Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was raining on the day Kakashi was called into the Hokage’s office. Raining and wet and miserable, and Hiruzen was determined to have them walk back out in the weather, his ANBU detail trailing at a distance. It was, Kakashi suspected, yet another trap designed to convince him of the necessity of his new assignment, and so he was quiet as they walked. He’d already argued until his throat was sore that he wasn’t the right choice for a sensei—anyone’s sensei, let alone the traumatized Last Uchiha and his own sensei’s son—but the Sandaime was set on the matter. Further arguing would do nothing but piss them both off at this point.

It was only when they stopped on a seemingly random street that Kakashi really paid notice to his surroundings. It was the sort of place that would have looked gray and dumpy even without the rain providing a morose atmosphere. The building that stood before them should have been demolished ages ago in his personal opinion. It leaned to the right at a crooked angle, the stone exterior crumbling in places, windows busted out half the time and the ones that were still technically intact were cracked. There were no signs of life here or anywhere on the street at all, though just an alley over stood the outskirts of the Red Light District.

“This,” the Sandaime said once Kakashi had gotten a good look, “is where Naruto lives.”

Kakashi stilled.

That couldn’t be correct. He’d known Naruto was moved out of the orphanage when he was five and put into an apartment. He’d seen the apartment, even: an old-but-not-crumbling building in a not-great-but-not-awful part of town, somewhere off in the northern sector and not here, not this building that smelled of mold and decay even from halfway across the street, not this building that sat rotting in the epicenter of Konoha’s slums.

But that was seven years ago, a part of him whispered. You don’t know what’s changed since then.

They’d kept him busy with back to back ANBU missions, A-ranks and S-ranks that wore him down to the bone, with just enough time in between to rest up in the hospital, usually chakra exhausted and in blinding pain. As soon as he was able to walk, he’d be assigned to some new horror, off again without even a moment to spare to check in on Naruto.

And that was how you liked it, the vicious, twisting amalgamation of guilt and grief reminded him. It was true, though.

At first, Kakashi had wanted to keep Naruto, had bartered and begged and threatened. It hadn’t changed anything, no matter how much he’d shouted at the Hokage that this wasn’t what Minato-sensei would have wanted, that Kushina-nee would have killed any of them before letting Naruto go into an orphanage when there were still people alive who would have taken him in. It hadn’t changed anything and Kakashi was sent off on missions that required too much focus and energy for him to have anything but weariness left when he finally made it back to Konoha.

And then the guilt had set it. First it had just made him angry, seeing Naruto alone and unloved and left to cry himself to sleep as a baby. Angry that Kakashi couldn’t do anything about it, not unless he wanted to leave Konoha altogether.

(He’d thought about it more than anyone ever knew back in those first two years. How hard could it be, he’d wondered, to take care of a child while on the run? But Naruto wasn’t just any child, and Konoha would hunt them both down with a vengeance. Kakashi trusted in his own skills, but he wasn’t sure he could protect Naruto and himself from the entirety of ANBU long enough to teach Naruto how to protect himself. And that, ultimately made him abandon his plan every time.)

After the anger had burned through, though, looking at Naruto was just a constant reminder of all the things Kakashi had lost and all the things he’d failed to do. He’d kept contact to a minimum: a stuffed dog for Naruto’s third birthday left on the boy’s pillow, scoping out the apartment when the Sandaime said Naruto was going to live on his own, and a quick check-in a month after that to make sure Naruto was doing okay.

I should have done more, Kakashi told himself, not for the first time, as he looked at Naruto’s current living conditions.

The Hokage didn’t bother showing Kakashi Naruto’s apartment on the inside—he must have realized that just a glance at the place was enough.

“Naruto needs you,” he said, and that was fucking rich coming from the man who’d blocked all of Kakashi’s attempts to take care of the boy back at the beginning. “And he’s not the only one.”

Kakashi had nothing left to say to the Hokage. Or at least, nothing that wouldn’t count as treason. Instead of responding, he body-flickered away.

I should have done more, he’d thought. But he couldn’t change the past no matter how much he wished he could. Still…I can do more now.

