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Chapter Text

It all started a month back, when Itachi appeared to have forgotten that he is a sweet, gentle child who abhors killing and always looks to be a hairsbreadth away dissolving into masochistic rituals of remorse.

No, well, maybe it all started when the already quiet child became functionally non-verbal, flinching at every gentle word or gesture like they’re knives aimed straight at his eyeballs.

Well. Maybe it all started when Hatake Kakashi, ANBU Captain Hound, neck-deep in a prolonged suicide spiral, was handed a boy of ten for his highly specialised assassination and frontline combat squad. That seems like an appropriate beginning. It all started when Hatake Kakashi, fresh off of a particularly nasty case of a cracked Shinobi serial killer who brutalised an untold number of girls and boys across the Land of Fire, took one look at the sleek, well-bred kitten of a boy and something in him sprained. You will keep this boy alive, Shinobi, got scorched into his mindscape. You will keep him alive, which means you will keep yourself alive.

And so, one Hatake Kakashi stumbles out of his own terminal depression, one step at a time.

Chapter Text

There was something—off about Itachi these days. If Kakashi wasn’t Kakashi, he’d say the boy was an imposter. Since Kakashi has the best nose in the village, plus a Sharingan eye, he doesn’t, but—

There must be reasons behind his baby-ANBU’s sudden shift in temperament. Itachi has been Kakashi’s for about six months. Not a week ago, he would have spent post-mission debrief trying to downplay how traumatising this all is for his sweet baby mind. Kakashi can sympathise. Abstractly. Personally, he’s fully adrift.  For all the drama in his life, Kakashi had not once struggled to murder anyone and anything that he was pointed towards.

That doesn’t mean he and his haven’t been trying try to help their little Crow, as he got eaten by his moral dilemmas. They failed, most certainly, but they sure as fuck tried.

Now? Now, Itachi flits from enemy combatant to enemy combatant, tiny figure even smaller than Kakashi had been, back when, slitting throats and stopping hearts without a single beat of hesitation. Even more alarming is his Chakra. His scent. Instead of improving, the kid rapidly deteriorates and Kakashi finds he can’t really do nothing while he fades away.

A week after deciding to handle this properly, he eliminates most other reasonable explanations and resigns himself to the upcoming mess. He’s had a few, these past months. Honestly, sometimes it feels like this village can’t do anything except bludgeon Kakashi into fixing their mistakes.

Because they can’t have nice things, Itachi pin-points the precise moment Kakashi’s behaviour shifts from mission-oriented concern into outright hovering. Kakashi hadn’t, admittedly, known how his tiny teammate will take it, but he thought he had the rough shape of it. That’s your first mistake, Hatake. Honestly, and you call yourself a Shinobi?

No, instead of confusion, relief or even wounded pride, Itachi all but collapses into himself, scent spiking with shame and pain and—loneliness? No, not loneliness. Kakashi inhales deeper, focusing. Despair?

What the fuck? Alarm bells ring in his mind, rusty and un-missed. Itachi is a tough kid. He’s killed people, he played bait for slavers and murderers and rapists. He’s been through shit and never once smelled so—Well, if there’s anyone whose nose is finely calibrated for suicidality, it’s Kakashi fucking Hatake.

“Come here, kid,” he says, scruffing the little nightmare. “I need some tea for this.”

Itachi sags into the hold with a depressing—depressed—ease. Fuck, but Kakashi really needs to instil some sense into him. Itachi is a pretty, gentle kid. He really shouldn’t be letting adults drag him anywhere, much less their apartments.

He puts it on his Care and feeding of feral Uchiha list and sets it aside. Not the back of his mind, there be monsters. The side will do, next to the reasonably terrible shit like Tenzō and Sarutobi and all the years Kakashi spent willingly starving to death. 

“Alright, pup,” he says, depositing the silent pre-teen into the soft part of his shitty sofa. “Wait here.” He throws a blanket at the boy—who still hasn’t said a word. Worrying. “Food too.” What food, fuckwit? You eat in the ANBU cafeteria or in Akimichi restaurants. Your apartment has first-aid kits and maybe an extra pair of slippers. “One moment.” He opens the window and takes a deep breath. “Genma, I know you’re there. I’ll pay you whatever you want for a meal for—” How much do Uchiha pups eat? “Five civilians, say?” That should do it. Kakashi eats for ten, and he has his own bloodline limit, plus half of Itachi’s. He’s not a hundred per cent on the calculations, but five should be close enough.

“Fuck you and your money, Hatake,” comes the faint reply. “I’ll take a trade. Teach me that lightning trick and we’re square.”

Lightning— “I have the pup staying over,” he says, fully scandalised. “Fuck’s sake, keep it clean.” Trust Gen to only care about sex-Jutsu, fuck.”

“Oh. Sorry ‘Kashi. Sorry pup.” At least he sounds honest. “Then consider it an apology for mouthin’ off, hey?”

Kakashi sighs. He’ll write down the details for the lightning trick—Or demonstrate, honestly. “I’ll stop by your place sometime. We’ll discuss it.”

Gen laughs, easy and relaxed. If Kakashi didn’t know him as well as he did, he wouldn’t have heard the pent-up undertone. Man, he really shouldn’t be talking about this in front of the kid. Then again, he is ANBU. He’s seen worse.

Okay, that’s food. He inhales once, then once again just to make sure. Itachi is—grieving? Okay?

Horkew-sama preserve him, but he isn’t qualified for this. He only wanted to—What did he want, precisely?

The pup surviving long enough to have pups of his own. That’s easy. Kakashi wasn’t thrilled about being given a baby, but he accepted it and it is now his. He never once lost a teammate—Okay, yeah, no. He never once lost an ANBU teammate. Yeah, that’s better. Duty of care covers self-murder, he’s pretty sure.

“Tea.”

The kid eats everything that’s placed in front of him with precise, choppy movements that read as despondent to Kakashi. It could be his scent that’s clueing him in. His blank little face emotes about as well as a rock.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it?”

Itachi drags heavy, dull eyes his way. His scent spikes with despair.

“Fair enough.”

He’s been passing his checkups with flying colours, which, yeah, means fuck-all. Kakashi has been passing those back when he wanted to murder the Sandaime, everybody in the village and then himself. A concussed nin-goat could pass an ANBU mental health check. Kakashi doesn’t even have anybody he could talk to about this. The Uchiha as a whole see Kakashi as a sort of romantic, tragic moron, driven to a prolonged suicide by his fallen teammate’s bloodline limit. They likely won’t listen to anything he has to say. Shisui might, but Shisui is madder than a box of frogs, never more than half a breath away from setting himself on fire to protest the cruelty of the uncaring universe.

Hmm. What helped Kakashi when he was in similar straits?

“Alright.” Wow, that was easy. Good work, Kakashi. “Let’s talk summons, boy-o.”

Uchiha Clan has a decent selection of Summoning Contracts available for their Shinobi, Clans of Noble Spirits that have built decent relationships with the Clan and accept a professional exchange. They fight for the Clan and get various benefits in return. None of them form especially close bonds, however, which kind of defeats the point of the exercise.

“You know the hand-seals,” he instructs, happy with the volume of despair already replaced by confusion. He can handle confusion. Confusion is great. It forces you to think and therefore buys you enough time for depression to stop nudging you into the nearest sharp edge. “Go for it.”

“You want me to summon blind?”

Alright, ignore the raspy voice. So what if the kid sounds like he hasn’t spoken in a month? Whatever. It’s whatever. “Precisely.” He gives him a treat. It worked on Pakkun.

Itachi stares at the strawberry for a long moment. Kakashi adds Eating disorder question mark question mark question mark to the list. With careful movements, Itachi seals the strawberry away into the tattoo he should in no way have on his body. Body modification question mark exclamation mark goes to the list.

“Alright.”

Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to give Kakashi a kid? Man.

To his complete lack of surprise, Itachi pops away and back in record time. He is accompanied by a—rodent of some kind? Big-ass rodent, too, easily the size of a medium bear, with a wide square snout and calm eyes. The Summon drips with zen so thick and deliberate that Kakashi is struck with the realisation that his plan is a resounding success.

He had expected some sort of a feline, maybe, or a winged animal. Maybe a swan? Nope. A big, fat rodent gives Kakashi a disinterested glance and bodily flops into Itachi, arching its short neck and demanding belly scratches. Itachi obliges, eyes filled with—Well, whatever it is, it’s not despair, so Kakashi will take it.

Come to think of it, this is the least depressed Itachi has for a long while. Huh. Maybe the village should have given Kakashi a kid if this is how well his solutions turn out.

“Yo,” he says, realising neither of the two clowns will explain unprompted. “How about some introductions?”

“This is Lehi,” says Itachi softly. “He is a kapibara.”

Kapiwhatnow?

Never mind.

“So it worked out?”

Itachi sends a quick, unreadable look his way. Even his scent is muted. Expectant, maybe? Evaluating? Kakashi feels a headache coming on. “I signed their contract.”

“Perfect.” That’s—done, then? Kakashi—solved it? The spirit is obviously some sort of emotional support summon, there’s no way that fat ball of fur and chill is going to be of any use in a fight. Since Itachi is a perfectly lethal little monster, that works out perfectly. Much like Sakumo, pretty fucking soon the only way to kill Itachi will be to get him to kill himself. Job—done.

Job not done. Even Lehi The Fluffy Rodent isn’t enough. Kakashi has to consider that something chronic is going on. Is somebody—re-fucking up his kitten?

He scruffs the kid again. Again, he grows limp in his arms. Deep breaths.

“Get your—” What is a baby rat called? “--friend. Sit. Rest.”

He hadn’t planned ahead well enough. You don’t count your kills before they’re killed, Hatake, that’s lesson one.

“One moment.” Man, he’s going to need to invent some more sex-Jutsu to pay for food if the kitten is going to keep sliding further and further into manic depression. That or stock his own fridge which, considering Kakashi hadn’t once had a stocked fridge in years he’s been alive, yeah. “Rai!”

“Way ahead of you, Taicho.” Good man. Kakashi will definitely dig out the Uzu Shibari ropes for the couple. “One pup-meal coming up.”

The food is less delicious than Genma’s, but there’s more of it and it’s tailored to suit the kitten better. Kakashi’s stomach might be twisting in disgust thirty times per second, but Itachi slathers his potato dumplings with a mix of cold-pressed oil and molten hard cheese and looks about as happy as a terminally depressed genius Uchiha can. As far as calorie-packed food, you can’t beat this—whatever it is. 

“Gross,” he says, eying the side dish of fist-sized potato dumplings filled with honey and poppy seeds, covered with chocolate and shredded nuts. “You might as well eat sugar, you heinous little brat.”

Itachi blinks up, cocking his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He’s got one of his own Chakra-eating monstrosities. Kakashi’s solution, once he found the energy to care even a little, was based on dietary supplements and daily injections, but he’s a faulty hybrid. Pure-bred Uchiha should have bodies evolved to support their eyes with energy and nutrients they can reasonably consume. “Eat up, summon your friend and then—” Then what? His child-care routine is all done. “Then we go to—” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Say it. You know what you have to say. “To—” In and out. Say it. Do your duty, Shinobi. You killed everything in your path to keep your unit alive. Now you do this. “Then we go to the Hatake Compound.”

The seals kept the Compound safe. They didn’t do much about—anything else. Nature has reclaimed the space, weeds growing over clay tiles, moss covering neat stone paths. It’s a giant fucking mess and Kakashi won’t think about it for a second longer than he must.

“Uchiha dance,” he says, resolutely passing by the shrine where Sakumo—Yeah. “Hyūga sculpt.” There go the blacksmiths. Man, where is all this plant life even coming from? There can’t possibly be much soil on the roof. “Uzumaki carve.” Leatherworkers are, somehow, the tidiest. Go figure. Must be the stench. “Hatake paint.”

The studio is as messy as the rest of it. More, quite possibly. It’s also the building he remembers the least, which by default makes it his favourite in this cursed Compound full of ghosts and regrets. “Upon reflection,” he sighs, looking at the filthy windows and mossy floors, easels long since grown unusable, “I should have hired a Genin team.”

Itachi, silence for once based in confusion, blinks up at him with giant, liquid eyes. The summon—Lehi—does too. No rodent should have eyes this confident and implacable, especially not this deep in a wolf’s den. And yet—here they are, a sweet boy Konoha finally managed to break and a summon that maybe isn’t as sweet as he looks.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s start clearing this away.” He briefly considers getting a few clones and thinks better of it. He’s been trying to stay away from Chakra intensive techniques whenever possible. Tsunade-sama’s instructions weren’t at all ambiguous. The Uchiha weren’t wrong. The Sharingan is killing him. He is just slowing it down some. Maybe—maybe when—Maybe he could, later, when Itachi is out of ANBU and Tsunade-sama brings Naruto back for the Chūnin exams. Maybe he could— “The canvases and paints should be sealed away safely, but making and keeping a good studio is not as easy as it looks—”

There is no one kunai fits all approach to ANBU service. All the agents are technically on call twenty-four seven, but each squad chooses their own active hours, their housing and the like. In almost all cases, each squad is assigned a stack of missions to complete this month or, more commonly, this season, and they collaborate with various departments to plan them in an optimal way.

Kakashi’s squad is somewhat unique, both because their success rate was unprecedented and because they never had a KIA teammate. After Crow, he tightened the rules even further. Only one mission objective at a time, only a limited amount of missions that Kakashi approves personally and, most importantly, he and his answer only to the Hokage. Not the Chūnin-, Jōnin- or ANBU Commanders, not the Clan- or Civilian Councils. Just the Hokage.

A fairly new development, yeah, but after the Naruto debacle, Sarutobi was game for pretty much anything that Kakashi wanted. If the Uchiha want their Prodigy Genius Miracle God to set records at the earliest admittance to ANBU, without dying within the first week, then Kakashi is their only chance. And Kakashi has a lot of enemies. Enemies who would try to harm him through Itachi, like they hurt Sakumo through him. That he is over-identifying is not lost on anybody at all, but it’s either useful or unavoidable, so.

After giving the kid a soft, painless hobby hadn’t helped for more than a few hours, Kakashi resigns himself that he will have to zoom out a little. The kid wasn’t drowning in an ocean of trauma three months ago. Something has happened and something is happening that is causing the kitten to go to emotional shutdown, speaking only if pressed hard, eating just enough to avoid immediate organ damage.

Even his Clan is worried, even though they all assume it’s ANBU that’s fucking him up. Hah! Kakashi has a chart. Kakashi has several charts and a binder and a shelf full of books about child psychology. ANBU isn’t making the kid happy, but it’s sure as fuck not making him suicidal. No, it’s something else, and Kakashi’s list of distractions that aren’t, in themselves, addictive and toxic, is really fucking short.

Alright, never mind that.

“I’m going to be following you for a while, pup,” he says after he requests a month’s leave for his squad. Their medic requested to shift teams—their medic was gently asked to shift teams because he couldn’t handle the sight of a teeny-tiny ANBU in custom made armour and uniform because the smallest available size doesn’t fit. The new one will need to integrate properly, which means training, which means plenty of downtime to eliminate the threats to their kitten’s safety. “I’m tracking your eating habits and some other stuff, don’t worry about it.”

Itachi shrugs, both hands idly scratching the fur underneath Lehi’s chin. The summon sends Kakashi a vague blink with those bottomless, Abyss-gazing eyes, webbed feet tapping a soothing tempo on the floor. He hadn’t heard the summon speak once. What a creepy pair, honestly.

“Yeah, okay, sure. You wouldn’t have worried, blah blah. Keep petting your rodent, kid, just wanted to keep you informed.”

Alright. Part two. Family.

Hmm. Part two is, yeah, family, but part three is slowly crystallising. What the fuck is going on in this cesspool of a village? Prickles of unease trickle down his spine. He recognises those looks, the contempt and vitriol that hang suspended in the air. This is Sakumo-level ostracisation right there, and it’s being deployed against civilians. Against babies.

“Hey, Yūgao,” he says, depositing a stack of Kenjutsu forms he dug out from the smithy. Not the most valuable shit, he’s keeping that for the sucker he manages to con into becoming the Hatake Heir, but valuable enough to make a point. “Is it just me, or are the Uchiha getting fucked?”

Yūgao looks over the payment first like a good Kunoichi and her scent stutters with shock and grief and—pride? What the fuck? “Are you just noticing it now?”

Kakashi shrugs. “I invest considerable time and emotional real-estate into carefully blocking out most things that happen in this shithole. However, I don’t know if you’ve heard about my kitten, but I have one now and something is fucking him up. I fed him and watered him and gave him a pet and a hobby and he’s still sad. So, I’m stepping back, as it were. Broadening the scope of my investigation.”

“A pet.” Yugao’s scent matches the spike of her Chakra. “You can’t give dogs to an Uchiha, for fuck’s sake—”

Kakashi draws back, faux-offended. “Okay, first of all, he would be so lucky. Second of all, no, I didn’t give him dogs. He summons kapibara, whatever the fuck they are. Big-ass rodents, fat and lazy and, I’m pretty sure, highly ranked emissaries of the netherworlds.” Chill, though. And so fucking dismissive. Until he met Lehi, Kakashi thought nobody could match cats at being aloof and uninterested. Now he knows better. With felines, the suggestion of violence is never far away. Kapibara, though? They can’t be bothered to look at you. Lehi, from what little Kakashi has pieced together, is pretty young and he already has the untouchable, unreachable air of a Spirit living his best life regardless of what the lesser beings could try with theirs.

“Kapibara? The giant hamsters from Land of Reeds?”

Kakashi shrugs. “They’re summoning spirits, so, you know, but—” Hold on. “Wait. No. You mean to tell me those creatures exist? I could go to, what was it, Land of Reeds and find some of their mundane cousins?”

Yuugao blinks. “I mean, yeah. They’re not hard to spot. Look for any body of water and you’ll see them. Big packs, calm as fuck, friends with practically anything that moves. Eating twenty-four seven. You can’t miss ‘em.”

There’s an idea. He could send a Clone, but—Why bother?

“Hatake Kakashi, requesting an audience on behalf of the Hatake Clan.”

“How may I help you?”

Kakashi bows, curving his eye in the most obnoxious eye-smile he can. Sarutobi-sama relaxes, tilting his head back briefly. “Pits take you, you infernal little brat—The entire village will be buzzing about this.”

Kakashi shrugs. “I did need to speak with you. I am on a most important mission.”

Sarutobi narrows his eyes and his lips twist in a petulant angle, hand scrambling for his pipe. “Do tell.”

“Thank you, I will. May I?”

“Please,” simpers Sarutobi-sama, smoke curling around his face, seeping into the ridiculous brim of his hat.

“Thank you.” He sits down and crosses his legs. Very polite, Hatake, good work. “Now, as for my mission. The Hatake Clan would request—and pay for—an A-ranked mission to the Land of Reeds.”

Sarutobi loses some of his faux-offence, scent rippling with interest. “Oh?”

“Yes.” Kakashi leans forward, arranging his face in a solemn expression. “I request sixteen kapibara adults to be captured and delivered to Hatake Compound in utmost secrecy.”

Sarutobi blinks. Takes a long drag. Exhales. Inhales again. “I am afraid I do not follow.”

Kakashi nods, still playing grave. “My Itachi is sad,” he says because it’s true. “He needs friends. The Naka flows through my lands, so the semi-aquatic rodents will be happy. Happy rodents mean happy Itachi mean happy Kakashi.” He nods again. “Yeah, that covers it.”

Sarutobi smokes in silence for a long series of heartbeats. Kakashi doesn’t flinch. He’s never once lost a game of chicken. Not once. “You want to pay an A-ranked mission to import a handful of rodents to Konoha. Because the Uchiha heir is sad.”

“In secret,” clarifies Kakashi. “I want it to be a surprise.”

Sarutobi exhales a long curl of smoke. “You mean to tell me you will open the Hatake Compound for the first time in fourteen years to make a petting zoo for an A-ranked ANBU Jōnin?”

Kakashi pretends to think about this. “Well, your timeline is slightly off. I already opened the Hatake Compound so that the pup would have a proper studio to paint in. But, yes. In essence.” He cocks his head. “Have you spent a lot of time with Itachi, Sarutobi-sama? Do you know what he’s like when he’s sad? I do, and let me tell you, I will do a whole lot more than sacrifice a few Ryō and a couple of hectares of land to the mercy of a pack of giant rodents.”

“I—am speechless,” says Sarutobi in an almost wondering tone. “You have reduced me to gibbering, Clan Head Hatake. Congratulations.”

Kakashi nods. “So, about that mission?”

“The secret mission?” Sarutobi empties and re-fills his pipe. “That you decided to request in person, instead of going through the missions office like a normal person? The mission you chose to describe to an audience of six ANBU who have most likely already spread the word of this insanity? That mission?”

Kakashi nods, curving his eye. “Yes, precisely. That mission”

“Approved,” sighs Sarutobi-sama. “Sixteen kapibara for a million Ryō. Perfectly reasonable.”

“Perfect.” He stands and bows. “Now that the official part is done, I bribed Shizune-chan into taking some photos and I am not beyond sharing my bounty. This one, here, is my favourite. Please, if I may direct your attention to the sheep onesie—”

***

Chapter Text

Itachi doesn’t, in fact, find out that Kakashi is making him a petting zoo, because that boy can barely pay attention to people actively talking to him, much less pick up gossip. His family is, depressingly, in a similar boat.

Kakashi is all sorts of disappointed that Shisui hasn’t come knocking. Something is off about that boy. He’s, what, sixteen? Thereabout? If he wasn’t such a nutcase, Kakashi would say the kid was dealing with heartbreak—although that could just be his age and fluffy-sheep hair. You don’t expect a boy that looks like a warm, sticky milk bun tastes, to have a problem more complicated than being ignored by a boy they like. Looks are, in Shisui’s case, unthinkably deceiving. Shisui couldn’t focus enough on the present for long enough to love any creature of flesh and blood even if he tried. The kid is a revolutionary through and through, with an objective so exalted there is no room left for such flimsy things like love and safety and family.

So, that left little Itachi with—Nobody. Kakashi, Gen and Rai, Akio and Arita and possibly Yūgao and Hayate. Gai, once he comes back from his mission. What a fate.

The rodents get delivered to the Compound gates in the middle of the night, as per his instructions. Kakashi meets the bemused Hirako-san and his Chūnin team at the gates to collect his bounty.

The sight of sixteen amicable giant hamsters milling about the Hatake gates shatters a little bit of the darkness in his soul. The rats might not have a use for Kakashi as an individual or a representative of his species, but humans are empathetic creatures, and these animals will choke you to death with their calm if you stand still for long enough.

“Hatake-sama,” greets Hirako-san. “Sixteen kapibara, as ordered.”

