Toshiro turns and enters the attached bathroom to wash his hands in the sink. He doesn't exactly know what he's feeling right now. Anger, perhaps? Oh, that's a given. But Toshiro thinks before he acts, stews in his own thoughts and plans every action out in his head. The words Naruto's Godfather ring in his mind and he can't help the twist of unease they inspire. As far as Toshiro is concerned, the man had forfeited the rights that came with that title when he refused to be present in Naruto's life for almost eleven years.

Maybe if Jiraiya had come last year, when Naruto was still desperate for anyone and anything, then the boy would have accepted Jiraiya with open arms. Now? Toshiro doesn't feel the slightest shred of sympathy for the man, no matter how well-meaning Jiraiya is. Interim Hokage for months and not once has he approached Naruto.

Not exactly painting himself in a good light.

Toshiro dries his hands quickly, relieved that the tacky feeling is gone from his skin. Kakashi is right where he left him, plate now empty and mask perfectly in place. The Copy-Nin eyes him carefully, the weight of his gaze heavy.

He sits back down in the chair. "Naruto has a family now. Friends. If Jiraiya-sama thinks he can enter Naruto's life with ease, he'll find that isn't the case. Not anymore."

Kakashi sighs heavily, shoulders slouching. He still has dark bags under his eyes and they stand out against the stark paleness of his porcelain skin. "I know."

For the life of him, Toshiro doesn't understand why Kakashi looks so downtrodden. So defeated. So — "Why are you empathizing with him?"

Heavily scarred hands clench, new lines of white and pink added after this latest mishap. "Because we're the same."

"What, both perverts?"

Kakashi splutters, blood flushing the visible arch of his cheekbones. "Toshiro."

He bites the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling. "I'm kidding. Kinda. You just sounded so serious. I don't see how you're anything like that guy."

"That guy, he says," Kakashi mutters under his breath, like Toshiro isn't disrespecting one of Konoha's legendary Sannin. For most, it would be a compliment to be compared to one of those three. (Er, maybe not if you're being compared to Orochimaru.) "I am serious. Naruto is…. A lot. It's like watching every mistake I've ever made take human form."

"You couldn't have cared for him so young," Never mind that fourteen wasn't neccessarily seen as young in their line of work. "I'm not blaming you for not taking custody."

"Don't." The lone dark eye squeezes shut, Kakashi's brow tense and forming lines of stress. "Don't make excuses for me. I'm no better than Jiraiya. I can't even look at Naruto some days, and he knows it too." He lays back, silver locks messy against the propped pillow. The moment hangs on a string. They're perched on an invisible wire, one Kakashi had strong-armed them both onto. "You seem to be under the impression that I intended on interacting with Naruto on my own."

The spark of unease in Toshiro's chest bursts into a full inferno, rushing and roaring in his ears until he can't hear anything else but that and the thump, thump, thump of his own heartbeat. It's not — It's not as if Kakashi and Naruto are related by blood. But family was not always blood, sometimes it was just sweat and tears. Sometimes you chose it. Namikaze Minato and Uzumaki Kushina were the only family Kakashi had after his father's suicide when he was a young child. He ate, slept, breathed, trained and existed by their sides for more years than he ever did with Sakumo. This didn't lessen his bond with Sakumo — because the man was still Kakashi's father, and tumultuous feelings on the matter aside, the man obviously still loved his father. No, forming a deep bond with another was something else entirely.

(The human heart had an infinite capacity for love.)

Kakashi should have felt a kinship to Naruto. Should have felt the need to protect the boy like a cousin, nephew, younger brother. Now, Toshiro understood grief. It took basically two decades for him to reach the point he is now, entirely accepting of the person he is.

It's conflicting to think about, the idea that Kakashi would have let Naruto stay out of his life for however long until his untimely death in the field. (Because it's obvious that that is how Kakashi expects to go.)

He doesn't know what to feel. Angry on Naruto's behalf? On Kakashi's? Angry at the shinobi system as a whole for fucking up every poor sod who fought for Konoha? Toshiro doesn't like being angry. He's so tired of a world filled with hatred. Of violence and dead children or children who grow unloved and unsheltered because idiots in charge don't understand basic kindness.