There were still 3 days before teams were officially assigned, and Kakashi was going to make the most of that opportunity to watch his new students and get a feel for them. If he was going to be their sensei—and he was, there was no way out for him even if he’d wanted it and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted out anymore anyway—then he was going to do it right. He’d already fucked up with Naruto once (or a dozen, a hundred, a thousand times, if you wanted to count every mistake individually).

He was going to do his damnedest to make sure he didn’t fuck up like that again. Even if it killed him.

Which meant observing all his students so he knew what he was getting into beforehand, and that meant a few discreet home visits were needed.

The inside of Naruto’s apartment was both better and worse than he’d expected, somehow.

Kakashi thought he’d been prepared—for unstable building structure, for broken water pipes, for the mold that would undoubtedly be everywhere—but nothing, nothing could have prepared him for the reality.

The door to Naruto’s apartment first tried to electrocute him, something he only dodged out of familiarity with the pin-prick feel of lightning right before it struck. When he’d finally managed to open the door—after disabling an impressively advanced seal that had taken him at least fifteen minutes to figure out—he’d then had to avoid another three surprisingly well-laid traps, and by that point, he was starting to seriously reconsider whether the files the Hokage had given him on his students were at all correct.

Because Naruto’s file said he was loud, disruptive, messy, and impatient. That he dove headfirst into things without thinking them through. It claimed he wasn’t particularly book-smart, that his fighting skills seemed purely instinct based and were therefore unrefined. That he barely understood chakra as a concept let alone the application of it, and that anyone who got him as a student would have a hell of a lot of work on their hands.

And Kakashi, having nearly been maimed at least four times in the past half hour due to the extensive defenses Naruto had placed on his apartment, thought that was a load of bullshit.

The apartment wasn’t messy like he’d thought it might be, but he wasn’t sure he’d call it clean either. Mold and mildew stains—which looked as if they’d been scrubbed at to little effect—dotted the ceiling and the corners of the room. The sink was dripping and the door to the fridge hung at an angle. Peering inside revealed that the temperature control was broken, but there wasn’t anything inside anyway. In the cupboards, there were about a dozen containers of instant ramen and, shockingly, a half-empty bag of rice that suggested Naruto at least knew how to cook a little. The dented pot and pan that sat in the other cabinet only reaffirmed that suspicion.

The kitchen and common living space were merged together and held little of interest besides at least twelve different potted plants and a low table, upon which sat a few loose scrolls: most were blank, but two of them were clearly storage scrolls. With handwritten, non-generic seals on top. Kakashi leaned closer but didn’t touch—nearly everything in the damned apartment had been trapped one way or another and he wasn’t risking it—and tried to make sense of the seals to no avail. They were definitely storage seals despite being almost nonsensical, but while his first thought was that they obviously must not work, he remembered the seal that had been on the front door: unusual and complex and tricky and unlike anything Kakashi had seen before.

Either Jiraiya has been more involved with Naruto than I thought or…

Or Naruto had figured out sealing by himself.

Kakashi wasn’t sure which idea was more outrageous, but he knew which one was true. He’d seen Jiraiya’s work before, and this wasn’t it.

Incapable of processing beyond that for right now, Kakashi moved onward into the small, closet-like bathroom. Like the rest of the apartment, the bathroom was weirdly well-kept for such a run-down place. The floor was stained with a rust-colored splotch that Kakashi didn’t look too closely at, the lid to the toilet was cracked in half, and mildew clung relentlessly to the ceiling above the shower, and yet the room only smelled faintly musty with an undertone of citrus. Hanging on a thin wire over the shower, two kid-sized black t-shirts and a pair of orange-brown shorts were drying. A closer inspection revealed shaky hand-stitches in places—patchwork, Kakashi realized, because Naruto was fixing his own clothes. The material was cheap, the shorts stained with dirt rather than that being their natural color, and the t-shirts had been cut and re-sized, something made evident by the amateur sewing. And yet it wasn’t half bad work for a kid untrained in tailoring.

The fact that it was a necessity of Naruto’s life, however, made Kakashi’s blood boil.

The bedroom was also barely more than a closet. A single futon was rolled up and tucked into the corner, and a decently well-hidden trap was set up to be triggered by a nearly invisible wire on the windowsill, but it was as barren as the rest of the apartment had been, maybe more so. Emptier than even Kakashi’s apartment, and before this week, he hadn’t technically been home for more than an hour interval in years.