Kakashi beams. “Most splendid news. I trust I can rely on you and yours to remain discreet for a few days. This is a surprise.”

Hirako-san nods, something a little intimidating in the serene curve of his smile. Kakashi has known Hirako-san to be a quiet, grouchy man. It seems the kapibara magic worked him over good. His underlings are similarly relaxed. “Of course, Hatake-sama. I must thank you for the opportunity. I haven’t had a mission this pleasant in my life.”

Kakashi listens to the sedate chirping and whirring sound the rodents communicate with. Not as quiet as their Spirit cousins, then.

“Some of them had babies,” pipes up one of the Chūnin, a boy of—what, eighteen? Nineteen? “We thought it would be cruel to separate them, so they came with. The contract said sixteen adults.”

Kakashi’s eye-smile is more honest than usual. “I don’t mind, no. Thank you for your hard work.”

Hirako-san snorts. “I would advise you to either hide the animals away or let everybody visit. If my Clan learns of them, you will have Nara on a hunger strike in front of your gates.”

Kakashi huffs a laugh, but it’s a fair assessment. People call Nara deer-like, but deer are flighty, energetic animals. Kapibara—Yeah. Kapibara were basically furry, webbed-feet Nara, complete with unknowable black eyes.

“I’ll be sure to give you the pick of the first litter born on my lands, how about that? Naka flows through your lands, too, the rats should be happy enough.”

Hirako-san blinks through a slow smile. “And so my social market value skyrockets. Thank you, Hatake-sama. You are most kind.”

Man, look at him making friends with other Clans and shit. “Don’t mention it.”

Sixteen giant hamsters come with nine babies attached. Sixteen giant hamsters eat five kilograms of plant matter per giant hamster. Kakashi is learning all about invasive species today.

“Golly gee,” he says, having long since cracked and covered his body in snuffling, chirruping babies. “You’ll neaten this place right up, won’t you? No nosy Genin for this Compound, nope, just mind-bogglingly soothing rats.”

If his ancestors could see him now.

“Speaking of.”

He runs through the few hand signs he still needs and summons his pack. The kapibara don’t so much as twitch.

“Yo,” he says, eye-smiling. “Meet your new housemates. Land-mates.”

Pakkun huffs and pads closer, moving in a deliberately unhurried manner. The rest of the pack follows. “I suppose they will be a decent source of protein.”

Kakashi huffs and goes back to scratching the soft fur under the nearest baby’s eye. “They’re for the pup. Step two point one dash A. Plus—” He scratches a bit lower and the baby goes limp, flopping over to expose more of its neck for scratching. “Kapibara come with their own Spirit Clan, that a kid as powerful as Itachi has contracted to. If you think that is a group you want to piss off, I’m not going to stop you.”

Pakkun nuzzles into the wiggling pile of babies. “Well, shit. At least they’re comfortable.”

Kakashi nods and turns around to the rest of the pack. Ah, that makes sense. The rest of the pack hasn’t been observing like a good pack of nit-dogs. Nope, no, they fucked right off to cuddle with the adult rodents. It’s a disgustingly sweet image, honestly. Bull has two adults dozing on his wide barrel chest. One one of those adults has a duck on their back. It’s a Goddamn circus.

“Well, that’s that, then.” Kakashi can’t say he expected having a kid in ANBU will result in his full and irreversible de-fanging, but here he is, his nin-dogs but one act in the petting zoo. Come one, come fucking all.

If he was smart, he’d get Itachi over first, get the kid accustomed to the idea of having a zen place for himself. Alas, since part one failed, Kakashi is on to bigger and better things. The kid won’t get fixed by focusing on his own shit. No, part two is all about family. Which means Kakashi needs to deal with Itachi, not Crow.

Which means Kakashi has to go as Clan Head Hatake and not Hound.

Joy.

He draws a line at sending a letter. That’s just fucking dumb. He’s a Clan of one, the fuck does he need to write letters for?

He rocks up to the Uchiha Compound wearing a very expensive, comically civilian outfit with four layers and not a single weapon in sight. It’s fucking coconuts. Yeah, his sealing tattoos have the basic—his swords, ANBU-mask and supplements and suchlike, but other than that? He’s wearing geta. His face mask is made out of silk. It’s a whole thing.

The Chūnin at the gates gape at him, displaying appropriate and, frankly, gratifying shock. He graces them with his best kapibara-inspired sedate look and enjoys the ensuing confusion. He came at the right time, too, right at the start of the receiving hours for diplomatic visits. He has a host gift. Ah, he thinks, soaking up their flabbergasted scent, he should have thought of this before. “Hatake Kakashi, humbly requesting a conversation with the Uchiha.” Even his tone is rat-calm. If only he could figure out a way to vocalise those whirls and chirps.

“Right this way,” says a Chūnin—Uchiha Kikimo, he’s pretty sure. Decent at poisons. Is considered for ANBU.

“This one thanks you,” he simpers, just to be a dick. The kid’s scent spikes with alarm. Bless.

Uchiha Fugaku and Uchiha Mikoto sit in the Uchiha receiving room, wearing formal Shinobi attire, folded in neat, formal seiza. They don’t need to be, not really. Kakashi might be out of the metaphorical loop, but even he knows nobody is crazy enough to come calling on the Uchiha. Hyūga, maybe, because of the whole Kumo affair that Itachi stuck his nose into. Even thy wouldn’t dare walk into the proverbial den, uninvited and unappreciated.

He hands his host-gifts to his guide, and bows, civilian-deep, carefully leeching any mockery from his face or body. He isn’t here to mock them, after all. He’s here to fix his kitten.

“Hatake Kakashi asks for an audience,” says Uchiha Kikimo into the silence.

“We are honoured to receive him,” says Fugaku. His scent is—suspicious, maybe, underneath all the exhaustion. Okay, that’s some familiar despair. Man, is he going to have to adopt a whole clowder of Uchiha?

“Please accept my humble offerings,” he says, rising from the bow and settling into a stiff seiza. He never quite learned the formulaic phrases, but he can try to bullshit through. Nobody expects him to play at nobility, and surely his clothing sends enough of a message. He is on their turf, weaponless and alone.

Fugaku unseals the scroll, and Kakashi revels in the way their Chaka spikes with confused pleasure.

“Blades for Uchiha Mikoto-sama, art for Uchiha Fugaku-sama,” Kakashi says, after a beat of silence. He’s swiftly reaching the end of his knowledge about politeness. Ah well, he tried. “The scrolls said that was polite.” Why not go with honesty? It’s been working well with the kitten. Or at least as well as he could hope for. “They’re—”

“I know Masumane-dono’s work when I see it, Hatake-sama,” says Mikoto, leaving her husband some time to stop gaping at the wood-cut. It’s a nice piece, Kakashi can readily admit. Much too good to be languishing in a dusty old scroll. “Forgive me for being wary. There are less than a hundred blades in circulation today.”

Uh. “I mean, he was one of ours. And I opened the Hatake compound, so. You know. I have plenty. You are a Kenjutsu Mistress. It’s a good bribe, I thought.”

“Yes, it is.” Her scent spikes with rage. Whoops?

Okay, so maybe he approached this wrong. “I’m not trying to—I want to be friends.” Way to sound like an infant. “Not with you.” What? “I mean, not with you personally.” What? “This is not going as smoothly as I hoped it would.”

Fugaku stops staring at the woodcut and sends an Uchiha-version of a wide-eyed look Mikoto’s way. She doesn’t stop trying to stab him in the throat with her eyes. Kakashi admits that he’s fucking this up.

“Your kid is sad. He is sad which is making me sad and I need your help.” There. It’s out. Fugaku freezes in place and his eyes grow even wider as they shift his way. Two Uchiha stare at him, a dozen more spying from the door and windows.

“Pardon?” Kakashi spends a long moment breathing in and out. At least there’s less bloodlust this time. Mikoto doesn’t do friendly anyways, he’s pretty sure.

“I had a dream, the other night.” Their scent grows thorns of rage and impatience. Fuck you, it’s not like he can speak about this openly, can he? “It was about a kid, sweet little kitten of a boy called—Atachi. Atachi lived in a town called Tonoha. He was so clever and precocious that he signed up for—” Deep breaths. “An after-school program called HANBU. Short for Harmony And Nice Bubbly Unicorns.” Fugaku’s scent spikes in humour and Mikoto even unthaws a little. Stops being a drop away from a storm of lethal violence, at least, which—victory. “Enter Katashi, his batty old instructor. Katashi enjoys having Atachi in his class. He is very clever and brave and works hard. However, soon enough, Atachi starts growing sad.”

Okay, cool it with the icy tone. They’re not at fault. Or, maybe they are, but in that cornered animal eating their own young to say them from worse shit later on kind of way. “Katashi knows fuck-all about children. He doesn’t have any training and books can only teach him so much. He tries feeding the kid, tries teaching him this and that but nothing helps. Atachi is losing weight, he won’t speak and all the class trips and exercises he used to hate are suddenly real fucking easy. He doesn’t even blink as he works through a worksheet that Katashi has trouble sleeping after.”

Mikoto clamps down on her Chakra, but her scent spikes with denial and a sort of wounded defiance. Fugaku, however, smells resigned. Defeated, even. “Katashi doesn’t mind, of course.” Best clear that up right now. “Atachi chose this life and he would always excel at anything he sets his terrifying little heart on. With that said, something is messing the boy up and Katashi is a wreck on a good day. I woke up just as he exhausted his last option.” He cocks his head, ignores the multiplying Chakra signatures listening from the windows. This fucking village has had enough secrets. “What do you think, crazy, hey?”

“A most illuminating tale,” says Fugaku, eying him like he’s never seen a member of his species before. “I welcome the opportunity to discuss it. Do you think this—Katashi felt unable or unwilling for this responsibility? Arguably, young, ah, Atachi’s wellbeing does not fall under his purview.”

“Katashi is a possessive beast by nature and choosing,” he says, lips tightening into a tense line. “Anyone would find it hard to pry his student out of his claws. He was from an old Clan, I think. The type who takes the concept of loyalty and runs with it, you know? Not very stable. I would personally hesitate to challenge him in that matter. If he were a real guy and not just a figment of my imagination.” He pauses and looks between them, letting his Chakra settle around his shoulders, Hatake-sharp and every bit as cold. “Aha-ha.”

“And this Katashi,” says Mikoto, cocking her head, Chakra surging to match his, flame against lightning. “Does he seem like the type to get tunnel vision? Even in dreams, problems rarely have simple, straightforward solutions. Does he feel capable of seeing it through, or does he think giving the boy a pat on the head and a pep-talk will be enough if, say, his private life was growing complicated? If there was trouble in other aspects of his life?”

“I hardly think seeing things through would be an issue for him,” he replies, arching his eyebrows. “From what I got from the dream, he was a stubborn old man. What he needed were allies and resources and guidance, not willpower.”

Fugaku huffs a tired sound, but his Chakra is warmer than Kakashi’s felt in a long while, and some resignation evaporates. “Allies, resources and guidance, you say? He doesn’t ask for much, this Katashi.”

Kakashi shrugs. “He has some to offer in return. He is peculiar but I wouldn’t call him weak per se. To digress from the matter somewhat, do forgive this old, scattered Clan Head, but I’ve opened the Hatake Compound, and I’d like to extend an invitation to you and your family. Younger children especially. We’re neighbours, pretty much, and I’ve acquired a surprise that your older son, who I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting, of course, might enjoy. He and his younger brother both.”

Since they are neighbours—Hatake lands bordering with the Nara and the Uchiha on either side—they don’t need to go through the village proper. They do, because Mikoto is a vengeful harridan, Kakashi enjoys messing with everyone and anyone and Fugaku is too confused to even have the strength to argue.

It’s fucking cute. His little underling is watching between him, his parents and Sasuke with dazed eyes of a boy just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Kakashi can kind of relate—He’s walking next to the Uchiha matriarch and patriarch, with silver-silk covering his face and four layers of formal robes. He kind of feels like he’s in one of the nuttier undercover missions, where he plays a civilian escort or some such nonsense.

The whispers though are—yeah. Kakashi might be riding a wave of sanity therefore unknown and very appreciated, but there are some traumas you never really put behind you. Kakashi has lived through a smear campaign very much like this one, and it took Minato-sensei and Kushi-nee’s hawkish attention to stop him from following in Sakumo’s footsteps. He is not the target now, but—It’s really fucking close, and it’s making him reckless.

He straightens, tilts his chin. Stops, for a moment, hiding the width of his shoulders and the inhuman edge to his Chakra. His fangs itch behind his lips, Chakra flowing up and down his spine, hardening his nails and sharpening his vision.

“Mikoto-sama, Fugaku-sama,” he says. Whoops, that’s a little more growl than most are used to, from him. His ANBU are more familiar with it. It’s what happens when, inevitably, the mission goes to shit and Kakashi has to destroy everyone and everything in his path. “I seem to recall that, back in the day, our Clans used to share smiths?”

“Share is not, perhaps, the most accurate term,” demurs Mikoto. Which—is true, yeah. Uchiha had their ink and silk and dance. Hatake originated in the Land of Iron. Very few could hope to match them.

“Nonsense,” he says, finally getting enough shit together to opt for a cadence closer to vindictive pleasure than an outright threat. “I find myself with a lot of resources, be it material, diagrams or workshops, and not enough people to use them. How about it? I’ll key all of you into my wards. Let’s make this happen.”

Fugaku doesn’t choke because he’s a Shinobi and his breath is, therefore, regulated to Hells and back. He does still, however, match the chaotic glee rising in his Lady wife. “A very generous proposal,” she says, humming. “This one thinks it would be unthinkably rude to protest too much. Hatake steel is invaluable, after all.”

Kakashi nods, meeting the eyes of the word offenders. Not many Clan Shinobi, unsurprisingly, but—judges and priests and all manner of civilian officials glare at his fucking kitten like he’s got the plague. Well, his kitten’s parents, but still. “Uchiha steel,” he corrects. “What use is a lump of steel or secrets kept for secrecy’s sake? I don’t particularly know what’s there, mind.”

“Hatake-sama, Uchiha-sama, Uchiha-sama,” calls Hirako-san, blinking between the Uchiha and himself, eyes catching at the Chakra spiking off his hair and the hood of Mikoto’s eyes. Itachi and Sasuke walk in front of them, tiny hands clasped together. It’s something, to know that Crow who has over twenty A-ranked and countless B-ranked ANBU missions under his belt, is a ten-year-old boy with all the cuteness that entails. “Nice day for a walk.”

“Hirako-san.” He tries to gentle his smile somewhat, but it doesn't go very far. That he even saw the man is suspicious. What are the odds? Not good. Hirako is a Jōnin, a Nara Jōnin. If he’s not on missions, he’s lounging about on their Clan lands. This is deliberate, he just doesn’t know the reasons. “Any day is a nice day when one is blessed with honourable company.”

“Very true, very true.” Hirako-san taps his lips with a lazy finger. “I don’t suppose I could impose upon you, one of these days? I find myself—eager to visit the Hatake Compound.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he replies. “I have something of an outstanding obligation, but I will be sure to make time. Pakkun will come by with a note, yeah?”

“Wonderful. Looking forward to it. My apologies for the delay.”

The bad blood between the Nara and the Uchiha would be tricky to work around, but maybe—The Hyūga? Best leave that for behind closed doors. Or overpowered, Chakra-collecting Wards, as it were.

“I had not expected the Nara and the Hatake to have many things in common,” asks Fugaku. Kakashi turns his way—bless you, you fuzzy little sheep, you don’t even mean anything by it. You’re making small-talk. Gods, some of Itachi’s more charming eccentricities make so much more sense, now.

“Hirako-san helped me with a very important mission the other day,” he says. Mikoto sends him an arch look and he counters with a solemn look of his own. Not a word of a lie. “I’ll tell you about it sometime. You’ll like it, I think.”

The small break in proceedings is not enough to soothe his ruffled feathers. The civilians are gossiping, the middle-class Young Masters and Mistresses are all but sneering at them. When did Konoha even grow this many civilians? When did the middle class even emerge? Last he checked, they had less than a thousand non-Clan affiliated people in Konoha all up.

Are they non-Clan affiliated, though? He should look into it, sometime. This smacks of population management. For possibly the first time in recent memory, Kakashi regrets how ignorant he is about his Clan history. Did they sponsor civilians? Sounds like something they should have been doing. What else is all that land for?

Whatever. Focus. An impossibly bold civilian chooses the perfect opportunity to comment loudly on Kakashi following in the footsteps of his father. His first instinct is to laugh. It’s somewhat at odds with the odd stutter in his Chakra, as the old dig weasels through his defences, drawing blood from a perpetually raw place. The second thing that happens, somewhat more alarmingly, is Itachi.

His Chaka lashes, red-hot and furious, not there one minute and raging the next. Kakashi, still a bit baffled by the boldness of the young man—civilian, mid-thirties, has a pretty girl on one arm and a young child in the other—doesn’t quite know what the appropriate course of action is. Kakashi is, silly civilians said, quite indispensable. Notwithstanding his accounts, strength and social value, he and Tsunade-sama are the only points of contact between the village and the Uzumaki heir. One day, Naruto will inherit not only the Uzushio accounts but also the bloodline necessary to crush the Fūinjutsu responsible for the Hidden part of Hidden Village. Civilians can bray as much as they like, but the people in charge know losing Kakashi will be very unfortunate for them.

Uchiha, however, are a different brace of kunai, and the Clan Heir losing his cool with a pretty young upper-class lordling in front of his wife and child would be a shitshow.

“Hey, Sasuke-chan,” he says, because he doesn’t know a lot, but knows how to spot a single-minded obsession when he sees one, “I hear you’re going to start the Academy soon. Did you give any thought about the direction?”

Itachi subsides, remembering that yes, his itty-bitty baby brother is present and too young to witness any massacres that day, and yes, Sasu-chan will be starting the Academy, which means Itachi can’t burn the village to the ground before that happens. Perfect. Fugaku stops circulating his Chakra through his body quite so aggressively. Mikoto, noticeably, doesn’t seem all that put off that her heir has been menacing civilians.

“Yes, Hata-nii,” squeaks the adorable little pup. What is he, three? Should be around Naruto’s age no? “I will be st’ong just like Ita-nii!”

“I’m sure you will be,” nods Kakashi. “Your brother is very strong. But your parents are strong too, yes? Do you like swords?”

Sasuke gasps. Kakashi lets his scent wash over him,  young and free and all over the place. “I love swords!”

“There you go. Your kaa-san is very good with swords. How about illusions?”

The kid pauses, visibly taking instruction from his brother. When he sparks, his tone is decidedly more dubious. “Yes, that too.”

“Your tō-san is very good with them. Or, of course, there is also the best thing—” He lets his voice trail away in a leading, upwards note, as he begins subtly increasing his pace to get away from the village proper as quickly as possible before an Uchiha snaps and starts eating the populace.

He can almost physically hear the little boy vibrate in place with how impatient and curious he is. “What, what Hata-nii, what is the best thing?”

He makes sure his voice is filled with all the confidence in the world. “Tracking.”

A pause, then a betrayed whine. “Whaaat—Tracking is stupid—”

Perfect. This will keep them occupied for a while.

“Is not—”

“Is too!”

“Is not—”

“Is too!”

Chapter Text

True to his word, Kakashi keys in the Uchiha into the Hatake wards. He shows off a little, not stopping his bickering with Sasuke-pup for a moment, nicking a thumb and shaping his Chakra as smoothly as possible. It’s not that smooth, can’t be, not with how thick and inflexible the Wards have gotten, but that’s what you get when you leave a Chakra-absorbing Ward-schema for a decade.

“Now, Sasu-chan,” he says, batting his eyes at Mikoto and Fugaku who have been quietly observing him with the sort of outrage reserved for veteran parents everywhere, “setting aside all the reasons you’re wrong, I have to warn you—I share my home with a family of animals.” He makes sure to arrange the part of his face not covered with a mask into a solemn expression.  “They are quiet and gentle and mean well, but a fearsome Shinobi such as yourself running at them might scare them. If you make sure you are kind to them, I’ll personally—” What? “—Buy you as many sweets as you can stomach for a whole week.”

Sasuke wrinkles his nose. Even sitting on Itachi’s shoulders, he barely reaches his breastbone. “Sweets are gross.”

Kakashi sends an honestly incredulous look at the boy, giving a good, solid whiff. He looks like one, but—Nope. That’s an Uchiha. An Uchiha that doesn’t like sweets.

“I want tomatoes,” continues the boy, tilting his jaw in a move that’s pure Mikoto.

Kakashi’s lips twitch. “Tomatoes it is,” he acquiesces. “Also barbecue, because baby carnivores need their protein. I’ll organise everything with your parents. Do we have a deal?”

Sasuke nods. “Un.”

Kakashi resists the urge to pat him on the head with great difficulty and instead turns to send an irritating eye-smile his parents’ way. This is fun. “Onwards, then.”

As expected, kapibara are a hit. Kakashi doesn’t even have the bandwidth to observe his little Crow’s thoughts on Kakashi’s impromptu petting zoo. All of his attention is immediately invested in cooing over Sasuke’s shriek of excitement as he throws himself bodily into a pile of kapibara babies.  Itachi sticks close, after sending a confused look Kakashi’s way. Yeah, kid, you’re not fooling anybody.

“You can summon your friend if you want,” he tells his tiny monster child. “Or just hang out with your brother. I’m going to be having tea with your parents.” Or industrial-grade sake. Whatever is more their speed. “If you need something, my dogs are around. Or, y’know, flash your Chakra if the situation warrants three murder-happy Jōnin descending on you. Have fun!”

“Come on, then,” he tells the two befuddled adults, taking advantage of his canine ancestry to herd them towards the main house. “Itachi-chan is more than capable of keeping the pair of them safe. This place is a wreck, but there’s a nice clearing a couple of corners ahead where we can sit down and have a little pow-wow.” The compound really is looking a lot better, now that the rodents have taken the time to methodically gnaw down the rampaging flora into a uniform length. He suspects that’s how low their teeth can reach without ripping the plants out from the root. It’s a fantastic gardening method, honestly.

Fugaku sleep-walks obediently and Mikoto allows it just long enough that they reach the meadow Kakashi members. It’s poorly groomed, but the seals carved into the stone paths kept the surface more or less level. Kakashi spends a few minutes unsealing a few blankets and cushions and sits down into a demure, civilian seiza.

“Alright, Hatake,” she says, resting her hands on her legs,  matching his seiza with on of her own. “We’re where you want us. What do you want?”

“I was, for once, fully transparent. Itachi is depressed. I am who I am—where did you think I learned what morbid depression smells like?”