These confusing, torrential emotions swirl in his chest until they become an amorphous blob. Impossible to pull apart or distinguish individually. It sits like a rock at the base of his throat and every breath feels like a great, heaving effort. He looks at his hands, limp in his lap.

I forgot.

Kakashi is not infallible. The amount of times he ends up in the hospital should be proof enough of that. But the man has been placed on a sort of pedastal in Toshiro's mind, as he's only ever been exposed to the Copy Nin's kindness — his self-doubt and self-hatred, his inner pain and capacity for dry, mocking humor, he's dedication and sincerety.

His desire to do the right thing, even if —

Even if.

I forgot he was human, too.

Even if he's always a little late.

Toshiro reaches out and clasps his fingers over those clenched, litchenburg scarred hands, pulls them up without meeting resistance and holds them to his chest. Kakashi's torso twists slightly to stay with the motion, near-covered features very still and very blank.

"And now?" He asks, "Are you that same man?"

Kakashi's fingers twitch in his grip, pressed to cloth covered skin hiding a bursting heart.

"Do you regret it?" He pushes, boring into that single open eye with enough intensity to spark a flame.

Like a great dam has burst, Kakashi's shoulders sag forward, his head bows low. Both eyes shut, scrunched tight as if he's in pain. Maybe he is. Not every wound is of the flesh. "No."

"I think you needed help." Toshiro exhales, and Kakashi's hands turn on their own and press flat against his chest. He lets them. If the steady beat of his heart beneath Kakashi's palms grounds the man, so be it. "A push. We are shinobi, the tools of the village. But we are people too, and people stumble. They get scared of the dark and grow clumsy with pain. They make mistakes." He pauses, his hands a loose grip on Kakashi's lithe, deceptively powerful wrists. He feels the barest fluttering pulse through the long-sleeved shirt the man wears. "You make mistakes, and it's up to you whether or not you learn from them."

Weakly, Kakashi lets his dark eyes squint open, "How is it that you always know what to say? Do you practice these speeches?"

Toshiro huffs a soft laugh, "Only for you."

Kakashi's fingers curl slightly against Toshiro's chest, bunching the thick Medic-Nin uniform. "I'm glad I met him. Even if it hurts."

"Like pulling baby teeth."

The silver haired man barks out something that sounds like a laugh, though far too raw. "A little like that, yes. I just… don't see how I can be forgiven so easily."

"Because you were alone, too." All those years spent in ANBU, pulling away from everyone — he's heard the stories. He's seen the way Kakashi's friends look at him when they go out for food or drinks. They watch Kakashi like he's a bomb. Like he's a mystery. Like he's a tower and they can't figure out where the door is, so they remain peering up and up — Kakashi is like Rapunzel, that's where this analogy is going. Except he put himself in that tower. He built those walls himself, brick by brick, until he was so encased and so high off the ground he didn't have to worry about seeing other people. And if he didn't see other people then he didn't have to care for them. He didn't have to hurt again.

Toshiro knows this.

He knows this because Kakashi still visits that damn Memorial Stone for hours. Kakashi stares in silence and solitude and regret, pouring his bleeding, open soul into the ground like he's desperate for it to mean something. Anything. Hoping the ground might open up beneath him if he stands there long enough.

"You lost everyone. Jiraiya still has his sensei and his team — forget Orochimaru — If anything, Jiraiya should have taken responsibility for you, if we're thinking about this from a Team Hierarchy standpoint. Both you and Naruto sank, and he left."

"He has a spy ring to run."

Toshiro tightens his grip on Kakashi's wrists just slightly, enough to emphasize the seriousness of his words, "Frankly, I don't give a shit. It's called visiting. Sending letters. Keeping in touch. Finding a suitable replacement guardian for Naruto instead of throwing him to the wolves. If Jiraiya, the Legendary Toad Sage, is legally his godfather and therefore his legal guardian, I find it highly unlikely he wouldn't have been able to sway the Council even a little bit to improve Naruto's living conditions. That's why I'm mad." The following exhale is sharp and heavy. Being angry is so exhausting, even if it's for the right reasons. Calm down. "Besides, Naruto has already forgiven you. He's in a much better place now, and the fact that you can tell him about his mother — that you apologized for not telling him sooner — it's all the incentive he needs."

"Maa, it's rare to see you so worked up." Kakashi's eye squints and glimmers in a way that tells Toshiro he's smiling. For real. It sends an overwhelming tsunami of relief through him. "This side of you is pretty interesting, too."