Fuck, this was a mess. At least Naruto seemed like he’d figured out how to function, but…nothing about this situation was good.

Kakashi shook his head, re-set all the traps he’d initially set off, and then left. He’d seen enough here, and he still had to look in on the other two.

Kami help him.

It wasn’t like Kakashi thought Sasuke was going to be the pinnacle of health or stability. But he’d thought—naively hoped—that it would at least be better than Naruto’s, because at least the village didn’t hate Sasuke. At least Sasuke had family money. At least Sasuke was the Last Uchiha, and that gave him some respect and sympathy and probably a lot of people willing to cut him some slack to suck up a little.

But as Kakashi was rapidly learning, no one gave a single fuck about his students outside of what would make them look good on paper. Because Sasuke—the sole, traumatized survivor of the murder of his entire clan—was still living in his old family home in the middle of the Uchiha compound. The family home where he’d come across his brother killing their parents, where he’d seen his parents’ dead bodies, where Itachi had proceeded to torture and mentally scar him.

Kakashi had only found his own father’s body, and that alone had been enough for him to leave the old Hatake lands untouched for the past twenty-some years.

This cannot be healthy, Kakashi thought, dread curling in his stomach as he slipped in through one of the upstairs windows. Sasuke was out training and there was no chance of running into him, but it was more subtle to enter through the window, and the fewer people who knew Kakashi was making house visits, the better. The room he’d entered was obviously Sasuke’s. It was equally obvious that it hadn’t been used in years despite the fact that it was dust-free and clean.

Most disturbingly, there was a human shaped lump tucked under the covers of the bed in the corner, which upon examination was revealed to be a cleverly positioned bundle of blankets. A decoy.

Probably in case Itachi comes back, Kakashi thought grimly. It was a relatively smart strategy—not that Sasuke had any hope of escaping if Itachi decided to come torment him all over again—but it reeked of serious paranoia and mental issues that Kakashi wasn’t even remotely qualified to comment on.

Not unfounded paranoia, though, he told himself in a half-hearted attempt at optimism. He wasn’t sure that made anything better.

The house itself was meticulously clean, the scent of lemon and bleach strong in the air, especially around a room that had clearly been Fugaku’s office. Kakashi blanched. Was Sasuke repeatedly going into the room his parents had been murdered in and cleaning?

Fuck, okay, step one, Naruto and Sasuke need to not be living where they’re currently living, he noted. That was a top priority. Naruto was living in a shithole that would be difficult to secure and was too far away from other ninja in case someone did try to come after him, either for being the jinchuuriki or Minato’s son, not to mention that it was a health and safety hazard. And Sasuke…Sasuke was likely re-traumatizing himself every fucking day he lived in this house, and if the Hokage and the Elder Council thought he was a flight risk now? That would be nothing compared to what this level of psychological damage could do if nobody put an end to it.

That very thought was reinforced not a moment later when Kakashi realized that the main living area was the most secured part of the whole house, a pile of blankets and a pillow on the sofa indicating exactly where Sasuke slept.

When he sleeps at all. The sheer amount of kunai, shuriken, and ninja wire hidden around the area wasn’t reassuring Kakashi that Sasuke was sleeping.

At least the rest of Kakashi’s examination of the house went smoothly. There were no strange leaks or broken furniture or creaky doorways. The kitchen was well-stocked and clean—aside from some interesting scorch marks on the stove—and the contents of the fridge were somewhat balanced, if a little heavy on the tomatoes. It was obvious Sasuke had plenty of weapons, plenty of supplies, plenty of resources in general. It was just…well, it was just that he lived in his dead family’s house, which was in his dead family’s compound, and he was going to drown in it if Kakashi didn’t get him out.

He could feel a headache forming. When the Sandaime showed him Naruto’s apartment, he didn’t think that was going to be the tip of the iceberg that was the shitshow of his soon-to-be team.

He sighed, making his way across town and into the civilian sector. At least Sakura—though civilian raised, which came with its own…irritations—had parents, according to her file. She, out of all of them, would probably be the most well-adjusted. It was a good thing he’d thought to save her for last.