Fugaku exhales a long, careful breath, as Mikoto clamps up, all traces of humanity quickly locked away behind too symmetrical features. Itachi gets it from her. Fugaku is a handsome man—Sasuke will be, too. Itachi has his moon-Goddess looks from his mother.

“So you decided to—intervene?” The scepticism in her voice is absolutely warranted and it scours raw against his soul. You did it yourself, he reminds himself. You made your reputation such that people would honestly doubt that you want to keep your ten-year-old teammate alive.

“Since I became a Captain, I’ve not lost a single teammate,” he says, going for the simple answer. “I should never have been given a boy as kind as Itachi, but I was and I will die for him, now.”

“You improved a lot since—since Itachi joined.” Fugaku doesn’t look or sound accusing, but Kakashi still wants to cringe away. Mikoto sits quietly, observing. Fine. If they want to go the quick-and-blunt route, Kakashi can oblige.

“I only really decided to live once I was given Itachi.” He adds a shrug, like that will take some of the weight off. “He is a genius, that is undisputed. He still would not have survived a week in the ‘corps. It became important to me that I survive at least until he is out.”

“Itachi is safer in ANBU than he is outside of it,” says Mikoto. “That he is the youngest agent is the worst kept secret in the village.”

Kakashi tries to accept this reasoning. He fails. Is there a Shinobi that actually benefits from a reputation for ruthlessness? He certainly hadn’t. Maybe, if they—But no. ANBU wasn’t a recommendation for a political role. If anything, ANBU made sure that Itachi wouldn’t be considered for a role in the village more significant than the Uchiha Clan Head—which was a given—or that of the ANBU Commander—which was a very dubious honour usually given to exceptional agents too damaged to be let out into society.

“Under the circumstances,” he says experimentally, “perhaps a more diplomatic approach could be warranted?”

“Is that what you’re doing? Diplomacy?” If not for her scent, he’d have likely believed the scorn in her voice. As it is—

“I mean, yeah. Absolutely. But, and remember who I am, I don’t much care for such things. What I’m doing is making sure the kid won’t off himself in a month.” Ouch. Maybe consider cooling it, Hatake. Or not, actually, maybe consider going harder? “This village has a way of handling inconveniently strong figures they would rather not have running around. I’ve survived it it once, which was more than enough.”

The click of Mikoto’s jaw is audible in the silence. Okay, maybe hard but not that hard. Kakashi had some time to get over the spectre of Sakumo hanging over his every waking moment, but Mikoto was a Kenjutsu mistress. Her breed had a fixation on his father that bordered on fanatical.

“With that said,” he continues, injecting a little sheepishness to signal his apology, “I’ve decided one is determined by the other. I tried equipping him with short-term solutions and it didn’t work. Part two of my plan is you.”

Fugaku purses his lips briefly. “I don’t suppose there is a third part?”

Kakashi nods, more than willing to get away from the strange scent of old, acidic grief coming off of Mikoto. “Part three is the village. Against all odds, the kid loves this fucking place, so, you know. If I have to give him the village, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“So simple,” says Mikoto. He meets her eyes and sees nothing but a hollow reflection of his own despair from pre-Itachi days. Ouch.

Kakashi shrugs. “It’s a bad matchup for them, honestly. I am valuable enough that removing me entirely will be a complex, costly affair. Forcing me to do anything I don’t expressly want to is likewise complicated. Most tried and true methods of coercion straight up don’t apply to me. I don’t have a family, most of the people I care about are either strong enough to look after themselves, or in the care of others who could do it in their stead. I have independent finances, an old bloodline and no demands on my time. If I want to hassle the ruling class into an early grave one by one, that’s what I will do.”

A flicker of grudging approval crosses Mikoto’s face. “And you will do that, for our son’s sake. Just like that.”

Kakashi shrugs again. A very multi-purpose gesture, that. “I did that for Naruto and I had no duty of care.” He absorbs the ice in her eyes and the way her Chakra pulses with years-old hatred. Just because the world forgets Mikoto Uchiha is A. Naruto’s Godmother and B. A little more than a pack of rabid weasels in a person-suit, doesn’t mean Kakashi should. “On an unrelated note, I had another dream the other day. Completely forgot, how silly of me. It was about a boy called Baruto. It was a long and wacky dream, but in summary, it came down to Baruto running away from an evil stepfather, making friends with the local stray who then led him to an enchanted forest where a wise old crone lived.”

Mikoto blinks as Fugaku tilts his head, hands clenching on his thighs. The poor fabric of his over-robe won’t last under such abuse.

“The crone was named Funade,” he adds helpfully. “Crazy times, amirite?”

The conversation doesn’t go far from there. The poor, overwhelmed Uchiha need some time to process and Kakashi, somewhat predictably, indulges his thing about food. His own eating disorder has left him sensitive to others who stray close to those particular waters.

He unseals the first five scrolls marked with a cat-paw to indicate they’re Uchiha friendly. The results are somewhat mixed, but he does get a big-ass honey almond cake, almost as sugar-heavy as an equivalent weight in pure sugar and many times the caloric value. He should really look into sponsoring a Shinobi-oriented bakery if he’s going to continue going on this kick. Aburame are also alarmingly thin. Well—Akimichi have that market cornered, to an extent. A thought for another day.

“Eat up. I don’t love the look of those wrists. I’ll go see what the kids are doing.”

Itachi and Sasuke are, unsurprisingly, in heaven. The littlest one especially. Sasuke—the least Uchiha Uchiha he’s ever seen in his life—is trying to jump from one kapibara’s back to another, while they’re moving. It’s not at all a straightforward manoeuvre.

Itachi, however, is content to sit with a lapful of squirming kapibara babies, propped up by Lehi. For the first time ever, the giant rodent looks at him with something like approval. Okay.

“So, kid, how about some eats, hey?” Kakashi crouches down and takes a good, solid whiff. Okay, so they’re definitely getting somewhere. He can’t quite place the emotion Itachi feels whenever he looks at his baby brother. He wouldn’t have expected such a complex swirl of emotions but—intensity aside, the biggest component is love. More love can only be good, yea? With what he’s come to know about Uchiha, who they love can become a civilisational pickle. This is fine. “Get your brother too. I seem to remember promising some tomatoes?”

Weeks go by, and Kakashi is, finally, satisfied. It won’t take long now. Itachi is starting to crack, Kakashi can smell it on him. Mindlessly miserable was a phase Kakashi is thrilled to see go. Now that Uchiha teenagers are not-so-subtly painting fans next to Hatake checkered diamonds while their brothers and sisters and cousins are cuddling with rodents and hashing out no-nonsense visitation rights with the Nara, well. It’s hard to keep up all that angst, is it?

He will crack and soon, so Kakashi continues his efforts. He should have known that the optimal strategy at helping Itachi was to help everybody else instead. Sage save them.

“Hey Gen—” He rolls around on the bed, stretching his arms over his head. This whole sexual bartering system is really working out. Who knew that so many techniques could be applied to more pleasurable past-times? “I need a few things.”

“Anything you want,” Genma says into the pillow. “Anything at all. Just—gimme a moment.”

Rai starts to speak and his voice breaks. Kakashi reaches out with a frown, Chakra twisting into a basic first-aid technique. That’s—a bit much, maybe? He can go hard, but he hadn’t, this time—

“I’m good.” Rai bats him off, curling into the soft of Gen’s belly, voice hoarse to the point of inaudibility. “No worries.”

“If you say so.” He leans back and continues threading his fingers through their hair. Aftercare is important, and while it’s not the only part he enjoys about the whole thing, it’s definitely up there. It’s good for him. The sex-part of sex sands down the sharper, violent parts of his mind and the lazing about later soothes his needy, lonely ones. Maybe some Shinobi have therapists with minds of steel and hearts of gold that can help them form healthy sexual habits. Kakashi’s friends that are still capable of sexual intimacy at all, are about as fucked up about it as he is. “It can wait.”

Gen and Rai go about their tasks with demonic energy. He likely hadn’t needed to bribe them at all, but it’s good to respect your teammate’s time. After about a week, Kakashi has a comprehensive report about the Konohan economy, both official and otherwise. Interestingly, several bigger players are civilians. Law-makers and civil servants, Government officials and rich merchants. Bankers. It’s really impressive. They must be really formidable to be in the game with Shinobi who could—and do—kill them without blinking.

Some survive on their own merits, by making themselves indispensable. Some cosy up to a Noble Clan and make themselves inconveniently expensive to eliminate. Most, though, most flock around one Shimura Danzō.

Huh. He’s forgotten about that decrepit old loon. That was unwise of him.

How should he play this? He could go to the Hokage, the Clans or the Daimyo. Or—alternatively—

The system he comes up in is really quite simple. Step one is cutting down on the inevitable mess. To that end, he and his team use the weeks of vacation they have—other than Itachi who is staying in the Compound and cuddling his rodents—to nab ROOT agents and stash them in heavily fortified parts of the Hatake Compound. It’s—Yeah. It’s quite something.

The Hyūga/Yamanaka/Uchiha combo he brought in for a consultation doesn’t really know what to do with this amount of slaver-Fūinjutsu they find on the captured agents. Kakashi decides, in the long tradition of not messing with a working system, to shunt them to Otogakure as soon as possible. Which means they need to be kept alive and docile until he figures out a way to transport them. That seems like a nice, solid plan right there.

After three weeks, the stream of ROOT agents coming in and out of Danzō’s lair has slowed to a trickle, small and cautious but definitely present. Kakashi doesn’t dream of stopping now. He’s not even breaking the law, that’s the best part. They’re not Konohan Shinobi, he personally asked Shikaku to check, they’re not civilians, which means they can only be trespassers. Every  Konohan citizen has the right to deal with foreign agents as they see fit. So.

Itachi grows more and more alive as he helps the civilian members of various Clans—Akimichi, usually, but with a fair amount of Aburame scattered here and there—feed and assist the ROOT captives. Kakashi doesn’t intervene, not when the acute necrosis-smell of spirit-death is disappearing from Itachi’s skin by the day.

Itachi’s parents on the other hand, have decided, in an act of madness, that Kakashi really is just a tall, lanky Uchiha. Kakashi thought, naively, that the gossip would claim Uchiha Lord and Lady took a young thing to keep their bed warm. Whether or not somebody intervened or if that simply wasn’t the vibe they gave off, that narrative never snapped into place. Instead, everybody took one look at Kakashi trailing behind or in front of Mikoto and Fugaku—and Itachi and Sasuke—and lumped him in with the kids.

Crazy shit, all told, but newly-sane Kakashi definitely isn’t fool enough to refuse parental and filial affection when it’s on offer. These days, it’s not uncommon that he spends whole glorious hours crossing blades with Mikoto. Fugaku took to buying him gifts and petting his hair whenever he was within reach. Sasuke thinks he’s cool and calls him Kaka-nii. It’s a lot.

Whatever. That’s not the point. The point is that Itachi is recovering and Kakashi is a-okay with slave-napping Danzō’s agents until the cows go home. It works until it doesn’t. It works until one of the ROOT cells they grab contains not only a main-line Yamanaka but Shisui. There’s no containing the mess, after that.

The battle is not without its sacrifices. Dozens of ROOT-slaves die. Shisui sacrifices himself to save Fugaku—even though Kakashi is pretty sure that boy would have sacrificed himself to save a pebble from chipping at this point. Several revelations about Itachi’s summons are made, most notably about their brain-melting pseudo-Genjutsu which is not even a little bit of an exaggeration. Several more distressing revelations are made about Itachi’s fucky Sharingan, that comes with a handy technique called Tsukuyomi. Pretentiously named Tsukuyomi, reportedly, lets Itachi torture a person for three days in the span of three seconds. Itachi immediately figures out how to layer it twice. Which means Danzō is tortured non-stop for just under three months. It’s a fitting bow to tie around this shitshow of a situation.

Sarutobi-sama survives the violent death of his best friend, only to swiftly execute his other two best friends, name Tsunade as his successor and quit, heading off to Otogakure to make amends with his students. Tsunade’s malicious laughter is heard from Oto, which is totally not where the Sanin are raising Naruto. Jiraiya threatens to start auctioning off his intel to the highest bidder if they don’t stop pestering him. The Clans wouldn’t stand for any of the Clan Heads becoming such and Itachi—who people know as That One Kid That Tortured A Man For Three Months Straight With The Power Of His Eyes—isn’t really in the running.

No, somehow, some-fucking-how, Kakashi’s Itachi-project ends up with him installed as the Godaime Hokage, after the most rushed ceremony ever seen by a village anywhere. The Clans are thrilled about it, the bastards. Somehow, Kakashi’s newfound radical views about social programs and transparency regarding taxes and public spending made him everybody’s adopted cousin. Uchiha, yeah, have the first claim, but Nara dug their claws in deep and aren’t at all willing to let go. Aburame, Hyuuga and Yamanaka are satisfied as well, partly because of Kakashi and partly because a staggering amount of ROOT shinobi came from those three Clans.

Kakashi—just sort of gets on with it. The job itself is fine. It’s a job. He doesn’t know why people bitch about it so much. He’s in the field less, which is shitty, but he’s got, like, five thousand people he can delegate to. He’s got people to delegate for him. It’s really fucking great. Whenever there’s a tricky but low-impact decision he can’t be bothered with, he throws it over to a Clan or a Guild—which the civilian solution now that the Hokage isn’t a Sarutobi or a Senju but a Hatake and a bloodthirsty one at that. He marvels and wholly supports their idea. Guilds are, to his mind, more or less miniature Clans, organised around professions and shared economic interest instead of blood. Ingenious shit, really.

All Kakashi really needed to do was to expand the bureaucratic machine to the point that most actual work gets done weeks before it could hope to cross his desk. The phrase Proper Channels gets thrown around a lot. The proper channel, in this case,  goes something like this. First, whatever proposal or complaint is heard by the Wider Civilian Court. If they don’t fix or strike it down, it gets forwarded to the Higher Civilian Court. Then comes the Shinobi Council, then the Clan council, then the Elders look it over, and by the time it reaches Kakashi it’s usually in good enough shape that he can just pass it into law.

Easy peasy lemon fucking squeezy.

.

Chapter Text

Part Two

Kakashi never did learn what, precisely, happened to Itachi around the time he was given to ANBU, but the lore claims that it was something Danzō did. A few Yamanaka offered to help him work through it, but one blink of not-Sharingan-but-something eyes was typically enough to communicate his thoughts on the matter.

Whatever it was, it was enough to derail his development in one very unexpected avenue. Uchiha tend to be depressingly predictable about matters of the heart. They finish puberty late and the batshit nature of their minds is enough to keep them occupied for a fair few years after that. The next stage is characterised by flailing, obliviousness and general tomfoolery which is accepted—even fondly, these days—as an unavoidable part of life. Finally, they fall madly in love, or, more precisely, realise they have been in madly in love for about a decade or so, and then spend the rest of their lives marinating in fanatical devotion. Uchiha divorce rate is zero and has been zero since they started keeping Clan records, some nine thousand years ago.

That’s why, when Uchiha Itachi enters his Slutty Phase around age sixteen, nobody is in any way prepared to handle it.

He’s not even crass about it. Itachi has, over the years, not really grown a personality as much as he’s grown astronomically strong. There were a few hiccups here and there, several favours traded with Otogakure for a pair of cloned eyes and a working set of lungs, but the end result was a grotesquely powerful, solemn little wisp of a boy. If he wasn’t who he was, Elemental Nations as a whole would be far less at ease about the whole thing. One need not look farther than one Uzumaki Nagato to see what happens when an idealist is given too much power and let loose to shape the world in his image.

That Itachi ended up embracing his summons’ fanatical chill is really for the best. He doesn’t talk much if at all, He doesn’t take many missions except those dangerous enough that they required an S-ranked monster. He doesn’t have any vices and only a handful of half-hearted hobbies. Up until he decides to fuck everybody who will have him, Kakashi gave up on leaving hints and resigned himself to building a monetary around the boy where he could contemplate and cultivate or whatever the fuck.

His sense of smell is the only thing that prevents Kakashi from sending a kai after he spots Itachi in a moderately seedy bar, sitting in the lap of an Akimichi teenager, making out with her like that’s a reasonable thing to do. Honestly, if Kakashi hadn’t taken the Sharingan out of his head and spent the last few years leaning into his Hatake heritage, he wouldn’t have even believed his nose, that’s how strange the scene was.

“Um.” He cuts his wide eyes Gai’s way who, for once is just as confused as he is. “Is that my Itachi riding that Kunoichi’s thigh over there?”

“It would appear so.” Kakashi loses some of his chill, because complicated calculations are whirring away behind Gai’s eyes, with attributes like their respective ages, emotional intelligence and manipulative tendencies. If things don’t swing in the Akimichi girl’s favour, then Gods Themselves won’t stop Gai from cooking her over a slow flame on top of the Hokage monument. “Akimichi Hikaru, if I’m not mistaken. Chūnin. Works in the hospital. Has a collection of exotic succulents.”

Kakashi relaxes. If there was anything really bad, Gai would already be inflicting unknowable tortures on the girl’s immortal soul. So. Good? Itachi found his fixation in an Akimichi whatsherface? Fine and dandy. Not a bad method of disseminating that knowledge, honestly. A bit earlier than he’d have expected, but he hasn’t really seen his kitten as a sexual being thusfar, so. Maybe he’s an early bloomer?

Not his circus not his monkeys, except in all the ways it is both his circus and his monkey, but whatever. He could have set his eyes on someone utterly weird like Ebisu or that Sai kid or someone. This is fine.

He sends a polite message Mikoto’s way that she’s likely going to have a sister-in-law and that she should get around to catching up on Clan bylaws because inter-clan marriages are a bitch and a half to negotiate, even after Kakashi’s reforms have been put into place. There. Job done.

Two days later, a very worried Raido comes by his office secretly—like, fully sneaks into his office with a furtive expression on his face that makes Kakashi’s mind jump to things like wars and calamity and workers’ strikes.

“The Kitten has been seen makin’ out with an Aburame couple,” Raido says, voice grave. “Like, properly making out, sandwiched between them with his shirt untucked and hands down people’s pants.”

Kakashi blinks. Opens his mouth and closes it again. On first blush—okay, phew, no military or guild wars. On the other hand—he smells trouble. Is Itachi proving a point to his Akimichi lover? Is this—Is shit about to escalate? Three Noble Clans embroiled in a drama is enough to make his lunch bubble in his stomach. Okay, okay. He can mediate this. He’s the Hokage, this is the definition of his job. He’ll just find Itachi—

He thinks about the likelihood of the damn brat opening his mouth for more than ten seconds and abandons that sinking ship. He’ll visit Akimichi Hirome, or whatever her name is, and sort this out, nice and polite.

“Keep an eye on them,” he says and thinks better of it. “No, wait.” His hands tap several seals carved into his table, thus summoning two ANBU platoons. Within ten minutes, fourteen Agents stand, tense in his office. “I need you to tail—” He turns to Rai. “What were their names again? The couple?”

“Aburame Bawiko and Aburame Fuma.”

Thank the Gods for Raido.

“Them. Make sure they’re safe. Something along the lines of protective custody, but, y’know, on the down-low. If shit starts getting hot, get them out and to my office.”

Good, good. Now the girl.

“We’re not dating, Hokage-sama,” chirps the suicidal fucking girl. “We just fooled around a bit.”

Kakashi sends her an appropriately dead look. “You are fooling around with an Uchiha? With Clan Heir Uchiha Itachi?”

Hapari nods, easy and young, reaching pond-slime levels of self-preservation instincts. “Yes, Hokage-sama. He is a sweet boy, but I’m not looking to settle down.”

Kakashi exhales a long, bracing breath. “Wait here for a moment.”

As expected, even Akimichi Hifaku’s cheerfulness doesn’t stand up to Mikoto Uchiha’s Ice Bitch face. “Explain it to me again, Akimichi-san. I am afraid I do not understand. Age has caught up to me.”

“Um.” Akimichi Horavi sends a look to her Clan Head who looks right back. Chōza is nobody’s idiot and he’s grown up among the Uchiha. So has Hamiki but she’s apparently a special breed of idiot. “Itachi and I—messed around for a bit. It was nothing serious, and we’re both sealed, with all necessary check-ups and suchlike. So—no stress? Nobody is pregnant—” Kakashi actively blocks off his sense of smell to prevent Mikoto’s spike of concentrated fury from scrambling his brain. “—Nobody is sick. We broke it off. Simple.”

“And whose idea was this split,” purrs Mikoto. Her Sharingan is off, which is really most anybody can expect from her. Not that the pointed way she’s thumbing the hilt of her blade isn’t enough of a statement.

“That’s what we agreed upon, before,” she says, blinking like she still doesn’t understand why all these gross old people are butting into her sex life. Which would be fair if she went and fucked an Inuzuka or a Nara or even a Hyūga. As it is, you get the Hokage on your case, you stupid little maniac. “And, like, we got ice cream since. We’re good. He didn’t—like me. Just wanted to fu—To have some fun.”

Kakashi shares a look with Mikoto. That—doesn’t sound right. Itachi is—experimenting? Kissing pretty girls and boys and figuring out his sexuality at his own pace? What?

They decide to leave it be for a week. ANBU is out in full force, patrolling the streets on the down-low. Nara Chūnin are reinforcing strategic buildings and Aburame are digging out new civilian shelters. Kakashi eats a lot of eggplant skewers and protein shakes and sends a very whiny letter to Otogakure, bitching about how Orochimaru should really take pity on him and send young Naruto back to them so he could take over. It won’t work, of course. The only reason Orochimaru hasn’t rebuilt Uzushio yet is that he’s waiting for Naruto to grow up some and maybe spawn some heirs of his own. No help there. Not that a twelve-year-old would make for a good Hokage, but still.

He’s on his way to the butcher’s to pick some treats for Pakkun when he spots Itachi, shirtless, doing terrible things to a whimpering Inuzuka boy on the roof. He blanches, not at all prepared to see any amount of skin, much less his kitten doing that with his—

Fuck this, he’s going straight to the Uchiha compound.

Mikoto insists they should hold a Clan meeting. Fugaku manages to calm her enough that they end up with a sort of family get-together that looks suspiciously like the intervention they had when Kakashi was dragging his feet about the whole implanted Sharingan thing. He would like to say that it’s nice to be on this side of things, but it’s not. It’s excruciatingly uncomfortable and he almost chokes on his social anxiety and hypocrisy. Hatake Kakashi, staging an intervention. Okay.

“I am fine,” says Itachi, perfectly composed, like he hasn’t just returned from an honest-to-Sage walk of shame. “I am an adult, perfectly capable of negotiating my own sexual relationships and representing my interests.”