Huffing a laugh once more, Toshiro shakes his head fondly. "I'm glad one of us thinks so."

At that moment, he remembers the position they're in. Leaning back, he shifts his grip on Kakashi's wrists, letting the man's hands slide. Kakashi's fingers drag against Toshiro's shirt for a half a beat longer than neccessary before he takes the hint and moves his hands back. The motion makes Toshiro's head feel fuzzy and his ears hot.

Kakashi pulls himself together — straightens his spine from the back-breaking hunch he'd fallen into, lets his shoulders roll comfortably, drops his hands in his lap — and squints his eye once more. This time it edges on the usual aloof, mocking crescent. "I can't wait to see the other sides you have hidden away."

"I received Pakkun first. Truthfully, it happened so long ago I can barely remember signing the contract myself. I just know it was at a very young age. Now, I can't say that it'll make much of a difference — but be prepared for it anyway." Kakashi lectures plainly, hands in pockets.

They're in the front yard, the sprawling Hatake Compound at the children's backs as Kakashi stands at the bottom of the steps to their house. The sun has about an hour before it hits the edge of the world, but it's already turned the sky into spun gold and sherbert.

All the kids sit quietly — the Hatake kids, Naruto is staying at Sasuke's tonight — Touma and Haruki fidgeting with barely repressed energy. Asuhi is hovering on the engawa, appearing vaguely torn. She hasn't decided whether or not she wants to sign the contract with her siblings. The Hatake Clan, during the height of their power, were known for their contract with dogs, their white-silver hair and the white glow that spun from any conductive metal they put their chakra into. They were pack animals. The kind of people who willingly offered their blood to be accepted into one, and therefore received blessings in return. The Hatake and the Dogs of the summoning world had a symbiotic relationship. They worked together, grew together, even died together.

"I'm only going to explain this once, so listen carefully." Kakashi continues, eyeing the kids without any sign of the usual veneer of disinterest. "You each get one dog. From there, it's up to you to build your own pack however you see fit. Just like I have my eight nin-dogs, you could all end up with just as many, or more. The Dog Realm is filled with them, and during your training and throughout your years in general, it will be your responsibility to form bonds with nin-dogs you meet while there."

The kids look on with rapt attention, some of them beginning to shift as excitement increases. None of them move to speak, however. (Kakashi can be pretty vindictive.)

"You're all lucky that there was a recent litter born, young enough to imprint. I'll be summoning them here today and it'll be up to you guys to get to know them and find the pup that suits you. Once you've imprinted, you'll sign the contract in blood. The exchange will lead to changes." Kakashi taps his mask, where his mouth is. "It's better to do it younger, when you still have all your baby teeth. Makes it less painful to have a mouth full of fangs grow in. Almost all of you still have baby teeth. Chiasa, your transition might be more painful, or you won't get teeth enhancements at all."

Chiasa nods solemnly, her strawberry blonde hair a halo of fire in the beginnings of sunset. "I understand."

Kakashi clears his throat and shifts, looking bored. "Same goes for the rest of you older ones. Just be wary." Then his eye shifts into the mocking, crescent moon shape, "Don't worry if your teeth start falling out. You'll probably look stupid for a few days, but they grow in fast."

A collective groan — most of them had already gotten past the embarrassing two front teeth absence and weren't looking forward for going through it again, even if only for a few days. Takehiko was currently missing at least four teeth, and Asuhi lost one just the other day to bring her total to two.

Toshiro really doesn't understand how Konoha's systems allowed for kids with gaps in their teeth and sore gums to fight on the front lines. Where was the victory in cutting down an enemy with a mouth half-full of baby teeth?

"Your sense of smell, hearing and sight improve pretty drastically. It'll take some time to get used to. You'll learn to deal with it, or we'll buy sensory dampening seals. I don't think I need to stress the fact that you never wear sensory dampening seals or sprays while in the field. I suppose the only other thing we'll need to talk about …. are the Pack Instincts. It's hard to explain, but you'll feel it once it happens. We'll train for a bit to help get you under control. Taking on the instincts of a predator isn't something to take lightly."

"We're not gonna be like the Inuzuka, are we?" Touma asks, waving his arms wildly. "I don't want to be like Kiba, he's annoying!"