Sakura’s family’s house was a little two-story place with window boxes filled with flowers and trimmed hedges and a backyard with a big tree and a swing hanging from it. It was quaint, in a word. And occupied by all three of the Harunos at present, which meant Kakashi wouldn’t get to snoop as thoroughly as he’d wanted. He could still observe, though.

Sakura was very…pink. That was Kakashi’s first impression. Pink hair, pink dress with little flowers printed on it, pink cheeks. Her room was pink, too. Pink walls, pink bedspread, pink everything. Even the towels in her bathroom were pink. It was not helping his headache.

The Harunos were average for civilians, Kakashi decided. The father was a very serious looking man dressed in nice clothing. He was not particularly heavy but not muscular the way all ninja were. His hands looked soft and untested. The mother was slender and pretty in a vague, generic sort of way. Her makeup was well-don, her dress both expensive-looking and terribly impractical. She chattered endlessly about her day: the market, gossip with one of the neighbors, tomorrow’s weather.

Sakura was entirely silent. Kakashi frowned as he mentally evaluated her personnel file. Sakura was supposed to be loud, a talker and something of a know-it-all incapable of letting a conversation go by without her input. Quick to anger. Dramatic. Very smart but not as good at practical lessons. Creative. Potential with genjutsu.

He watched as she sat silently at the dinner table while her mother talked on and on and on—

“—and she said that the silks from the Land of Tea would come in tomorrow, so I thought we might go and get you fitted.”

At that, Sakura finally spoke, head tilted quizzically. “Fitted for what?”

Her mother rolled her eyes as if Sakura was being dense. “An engagement kimono or two. Or pre-engagement. Whatever you want to call it.”

Sakura’s fists were bunched at her sides, out of sight of her parents but visible to Kakashi from where he watched through the window. Tension lined every inch of her body. “Why would I need that?”

Her mother squinted. “Don’t play at being stupid, Sakura. We talked about this. You’ll meet with Tanaka-san at the end of the month, like we agreed.”

“We agreed,” Sakura said slowly, smile straining, “that I would consider the engagement if I didn’t pass the Academy exam. I passed the Academy exam. I’m a genin now. I’m going to be a ninja of Konoha—”

“This again,” her father said with a put-upon sigh. “Really. You’ve had your little rebellion, proven your point. But now it’s time to think seriously about your future.”

“I am—”

“This ninja fantasy was cute when you were six, Sakura, but you’ve long outgrown it,” he said. “Your mother and I have indulged you enough.”

“But—”

“Enough,” her father said, voice raised just shy of yelling, and Sakura flinched minutely. She did not say anything again, though Kakashi continued to watch the house the rest of the way through dinner and even afterwards as Sakura retreated to her room.

Out of the shadow cast by her parents—he was starting to get a picture here, though it was far from complete—Sakura seemed…different. She tugged the delicate floral hairpins from her long, pink hair mercilessly, tossing them with perfect aim into a small box sitting on her dresser. She collapsed on her bed, buried her face in her pillow, and screamed for a good minute. Then she got up, yanked a kunai out from under her mattress—not completely hopeless, then, Kakashi thought—and held her hair taught in her fist, the edge of the blade coming to rest against the pink strands.

For a long moment he thought she might actually cut it—again, the picture of Who Is Haruno Sakura was getting clearer—but then there was a knock on her door, and Sakura moved quickly, hiding the kunai away again just as her mother entered her room. She eyed Sakura with a critical look and tsked.

“You need to take better care of your hair. Sit, and I’ll brush it.”

Sakura’s expression was carefully blank, pinched only slightly at the corner of her mouth in a way a civilian would never notice. She sat and handed the brush to her mother, who began working through Sakura’s hair methodically.

“It’s lost its shine,” she complained as she brushed. “All that running about you’ve been doing. And the ends are absolutely frayed. No more braids, Sakura.”

Sakura didn’t answer, and for her silence she was whacked on the head with the brush. Hard. Sakura jolted forward at the strike, eyes shutting upon impact. Kakashi tensed.

“As you say, mother.”