Mikoto, now that she’s here, looks almost as uncomfortable as Kakashi feels. Somehow, Fugaku is fully chill. “We’re not trying to limit your autonomy, sexual or otherwise. We are simply concerned. Wouldn’t you be concerned if Sasuke, in a few years, starts switching partners?”

Itachi draws back in outage. “Sasuke would never. Sasuke is a pure soul who will reproduce asexually because no living thing is worthy of touching a hair on his head. We’re not talking about Sasuke.”

Fugaku nods like this is a perfectly reasonable conversation to have. Kakashi is just shocked at how many words Itachi has said. He spoke more in the last five minutes than in the previous year. “Not Sasuke, then. Any of your cousins. We’re not disapproving, Tachi-chan, we simply want to understand. Help us understand and we can go on supporting you.”

Itachi loses some of the indignant posture. If only it had been an exaggeration. What a simple world that would be. “What is there to say? I am doing what feels right for me. My partners know what to expect and I treat them with respect. That is all anyone can ask of me.”

Kakashi reaches the end of the rope. That’s it. He can’t sit here and discuss the sex-life of Itachi-chan, the solemn little nightmare he practically raised. It’s—weird, and uncomfortable and he doesn’t like it. “That’s fine. We were worried that you were—That you had your heart set on someone and that all this was an elaborate ploy to catch their attention.”

Itachi cocks his head, lips pursed in a strange smile. “Did you?”

Kakashi clenches his jaw. Yes, well, if you’re that strong and loony, people are going to worry, you terrible catastrophe. “Since you’re not and you’re enjoying the—” Fucking Hells. “—Springtime of youth—” You should be ashamed of yourself. “—Then there’s really nothing more to discuss. Have fun, uh. Stay safe. I need to go tell my ANBU to let your paramours out of protective custody. Ja-ne.”

Things don’t really calm down, after that. If anything, things go the opposite way. The quiet days of Itachi quietly meditating in the mud with his summons are over. The days of Itachi Uchiha deciding to make up for the lost time by doing everything and everyone at once are here and they are strange.

After the first few public encounters, Itachi decides to take mercy on them and keeps his trysts to somewhat private settings.

It’s a whole thing. Kakashi supports him from a distance and tries to be chill about this. Uchiha are Uchiha and the only reason people don’t drop whatever they’re doing to beg for ten minutes of their time and, perhaps, a well-placed sneer, is that they’re understood to be batshit insane and incapable of casual encounters. Itachi who is the pinnacle of Uchiha beauty in every measurable way, and also has loudly proclaimed himself very interested in casual encounters, is almost a big enough disruption to the social fabric be codified into law.

If Kakashi was alone in his shock, he would assume his feelings stem from, fuck knows, some thusfar undiscovered well of prudishness. It’s not just him. All his friends, with the glaring exception of Genma and Kurenai, can’t quite reconcile the gentle, quiet child with the incubus prowling the streets. It doesn’t taper off, either. If anything, Itachi at seventeen is even more ethereally beautiful than he was at sixteen, finally shedding the last traces of baby-fat and settling into his razor-sharp jawline and terrifying cheekbones. It’s during this time that most people start accepting this new reality with some degree of grace.

Yeah, okay, good for you, assholes. Kakashi doesn’t have the luxury of ignorance. He is a Hatake with a Hatake nose that makes it perfectly known when Itachi is railing his partner in the storage closet. Considering Itachi is, in every way that matters, Kakashi’s apprentice, and therefore spends his days orbiting around him in some fashion, he is very aware of just how often Itachi ducks off to indulge in a bit of fun.

It would be widely inappropriate to comment on it or even bring it up, so he doesn’t. To his credit, the boy keeps it somewhat discrete. If not for Kakashi’s enhanced senses, the gags and similar implements the boy is fond of would be an effective method of keeping things contained. As it is—yeah. As long as Itachi doesn’t bring it up, he doesn’t either. Even when his partners shift from teenagers to people Kakashi’s age, he manages to keep himself contained. It’s obvious the sex is consensual. He hadn’t dealt or received enough damage to require professional healing, which is an achievement very few ANBU can boast. He leaves his partners immensely satisfied and he has a good nose about avoiding the crazies. To Kakashi’s knowledge, there hasn’t been any significant drama caused by jealous lovers, past or present. All in all, Itachi is by all accounts behaving like a responsible, if impossibly horny, young man taking advantage of the opportunities afforded to him. Who can blame him?

Kakashi. Kakashi can blame him because there’re only so many times he can hear his heartbeat speed up as he’s about to come. Only so many times he can endure his lovers’ muffled whimpering and begging until some weird, weird notions start creeping up into the back of his consciousness.

Ugh. Get laid, Hatake. There’s normal-gross and there’s Break out Sakumo’s katana and have a good think about your life choices in that one shrine. You can compartmentalise, you’re an adult.

He gets very good at blocking off his senses for a set amount of time. The Nara build him a little mechanical timer for his desk, with helpful little numbered levers to indicate the number of partners the brat is fucking. It’s an imperfect system, but Kakashi can’t spend all his days sexiled from his own office.

Year eighteen is when Kakashi finally gets some measure of peace. Someone or something prevailed and convinced Itachi that having an S-ranked Chūnin is an embarrassment and an affront to Konoha. Needless to say, he power-walks through a Jōnin exam where the instructors don’t even bother making him do anything except sign his name on the dotted line.

This means newly minted Jōnin Itachi starts going on cross-country missions.

It doesn’t take long to spot a pattern. His mission record is spotless, even if his reports are a study in delicate inference. Nobody’s reports, Kakashi thinks often and at length, should read as heavily redacted pornography. Went there and there, seduced the client, their friends and, only somewhat more rarely, the enemy. My partners, after weeping in gratitude, got their shit together and solved the problem for me. Bought a gift for Sasuke on my way back. Well—was gifted the item in question after—

Kakashi starts getting specific requests, as the word spreads. Soon, a sophisticated auctioning system sprouts in the mission office for the lucky client that will be granted the honour. It’s a whole thing, Itachi’s reputation. The more persistent prospective clients try circumventing the system and bribing Kakashi directly. Since Kakashi isn’t actually Itachi’s pimp, no matter how much of a liar the circumstances are making him be, he politely rebuffs them and forwards the bribes to Itachi. He put in the hard work, as it were, he might as well reap the rewards.

“Think of it this way,” says Tsume, one his more sympathetic friends, who also has enhanced senses and is thus often exposed to Itachi’s shenanigans, “our reputation is changing.”

Kakashi huffs, fully unwilling to look at the bright side of anything, not after his nose and ears gave him a detailed blow-by-blow of Itachi’s foray into more psychological aspects of BDSM.

“No, really. We never were the ’nice village’ no matter what the kids like to believe, but we’re not warmongering maniacs mass-producing child-geniuses either, anymore.”

Yeah, wonderful, Kakashi isn’t unaware that Itachi’s reputation is beginning to spill over into their wider Shinobi population. Everybody is happy about it, for the most part, except it tends to focus on the Hyūga and Uchiha more than most, both of which tend to mate for life.

“So, not bloodthirsty monsters, just nymphos, then?”

Tsume shrugs philosophically. “Yeah, pretty much. Step up, if you ask me. It’s not like you’re not contributing to it yourself. You’ve been fucking people left and right in the past couple of years.”

Yes, well, if you live in the haze of softcore porn at all hours of the day, you need some outlet. Kakashi is just a man. A man who doesn’t get the luxury of ignorance when the sexual pleasure of others is concerned. It’s a boon, usually. His partners never even try to fake shit, not when he will always know when he’s not performing adequately. At other times—

“I’m not begrudging him his fun,” he says, in his defence. “He’s not doing anything wrong. I just—He was a baby, like, a week ago. I fed him dango and pet him on the head and bought him rodents to play with in the mud. I don’t know what to do with all this—”

Tsume barks a laugh. “I don’t know, I’ve brought up a fair few kids. It’s the way of things. You get used to it.”

Sure. If Itachi was a baby-Hatake with a scent to match, maybe his stupid fucking brain would have it easier. As it is, all his lizard brain is getting is sex-pleasure-rapture-bliss. Not a healthy working environment, in all honesty.

“Yeah.”

Chapter Text

There’s always one dickbag.

Kakashi doesn’t quite know when he started approaching every meeting with foreign diplomats by categorising them into different sub-sections, but there it is. To be fair, there are always a few that are uninterested for one reason or another. Married, too old, too young, that sort of thing. Out of the rest, there are three rough groups. There are the people who already slept with him, who are hoping for more. There are people who haven’t yet, that might actually get to, and—the most troublesome group—those who haven’t and won’t but really fucking want to.

There is always one dickbag.

He takes another pointed look at the fucking clock. In general, Kakashi is pretty pleased with the idea of working lunches, as suspiciously as they were received. If there is a slogan that can describe Kakashi’s reign as Konohan benevolent dictator it’s Merciless War On Irregular Meals. It’s pretty scandalous, talking about serious topics over food, but Kakashi likes to believe he makes it work. He wants this trade agreement, but not at the cost of being a filthy hypocrite. His ANBU would riot if he made them attend all those seminars on proper nutrition, only to turn around and skip meals willy-nilly.

He takes another Genjutsu-obscured bite of chicken and focuses back on his company. Let’s play a quick round of STD, Spot The Dickbag.

Kazuki Gamahe, A-rank Jōnin leads the Kumo team. He is more or less decent, if blisteringly unpleasant, dishonest and weaselly. All fine traits in a politician, especially a Shinobi-politician hybrid. The PolSci specialisation at the Kumo Academy is as controversial as Kakashi’s social welfare fund, and almost as successful. Kazuki Gamahe is one of their star graduates, an accomplishment that speaks for itself. Just graduating from that hell hole is a task and a half, considering they only accept C-rank Jōnin applicants, who need to reach B-rank over the course of their studies. Needless to say, their death rate is above ninety per cent, most of it a direct result of infighting.

No, Kazuki Gamahe is deliberately not least bit in touch with his carnal leanings and wouldn’t act on them if he was. People—men, especially—willing to indulge in such things were taken out in the first semester. Easiest trick in the book. 

He switches his attention to the staff, languidly tapping his chopsticks on his lips. Masks were a thing of the past, Genjutsu is where it’s at, especially now that he has five-point seal tattoos placed at discrete points on his skull that he can activate and not have to bother with keeping it out consciously. It stands up to the Sharingan and the Byakugan, too, which is neat. He may have built a publishing house for Jiraiya and diverted several child trafficking missions for Orochimaru to devour, but it’s worth every fucking ryō. He can chew properly, now. It’s a fucking delight.

Never mind that. The underlings are next. First off—Nakami Mariko, age thirty-one. Frontline Kunoichi, specialising in Taijutsu. A decent possibility. Pretty, with a spectacularly powerful frame that suits her to a t. Has a settled confidence about her person who deals with problems head-on and personal. She smells—hungry. No, expectant, maybe. Anticipatory.

Next to her sits Aruko Riri. One of the least confrontational people he’s ever seen. Barely squeaked through her Chūnin exams but her grasp on dry data points means she gets carted along like luggage on almost every diplomatic mission. He’s met Riri-chan a dozen times by now. Sweet girl. Survived far past the average life expectancy for a civilian Kunoichi, without having killed a single human. He’d nab her for Konoha if he could. No worry, there.

Yakio Rū, however? Age twenty-four. Jōnin, specialising in Ninjutsu and Kenjutsu. Has a Bingo Book entry, with a decent bounty. Pretty and charismatic. Friendly even. Could be trouble. Has shit to prove and a chip on his shoulder. He looks like the popular type, with a classically handsome face and a good middle-class background. In terms of beginnings in life, he hit the sweet spot—more money than he could hope to spend but not so much that it would start to cut into his quality of life.

And last, Urumi Toriko, age nineteen, Kenjutsu enthusiast. Got promoted to Jōnin last year. Couldn’t menace a squirrel if he tried. Irrelevant.

That gives two possible problems. Nakami and Yakio. Hm. Kakashi can’t say he could predict who will catch Itachi’e eye and who won’t, but judging by the hidden glances and scent of anticipation coming from both Kumo underlings, he figures he will get to see another iteration of that particular experiment.

Not too inconvenient. The negotiations are, very obviously, not going anywhere. Either Kazuki is looking to bore him into less than favourable terms—which, honestly, has been known to happen—or he never planned to make a deal this time around. That’s fine. Most of these meetings don’t amount to much. Like it or not, in the past five years, Kakashi has managed to draft only nine international agreements, which brings the total number to eleven. Shinobi villages are treacherous and bloodthirsty and, just generally, no good. That won’t change any time soon.

Itachi swans into his office with his typical level of entitlement. In that, he shows his heritage. He doesn’t even address them, except to spare Kakashi a polite nod, as he beelines straight to the bookshelves.

Two scents spike in interest. Kazuki, Sage love him, doesn’t even look up from his papers, which is impressive. Itachi doesn’t expressly dress to impress, but he doesn’t dress down, either. Today he wears his hair up, Jōnin uniform altered to suit his whims slightly dusty. Training the kids, perhaps? Sasuke’s Genin team has already chewed through three Jōnin instructors, and the fourth one is looking distinctly ragged these days. Itachi is thrilled to assist whenever he is in the village, perching on the nearest branch like a vulture and staring quietly at the unfortunate soul that was bold enough to teach his angel. Somehow Kakashi is certain he will need to find the fifth come tomorrow.

The Kumo delegation doesn’t do anything as gauche as stop the meeting, but the already scattered energy dissolves further. Kakashi endures a handful of minutes more before he shifts his body language enough that Kazuki gets the message. Time for this little Hokage to go soak in the onsen for a good while.

Kazuki leaves soon enough, his underlings filing behind him obediently. Kakashi, having learned that it’s best to get these things over with before his mind decides to deal with the tedium in a proactive fashion, moves to his desk and starts compiling notes for his team. Productive or not, some useful intel has been exchanged. Kakashi hadn’t started off with goals of demilitarisation, but that’s somehow where he ended up. Demilitarising means trade and markets and making sure going to war with Konoha will be forbiddingly unprofitable for everyone involved. It’s a fun little oxymoron, honestly. Imagine, demilitarising a Shinobi village. The Shinobi village.

Writing up the report is miles more interesting than actually sitting through the damn meeting. When he emerges some twenty minutes later and head on over to the intel offices, he—

Okay. That’s Itachi, check. His scent is calm, unruffled, with a hint of acidic amusement. No—contemptuous amusement. Ouch. The woman crowds him, larger frame attempting some sort of bracketing manoeuvre. If it wasn’t Itachi Uchiha she was trying to bully, it might have even looked effective. She smells—well, just as contemptuous, but with a different spin. There’s no calm there, as much as people like her like to think they are. Just the scent of a person high on condescension and their own power fantasies.

“—will be good for you. Pretty thing like you would look spectacular on your knees, wouldn’t you? Pet on the head and told you are a good boy—”

Kakashi boggles a little. What—Why is Itachi even entertaining this? She’s a decently strong Jōnin but—Oh, she’s Kumo? Does—No that doesn’t matter. Diplomatic status doesn’t mean all that much, especially among Shinobi where the unwritten rule of Fuck around and find out might as well be sent straight from the heavens.

“I do like being good,” Itachi says, voice heavy with so much cultured malice that Kakashi has to slow his steps a little. He doesn’t think Itachi will snap and torture the girl for months, but—It’s not just Kakashi, either. Three ANBU are hidden in the corners, communicating in agitated bursts of Chakra. Is the idiot trying to seduce (?) Itachi even aware of it? Or is she ignoring deliberately? What—

“I know you do. Everybody does. Konoha’s prettiest slut—there’s a list going around of all the people you spread your legs for. I look forward to adding my name to it.”

Kakashi’s eyebrows are doing something. What kind of—is this hot for someone? No kink-shaming of course, humiliation has its place in power-play games, but—Surely this is too ridiculous? Even that aside, couldn’t she have left it for a more appropriate setting? They’re still in a government building, for fuck’s sake.

Maybe that’s part of the fantasy? Kind of a fuck the hot secretary type thing? Maybe? He hasn’t met many Shinobi past Genin rank who go in for that sort of thing, but maybe Kumo is different? Their hierarchy is pretty rigid compared to other Hidden Villages. Maybe there’s enough cultural weight there to make something as mundane as sex in the workplace feel transgressive?

“Do you? How interesting. A list, you say?”

Yeah, that is odd. Shinobi gossip like there’s no tomorrow, but he’s pretty sure the only reason anyone even takes note of Itachi’s sexcapades is because of who he is. Gen fucks more people in three months than Itachi has all up, and that’s now that he’s married and settled down. Anko and Kurenai’s orgies are practically a tourist attraction.

“Mm. They all say the same thing. Pretty Uchiha pillow-prince, always begging for more—”

Okay, not a real list, then. Just people talking shit. Good to know. There is no explicit rule about keeping other people’s preferences to yourself, but it’s pretty common sense. They’re all fucked up, which automatically creates a pact of mutual destruction. It’s not shameful, but it’s sure not pleasant to have your kinks aired for all and sundry.

Itachi has apparently made whatever point or goal he had and cranes his head to send a lazy look his way. Kakashi looks back, confused. What—

The girl, Nakami, turns around and blanks her face. Her scent, though, jumps with—satisfaction. What the fuck. Is this her actual goal? Is this somehow about Kakashi?

He looks back to Itachi, eyebrows dipping into a more pleading curve. What do you want, you infernal brat? Kakashi is much too old and peculiar for this shit.

“Hokage-sama,” she says, voice still halfway to the deep, seductive drawl. She backs away slightly but keeps the proprietary posture, body angled to box Itachi in. Whatever contempt she had for him, she doesn’t have for Kakashi. Or—not in the same way? This could actually be an attempt at playing out an emasculation fantasy, only with Kakashi as the intended target. Holy fucking shit, does this child—No, this child is barely a couple of years younger than him, she should really know better.

“Yeah, hi.” He cuts his eyes to the ANBU in the corner, whose Chakra shifted from wary to breathlessly amused. “So this is awkward.” Not really. Confusing maybe. If there’s embarrassment, it’s of the second-hand kind. “What do the kids say these days? Cringe?”

Itachi’s lips twitch briefly, but he keeps his body demure and submissive. The girl—doesn’t get it, bless. She all but puffs out with pride, scent filling with accomplishment. Kakashi’s eyebrows arch even further somehow.

“I apologise if I put you in an uncomfortable position,” she says, not even trying to feign sincerity. Kakashi is adrift in a sea of incomprehension. “Your Uchiha and I were simply getting to know each other.”

His Uchiha. At times like these, Kakashi is in two minds about covering his face. He would dearly appreciate a more emotive way to communicate his disbelief.

“I can see that.” Not really. “I’m sure—I’m sure this will work out for you. Really.” He’s a bit worried for Rabbit, however, he actually might fall from the ceiling and die laughing. How is she not sensing any of this? What kind of a Jōnin is she? “Well, I have to go, now. Meetings and all that boring adult stuff. Have fun Nakami.” He cuts his eyes to Itachi again, trying to communicate how ridiculous all this is. “Itachi.”

Her scent sours with disappointment, which is somewhat expected, considering she possibly wanted—something out of him. She doesn’t smell suicidal, so she likely hadn’t wanted to provoke him into a proper rage, but—Ugh. Itachi’s scent shifts too, swirling into a complicated cocktail of emotions. The main component is positive, if not outright pleasure, so he doesn’t care to look too far into it.

Goodness.

“Someone tell her team leader about this because the odds of that girl leaving Konoha in anything other than a matchbox are nil,” he tells Turtle, who has a good head on her shoulders and will know to phrase it in a more or less diplomatic fashion. “Hyena, take this to my advisors. I’m going to the onsen.” Fuck this, he needs to scrub the weird contemptuous greed off his skin.

Somehow it doesn’t end there. The Kumo delegation is set to remain in Konoha for three days when they will be picked up by an escort team. Kakashi hadn’t expected the girl to leave the building alive, but she did. Whatever beatdown had occurred evidently stayed verbal and possibly spiritual. She stalks around Konoha with an infuriated, humiliated air of resentment. Kakashi considers putting an ANBU trail on her for her own protection, but Kazuki doesn’t request it which probably means he doesn’t mind her getting her throat slit in the streets.

Itachi doesn’t make anything of it and Kakashi didn’t get where he was by getting up in peoples’ business without a good cause. It’s pretty clear he got something from that little encounter, as weird as that may look to Kakashi, so he’s happy to put it behind them.

Which makes it that much stranger when he overhears—against his will, even—the girl drunkenly rambling about her tryst with Itachi to a horrified Chūnin at the bar.

Crow’s Eye is a nice bar. Outside of the Akasen, there are perhaps three solid Shinobi-grade drinking establishments. This one is as nice as any other, and the lack of hierarchy in Konoha translated to her nightlife. Nobody blinks an eye when they see a group of Clan Heads in a booth next to civilian Genin. That is also what makes these places safe, or at least safer than the ones in a worse part of town. Shinobi who come to Crow’s Eye want to drink in peace and, more often than not, find a willing partner to keep the nightmares away. It’s vanishingly rare that a fight will break out and if it does, the staff doesn’t need to bestir themselves to deal with it. Not when the patrons are more than happy to oblige.

The Chūnin—a civilian, he’s pretty sure, late teens—oh, wow, didn’t he—yeah, yeah he can place his scent, he fucked Itachi in Training Ground Eleven that one time—looks caught in a trap of good manners and morbid fascination.

The girl doesn’t even notice the attention she’s getting, as increasingly disturbing words spew out of her mouth. Well—disturbing is a harsh term. Kakashi has had sex that landed him and his partner in the hospital even after they fixed the worst of it with Chakra healing and soldier pills. There is really no limit to violence that can happen when two traumatised Shinobi fuck, but—

It could be, Kakashi tries to consider, that it’s the novelty of anybody making this shit up that makes it so bad. It’s clear as day that she’s fantasising, even if the speed of gossip in Konoha didn’t ensure that everybody already heard about her clumsy attempt at asserting dominance. She could, perhaps, menace a civilian teenager into the level of submissive terror she’s describing, but not an Uchiha, much less an S-ranked one. Much less Uchiha Itachi, easily the strongest Shinobi in Konoha if not the continent.

So, what is the goal, then? Nobody guards their reputations in Konoha. Everybody of age or legal status to start having sex has already done more morally reprehensible things. The only taboo left when it comes to sexual relations is rape, which has very little to do with sex and is one of the quickest ways of getting executed in a public venue. Anything consensual is regarded as a perfectly appropriate pastime, along the lines of having good mental and spiritual hygiene.

“What am I seeing, precisely?” Shikaku cocks his head slightly, exchanging an appropriately befuddled look with Inoichi and Choza.