Kakashi rubs the back of his neck. "Not exactly, though there are similarities. The Inuzuka take on more animalistic qualities, hence the eyes and nails, but their teeth usually stop at elongated incisors. Hatake mouths are a little more... dangerous, you could say. That aside, we share the same kind of sensory enhancements — and similar instincts. The biggest difference between our Clans is that the Inuzuka formed a bond with creatures that roamed this realm, and our bonds are forged in blood with creatures from an entirely different one. Inuzuka nin-dogs are not summoning animals."

"Cool." Haruki whispers under his breath.

"I guess that's it for now." The Copy Nin shrugs, then rubs at his masked nose. "Phew. That was more teaching then I ever want to do. I'll summon the litter now, so get ready. There's ten of them to choose from."

Kojika trembles in her spot, fists shaking up and down in excitement. "Puppy, puppy!"

Kakashi bites his thumb through his mask and slams his palm down on the grass before him. A plume of thick smoke bursts from the point of impact, along with a faint popping sound. It's shortly followed by many excited yips, too high-pitched to be considered barks.

When the smoke clears in the next second, it reveals a pile of ten puppies, five with fur as white as snow, four a similar shade of tan, and one a reddish color. All possess tails that curl. They were positively adorable with all their puppy fluff and miniature limbs.

"It's a litter of Kishu Inu," Kakashi says, though it's likely not heard over the squeals all the kids let out. The puppies are ungraceful and adorable, stumbling over each other and their own legs. Within seconds the two groups have collided and it's so eye-searingly cute that Toshiro has to go back inside to nab a camera.

He ends up taking at least fifty pictures.

"Is there anything special about the Kishu Inu?" He asks Kakashi, when the sun is almost slipping completely down and they've turned the front lights on to illuminate the yard a little. The bonding session between the kids and puppies continues. Even Asuhi joined, giving in to the cute little dogs. As a Hatake she had a right to the contract, shinobi or not. Couldn't go wrong with a dog anyway, right?

"Hm," The man doesn't glance up from where he's seated himself casually on the engawa, Icha Icha book in hand. "It's a good pick. They're known for loyalty and endurance. Stealth-oriented hunting dogs. Perfect for a shinobi."

"Stealthy, huh?" Five of the puppies are almost blindingly white.

Kakashi just hums. "Mmhm."

"How long does this usually take?"

"However long it has to, I guess. Like I mentioned, I don't exactly remember my own initiation." A page is turned, "But if you know, you know. So I doubt it'll be too long."

"Hm." Toshiro looks down at the children and puppies with soft eyes, heart warm at the side. In the warm night air, with the sound of laughter and happiness all around him — Kakashi at his side — he feels whole. "Hey, look — I think Sai is smiling!"

Sai, Gin, Touma and Takehiko end up with puppies with snowy fur. Chiasa, Kojika and Haruki all match with the little puppies that Kakashi called sesame, which was a funny way of saying they had some shade of tan fur with black tipped hairs. Asuhi, as if by fate, ends up with the one puppy with russet, borderline burnt orange fur. The red one.

(She is Hatake, but she is also Uzumaki, and that will always show in her blood no matter which path she takes.)

They can't take the puppies to school, there's too many and they aren't properly trained for the public yet. But the eight puppies chosen stay at the house, watched by Kakashi's nin-dogs. They won't return to the Dog Realm for many months, not until the bond between each dog and child is fully formed. Hopefully around month two they will be able to attend school with the kids. Sage knows poor Pakkun will be exhausted by the time that comes.

"Haven't seen you around recently." He takes a sip of his tea, a hearty chai. It's delicious, but doesn't beat his all-time favorite flavor: mint.

Inoka sighs and twirls a strand of her long blond hair, "Got pretty busy. We both did." She shrugs her shoulder. The left one. Huh, no shit.

He takes another sip. "I hope you're taking advatage of those handy seals." The ones that altered hair color, preferably.

"Who do you think I am?" she snorts, "Hatake?"

Laughing, he puts his tea cup on the table before he spills it. "Fair. I suppose it's rather redundant considering our line of work, but be careful."

"It'll be fine." Inoka grins, and it looks oddly familiar. "I know some hot-shot Medic-Nin who can patch me up if things get hairy."