She hummed and looked up from Sakura’s hair to give the girl another once over, seeming to speak more to herself than to Sakura. “All that time outside has ruined your skin, too. Perhaps we can cover that with makeup. And we’ll have to get you some gloves for now. Kami knows no one will want to touch your calloused hands as they are. Some moisturizer should fix that with enough time. Hmm.” She pinched at Sakura’s cheek, her arm. Her mother’s expression was displeased. “And you’ve gained weight again. If you cannot manage it yourself, then I’ll have to do it for you.”

“Another diet?” Sakura asked, voice bland but Kakashi didn’t think he was imagining the resigned undertone.

Her mother raised a brow. “Obviously you didn’t keep to the last one. We’ll have to be even more strict if you want to get your figure back in time.”

Kakashi frowned, recalling another line from her personnel file, a special note from her last teacher. Diets too much, which makes her tired during physical training. Has fainted from lack of proper nutrition.

“As you say, mother.”

Yes, the picture was coming together, and Kakashi was not particularly happy.

It would have to wait another couple of days, though. He couldn’t legally do anything about any of his students’ situations until they were officially his students.

Three days. At least that would give him time to make the necessary arrangements.

Chapter Text

In the three days since Kakashi decided he’d actually be putting effort into his new students—and screw the Hokage for that, because if he hadn’t seen Naruto living in squalor and Sasuke’s personal trauma shrine and whatever civilian fuckery was happening at Sakura’s house, he’d have at least tried to fail them even if logic told him the Elder Council would never let it fly—he’d been busy.

The first thing, and the most painful part, was to go peel the preservation seals off the old Hatake compound and take stock. Kakashi wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, but he’d weighed his options after leaving Sakura’s house and it was the only thing that really made sense. As soon as everything was official, he’d be pulling the “sensei” card and the “top jounin of the leaf” card and the “you made me teach them, now you don’t get to tell me how I teach them” card. Each of his students needed to be removed from their current living situation as far as he was concerned, and it was far easier to put them all together in one place than to try to make separate arrangements for each of them.

He wanted space so they’d all have their own rooms, enough of a yard for sparring and training outside and a dojo for the days he didn’t care for his Icha Icha collection being exposed to the elements. He wanted somewhere secure, somewhere he could set up good defenses and somewhere his more paranoid students could hopefully learn to feel safe. He preferred some place out of the way enough that people couldn’t reasonably drop in under the pretense of “just passing by” and yet somewhere he’d be able to get to easily in an emergency.

Kakashi supposed he might have been able to buy an entirely new house, but finding something so specific on such short notice would have been difficult, and it would have served to tip off everyone to what he was doing—something he ideally hoped to avoid until all three of his kids were firmly and undeniably under his care. And protection. Already he could anticipate how certain parties would protest: Danzo would say Naruto was too valuable to be placed under Kakashi’s direct influence, the Elders would protest Sasuke’s removal from the Uchiha compound because apparently they thought heritage and custom was more important than a shinobi’s mental health, and Sakura’s parents were likely to kick up a shitstorm.

(Not that any of them could do a damned thing about it. As genin, Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura were legally considered adults in Konoha. As their jounin sensei, Kakashi was afforded command over nearly every aspect of their lives as part of his charge to turn them into competent, loyal, strong shinobi. Most jounin sensei never bothered to be so involved, but then, most jounin sensei didn’t have two orphans and a civilian-born kid with challenging parents to worry about.)

The Hatake compound was his solution. But because he’d be a hypocrite if he moved Sasuke out of his trauma shrine just for Kakashi to move into one of his own, he was making adjustments. Or rather, Tenzo was.

“It’s finished, senpai.”

The room that had been Sakumo’s was gone, removed efficiently before Tenzo even arrived with a few well-placed earth jutsus and a fire jutsu to burn the remnants. A part of Kakashi felt guilty, like he was erasing something important, but he knew he’d never be able to live in this house with that room still intact, and besides, the strongest memory attached to that particular space was a bad one. Better to leave it behind in the past where it belonged.