Kakashi shrugs helplessly. “She’s a part of the Kumo group.” Oh fuck. “Please tell me there aren’t any Hyūga—”

Yeah, of course there are Hyūga here. Of course Hyūga fucking Neji, Itachi’s greatest fan and an all-around terror, chock-full of hormones and hero-worship, is not only present but willing to make a thing about it.

Thankfully, the Chūnin in question has more sense than both the infatuated teenager and the unfortunate Kunichi. He stops the incoming Chakra punch to the throat by pushing the Kumo girl to centre mass as hard as he can. She topples over, actually too drunk to organise her limbs into an easy fall, which is all sorts of embarrassing for a Jōnin of any kind, much less a Taijutsu specialist.

Kakashi sighs. This is, strictly speaking, way below his pay grade but everything to do with Itachi is kind of his business. Also, he really does want those chilli peppers at a reasonable price and a Hyūga executing a Kumo Jōnin in cold blood will delay building the trade route for six months at least.

“Hey, now,” he says, bodily flopping over the furious teenager. “What’s this?”

“She—” Oh, wow, he’s actually too furious to speak. Not that out of character for Hyūga, but Neji spent enough time around Gai to have a better handle on his emotions.

“Yeah, we all heard. Why do we care if the girl is embarrassing herself?”

Neji vibrates in place. It’s cute. “Because she’s trying to—to Itachi-sama.”

Itachi-sama, huh? “And do we doubt that Itachi could tear her into itty bitty pieces if he wanted to? Look at her—” He makes a sweeping gesture at the red-faced Jōnin who, to her credit, is swiftly circulating her Chakra to burn off the alcohol in her system. “Do you think anybody in the world would believe her?”

The girl stands up, face tense and furious. A flash of movement in his periphery catches Kakashi’s attention. He’d spot that scent anywhere, that’s Itachi, coming in with—one of the girl’s teammates. The boy with a pretty smile, Yakio.

Kakashi barks a laugh. “As you can see, Itachi is busy having fun and enjoying himself.” And solving this political knot quite handily. Konohans aren’t the most patriotic bunch compared to some, but it’s easy to spread an insult to one of their own to the whole country. Now, it’s obvious that the girl is just a dull kunai in an otherwise fine brace.

“Neji-kun,” Itachi calls, dragging his baffled date who smells so strongly of sex and wax and blood that Kakashi wonders a bit. Didn’t he offer the poor boy a shower, at least? There are statements and there are statements and this one feels a bit exploitative. “Hokage-sama.”

Neji goes through an intense cycle of emotions, all perfectly telegraphed by his body language. Excitement his crush is within eyesight, elation at being acknowledged so informally, mortification that he’s in the middle of a pub-brawl, being more or less bodily restrained by said crush’s mentor, the Hokage.

Kakashi sighs, pats the boy on the head and finally deems the situation safe enough that he can stop smothering him. He pets his hair again for good measure—such silky goodness should be pet at all times—and steps back. The girl, though, is seething. If she was the clever type, Kakashi would be worried about Itachi’s Yakio. She appears much too impulsive for that, so—Yeah. If she snaps, she’ll lunge and Kakashi will simply step back and let the blood run.

“Itachi,” he greets, “and friend. Yakio, right? I see you’re enjoying your evening. Good on you, good on you. Now, listen, I hate to be a downer, but your teammate has made something of an idiot of herself. Would you mind getting your team leader here so he could—take her away to a place where she won’t instigate her gruesome murder? That would be greatly appreciated.”

“I—I’m sorry, Hokage-sama,” stutters the boy who is, apparently, terrified of Kakashi all of a sudden. He checks—nope, no KI, Kakashi’s Chakra is nice and mellow. Amused, even. They got along well during the meeting, he thought. Must be the stress of the situation. “I don’t understand.”

Kakashi nods, sympathy rushing in fast. “Yeah, that was a bit much to put on you, you overtaxed little lamb.” He sends Itachi a mildly reproving look. He should take care of his partners better. The boy can barely walk and talk at the same time. “Never mind that, come on—” He makes a quick gesture, and a group of Genin hurriedly abandons a nearby booth. “—In you go, both—” Actually— “All three of you. Itachi, be good. Neji-kun, relax, have a drink. Yakio-san—you just sit down and collect yourself. Someone—” He sweeps a wide look, catching several eyes. “—Get dear Yakio-san a glass of water and something to replenish his electrolytes. A hot chocolate. Maybe an energy bar.” He sends another reproving look Itachi’s way, who finally gets his point and looks mildly abashed.

When he turns around, he despairs to see several less than amicable bar patrons standing in a loose circle around the girl who is slowly but surely realising that something, somewhere has gone terribly wrong. “Well, then,” he says, clapping his hands together loudly. “This has been exciting. Nakami-san, do I need to summon my ANBU or do you want to not make things worse for yourself and follow me like a good little Kunoichi?”

Unsurprisingly, the team leader immediately starts a brutal hand-washing manoeuvre. Kakashi can barely get a word edgewise.

“No, she is not under investigation,” he says, after the fifth suggestion of a thing they could do to her, that Kumo wouldn’t protest. “She hasn’t committed a crime. I delivered her to you for her own safety. My Shinobi are a lively bunch, known to take somebody’s words a bit too seriously. Ita-chan is a Clan brat, you know? I simply wanted to avoid his family demanding satisfaction for what was, essentially, a childish bout of hurt feelings.”

“Oh.” Kazuki sends the girl a deeply unfriendly look. She scowls right back, undaunted. Kakashi is beginning to think nepotism is playing a role here, somehow. She looks to be an okay Jōnin but an attitude like that would have gotten her killed a decade ago. Maybe a court position? That’s possible, yeah. Lightning Country Daimyo is a phenomenally rich, phenomenally twisted asshole with something like eighty concubines and fuck knows how many children running about.

Doesn’t matter, really.

“The important thing to realise is that nobody got hurt—” Except Yakio, with his very enthusiastic consent, if Kakashi is not very mistaken. “And we all learned a valuable lesson in friendship and love.” Gods, he really cracks himself up sometimes.

Chapter Text

The unfortunate Kumo affair marks another shift in Kakashi’s life. Itachi starts, for the lack of a better word, involving him in his games. He rarely gets the full olfactory experience of his adventures, which is a relief, but there is a marked uptick in misunderstandings between Kakashi and his partners.

Alright, it’s not completely unbelievable. Itachi wouldn’t be the first teenager to have problems with the omnipresent authority figures in their lives. He isn’t sure what he did, that Itachi feels it necessary to stress-test his temper, but he must have done something.

He tries fixing it. He gives the boy his space, doesn’t make a scene, no matter how weird the situations sometimes are. Itachi’s partners are diverse—always Shinobi and thank fuck for that—but they tend to be just as bewildered by it as Kakashi is. One poor confused lamb tried—inexpertly and with a lot of stuttering, to suggest some sort of—group encounter, which made Kakashi so viscerally uncomfortable he fully hurled himself out of the window. The Sarutobi Jōnin was blushing and all but scruffing his foot in the ground like he wasn’t a thirty-year-old Shinobi.

Week after week, the boy escalates, and Kakashi starts feeling distinctly cornered, like every scene is deliberately arranged to corral him to some specific point. Being hunted like this makes volatile parts of his heritage act up. Sleep becomes difficult to reach, Chakra flowing restlessly under his skin. His teeth itch. He can barely taste the food he forces down his throat.

Did he fuck things up? What kind of a statement is Itachi trying to make that warrants all this? Does he feel smothered? Over-managed? Is he lashing out?

He doesn’t know and until he figures it out all he can do is to clamp down on the part of his soul that wants to howl miserably for a week and retreat to a cave to lick his wounds. This—feels a lot like a rejection of some sort and it really fucking hurts.

Shit really hits the fan during one of Kakashi’s semi-permanent visits to Otogakure, to see Naruto and check up on Obito’s recovery.

Well, he thinks, thoughts growing slow in the manner of men hurled so far past shock they circled right back to calm, at least he waited until they were in semi-privacy.

Orochimaru, on his end, doesn’t look shocked to have an Uchiha twink sitting in his lap. He doesn’t do anything about it—and thank the Gods for that, because there’s some imagery you simply don’t recover from—but he doesn’t throw him off either. If anything, he looks distantly amused in that cold, reptilian way that suggests he could make you strip naked right here if he wanted to and what’s more you should go to sleep every night begging your Gods it’ll happen. **

Kakashi breathes through his mouth and very carefully doesn’t say anything.

“As I was saying,” continues Orochimaru, that deep voice so close to Itachi’s unbound hair that it’s making the strands flutter, “our rebuilding efforts have been mostly successful but we would benefit from a robust trade-route for several key resources. Steel, namely, but also—”

Kakashi nods at, roughly, appropriate times, shock slowly souring into grief. Guilt. A bit of resentment too, with growing intensity. He—he isn’t perfect, but he thought they had a decent enough relationship. He thought he deserved a conversation, and not these harsh mind games and power plays.

Orochimaru and Itachi notice his steadily cooling Chakra react, predictably, by racking up tension right back. Itachi’s back straightens and Orochimaru loses more and more of the languid warmth until all three of them resemble nothing more than three incredibly dangerous marble statues.

“I think we covered everything,” he says, not even slightly confident in the truth of his words. Tough. Whatever cocktail of emotions was swirling in his belly has solidified into numb ice. He, quite literally, can’t be fucked to play this game anymore. “I will see myself out, Orochimaru-sama. Itachi—I’ll see you when I see you.”

Something strange happens to Itachi’s scent. It spikes with—dread? Unease? Apprehension? Kakashi shuts off all but the most base scents and sounds and stands. Even through the ice, he can acknowledge his body language isn’t at all welcoming to polite society.

“I’ll come with you.”

Kakashi focuses on the bridge of his nose. “You will stay one kilometre away from me at the very least. I’m sure you have—things to do elsewhere. Give my best to Obito, if you could. With your leave, Otokage-sama.” He doesn’t wait for anybody’s fucking leave and lets the door click behind him quietly. That’s a small victory, at least. He behaved more or less politely. Even when he was truly driven into a corner, beyond the point of what he could reasonably be expected to ignore, he behaved decently. His conscience is clear.

The trip back to Konoha doesn’t magically provide any answers, but one thing does solidify. He needs to put distance between Itachi and himself, and not only for the boy’s sake. This—whatever it is—has gone much too far. His only metric for Itachi’s inexplicable behaviour has been that it’s not harming him or others. It’s becoming increasingly clear that it’s starting to harm not only Kakashi but both Itachi and his other partners.

Distance is the necessary first step. Hopefully, it will give him a chance to clear his head and calm the fuck down. A serious conversation is crucial here, and Kakashi, as with most things to do with Itachi, can’t predict it even the slightest bit.

When he returns, he beelines straight to the Uchiha Compound. Mikoto and Fugaku are his principal allies in this.

“Enough is enough,” he says, slightly ashamed that his obvious tension is making his friends nervous. “I’ve tolerated everything I could. I didn’t make a fuss, let him figure himself out in his own time. I didn’t say a word when he was fucking people in the Hokage tower when his mission reports read as one of Jiraiya’s hornier novels. If he thinks—” He breaks off once he realises that his voice is starting to shake. He breathes heavily for a few moments and forges on when that doesn’t do much to help his composure. “I’ve had it. He’s crossing all sorts of lines and I can’t—I can’t indulge whatever point he is trying to make.”

Fugaku’s eyes are distinctly pained, even as Mikoto’s are sparking with—something. At least he’s spared sensing their emotions more viscerally, whatever they might be. “I am sorry. If he were anyone else—We all got used to walking on eggshells around Itachi. He’s such a gentle soul, I admit that every time I think to reprimand him, the image of those dark days in his youth flash before my eyes and I can’t bring myself to.”

Kakashi nods stiffly. “Yes, I am very familiar with the phenomenon. I would have carried on if he didn’t—He sat in Orochimaru’s lap, in the middle of our meeting. I—” He breaks off again, this time involuntarily. “I don’t know what I did to provoke this, but my best efforts to fix it were in vain.”

Mikoto and Fugaku spend a few breaths in silent communication, mercifully giving Kakashi a few minutes to catch his breath. “That was incredibly inappropriate,” says Mikoto, voice set in a cool, impersonal tone. “I apologise in his stead. No matter what his motives are, he should have been mature enough to communicate them politely.”

Kakashi does, admittedly, feel a bit better. It’s nice to be acknowledged.

“I need distance,” he says, after a moment. “I need some space to think and cool off and that’s impossible when he—Everywhere I turn, I can smell him. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t live with a constant cloud of sex and—” It should be awkward to talk about this with his parents but whatever barriers he had are long since eroded. “I have to leave. If I wasn’t the Hokage, I’d just fuck off to a long mission. I can’t do that, now, not without causing a whole lot of political drama that the village doesn’t deserve.”

Fugaku looks torn. “We certainly can’t begrudge you any boundaries you think to set. You were badly done by. But—would you consider talking to him first?”

“He looked me right in the eye as he sat in another Kage’s lap,” he says, growl hiding how close to tears he is. Or, not hiding it, if Fugaku’s pained expression is any indication. “It wasn’t platonic, either. I know really fucking intimately what his arousal smells like, I’ve had it clinging to my skin for almost three years now.” Deep breaths. “It was an official meeting. Even if he doesn’t have any respect for me as a person, he must respect the office at least a little. He’s escalating. What will be next? I can’t—it’s dangerous. Orochimaru likes me, likes him, but the next Kage might not and—”

“He does respect you,” says Mikoto. “Very much. He is—he is young and foolish and arrogant but he holds you in the highest regard.”

Sure he does. “I hate to see what he does to those he doesn’t respect, then.” Alright, that’s not fair. You know full well Itachi cares about you a great deal. Whatever problems he has, whatever doubts he has about Kakashi’s character that are causing all this, it could only be driven by a foundation of care. “Sorry. I’m—” What? “Really fucking angry.”

“Understandable.” Mikoto looks at him for a long series of heartbeats. “I wish I had an easy solution for you. You must know that nothing Fugaku or I could do will stop him from seeking you out. He doesn’t—he never learned boundaries. Most Uchiha don’t, not when it comes to things that truly matter.”

“So go on a mission,” says Fugaku, seamlessly continuing from the end of her sentence. “Appoint Shikaku as the interim Hokage. Mikoto and I will serve as his backup. If you think you need time to get away, then we will do our best to give it to you. Just—come back?”

Kakashi sags, relief melting his anger into sadness. “Thank you. I won’t stay long. Give me a month?”

“Deal. Send a couple of Shadow Clones around to the Clans to let them know we’re not plotting something, and you can leave tonight.”

It’s not Itachi that tracks him down, twenty-one days into his introspection pilgrimage. Somewhat unimaginatively, he ran to the cruel mountains in Iron, keeping his Chakra in a tight hold around his skin. The birthplace of Hatake is not a place where life thrives by any stretch of the imagination and is thus perfect for his needs. He runs through the snow and eats his meat bloody and warm, stripping it directly from bone. His Hatake Chakra purrs in contentment and the ever-present itch in his gums disappears. Long unused Clan traits come to the fore, body producing more heat, fangs elongating and nails hardening. His thoughts slow to match his lifestyle of an animal in winter, concerned chiefly with survival.

Seeing Orochimaru without his elaborate silk robes is a fucking trip. Kakashi never would have guessed that the debonair man could ever fit in the wild, but he does. Exceedingly well, even.

“Hatake-san,” he greets, inclining his head. For once, his hair is caught in a practical bun. Even the ever-present scent of perfume is gone, possibly to prevent Kakashi from catching his scent and bolting into the ever-frozen cliffs where not even Orochimaru could track him. Not that he would. He’s not an idiot, he needs to be at least somewhat reachable, in case of emergency.

He stares back. “Orochimaru-sama.” His voice is thick with a growl entirely without his input. He is too close to his Clan heritage to be anyone’s version of civilised. Orochimaru mistakes it for hostility, unfortunately.

“I come to apologise.”

Kakashi’s eyebrows arch. He takes a step back. “Unnecessary. There is no slight.” His throat is uncooperative, words forming slow and clumsy. It is physically difficult to speak. His throat has transformed enough that human sounds are tricky. His fangs make it difficult to close his mouth, making some consonants almost impossible to pronounce, never mind the rest.

“There is. I—” Orochimaru matches him, moving away further,  possibly to give Kakashi some sense of safety. “I don’t set a lot of rules for myself, but consent is one of them. I thought you were aware of Itachi’s feelings and were a willing participant.”

Kakashi closes his eyes. Even though the purpose of this little jaunt was to think about Itachi, he did precisely the opposite happened. Things are very simple here. Easy, like life never is among humans. It made it easy to ignore his problems. “You are blameless. If anything, I am grateful. If not you, it would be another.” You can speak in full sentences. You should speak in full sentences. “Itachi never backs down. He provoked a Kage. He will do more in the future.”

To his credit and Kakashi’s relief, Orochimaru doesn’t dismiss him. He nods and takes his time to consider it. “That may be true, but I doubt it. Itachi doesn’t see me as a political figure. Very few do. You are the only Kage who truly sees me as anything but an egomaniac, living in a compound full of societal rejects.”

“Foolish.” Truth. Orochimaru’s compound of rejects houses more S-rank nin than any three other Hidden Villages combined. Once he re-builds Uzushio, he will be the leader of the strongest force in the Continent, if he isn’t such already. “I am glad—you think so. I am afraid for him.”

“Don’t be. He spent so long insisting we all treat him as an adult and now someone finally is.” Orochimaru shakes his head a bit, lips pursed into a tight line. “He should have been taken to task a long time ago. I will make no excuses for him. That his actions were motivated in care has no weight, when they are destructive.”

Kakashi doesn’t say anything. He—agrees, to an extent. Maybe not so harshly—Itachi never crossed the lines of consent. He was careful to only ever allude—and Kakashi is an adult too. He never brought the matter up. “I should have said. It is on me. That I let things escalate to this.”

“You should have. I don’t excuse you completely. You and his family—and myself—have gotten used to treating Itachi like a child with adult privileges. We robbed him of the chance to learn from his mistakes, letting him step further and further into intolerable behaviour, only to tear the rug from underneath him when he finally crossed a line we couldn’t accept. He is inconsolable.”

Guilt sits heavy in his stomach. That is—absolutely true. “This is not a punishment.” That is suddenly very important to say. “This is for me. People forget. I work hard to make them forget. I am dangerous.” His throat hurts. “I don’t handle it well. When people I love hurt me. I tried hard to be better for him. Sometimes I can only run.”

Orochimaru makes a short, dismissive movement. “It is shameful that you had to run to the highest cliffs in Iron to get space. You are owed privacy if you request it, Hokage or not.”

Still. “Tell him. Please. That I do not mean to hurt him.”

Orochimaru nods sharply. “I owe you that much.”

Kakashi nods, exhausted from all the conversation. Chakra sparks in the root of his fingernails. “I need to go now.”

“Good hunting, Hatake-san.”

He feels lighter, on his return trip. He missed home, missed his compound and the soft whirring of kapibara at all hours. Even the hustle and bustle of the Hokage office.

His friends, he missed most of all. His family. Itachi is on the top of the list, of course, but so are Genma and Raido and Gai, Mikoto and Fugaku and Sasuke and a truly staggering amount of people an old dog like him has managed to collect. He is blessed to have them.

The atmosphere in the village can best be described as aggressively casual, as he walks through the gates, relishing the soft tingle of Fūinjutsu barriers on his skin. Home sweet home.

“Thank the fucking Sage,” is the first thing Shikaku tells him, eyes tight with stress. “One month to the day and what a fucking month it was.”

Mikoto scoffs from the desk on the right of the room. Shikaku had reorganised the place, some. Four more desks stand to the side, each one manned by a Clan. Mikoto and Fugaku sit behind one, Hiashi behind the second and Choza and Inoichi take the last two. “Three is no need for dramatics.” She stands up and folds into a bow. Proper bow, too, from the waist, hands thrust to the side palm-side up, baring her nape for a full second. “Everything is in order, Hokage-sama. Your seat waits for you.”

Kakashi is embarrassed enough to faint. “I—Thank you.” Still with the growl. “Sorry about the voice. Hatake blood. I will be normal soon.”

Inoichi shares a wide-eyed look with Fugaku, which is a bit odd, but Kakashi isn’t even a little curious. “No need for apologies, Hokage-sama,” says Inoichi. “It is very impressive. Hatake bloodline, you say?”

Kakashi tries for a friendly smile with a mouth that was used almost exclusively to tear flesh from bone for a mouth. It only works so well. He chooses to think that it’s the thought that counts. “Call me Kakashi, yes? Still me. Just—wild.” He tries to recall how long it took for Sakumo’s fangs to recede after their ‘camping trips’. “Give me a few days.”

“Goodness,” Inoichi replies, voice a bit faint. “Of course, Kakashi. You look—good. Relaxed. Is that how tall you are when you don’t slouch?”

Kakashi re-settles his shoulders, tongue idly worrying at a canine. “The changes are minor. Teeth. Claws. Carnivore diet. That sort of thing. Nothing to worry about.”

“We aren’t worried,” says Fugaku. Kakashi attempts another smile. This one feels less stiff, but more toothy. Hmm. “Just surprised. Inoichi is right. You look much better. I never realised how stressed you looked before.”

Kakashi doesn’t know what to say again. He was stressed, yes. “Thank you. Tell me what happened while I was gone.”

Chapter Text

Itachi is not in the Hatake compound. Kakashi doesn’t feel any specific way about it, yet. He’s a tracker. He’s the tracker. His month-long impromptu—hah—jaunt through nature—aha-ha—came with a host of problems and one advantage so perfectly placed that it more than makes up for the rest.

Kakashi’s mind is clearer than it’s ever been. Humans are, in a very tangible way, really bad at being human. Well, not bad. Just badly equipped. They live in a complicated world made even more complicated by the sweeping, civilisational weight crushing them. Wouldn’t it be just swell if they could think straight for two fucking seconds? Wouldn’t that be a fair and appropriate balance for all the unknowable layers of bullshit stacked against them?

Now that Kakashi has sneaked a peek over the proverbial fence, he can say with some confidence that the grass is not only greener over there, Kakashi’s side doesn’t even have grass, it has nails, dipped in poison, with some stray tigers lurking in the corners. They can try to delude themselves with their nice food and warm, fuzzy blankets, but all that means very little when their brains will shank them at every curve. He spent a month in the cold tearing flesh from bone to survive, nursing a broken heart. That is what he escaped to.

No, Kakashi is an idiot, but he’s not a fool. This is a very rare opportunity he had been given and he will take advantage of it, come what may.