Toshiro squints at her, "Have you been hanging out with Shisui?"

Inoka takes a long sip of her tea. Jasmine. Her eyes flash at him mischieviously over the rim of her cup.

"No," he gasps, "Who approved that?"

Shisui? In ANBU? The man was about as subtle as a brick — but a good shinobi, no doubt. Powerful, too. One of the best of their generation. His exuberance did a lot to draw attention away from how dangerous and ruthless he could be. (He holds the name Shunshin no Shisui for a reason, and it's in the Bingo Book for the same one.) Mission-Shisui was likely drastically different from Home-Shisui. Toshiro knew how that was.

After all, he projects kindness and is rarely seen without a smile — but holds no compunction about slitting a man's throat, stuffing himself under dead bodies to hide, or using the corpses of enemies to throw a tracker off his scent. You learn to be cruel during war. You learn to be smart.

Then you come home and turn into the version of yourself you want to be. The one who doesn't spill entrails with the flick of a kunai or form a bubble of water around an enemy to drown them in silence.

"Lotta space to fill in the boots your man left behind." Is what she says, casual and nonchalant. It's said with such normalcy that he almost doesn't notice the wording.

But he does.

And Inoka is anything but stupid.

"He's not my man." He manages to say, putting his hands in his lap to hide the subtle tremble. Don't show anything. Don't show anything.

"I don't care about that, Toshiro."

He looks up at her, heart in his throat. He hadn't even realized he'd looked down and away to begin with. "What?"

No one is listening to their conversation. No one is even close by. That doesn't stop the paranoia he feels — they're in a ninja village, spying was what they did best, right next to murder.

She fiddles with her cup a bit, the only sign of nerves she will ever show. "That fact that he's a...he. You know most shinobi don't, especially the younger generations. Don't be nervous just 'cause I'm in a clan. I promise I don't share the same stuffy views of the old coots that whine in Inoichi-sama's ear all day."

Clan Elders weren't known to be particularly progressive, no matter where they came from.

"Okay." He says, finding his voice. "Okay. He's still not my man."

Inoka squints, disbelief curling over her pretty features. "Oh, dear. You're serious."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Anxiety pulses in his gut. Has he been too obvious in his affections? Granted, this is the first crush he's had his entire second life, so he might be a little rusty at the pine from a distance thing. "Have people been noticing that I—"

"Not really. Well, I say not really….uh, sorta? Maybe. Or at least the Yamanaka know, er, assume? We all assume you're….together. It's why no Yamanaka admirers have confessed their undying love to you lately. They're just moping and stewing in their heartache, cursing Hatake — the usual unrequited deal."

Toshiro's mouth feels dry. He can feel his own heart beating in his chest. There's a faint ringing in his ears. An entire Clan. It's been...weeks since a Yamanaka stuttered through a confession. They've probably known for weeks that he's —

That he's gay.

And they acted completely normal about it. As if nothing had changed. (Because nothing had, Toshiro was still the same.)

He relaxes and picks up his tea once more. The chai is almost calming as it bursts across his tongue. "I see."

"Like I said," Inoka's pupil-less azure eyes meet his dazed pink, "No one cares. You're still Aikawa Toshiro-sensei to us all."

His lips quirk up, "Even the Clan Elders?"

Inoka's face immediately shifts into a scowl, her nose wrinkling like she smells something particularly distastedul. "No one gives a shit about what they think. They're this close to kickin' the bucket and I'm not gonna cry about it."

"Shouldn't speak ill of the almost dead, Inoka." He teases.

She waves an errant hand, "Then they shouldn't have spoken ill so much while more alive. Forget about those assholes though, tell me about the puppies!"

Toshiro chuckles, brushing a loose strand of ashy hair behind his ear. "Well, for starters, I've never been more exhausted in my life! I don't know where they get all their energy from, messing around at odd hours of the night—"

honestly i lost track of everyone's ages so i had to go back and read my own fic loltoshi: 20kashi: 24itachi: 15 (this is my "hokage at 16 counter" lmao)also Shisui has actually been in ANBU for some time now, but he's actually good at hiding his identity. too bad toshiro can read inoka really well and she wasn't able to keep the secret in her excitement. (not that toshiro would ever betray the info, but he thinks Shisui is a NEW recruit, when really he's been in it for like, over 7 years.)