Anyway, in its place now stood the framework for a greenhouse room: heavy wooden beams placed at intervals to provide support for the external wall and to eventually support the large glass panes that would hopefully arrive by the afternoon. Initially, Kakashi hadn’t been sure what to do with the space—anything too similar to the original room would essentially negate the purpose of destroying it in the first place. It hadn’t taken long to remember the swarm of plants currently crowding Naruto’s tiny living apartment. They’d have to go somewhere, and when Kakashi considered Sasuke’s apparent preference for tomatoes, a greenhouse had seemed the obvious choice.

There was a brief flutter of nerves in his stomach, a tiny whisper of, What the fuck are you thinking? You can’t take care of three kids. You’re going to get them killed, just like everyone else who’s ever stuck around too long.

But it was hard to forget the way Naruto’s building looked like it might fall over at any minute, the way Sasuke kept his house preserved like a museum of grief, the way Sakura flinched away from her parents. And Kakashi might be cursed to lose every person he’d ever given a damn about, but every time he looked at those kids, looked at their lives, it felt like they were all halfway to dying anyway and no one else was going to do anything about it.

He hadn’t wanted to care, but it was far too late for that now.

By the time official team assignments rolled around, Kakashi felt he knew his team pretty well. In addition to the secret home visits he’d done, he’d had clones follow each of them around at random intervals. It had been…enlightening.

Naruto and Sasuke were alike in that they spent most of their days training, though Naruto always left to go to one of the far-out training grounds where he was least likely to run into anyone and Sasuke stayed within the Uchiha compound. Sasuke tended to focus on form and repetition, flowing through katas and practicing kunai throws until he could do both with relative ease. Naruto’s training was, as far as Kakashi could tell, pure chaos. Sometimes he laid traps. Sometimes he laid traps with seals. Often there were explosions involved. He ran through the woods like something feral, and he was loud, but then sometimes Kakashi’s clone would lose track of Naruto altogether.

Naruto always ended the day by finding food. Finding being the key word. Sometimes he hunted with an efficiency that was impressive for a fresh genin. Within an hour, Naruto would have a rabbit or bird of some sort and a handful of edible plants that he took home to prepare. If he didn’t hunt, though, Naruto went digging through the dumpsters outside of food shops in the market.

He can’t afford food? Kakashi wondered at first, because Naruto was obviously practiced at knowing where the best dumpsters were, how to find edible food and how to make sure it was safe. But then, as a shop-keeper across the street glared at Naruto when he passed by, another much more unsavory idea occurred to Kakashi. They won’t sell him food. Or they won’t sell him good food. He didn’t have proof because Naruto didn’t even try to go into the market, but Kakashi felt fairly certain he was on the right track.

Sasuke, on the other hand, trained until he was five minutes away from passing out, then hauled himself home, set his traps, ate leftover soup and a tomato, and then collapsed on the sofa. If it was a good night, he would be so exhausted he’d sleep through until the morning. If it wasn’t…well, at least Sasuke always seemed to wake up from the nightmares when he had them.

Sakura did not train even once.

Maybe she would have if her mother—Mebuki, Kakashi learned—hadn’t basically had a chokehold on Sakura’s schedule. Sakura was dragged to kimono fittings, to tea houses where she wasn’t allowed to eat anything, to a hair stylist who spent hours “fixing” her hair only for it to look exactly the same when they left. They went shopping for gloves that would hide Sakura’s callouses, for long skirts that would hide the bruising and scars littering Sakura’s legs from sparring at the Academy, for a pale white makeup that would cover up her barely-there suntan. When they returned home, Sakura would sequester herself away in her room to read—chakra theory and jutsu scrolls and global history, Kakashi was beyond pleased to note—though that never lasted long because Mebuki constantly demanded attention. Kakashi was exhausted just watching it.

And yet he never doubted that she would somehow manage to show up to team assignments despite her parents’ dismissal of her ninja career and their insistence on preparing for a meeting with whoever Tanaka-san was. Sakura was not as immediately easy to read as the boys were, but Kakashi didn’t think he was imagining the tightly controlled anger that simmered just under the surface, the small hints of rebellion against her parents’ control that were so subtle they wouldn’t notice.

He also didn’t think it was an exaggeration to say Sakura might very well snap under the pressure of it all if her act of the dutiful daughter had to go on indefinitely.

She’d probably do anything to escape. And that meant, no matter what, she’d find her way to her team.