He finds him at the Naka, curled up with Lehi and a few mundane kapibara that have migrated throughout Hatake-Uchiha-Nara lands. Huh. He hasn’t seen Lehi in—a good long while. That’s pretty odd. He was around all day every day, back when.

Itachi doesn’t smell surprised at his arrival, but he does tense, flattening himself into Lehi as if seeking shelter. The summon sends a look Kakashi’s way that’s as unreadable as ever, if not as zen. Not unfriendly, he doesn’t think, but reserved.

“Hey.” He sits down next to them, torso deliberately parallel to them, eyes focused on the Naka. Let’s keep some virtual distance, for now. “I’m back.”

Itachi smells like heartbreak and loneliness. It is a very unwelcome reminder of what he was like during the dark days of his youth. It lacks the edge of hopelessness and despair, which is good, but it’s far from pleasant, either.

“Can’t talk much. Sorry. My—throat changed. Teeth. All that.”

Lehi shifts, settling his head on his cute webbed hands that look almost dainty next to his gigantic head. Itachi shifts with him, twisting his torso even further. It looks fucking uncomfortable. 

“I’m sorry.” Itachi’s voice is more composed than he’d expect, with how miserable he smells. Then again, he is an Uchiha. They get taught that monotone in the crib, probably. “I hurt you. I am sorry.”

“You are forgiven.” Kakashi indulges in a sigh, settling in for a long wait. His mind is still gratifyingly slow from the month in the forest. “I hurt you too. I am sorry.”

“You don’t even know what you should forgive me for.”

Kakashi shrugs. “Don’t care. You are my most important person.” When did that happen? “I will always forgive you. Simple.”

Itachi’s scent spikes in misery again, mixed with—self-loathing? Disgust?

“Easy, kitten.” Whoops. He hadn’t used that nickname in a while. It doesn’t do much to soothe the kid, either. “It can be simple. Will you fuck more people in front of me?”

Itachi flinches, actually bodily flinches. Was that too blunt? Should he have been more circumspect? “Sorry. Wolf mind. My thoughts are straight lines. But is true, yes? You won’t because it hurts me. Easy.”

“I won’t.” Even his voice is soaked with misery, now. “I never meant to hurt you. You were so—free with intimacy, I thought—”

Kakashi feels a sort of calm spread through his mind. This feels very important, but also gentle. He doesn’t feel the need to rush, feels no urgency or anticipation. It’s all good. They’re talking shit out, hopefully without the barriers of assumptions and misunderstandings.

“You involved me without asking, kitten. That hurt.”

Itachi’s exhale is a fine example of Shinobi muscle control. “I—am sorry for that. Orochimaru explained at length. I was wrong.”

Kakashi nods. “And I forgive you. See? Easy.” He shifts thirty degrees, so he can see Itachi in his periphery. He’s turned into Lehi, twisted his body into a pretzel. “Hey, come on. We can talk. We are—friends at least?”

“Friends?”

Kakashi tongues a canine. Itachi’s heart rate doesn’t seem healthy.

“Are you afraid of me?” Everything about his body says so, but--

“Yes.” Itachi pauses, fingers clenching in Lehi’s fur. “No.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Absolutely not.”

Kakashi hums, lets the silence soothe them both. It’s difficult to say how much Itachi will let himself be soothed, but it can’t hurt. “I am not sorry for leaving. I am sorry for how I left. I was angry and cruel. You deserve better. I should have explained.”

Itachi’s smell shift again, red-hot and furious. It’s like a fucking hurricane, changing from moment to moment, next to impossible to make out what is happening in that fierce little heart. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. I was desperate and horny and I hurt you.”

“You are forgiven,” Kakashi says automatically, but something about that sentence doesn’t compute. “Desperate? Why?”

“Why?” Finally, Itachi twists his way. Kakashi takes him in, the primal part of his mind chasing its tail with happiness to see his kitten again. He lost weight, which is alarming. Bags under his eyes could almost match Kakashi’s from a month ago. His eyes are swollen from crying. For the first time since he’s known him, Itachi doesn’t look perfectly put together. “Because nothing I did worked. Because I didn’t know if you were letting me down gently or encouraging me to continue. Because you still went and fucked all your other friends, no matter how good I tried to be for you.”

Kakashi blinks. Well, okay. It’s definitely good that this conversation is happening now that the human-hysterical part of his mind is suppressed. “You wanted me?”

Itachi’s eyes fill with—something. His mouth twists, heart stuttering in his chest. Kakashi observes it all, grateful for the small reprieve. A large part of his mind needs some time to—accept this as a possibility. Itachi wanted—him? That can’t be right, can it?

His scent speaks the truth, though. Also, he has no reason to lie. He gains nothing from that, that Kakashi can see. Plus—Itachi never was much of a liar.

“There is no reason to be cruel.” Itachi closes his eyes—ah. Shame. That’s what he is smelling. Corrosive shame.

Kakashi frowns. “I am not. I didn’t know.”

Itachi is quiet for a couple of seconds, body twisting this way and that, like he can’t decide if he wants to run away, hide in Lehi or turn towards Kakashi. In the end, he ends up in a strange twist, hands clenched tight, somehow even paler than before. “Bullshit. Even if you ignore everything else, I followed all the rules. All your rules.”

Now hold on. “Rules?” What the fuck?

Itachi leans back. The tremble in his hands increases, scent souring with hysteria. “Courting rules. Hatake Clan courting rules, more precisely. I followed every step, for every option. A partner role, then a lover, then just a casual fuck—” What? “You just ignored me. I would—I was wrong, I admit, but one ‘no’ from you would have—I would have left you alone. I’m not a monster. I just thought—You didn’t say no. I was hopeful that I could—If I just show you that I can be good for you, you would have me.”

Kakashi’s becoming flustered. The pain in Itachi’s voice mixed with the wounded mania in his scent is sending his primal side into a tizzy. That the human side of him is just straight up unresponsive doesn’t help. “My father died when I was six. We were halfway to war even before that. I don’t know any Hatake traditions.”

Itachi is silent for a long minute. That would be great if his Chakra wasn’t growing more horrified by the moment. “So it was even worse, then,” he says, voice shaking. “You had no idea. I was harassing you, and you had no idea. Just a stupid little boy, making a spectacle of himself, forcing you into sexual situations—”

Kakashi’s eyes widen in alarm. Itachi is reaching dangerous levels of agitation. He might actually hurt himself if he continues. “You did no such thing.” Maybe a little at the end, there, but let’s let that go for now. “You offered, in your way. I should have said something.” So should Itachi, but he tried. He’s a Clan brat, it probably never even occurred to him that Kakashi might simply not know.

“I’m so sorry,” Itachi says. His shoulders crumple inwards, heavy rivulets of tears running down his perfect cheeks. “I thought—Amaterasu, I thought you were—Interested at least. Open to the possibility. But you just didn’t know.”

Kakashi doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry. I should have said. I should have known.”

Itachi makes a small, wounded sound in the back of his throat that sends bolts of pain straight into his heart. Calm. You can get through this. Focus on—Focus on how admirable the kitten is. How much strength it takes to be this vulnerable in front of a person that rejected him.

Wait. Has he been rejected? Who rejected him? Past-Kakashi? Past-Kakashi didn’t know there was a question being asked. Present-Kakashi wasn’t asked, either.

Should he say anything? Would that be—inappropriate?

Surely not. It could be painful, for Kakashi. He could be rejected. But, well, Itachi has just shredded his metaphorical heart and is crying miserably, without a thought spared for his pride. Kakashi can at least try to match him.

“Sorry. I am slow about these things. More so now. But you want me? Is that past or present?” A clumsy way of putting it. “Sorry for the clumsy form.” There. Good.

Itachi’s scent screeches again. Fuck, this is becoming painful. “Do you know many Uchiha who fall out of love easily? Or at all?”

Kakashi keeps his mouth shut for a second, while he inspects that sentence for ambiguity. “We made many mistakes, kitten. Simple answer please.”

Itachi’s mouth twists, but he manages a self-deprecating nod. “I want you now, of course.”

Kakashi hums. “Hm. Alright. Thank you for telling me. Do you want to—” What? “Get dango with me?” From the corner of his eye, he sees Lehi open his eyes. Alright, so he is on tricky territory, now. Lehi can and will liquefy his brain if he fucks this up.

Itachi blinks, cocking his head. He is quiet for a good thirty seconds. “Excuse me?”

Kakashi shrugs, uncomfortable but settled enough. This seems like a good decision. True decision. Both parts of his mind are enveloped in a cautious sort of hope. “I don’t know if I want you yet, but I love you a lot. You are beautiful and loyal and brave. Why not—try, yes?”

Itachi falls quiet again. His heart rate picks up again, which brings a frown to Kakashi’s face. “I’m sorry. Was I wrong?”

“Were you wrong?” Itachi’s voice cracks. His face is swollen and smudged, his hair hasn’t been washed in a long time and he could use a shower. He smells like wet rodents. The cautious hope in Kakashi’s belly warms up, makes him want to close his eyes and let his lungs expand. Wants to roll in this feeling. Huh. “What are you asking me? Precisely?”

Kakashi shrugs. “A date. I don’t know if I want you. I never let myself consider it. I am considering it now.”

Itachi swallows. Tears are welling in his eyes again. That doesn’t seem good. The warm bubble shrinks a little.

“You are crying,” he says cautiously. “That feels like a no.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing!” Itachi sobs, a full-body sob that’s somehow completely different from those resigned, miserable tears. “I—I want to of course, but—I tried to make you want me as hard as I possibly, physically could. There is nothing more to try. Will you tell me? Anything you want me to do, anything you want me to be, I will do it. Just don’t make me guess, please.”

Kakashi’s eyes widen with alarm. Okay, so he fucked up. He should have waited. Too late. “Can I hug you? Friend-hug? Safe-hug?”

Itachi throws himself at him. Kakashi relaxes immediately. He didn’t even know how tense he was, from having to keep his hands to himself while his kitten was cold and hurting. He spends a long couple of minutes petting his hair and warming up the too-cold skin. When the sobs grow quiet, he forces his hands still and leans his cheek in his hair. They shifted, unconsciously, until Itachi was half kneeling between his legs and half sitting in his lap.

He squeezes a little, experimentally. The body in his arms doesn’t feel like a boy. He inhales a long, studious breath. Doesn’t smell like a boy. He thinks back, summons up his idea of Itachi. Young, yeah, but he hasn’t thought of him as a boy for a long time, pet names aside. So that’s one worry less.

Will anyone mind? His family? He doesn’t think they will. Kakashi is a good match, he likes to think, especially since he already gave the Hatake lands and secrets to the Uchiha years ago. If things—If Itachi is serious, which he always is, and things progress, would Kakashi mind taking the Uchiha name? Nope, he might even welcome it. He looks inwards, deep, inspects all the tortured little corners, all the endless pits of regrets and mistakes. Nope, he can’t find anything inside that will cause problems with a possible romantic relationship with Itachi.

Alright, let’s do this. “What do you want? Don’t think about me.”

Itachi grabs Kakashi’s arms and draws them tighter around his body. Kakashi’s heart melts. “I want to fuck but also date. And everything else. Forever.”

Kakashi hums, rubs his cheek into the top of his head. He smells like Kakashi already. Are you scent marking him, you animal? “I don’t think you are a boy. Not really. You will always be my kitten, but I know you are a man.” Itachi shudders. A curious sort of awareness opens in Kakashi’s mind. He knows that scent. Is Itachi—aroused? At, what, the nickname? Fucking Hells. “How do Uchiha date?” Best not rely on any shared cultural knowledge just yet.

“We throw ourselves at the feet of our beloved and hope for the best.”

Kakashi debates going for a chiding bite. He’s serious. “No games, kitten. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Itachi shudders again. Kakashi should consider not using the nickname while things are still up in the air. Probably sends mixed signals. Then again, Itachi is sitting in his lap and Kakashi has not so subtly covered him with his scent, so that ship has well and truly sailed.

“I am not playing. I know I am a weird one, but I am an Uchiha. We don’t change our minds.”

Kakashi huffs. “You are a good Uchiha.” Complete truth. Nobody disagrees. “How do you court, then?”

Itachi tenses and burrows into Kakashi’s chest. Kakashi shifts. This is becoming. Not so friendly. On one hand—inappropriate. On the other hand—informative. “There are some rules, but it is pretty simple, compared to other Clans.” Compared to the Hatake Clan, hangs in the air. Kakashi is distantly curious about Hatake courting. What has the kitten been doing to signal his interest without him even suspecting it? “An Uchiha falls in love and then tries to make their chosen partner fall in love with them, using any means necessary.”

Right. Kakashi hasn’t hung out with many Uchiha of courting age. He distantly remembers Kushi-nee telling him stories about how Mikoto courted Fugaku. It was a giant shitshow, if he remembers correctly. “How do you protect yourself?”

Itachi makes a disgusted, almost affronted sound. “You don’t. You hope for the best.”

Well, that sounds impossibly reckless. “That is reckless,” he says because it needs to be said out loud. “What if they are not worthy?”

Itachi shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Good Gods. Is this a Clan trait, like Hatake fangs and Aburame everything? To simply take it on blind faith that your chosen partner is it for you, come what may?

“Sometimes,” Itachi says, in slow, hushed tones, “if our chosen partner gets—sick. We separate. Not completely, but if one party becomes dangerous, the other would move to a separate house. More often, somebody would come to live with them, to help. But that is very rare and it hurts everybody.” He pauses for a second and continues in an even quieter tone. “Inami—a cousin of mine—had a wife that became sick like that and started hurting her.  We had to separate them, but Inami wouldn’t stand for it. She went back over and over again and got hurt. In the end, her wife killed herself, in a moment of clarity. It was very sad.”

Kakashi is quiet for a good few minutes after that. He doesn’t ask what happened to Inami. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Alright. So, he kind of knew most of this. Now, does that change anything?

“I do love you,” he says because it doesn’t hurt to get that out there. “You are my favourite person.”

Itachi shudders again. “I sense a but.”

Kakashi tightens his hands around him. “Not a but. A small but. I just—I don’t know. I can’t promise you a life yet. It is too new. I loved you like a friend for so long.”

Itachi unclenches a little. “Honestly, I’ll take anything at this point. The last few months were hell. I tried harder and harder and you just looked more and more miserable. The more miserable you looked the harder I tried. I think I spent the month before you left in a full mental breakdown.  Lehi stopped talking to me almost a year ago. Then you left and I just—”

Kakashi lets himself sit in the pain of that little monologue. “I’m sorry. That is terrible. Why was Lehi mad at you?”

“He said I should stop. That I was going too far. We fought a lot. When you—I spent ten days in the spirit realm, just sleeping and eating and crying. He forgave me, as you can see.”

“He is a good friend.” He is. “You shouldn’t take anything. But we can talk more about this later.”

Itachi nods easily. Obediently. On one hand—adorable, but. Kakashi will need to talk to someone about this. It is in his nature to worry a lot, especially about Itachi. Statements like ‘I will take anything’ and ‘I will do anything you want’ make him nervous.

But—They can take it slow. Kakashi can try to love him as he wants to be loved, and if he can’t, they can be really close friends. It will be fine. Kakashi is just about the least jealous person out there. If Itachi wants love, that’s easy. Kakashi adores him. If he wants sex, and Kakashi for some reason realizes he doesn’t want it, then Itachi can find a partner to fuck and come back home to Kakashi afterwards. Or something. They’ll work it out.

“Thank you for telling me. I am sorry it took so long for me to ask. You are very brave.”

Itachi hiccups. “Let’s just. Let’s just rest a bit. I’m not completely sure that my mind hadn’t snapped under stress and I’m actually in a padded cell in Konoha General, enjoying a Genjutsu of my design.”

Lovely.

Chapter Text

Mikoto, Fugaku and Sasuke are the first stop. Itachi is safe and tucked into the Hatake Compound with Lehi and Kakashi’s pack standing guard. Kakashi’s mind is, admittedly, spinning slightly. Mind and soul. He looks around the street. It doesn’t look different. He looks at his reflection in a storefront. He doesn’t look different. And yet, somehow, Kakashi is now a man that Itachi Uchiha is in love with. A person he wants to court and possibly marry and kiss.

He shrugs off all the implications of this and goes to find expert help.

“Your son loves me,” he tells Mikoto as soon as he comes across her. Her hand freezes, a drop of ink falling loudly, smudging whatever she was writing. She exhales a careful breath, sets her brush to the side and looks at him.

“He does.”

Kakashi stares at her, trying to reflect all the emotions he feels in his eyes. “I didn’t know that. Before.”

Her mouth tightens. “I suspected as much. Am I going to have to do something terrible to you, now that you know?”

He considers this. “Maybe. Probably, at some point. We’re dating now, I think. I will fuck it up.”

She closes her eyes, tension bleeding out of her frame. Her shoulders slump, scent filling with so much tired relief, it’s heartbreaking. And encouraging. And intimidating. Uchiha and their feelings, honestly. “Dating?”

Kakashi shrugs. “Can I sit? I need your help. You and Fugaku and Sasuke. Please?”

“Of course.”

On some level, Kakashi was braced for Sasuke’s fury. The kid liked him well enough, but Itachi is his hero, and Kakashi hurt him a lot for a long time. He doesn’t, which makes Kakashi a bit sad. He should be angry, he’s pretty sure.

“Finally. I told him—” Sasuke sends Kakashi a tight smile. “Never mind. You accept him?”

Kakashi sends a helpless look back. “I love him a lot. I just never—He was my kid. I didn’t let myself look. Seemed slimy.”

Fugaku looks so happy, he could cry. No, scratch that, he is crying discretely. “I was so worried,” he says, voice heavy with emotion. “About both of you. Thank Amaterasu.”

Kakashi mentally retreats a little. He turns to Mikoto. “Aren’t you mad? You should be. I will let you hit me a little if you want.”

Mikoto arches her eyebrows. “Kid, you’ve been one of mine for years, now. I won’t raise a hand to my son because he feels guilty. You are obtuse, but honourable, as you should be. Making the first move was never up to you.”

Now Kakashi is getting emotional. His skin is prickly with emotion, thoughts growing hazy. What? “Um.”

Mikoto rolls her eyes. “So you’re dating now?”

Kakashi nods automatically. Focus on that. Deal with the rest later. “I asked and he said yes. I am worried. He said he will take anything. That is—” He shakes his head, forcing his words into some semblance of order. “He shouldn’t. I’ve never dated anyone, before. I don’t know how to.”

Sasuke scoffs. “You have it easy. Itachi adores you. Just don’t hurt him deliberately.”

Kakashi bares his teeth a little, stung. “This is not easy. I hurt him already. He—” The image of Itachi curled at the riverbank, shaking with tears, thin and exhausted and hysterical flashes in front of his mind. “He was grieving. I did that to him.”

Sasuke shrugs. “And he drove you insane for six months until you had to run away from the village to escape him. You both fucked up, but now you won’t.”

Kakashi swallows his words. Sure. Easy.

“Sasuke is, broadly speaking, correct,” says Fugaku, sending a reproving look to his youngest. Sasuke slouches, shoulders drooping with teenage sulk. “Hiccups are inevitable, but the worst is behind you. You are aware of what you’re signing up for, yes?”

Kakashi nods. That is simple. “Courting. A life together.” He had planned on that being the case either way, he just thought that Itachi would acquire a plus one somewhere along the line. “I want that.” Oh, that’s right. “I can take the Uchiha name.”

Shock spikes through all three Uchiha scents. Kakashi blinks, cocking his head. “What?”

“You’re the last Hatake,” says Mikoto, speaking slowly like she is reminding him of a painful truth. “Itachi will be happy to join you. Sasuke will be a fine Clan Head.”

Sasuke nods cautiously. “I don’t care about that, of course, but we all kind of expected that’s how it will play out.”

Kakashi thinks about this for a little bit. This feels like another potential misunderstanding that will come back to knee him in the crotch. “I don’t care about Hatake stuff. You can absorb it. If you don’t want me, that’s also fine.”

The Uchiha share several unknowable looks. “We do want you,” says Fugaku, breaking the strange silence. “Very much. If you want to join our family, that is, of course, fine. We would be honoured.”

Kakashi nods firmly. “I do want that. How do you do this, normally? Is there a contract?”

Mikoto looks a bit worried. “Do you want to talk to someone about this, Kakashi? You’re making a lot of concessions. Are you punishing yourself, somehow?”

Kakashi resists the urge to argue immediately and thinks about this. “I want Itachi to feel wanted. I hurt his sense of worth a lot. I want him to be secure. Safe.”

Sasuke purses his lips, looking so much like Mikoto it makes Kakashi’s head spin. Physically, Sasuke is the spitting image of Fugaku, but spiritually he’s all Mikoto. Whoever he sets his sights on will need to keep their wits about them. “You are going to be troublesome about this, I can already tell.”

Kakashi considers this. “Most likely.”

Mikoto takes pity on him. “Just go out, for now. Spend time together. Let things settle before you start conquering countries in his name.”

“Would he want that?” There’s an option—

Fugaku leans forward, scent and expression set in a gentle, forceful show of intent. “No. He would not. So go home, sleep, get your throat in order. Talk. If you are uncertain about something ask Itachi or Mikoto or Sasuke or me. It will be fine.”

He wakes up to see Itachi staring at him. Like a creepy little murder doll, eyes glassy and huge, body trembling like a leaf. He very carefully doesn’t yelp or scream or run away. Instead, he slowly opens his arms in a clear invitation. Slowly, scent sour with fear and doubt, Itachi inches forward. Kakashi waits patiently until he has crawled close enough, grabs the fool boy and yanks him forward and up, twisting so his body is curled around him. “Sleep, kitten,” he says, voice hoarse.

Itachi doesn’t intense for at least ten minutes, most of which Kakashi dozes through. When he finally lets his muscles relax, Kakashi snuffles a pleased sound into his hair. “Good.”

He wakes up again because—

“Are you okay?” The alarm he feels translates oddly to his voice, growl even more audible than usual.

Itachi swallows. He is still crying. How is Kakashi fucking up even in his sleep? “Sorry. I’m just. It’s a lot. I’m feeling a lot.”

“Oh.” He thinks about this. He’s sure as fuck not sleepy anymore, not with the amount of adrenaline dumped straight into his veins. He might be shaking a little, actually. “Let’s talk about it.”

Itachi shakes his head, hiding into Kakashi’s shoulder.

“Okay.” Not okay. This feels like a thing they should absolutely talk about. “Later, then,” he compromises.

Itachi shakes his head again. Kakashi sighs, tightening his arms around him. “We have to. Always, when you cry. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Itachi says quietly. Miserably. He’s ashamed again, scent thick with it. “I’m not always like this, I promise. I will be good for you.”

“You are always good for me. I love you. You are wonderful.” Kakashi’s never wanted to punch himself quite this badly. Imagine, a proud, self-sufficient creature like Itachi crying quietly at night, afraid he’s not good enough. You’ve outdone yourself this time, Hatake. “I will prove it to you. You will see.”

Itachi nods. The meek gesture of submission grates hard on Kakashi’s oversensitized nerves. He feels distinctly helpless.

“Let’s have breakfast.” That’s a good start. “You’re too thin, again.”

Itachi’s hands twitch, but he acquiesces all too easily. “Alright.”

They go out for breakfast because Kakashi’s house has been empty for a month. Mikoto already spread the word, so they’re both treated to beaming smiles and congratulations by everybody who knows them. Itachi, tucked into Kakashi’s side as far as he can go, is free with smiles and thanks that read as fake to Kakashi.

They settle into a private booth, and Kakashi doesn’t let himself speak before both of them have eaten an appropriately outrageous volume of protein and fat. “Alright,” he says finally. “I already spoke to Mikoto and Fugaku and Sasuke. They approve.”

Itachi jerks up, startled. “You did?”

Kakashi doesn’t let his fingers tap agitatedly on the table. His nails are too long, he will damage the surface. “Of course. I want to do this properly.”

“Oh.”

The small sound stabs into Kakashi’s heart and stays there. Never mind. You’re already better off now than when you started, if that tiny curl of cautious joy is any indication.

“I’m not messing with you,” he says. It comes out a bit pleading. “I’m not an idiot. Fugaku would eat my eyes. Fuck knows what Sasuke would do. I’m serious about this. You.”

Itachi nods immediately. Placatingly. Desperately. Kakashi reminds himself that this won’t get fixed easily, yet again.

They should negotiate the relationship properly, but Kakashi would like a working set of vocal cords and teeth that can pronounce all sounds equally. He settles for a smile—Oh. Wait. That’s a thing he could do, to show he is serious. “Put up a Genjutsu please. Around us.”

Itachi doesn’t hesitate, eyes flashing red, Chakra snapping around them so strong Kakashi thinks he could bounce a coin off it. Okay. “Well done,” he says, hoping it doesn’t come off as condescending. Itachi beams at him, painfully sincere. Kakashi doesn’t curl up in shame, which is a fantastic show of willpower.

“Okay. One moment.” He raises his hands to his head, fingers finding the five tattoos easily. He is shaking a little. This is—Yeah. A lot. You can do it. He needs you to. With a firm twist of Chakra, his Genjutsu-mask disappears. Kakashi feels—almost unbearably exposed. Keyword being almost.

He breathes slowly for a few moments and finds the strength to look up at Itachi. “Hey.” That was stupid. “See? Serious.”

Itachi is frozen, Sharingan spinning as fast as it can go, flying over Kakashi’s face like—Well, like a man in love. Like a crazily intense man in love, Kakashi allows. He is under no delusions here.

He tries for a smile. His fangs get in the way, poking from underneath his lips. Itachi makes a small punched-out noise. Kakashi licks the exposed part of the fang reflexively and Itachi repeats the noise, a little more urgently this time. He smells—like he’s three seconds from pouncing. Kakashi’s head spins a little. He’s been well and truly inundated with the scent of Itachi’s arousal for years now, but it’s different now that he knows it’s him that’s making him smell like this. Like he’s physically restraining himself from tearing his clothes off and—

Kakashi exhales a careful, measured breath. So that’s a lot. They haven’t spoken about anything, haven’t fixed anything. There is absolutely no chance they can afford to jump into things so recklessly.

“I can. If you want, I can, when we’re alone. Not activate it.” Good work, very articulate.

Itachi nods slowly. Kakashi is pretty sure he hadn’t actually understood a word of what he said. He tries for another smile. “Do you?”

“What, sorry? Yes. What?”

Kakashi feels a blush coming on. It’s not he doubted Itachi’s word, but—seeing such a visceral reaction is making him feel things. With incentive like this, he will make himself unbearably vulnerable for Itachi as often as he possibly can. “I can not wear the mask for you. If you want.”

“If I want.” Itachi blinks a few times, letting his eyes shift into black. Some clarity returns, which doesn’t do much to retract from the hunger. “If I want?” He blinks again and tries to wipe his expression clear. It doesn’t do much other than to make him look deranged. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Kakashi cocks his head a little. “You don’t.”

Itachi gulps once, expression cracking halfway. It doesn’t make him look any less unhinged. “You said you don’t know. Last night. You said you don’t know if you want me. I’m not going to risk anything.”

Kakashi nods. It’s very strange, being bare-faced in front of Itachi, because he twitches every time Kakashi makes an expression, and he got used to Genjutsu hiding such things. He forgot how to guard his emotions properly. “We will negotiate properly in a few days. My voice is still—As you can see.” He lets his lips curl from his teeth enough to show four point canines that have no place in a human mouth. “Hard to talk.”

Itachi nods, eyes growing hazy again. “I see, yes.”

They may be up for some confusing times ahead. Kakashi is a physical man. He likes sex, has it often, with many people. He doesn’t have a lot of experience with having to restrain such things, especially not with people who want him so much it’s making him choke. “Thank you.”

He puts the Genjutsu back on, before it’s time to leave. The gesture was a wild success. At least thirty per cent of the worried, manic squirrel energy Itachi had before is gone, replaced with a sort of bewildered smugness that looks much more natural on him. He sneaks looks at Kakashi now and again, like he is re-evaluating everything he ever knew. That’s good, that’s progress, since that’s precisely how Kakashi feels.

They go to work because Kakashi is still Hokage and Itachi is still his—sort of assistant, sort of apprentice, now possible future husband. The Hokage tower is abuzz with a cute sort of anticipation. Several Clan Heads loiter about, ANBU lurking in the corner.

Kakashi rolls his eyes and tucks Itachi into his side. He goes willingly, melts into it with much more ease than before. So much progress! Maybe he can do this! “Yes, I am courting Itachi.” Itachi jolts, possessiveness almost overtaking smugness. Almost. He rolls his eyes again. “Harass him and suffer the consequences.”

The pointed coughs are, yeah, comedically on point, but not appreciated given the circumstances. “I am serious,” he says, letting some intent leak through, shoulders rolling back, nails catching in the fine linen of Itachi’s shirt. “Don’t be assholes. We are very happy.”

“Nobody would dare,” says Genma, swanning from around the corner, eyes wide with real happiness. “Congratulations. I am very happy for you.”

This starts a polite flood of congratulations and well-wishes. Itachi curls into him with actual, unfeigned shyness, so Kakashi fields them as best he can. He’s stiff and awkward, but he perseveres. After a good fifteen minutes, the storm has passed and he exhales.

“Alright. Work, now.”

Not many things happened, in the month he was away. Shikaku spun Kakashi’s meltdown as a super secret Hatake pilgrimage slash training trip. The ridiculous story worked, depressingly, which meant most other villages were busy trying to uncover the super secret training, and didn’t have enough time to cause mayhem. His trade negotiations are fucked, for the most part, but Kakashi will take it. He can afford to re-start them anyhow.

Itachi moves tentatively through the office, suddenly unsure of his welcome. Kakashi considers letting him figure it out, then remembers the tortured plea to not make him guess and thinks better of it.

He picks through the stacks of documents, finds the interesting problems that Itachi would like, and slides them to the side of the desk. “Here. Fix it.”

Itachi falls on the task with all the intensity of a starving man and Kakashi breathes a little easy without all the nervous tension making his teeth itch. Good.

“Do I have the clearance for this,” he says a few moments later. 

Kakashi huffs. “I’m courting you. What do you think?”

Itachi chews on this for a few moments. He obviously wants to say something, but can’t bring himself to speak up. Again, Kakashi considers ignoring it and thinks better of it. “Yes?”

“It’s just—” Itachi’s voice trails in a delicate, cautious cadence, like he’s picking each word with utmost care. “Me being your—partner doesn’t give me any particular clearance.”

Kakashi actually boggles at this. It feels like he’s fishing for something, but what is fully beyond him. “Says who? I’m Hokage. You have the clearance. I can write it down, if you want.”

Itachi nods immediately, something covetous flashing over his face. Kakashi stares at him. Best get used to being confused, hey?

“Alright.” What else is there to say? He wants it in writing, Kakashi will carve it into the fucking mountain. Maybe he can conveniently destroy that monstrosity pretending to be a carving of his head. “I’ll do that now.”

The document ends up being about as ridiculous as Kakashi thought it would be, basically amounting to I, Kakashi Hatake, Godaime Hokage of Konoha, declare Itachi Uchiha to have equal clearance to myself in all matters. There’s more flowery language, formulaic phrases like speaks with my voice and is fit to represent my interests in all matters. It’s beyond embarrassing, but Itachi is quietly rapturous, so Kakashi signs three copies and watches as he seals off two into his tattoos immediately and hands one off to the head of archives with the air of a man given keys to the Heavenly Kingdoms.

Kakashi lets it go. There are some things he can’t get into without a fully functional throat.

Chapter Text

Two days go by quietly. Kakashi, fully aware of just how tentative the peace is, doesn’t take any chances, either. In a fit of cosmic malevolence, Itachi comes to the same conclusion, if from a more depressing angle. They both corral each other, carefully screening the other’s company. On Kakashi’s end, he’s focused on not letting Itachi near any dickbags who will shred the little confidence he has managed to claw together. Itachi, staying true to form, is worried that Kakashi will talk to someone who will make him come to his senses and dump Itachi like so much hot garbage.

When he has some free time, Kakashi resolves to look into things more deeply. There is a well of insecurity a mile deep in Itachi, he is discovering, and he can’t understand how it could have been caused by Kakashi’s well-meaning obliviousness. Looking back, many things about Itachi’s approach to negotiating his own love life is unhinged, even for an Uchiha.

Something to keep in mind, going forward. In many ways, Itachi is much too reckless with his own well-being. They will have to work on it.

He wakes up on the third day post-return to a fully human set of teeth and acceptably functional vocal cords. This is such a welcome development, that he forgets himself and squeezes the life out of Itachi. That’s what you get, he thinks vaguely, for sneaking into Kakashi’s bed in the middle of the night without asking. You get morning cuddles, especially when they make you smile like a concussed chicken.

“I’m taking a day off,” he tells the office, relishing in his human voice. “You may disturb me only in the case of an emergency. Think carefully about what constitutes an emergency and if is be worth the terror I will unleash upon you if you interrupt my date-day with Itachi.”

Itachi makes a sound between a squeak and a gasp. Kakashi indulges in the impulse—he can do this now, he is allowed—and picks him up in a bear hug, nuzzling his cheek into the silky hair. He’s been wearing it down these days and it smells like Kakashi and not like strangers and sex. It’s great.

“Alright, minions. Remember my terms.”

Kakashi doesn’t risk anything fucking the day up so he herds his confused—Partner? Boyfriend? Fiancee? Benevolent overlord?—to the Compound, while a Shadow Clone gets them a handful of meals to tide them over.

“Alright,” he says, putting Itachi down. He’s been carting him around for a while, but Itachi hasn’t complained so it’s probably fine. “I can talk, now. Finally.”

He flexes his Chakra, hitting specific points. After a moment’s hesitation, he reaches out and taps several seals carved into the gates. Chakra quietly explodes, strengthening his Wards until they’re practically glowing. “There,” he says, satisfied. “Everyone important is keyed in, anyways.”

Itachi gulps, eyes widening. “What is this about?”

Kakashi basks in a full-body doggy-shake, starting from the head and ending up with his feet and hands. It works wonders to get rid of all the pent-up tension. He cancels his mask-Genjutsu with practically no hesitation at all. Check one? Check two? He’s mask-less out in the open and there’s next to no panic or paranoia or explosions of maniacal self-hatred. Huh. There you go.

“Your bloodline doesn’t have physical transformations,” he says, placing a hand on the small on his back and herding him towards the house. It’s not necessary, Itachi is depressingly eager to please, but he can, so he does. “You have no idea how shitty it is to speak with a mouthful of fangs and a throat that just wants to howl.”

Itachi nods, slightly confused. “If you say so.”

Kakashi shakes his head again. “I’ll need to plan that shit more carefully, going forward.” Actually, now that you’re on the topic, that’s a nice, vulnerable topic you can start with that won’t put Itachi on the spot at all. “I think I put it off for too long.”

Itachi frowns a little. “Put what off?”

“Hunting. Being in the wild. I think—” Ugh, talking about this sucks. He pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts, making a bee-line to the cosy daybed-sofa-thing on the porch. He carefully lets Itachi go before he flops over. Itachi’s furtive sneaking into Kakashi’s bed has been a strange affair that had little to do with affection and trust. Now, in the light of day, Itachi only dares to perch on the edge of the daybed, eyes tracking Kakashi’s movements like he’s bracing for a kick if he crosses a line. It’s entirely possible, Kakashi allows, that he’s not even fully aware he’s doing it. “I think it’s healthy for me. It’s a part of my bloodline. I used to go for a week-long hunt every couple of months when I was a baby.”

Itachi makes a polite noise. Kakashi stretches, a bit pointedly. They can take their time, but Itachi’s tightly coiled posture is making his spine ache in sympathy. “Are your fangs—I mean—Do you—”

Kakashi lets his lips quirk, angling his face towards the sky. The warmth on his face registers differently, somehow, even though he hadn’t had a physical barrier between him and the sun for years now. “We’re carnivores if we want to be. My—Sakumo had a tank of mice for us to snack on. His wolves would let me chase them around if I was good that day.”

Itachi’s hum swaps politeness for curiosity. “Really? Do you need that now?”

Kakashi shrugs. “I mean, probably. My teeth itch when I’m stressed or angry. Before—when I was in a bad way, I was much too ashamed to even acknowledge it. Now—Who knows.” He can’t quite bring himself to open his eyes. He’s playing it casual, but the shame is a real, niggling thing in the back of his mind. “You know I have a complicated relationship with my heritage.”

He hears Itachi scoot forward a little, now solidly sitting on the bed. Kakashi hadn’t meant to, fuck, lure him with his weakness but he’s a Shinobi, he won’t not take it. “I don’t know anybody who would begrudge you your bloodline traits,” he says carefully. “Even the civilians have learned to keep their mouths shut about it.”

Kakashi shrugs. “It’s not a rational thing. I talk a big game about letting bygones be bygones, but I haven’t forgotten how easily they shunned Sakumo. Or, for that matter, you and Naruto and practically every single person I love.”

Itachi makes a small noise, scent colouring with melancholy. “I can’t blame you. We use different strategies to make ourselves look harmless but it’s the same thing in the end.”

“Mm.” He lets himself enjoy the sun while he gathers his composure. “Alright, enough of that.” He heaves himself up, settles his shoulders and sets a stubborn look on his face. “Real-talk, kitten. Relationship-talk. Go.”

Itachi rears back. His heart rate speeds up, muscles tensing, body shifting as if to run.

“Don’t even think about it.” He leans forward, adding a smile to soften the intensity. “We’re doing this.”

Itachi gulps. “Doing? Doing what?”

“Talking.” He nods to himself, pretending to know what the fuck he’s doing. Fake it ‘till you make it and all that. “Negotiating. Discussing. Planning. You’ve kept your mouth shut for years and I’ve never dated anyone at all, much less seriously. Leaving things unsaid has worked out terribly for everybody. We’re not doing that again.”

Itachi nods automatically, but his scent grows more agitated than Kakashi would like. He loses some of the enthusiasm. “Is it really so bad, talking to me?”

“No!” Itachi’s exclamation is loud enough to count as a yelp. “I just—Don’t know. I want everything. Anything. I don’t know.”

They’re both as bad as each other, aren’t they? “I love you.” Why not start there? Itachi doesn’t react to it, because in his mind that translates to vague, mentor-type love. That’s fine. “I am looking forward to building a relationship with you, but that doesn’t mean much, in itself.”

Itachi actually looks to the ground, like a blushing maiden. Kakashi is full of wonder. Is this the boy who strung up four Shinobi and Kunoichi two rooms from Kakashi’s office and fucked them into incoherence for hours? “I want you, obviously,” Itachi says quietly. “I made that clear. I will respect any boundaries you set but don’t expect I will have many. Any. Any at all.”

“Alright, so that’s—” How to put this delicately? The boy is brittle enough to shatter at a single unwise word. “I am afraid,” he says. Best phrase everything into ‘I feel’ and ‘I need’ statements for now. “I am afraid that I will do something you don’t like and you will let me.”

Itachi’s eyes fly up, lips twisting into an upset line. “I—“ To his credit, he doesn’t feed him a line. “What are we talking about,” he says, after a short pause. “Precisely?”

Kakashi shrugs. “Anything. I don’t want to hurt you at all. Emotionally, physically. Sexually.”

Itachi’s eyebrows fly up in a self-deprecating curve. “Forgive me if I’m not worried that you will harm me sexually. Short of killing me, you’re good.”

Kakashi nods. “See, this is why I’m worried. We’re Shinobi. I’ve taken part in incredibly intense, potentially damaging scenes. I could have been harmed, very easily, if my partners were a hair less responsible.”

Itachi’s eyes darken, scent growing muted. Kakashi blinks. What—Oh, that’s clever. He’s deliberately suppressing his scent. “Don’t bother,” he says, amused. “Nobody alive can suppress their scent to the point that I won’t be able to sense it.”

Itachi flushes. “I don’t want to bother you,” he says, a little petulant. “It’s nothing important.”

Kakashi huffs. “Everything you feel is important.” Gods, he sounds like a broken record. Still, it’s better to be boring than cruel, in this particular scenario. “What were you feeling, that you think I would be annoyed by?”

Itachi grows still, trying and failing to keep his body-language casual. “I—” He inhales a careful breath, scent firming with determination and, yeah, shame. They won’t get rid of that any time soon, but that’s okay. Everybody would be. Kakashi doesn’t have any first-hand experience with relationship negotiations, but he imagines they aren’t anywhere near this intense. If they were, fuck, civilians or even Genin or Chūnin, they could get away with a less invasive approach. Given that they were both martyrial S-ranked Jōnin without much of a grasp on proportionality, sacrificing their dignity is the only possible way forward. “I don’t enjoy talking about your past lovers,” Itachi says, evenly. He can’t meet his eyes though. “I realise this is hypocritical of me. I’ve made you—I am aware that I threw my sex-life in your face.”

Kakashi considers waving it off but isn’t really eager to send mixed signals. You can’t have a nervous breakdown over something and then turn around three days later and pretend like it was a-okay. “I have forgiven you for that. It—” How to phrase this. It’s not even clear to Kakashi. “It’s complicated. I never had a problem with you having sex, Itachi. You’re a beautiful young Shinobi.”

Itachi makes a noise, somewhere between non-committal and disgusted. Kakashi can’t quite figure out if he minds being called young or is upset by the reminder of the mess. Which, yeah. Is fair. It is unreasonable to expect they can unpack the snarled knot of emotions that lead to Itachi aggressively sleeping with people to provoke Kakashi.

“We don’t need to get into all that stuff,” he says, after a moment. “We have plenty of time. For now, I would like to go over the basics. You’re in this for keeps, yes? I understood that correctly.”

Itachi nods immediately. “Absolutely. I will take everything you give me.”

Kakashi doesn’t sigh at the phrasing. It’s either creepy or porny and he can’t quite decide which is worse. Okay, hold on. He pauses and takes a good hard look at himself. Is it really necessary to pick apart every single word he says? At some point, you gotta start treating him with a token amount of trust, otherwise, you might as well quit right here. If you can’t grant him a base level of autonomy, then you have bigger things to worry about.  “Alright, I’m down for that.” He takes a moment to wonder at the moment. What an understated, down-played proposal, hey? Good work, Hatake. All the benefits without any of the pomp and drama. “I never thought I would get to have this,” he says, perhaps a little breathless.

Itachi cocks his head, cautiously thrilled and eyeing him with curiosity. “What did you expect?”

Kakashi shrugs. “A platonic paper-marriage with Gai, probably. I’m not—relationship material. You could possibly be the only person crazy enough to try.”

Itachi’s eyes flash but whatever jealousy is quickly overtaken by joy. “I am pretty crazy,” he allows, smiling.

Kakashi matches the smile with one of his own. “Aint that the truth. Alright. I already spoke about this to your family, but I was thinking I would take your name—”

Itachi freezes, makes a strangled cough in the back of his throat and stabs straight through the fabric of his trousers into the muscle of his thighs. Kakashi blinks owlishly. That’s a bit extreme, even for Itachi.

“Sorry,” he says, flawlessly polite, healing the wound with a precise burst of Chakra. His eyes are full of focus, trained on Kakashi like a bird of prey. “You would take my name?”

Sage fucking wept, what now? “If you wanted to. I don’t care about my name. It would be better to just—join my Clan to yours.”

“Marriage,” Itachi says, still deathly still. “You are talking about marriage.”

“Well, yeah.” It takes real effort not to throw his hands up in the air and stomp his feet like a child. “Isn’t that what we were discussing? You said, just now. That you’re in it for keeps.”

Itachi blinks once, twice and closes his eyes, visibly going through some focusing technique. “Most of the time I just let you speak, Kakashi. I stopped trying to understand where your mind has gone. I thought you meant—spiritually.” He hesitates, visibly bracing himself. “Romantically. I thought you were talking about being exclusive.” 

“Oh.” Kakashi cocks his head. “You mean sex? I mean, we can be. I don’t care about that if I’m honest. You can fuck whoever you want. We can fuck them together. It’s all good.” Itachi’s eyes snap open, lips tight and eyes wild. “Or not?”

With some level of morbid fascination, Kakashi observes the tense curve of Itachi’s smile.

“You are wholly maddening.”

Hmm. “So, that’s true,” Kakashi admits. Bold of him to throw that particular stone, but whatever. Kakashi can be the bigger person here. “But we’re getting somewhere. This is progress!” Also a very appreciated shift in the atmosphere. It seems the key to getting Itachi to talk is to get him flustered. A dangerous strategy, sure, but Kakashi is getting desperate. All the self-doubt and shame was getting to him.

“You said.” Itachi shifts, body still tense. “You said you don’t want me like that.”

Kakashi’s eyebrows twitch. “I said I don’t know. You were my cute little student up until a week ago. You could have fucked a man silly on my desk and I’d still have patted you on the head and tucked you into bed with a tall glass of water and a protein bar.”

Itachi’s eyes flash. “No? Really? What a strange and impossibly contrived scenario.”

Kakashi huffs. Alright, so that may have basically happened a time or ten. “I should have handled it better, but I’m not sorry for divorcing myself from the possibility of sex with you. I had a duty of care. I raised you. I practically birthed you.”

Itachi blinks slowly. “Unless you are trying to negotiate a specific role-play scenario, never allude to such a thing. I am not principally opposed to calling you—”

Kakashi shuts his hearing completely, eyes slamming closed, a mortified whine ripping from his throat. “Shutup-shutup-shutup-”

He gives himself thirty seconds to be safe and cautiously opens one eye. Itachi is watching him with a smug dip in his smirk. Cocky little shit. It suits him.

“Your point is made and acknowledged,” he says with affected, overdone dignity. “Mention such a thing again and my retribution will be swift and merciless.”

Itachi nods, faux solemn. “Agreed.”

Good Gods.

“Alright, so we’re settled on the practicalities. I’ll take your name and sign off all Hatake lands and monies to you as a wedding present—”

“What?”

“So, to circle back to my earlier point,” he says, thirty minutes later, after he had managed to lure Itachi out of the latest self-effacing spiral of denials and demurrals. “We have the basics covered. Now to the day to day practicalities. Obviously, you can’t just continue as my assistant—”

Itachi straightens his back, face flickering between caution and dismay. Kakashi considers everything he had learned about Itachi’s character and thinks he knows how to field this one. “It would be, frankly, wildly inappropriate,” he says bluntly. “Games are all well and good, but I cannot have my partner be my direct subordinate. I would sooner resign.”

“We can’t have that,” Itachi says with a mulish air of a person who not only can have that but would really want to. “All that free time and opportunities to rest and relax—”

Kakashi huffs. “Precisely. I’m keeping the seat warm for—Someone. Your brother, maybe. Your Hyūga could be a good option too. Aburame are too antisocial for the political aspect and Inuzuka have a strong pack mentality that won’t let them be impartial enough. Anyone from the InoShikaCho triad would have their loyalty called into question and my favoured candidate is well and truly seduced away.”

“I’m sure Orochimaru-sama would return Uzumaki if you ask nicely.” Itachi bats his eyes, smug and willing to be a dick about it. He hasn’t made his willingness to get rid of perceived competition in any way a secret. Why he thought Naruto fucking Uzumaki counted as competition was best left alone for a few decades. “Sasuke would be a bad fit if you—” he breaks off, an actual, physical tremor working down his shoulders and back. “—take my name. There shouldn’t be to consecutive Hokage from the same Clan. Neji would be a fine choice.”

He gives Kakashi an expectant, searching look. Kakashi looks back, amused. Are you fishing for jealousy? You won’t find any. Kakashi hadn’t yet let himself consider Itachi in any defined sexual scenario, but he won’t really have to strain his imagination too much to do it. The boy made sure to give him plenty of material over the years. If he at some point wants to take the beautiful Hyūga Heir for a spin, Kakashi sure won’t mind.

“Sure, yeah, I thought you’d agree. So, we agree that you can’t be my assistant, then? What do you want to do?”

Itachi considers this. “I think I should go on a short leave,” he says. “The last year was very stressful and I’ve neglected several aspects of my training.” He was too busy having sex to train, in translation. “After that, who knows?”

Kakashi nods, satisfied. “That sounds perfect. Take six months to start, and then we’ll see. Okay, so you mentioned you would appreciate being exclusive—”

Itachi swallows, immediately losing a lot of his composure. “I—Did I say that?”

Deep breaths. “That is what I assumed, at the very least.”

“I don’t—” Itachi visibly fights a battle with his words. “I don’t want you to fuck anyone without me,” tumbles out of his mouth, words barely articulated enough to be understood properly. “I haven’t even kissed you yet and—You can do whatever you want. If you do it with me, too. There.”

Kakashi’s lips twitch, heart expanding to what feels to be far past the confines of his rib cage. “You know, I don’t know why, but I feel like you maybe left a few clues here and there to that effect. Shocking, right?”

“You are a genius, aren’t you?” Itachi’s blush turns sweeter by the sparkle in his eyes. Kakashi feels a small wound knit together. Joking about that is, yeah, gauche but he’ll take it. Absolutely anything to forget all those times Itachi was reduced to a pitiful sobbing mess of insecurity and doubt. “Youngest ANBU Captain in history? Youngest Hokage?”

“The Mizukage has me beat,” he says, grinning a little. He’s, what, your age?”

“Ah.” Itachi loses some of his chill. Something cautious spikes in his scent. Apprehensive curiosity. A little bit of fear. Some Optimism. Hope. Mortified sort of eagerness. “Yes, thereabout.”

Kakashi cocks his head. “You didn’t.”

Itachi’s expression goes all sorts of vapid and glassy like he can’t possibly follow Kakashi’s train of thought. “Didn’t? Didn’t what?”

“How—Is that even legal?” Are Shinobi allowed to fuck other Kage? How would that—

Itachi is quiet for a second, studying his reaction. “I would assume it is, yes,” he says, testing the water. “All available evidence points towards—”

Kakashi’s eyes widen further. “No. You didn’t—No. More than one?” Wait— “Swear to fuck, if you fucked Orochimaru-sama, I’ll do something drastic!”

“No, no, not Orochimaru-sama,” Itachi says, raising his palms in the air, eyes sparkling with disbelieving but delighted joy. “He doesn’t enjoy brief encounters. His games are drawn out and complicated and take several participants and, quite possibly, a couple of armies. Maybe a palace. A mountain pass on the outside.”

Kakashi bursts into laughter. “Sage fucking wept—” Absolutely true. “A mountain pass—”

Itachi’s laughter is more sedate, but it’s there, bright and thrilled. Kakashi opens his arms helplessly and the brat squirms into a hug, an almost negligible weight settling on his chest. He really needs to feed the kitten up, some. “Who, then. Yagura is one.” A terrible, horrible thought crosses his mind and Itachi has enough sense to cut it in the roots.

“No, you twit, I haven’t fucked the Raikage or the Tsuchikage. Don’t be disgusting.”

“Thank fuck for that. Alright, don’t make me guess. Unless you want me to guess, in which case, the old corpse from Taki isn’t without his charms—”

“Gaara, if you must know,” Itachi says, pointy chin stabbing right between his ribs in retaliation. “And Mei, even though she’s not Mizukage yet.”

Kakashi whistles. Look at them. They might actually survive this cursed mess. “Mei, no shit? How was that?”

Itachi hesitates. “Did you—”

“Sure did. Made my fucking year, let me tell you, the thing that woman could drive me to beg for—”

Chapter Text

Kakashi marries Itachi on the first available Saturday, six days after his return to Konoha, two days after they agreed to court.

It’s, yeah, wild. Kakashi cheerfully steamrolled over all the good-natured objections and signed off every single thing he had to his name to his husband, one Itachi Uchiha.

If Kakashi was marrying practically anyone else, the other Clans would have objected or brought up any of the shit-million conflicts of interest. Nobody dares because everybody and their cat are aware just how eager Itachi is for both of them to resign and spend all their time being each other’s house-husbands.

Weddings aren’t a big deal in Konoha, typically. Minato-sensei and Kushi-nee got married on the down-low, in fact, and most Shinobi correctly believe that staging a big event is only asking for it to be sabotaged, assassinated or generally interfered with.

Kakashi, however, is Hokage, he’s a Hatake and he will be an Uchiha. He doesn’t enjoy throwing a big-ass party, but he does like being a troll. If a civilian wedding isn’t the done thing, best believe he will throw one just to be a pest. 

Then there’s the guest list.

It’s difficult to point to the most outrageous part, Kakashi thinks, thrilled. He’s outdone himself. It’s a Godsdamn shitshow.

“Hey, kitten,” he calls, eyes roaming over the cuckoo crowd. “If we discount those too young and too old to be a viable option, we’ve fucked, what, seventy per cent of the people here, between the two of us?”

“You’re dragging down our numbers,” hums Itachi, smoothing down his wedding robes. Wedding robes! What kind of a—Civilian maidens don’t bother with wedding robes. Where Itachi dug them up is anyone’s guess, and less said about the kanzashi jingling merrily in his hair the better. Even Kakashi knows those are used by civilian prostitutes. “Your international showing is sad, frankly.”

International—

“You little monster,” he laughs. “When would I have had the time? If we weren’t at war, I was deep in ANBU or a Hokage.”

Itachi shrugs, sticking his nose in the air. If he had a tail it would be swishing idly behind him. “Yagura manages somehow.”

Kakashi can’t help a look towards the weird not-throuple of Yagura-Zabuza-Mei and shudders. “Yeah, you know what, Kiri’s gonna Kiri. You do you, kitten, but I at least had the sense not to get my dick anywhere near one of the Seven.”

“Your loss.”

You gotta hand it to him, Itachi’s control over his mind and emotions can be terrifyingly impressive. It took a couple of days of cautious steps and gentle, probing questions for him to realise Kakashi is truly not jealous, after which he ruthlessly reprogrammed his mind into—this.

“You know, it’s true that our spheres have basically no overlap whatsoever.”

Itachi stops fussing with his collar to send him a dry look. “Do you imagine your past lovers would have touched me under any circumstances?”

Kakashi considers this. “Most would, yeah. You’re a catch. Maybe not Gen and Rai—but, then again, maybe absolutely Gen and Rai because they know how unbothered I would be by that.”

Itachi’s smile grows a little pitying. “If you say so.”

Whatever. The fuck does Kakashi know anyways?

“Anyways,” he says without an ounce of subtlety. “What do you think the odds are that the terrain will survive this particular crowd?”

Itachi follows his gaze to the continent of Otogakure Shinobi. “Orochimaru-sama knows better than to ruin my wedding. Everybody else will follow suit.”

Ah, of course. The Sanin, Naruto, Obito, Nagato, Konan, Kabuto and Sarutobi-sama, and several other Oto Shinobi he can’t place. All perfectly well-behaved. Add to that that Yagura, Mei, Momochi and his Yuki as well as Gaara and his siblings—

“Sure. Sure they will.” Sasuke has already gotten into a foreboding stare-off with both Naruto and the Yuki boy. “We should have eloped.”

“In your dreams,” says Itachi, finishing his last hair-ornament, looking so expensive and rentable that Kakashi kind of wants to burst out in song. “I won, Kakashi, and I want everybody to witness it.”

Okay. Sure.

The priestess officiating the wedding is a veteran of Shinobi weddings, and even she looks terrified by the unlikely company of monsters watching her speak. Kakashi doesn’t blame her. If he had that many Uchiha staring at you with their Sharingan spinning, not to mention four active Kage and who knows how many S-ranked Jōnin, he’d be pretty nervous too. Mikoto alone looks like she will set her soul on fire if she dares mess up her pride and joy’s special day.

The wedding contract reads like a comedy bit. Or, somewhat more soberly, like what Itachi would have offered to Kakashi. Everything he owns is given to Itachi, which he can then transfer to the Uchiha or not, at his discretion. A sea of red eyes watch with bated breath. Several gasps are heard. It’s all very dramatic.

The sake is served by Akasen-born and raised men and women, which is hilarious as well. Kakashi hadn’t known that Itachi had so many friends in the red lights district, although he really should have. With how sex-crazed he was for a while there, it makes sense he would spend some time with professionals. Itachi is nothing if not a perfectionist.

With Kakashi being the last of his Clan, there is no one to drink the sake at the end of the SanSanKudo. What that meant in practice was that a fierce but brief war was waged on who would get to represent him. How that group ended up being Gai, Fugaku and Orochimaru-sama is anyone’s guess, but Kakashi doesn’t care to question it. On Itachi’s side are Mikoto, Sasuke and Genma. That, too, is best left unanswered.

Okay, Hatake, yes, duh, it’s all very funny. Of course it is. This is just an excuse for Itachi to brag. Itachi and Kakashi both. He married Itachi Uchiha. But whatever. If this can buy his stressed-out husband (!) even a cup of chill, then Kakashi will sit here in his ridiculous scratchy robes and try not to look too worried about how close TenTen is sitting to the Kaguya boy. Or, for that matter, how Sasuke has already found a way to wrap a possessive arm around Naruto’s shoulders. Nope, that’s not happening.

Since nobody is quite sure how far they can push the traditions without coming across as mocking, they don’t quite throw a party afterwards, but they do have a reception. They would have had to, even if they were the traditional sort. This is a diplomatic nightmare already, and pouring petrol over this particular fire is more than any of them can afford. Kakashi needs to make nice with several Kage, not to mention catch up with Obito and maybe Naruto. Then there’s the fact that somebody needs to act as a common-sense barrier between the Konoha Shinobi and Otogakure powerhouses that aren’t particularly known for exceptional self-control.

“I’ll handle it, husband,” Itachi says, with a relaxed smile dripping with smugness, before he presses a lingering kiss into his cheek—Kakashi bends down obligingly—and beelines straight to Orochimaru-sama.

Uh.

“A month of my service regarding the Taki matter,” he says after the initial flurry of greetings and congratulations are over.

Orochimaru-sama makes an amused little sound. “Oh?”

Itachi shrugs. “You don’t want to be in Konoha any longer than you have to be. I want to climb my husband, which is something I can do, now. It is a mutually beneficial exchange.”

“Very true,” Orochimaru-sama says approvingly. Golden eyes scan Itachi from head to toe, and move on to Kakashi, stopping at several points of interest. “You did well, Itachi-kun. I look forward to enjoying your union if the situation permits it.”

Did he—He had—Orochimaru-sama—

“This one can but live in hope,” purrs Itachi bowing a little. The movement—scripted, to the last angle—dislodges the kanzashi petals in his hair—crystal wisteria leaves—and they jingle as they settle in the dip of his collarbone.

Goodness.

Kakashi swallows, which somehow attracts the attention of both of them. Red and gold eyes pin him to the ground and all he can do is stand still and let himself be inspected.

“You won, Itachi-kun. Enjoy the spoils, and make sure to stop by Otogakure when you have a free stretch of time and a clean bill of health.”

Right. Kakashi works hard at not saying ‘I didn’t hear anything’ very loudly, where the other Kage can hear. Firstly, that would be unnecessary because they heard everything loud and clear. Secondly, it’s unclear if he should be protesting the invitation to Orochimaru-sama’s bed or his own husband’s offer to level an autonomous country so that he could get laid sooner. Thirdly—Well, after Orochimaru-sama collected a certain amount of S-ranked people, it became clear that he only let Konoha go on because he couldn’t be bothered killing everyone in it. Kakashi’s strategy of treating Oto as a de-facto safe-house for Shinobi Konoha fucked right into insanity is only ever going to be a temporary one.

With that said.

“On a completely unrelated note,” Kakashi tells the sky, keeping his voice loud and crisp. “Konoha and Taki have a very long history of mutual respect and cooperation and none of my Shinobi would dream of doing anything that would jeopardise that.”

“Very convincing,” says Itachi loyally. “You’re natural at statecraft.”

The young Kazekage makes a small sound and Kakashi thinks—fuck it. “Kazekage-sama. How fortuitous. You’ve met my Itachi, haven’t you?”

He is cute, Kakashi allows, idly watching the faint blush spread over his ears. Much too young for Kakashi, of course. He’s, what, a year older than Sasuke? Acceptable for Itachi who, yes, is too young for Kakashi and woe betide the fool who dares bring that up within his earshot.

“Yes, Hokage-sama. Your husband is—a friend.”

“So I heard,” he says, going for his friendliest eye-smiles. “Have you met Mizukage-sama?”

Momochi laughs like a jackal, all bitten-off sounds and gravel. The Yuki boy is doing something with Sasuke and Naruto that Kakashi can’t even begin to process. An Uzumaki raised by Orochimaru-sama, Itachi’s little brother and a Kiri-raised Yuki. What a fucking ticking bomb.

“Only in writing,” replies the Kazekage. “And anecdotally, of course.”

Oh, is that what we’re calling it? Itachi makes his way over, after a quick chat with Nagato and Konan. “Kazekage-sama, Mizukage-sama, thank you for coming once again. If there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable,  please don’t hesitate to ask. We are both—” He leans into Kakashi, sharpening and slowing down his tone into a cadence that has very little to do with politeness. “—at your service.”

Hmm.

“Informally, of course,” Kakashi has to add before this reaches the various councils and the Uchiha have to move to Oto because the village is accusing them of trading village resources for sex. “You understand how it is.”

“You know, I never understood why Konohan Shinobi have a reputation of always talking in riddles,” says the Mizukage. He has a strangely high voice, Kakashi always thought. Gentle. From a civilian perspective, he is the only one who plays a flawless game of appearing harmless. No obvious muscle tone, body-language flawlessly relaxed and a youthful face—Momochi’s Yuki is more androgynous but Yagura looks like the type of boy civilian teenagers would bring to their mothers. “You are all about as discrete as a hammer to the throat.”

Kakashi grins. He should get Orochimaru-sama to spend some time in Kiri. He could learn a lot from this man. Maybe Sasuke, too. “Mistakes were made, Mizukage-sama. We have learned to ask for what we want, especially since most of the time, people really want to give it to us.”

“Do they?”

Kakashi re-settles his shoulders and smiles in a way that lets his fangs peek out from behind his lips. “You tell me.”

Yagura blinks at him with monster eyes. There it is, only visible if he lets it, but there is very little safe or sane about this man. He was kept in a Genjutsu by an Uchiha for a decade, and he still went and fucked the one Uchiha that was stronger than his erstwhile tormentor. It’s absolutely coconuts and Kakashi respects it a lot. “I’d ask to keep you company right now if your new husband wouldn’t vaporise my entire country for it.”

Itachi snuggles deeper into Kakashi’s side. “A fair assessment. I have worked too hard to get my husband’s attention to share right now. Next time, though.”

“The next Kage summit will be interesting,” says Mei, eyes jumping between Yagura, Itachi, Gaara and Kakashi.

Gods.

“I will be indisposed,” he says because he’s not a complete idiot. “Whenever that happens. I recommend everybody here has a nice think about Orochimaru-sama sitting down with the Tsuchikage and the Raikage. Oh—and that’s only if he doesn’t install Naruto as the Uzukage and Nagato as the Amekage.” Especially if he understood Obito’s grumbling correctly about annexing Ame and Tani into Tenpi.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” counters the Mizukage, displaying his Kiri heritage beautifully. “I have two successors to replace me and a young Otogakure Shinobi to seduce back to Kiri. What else am I going to do?”

Kakashi sends him a long, impressed look. Huh. He just up and said that, without a shred of self-protective irony. Huh. “You know what, this successor approach is very valid. I have a baby Hyūga my Itachi is very fond of. You couldn’t pay me enough to touch the cursed summit, but I could sic my Council on training up young Neji while Itachi and I visit you sometime soon?”

“It’s a date,” chirps—?!—the Mizukage. Is it the pink eyes? He looks like candy. “Send a message and I’ll clear up my schedule for—” He eyes Kakashi up and down. “Two weeks, say.”

That’s the second Kage. There’s only the one left and he’s observing them with an expression that can best be described as forlorn. Kakashi doesn’t sigh. “Same is true for Kazekage-sama, of course,” he says, going for an eye-smile. “I understand you keep an open line of communication with Oto?”

“Naruto and Nagato are Uzumaki,” nods the red-headed, blue-eyed Jinchūriki. “We’re cousins, sort of. Naruto more than Nagato, but the point stands.”

The Kazekage is an Uzumaki, Kakashi, how on Earth did you miss that?

“Perfect. Until we can establish some more secure lines between Suna and Konoha, we’ll piggyback off of theirs. Easy peasy.”

Of course, no good deed goes unpunished. The foreign dignitaries—and Orochimaru-sama’s clutch of lunatics—leave without much fanfare. This only leaves Kakashi with the local pack of hyenas who have opinions on him arranging sex-friends at his wedding, or about fobbing off the Hokage’s position to Itachi’s past/present/future sex-friends, whatever category young Neji occupies, or about the fact his wedding was staffed primarily by oiran.

Kakashi can’t quite understand how any of this is surprising.

“You know who I married,” he says to the crowd in general, eying the wild-eyed pack of Hyūga—young Neji included—whispering on the side. “Do you think I mind Itachi’s sexcapades?” He pauses, re-wording that in his head. “No, scratch that, do you think his sexcapades are going to stop? He married me, not a civilian. If anything, he increased his pool of candidates, incredibly.”

Itachi pats him on the hand. “I’ll handle this, dear. You go talk Neji down from whatever ledge he’s climbing. He is a good candidate, I’d hate for him to run to Oto after all the work I put into it.”

Goodness. “Yes, sir.”

Itachi’s eyes flash, Sharingan spinning with double the r/min they had a moment ago. Yeah, okay, that’s a provocation he can afford but is best left for the privacy of the Compound for now.

“Hey, kid,” he says, ambling towards the Hyūga. “How you doin’?” After a beat of hesitation, he adds: “Hizashi-sama, Hiashi-sama.”

“I—Congratulations on your marriage, Hokage-sama,” Neji says. His hands are shaking a little. “This one is humbled to be invited to the festivities.”

Kakashi bites back the fond coo. “You’re freaking out, hey?”

Neji’s laugh is as shrill as it can get, for a Hyūga. “Me? No, not at all. Why would I be? Gossip is unbecoming and unreliable, there is nothing to be concerned about. I am but a humble Chūnin.”

Kakashi’s eyebrows hitch up. “Are you? Not for long, you’re not. I’ll clear out your schedule myself if I have to. Hell, I’ll throw together a Jōnin exam just for you, isn’t that nice?”

Hiashi and Hizashi puff out in pride, as a muscle jumps just below Neji’s eyes. That’s the Byakugan, isn’t it? The little fawn is thinking of running?

“No need to stress, bunny,” he says, throwing in the towel about the cooing issue. “I’m not dead or decrepit just yet. There is plenty of time. For now, you just focus on being a wholly excellent little Shinobi and leave the rest to—” Well. “—I was going to say me, but Itachi is running the show, so, y’know. There’s that.”

“Plenty of time for what? There is nothing to—I am not—There are people, maybe Hinata-sama, if it’s a Clan thing, or Sasuke-kun or Shino-kun, or—”

Kakashi pats him on the head and nods amiably to Hizashi and Hiashi. “Keep up the good work. We’ll talk more about this in a week or two, once Itachi lets me out of his claws.”

“Congratulations on managing to keep the Mizukage, Uchiha and Orochimaru-sama from murder and arson,” says Hiashi. “I can’t even keep the blood-feuds straight, among them.”

Kakashi shrugs. “The Kiri connection is all Itachi.” Well, there’s Mei. “Mostly Itachi. Orochimaru-sama decided to let bygones be bygones on the Uzushio issue after the Mizukage let the matter of being brainwashed by Obito for a decade go. They can all be reasonable people when the alternative is Itachi.”

“Very true,” nods Hizashi. “It’s all your husband. You have been the picture of proportionality and pacifism, in the past. Passive, even. There exists not a soul that would look at you with caution.”

Kakashi beams. “Precisely.”