Kakashi was a little late—partly because he had a reputation to uphold and partly because he’d filed the necessary change-of-address paperwork in person right before leaving to pick up his team, and he’d spent a good couple minutes basking in the Hokage’s utterly floored expression before flickering away. Kakashi figured he’d end up getting called in to explain himself sometime in the next 24 hours once the Sandaime fully wrapped his head around the implications of Kakashi moving back into his ancestral home, along with the slightly delayed paperwork that filed Sasuke, Naruto, and Sakura’s change-of-address too.

But that was tomorrow’s problem. Right now, he had kids to meet.

Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura sat clustered mostly together in the otherwise empty classroom. Naruto was fiddling with a piece of sealing paper, Sakura was splitting her attention between pretending to ignore Naruto while side-eying the sealing paper with curiosity and making moon eyes at Sasuke, and Sasuke was splitting his attention between intently ignoring Sakura and watching Naruto with a strange amount of focus. Kakashi wasn’t too deterred. Whatever their interpersonal issues were, that could be fixed with enough constant exposure and coming together over shared experiences.

Probably.

“Yo.”

All three jerked at the sound, none of them having noticed him sliding through the window a minute before. Awareness needs improvement, he mentally noted, not that he was surprised. They were genin; everything needed improvement.

To their credit, all three of his students were eying him suspiciously, and he was pretty sure Sasuke had his hand on a kunai just in case. Paranoid maybe, but smart.

“Who are you?” Sakura asked.

Kakashi gave them his signature eye-smile. “Maa, I’m your sensei.” And then before they could question him or point out he was an hour late, continued, “Meet me on the roof in five minutes.”

And then he poofed away. Not very far away, mind, because he could get to the roof in a matter of seconds and what he really wanted to do was keep watching his students to see what they would do next.

Sakura and Sasuke stood immediately and began heading towards the door, but Naruto hesitated.

“Guys, wait—”

“Ugh, Naruto-baka, you’d better not hold this team back.”

“Hn. Dobe.”

Naruto huffed, clearly irritated about being ignored, but pushed on even though his teammates were about three seconds away from leaving him behind. “How do we know we can trust him?!”

That, at least, got the other two to stop.

“He said he’s our sensei,” Sakura said, but now she seemed less sure. Sasuke just stared, eyes narrowed as if he was trying to figure Naruto out.

“People lie,” Naruto said bitterly, and oh, that was right, the Mizuki Incident had happened only a week ago, Kakashi realized.

In the span of a few hours, Naruto had learned that one of his teachers had not only set him up to take the fall for treason, but also hated him to the point of wanting him dead. He’d learned that the Hokage had been keeping the secret of the kyuubi from him for years, that the reason his life was the way it was had been withheld from him even though it seemed like almost everyone else in the village already knew. In Naruto’s experience, no adult or authority figure had ever been honest with him, Kakashi was suddenly painfully aware, and that meant he had a lot of work to do.

And not just for Naruto’s sake.

“Hn,” Sasuke said again, though this one was less dismissive and more considering.

Sasuke, who’s own beloved brother had turned on their family at random. One of his precious people flipping in an instant to someone unrecognizable, turning someone who was supposed to be safe into a monster.

And Sakura, too, who was now wringing her hands. Maybe she hadn’t had it as bad as the boys, but then, had she ever felt safe in her home? Had she ever thought she could rely on anyone to consider her well-being when it was so obvious her own parents treated her like an object?

Fuck, and Kakashi thought he had trust issues.

“We can’t just not go,” Sakura finally said, and it was only because Kakashi knew what to look for that he heard the desperate edge in her voice.

Naruto twisted his mouth in thought, but it was Sasuke who spoke, “We could use the Academy formation.”

Six whole words. Kakashi was pretty sure that was the most Sasuke had spoken at once in the past week.

“Good idea, Sasuke-kun!” Sakura’s relief was palpable. “You should take point since you’re the best.”

He agreed with another, “Hn.”

“Hey!” Naruto protested, but Sakura didn’t let him get another word in.

“You can take the rear guard if you want,” she said impatiently. “If you think you can cover our backs.”

“Of course I can, dattebayo!”

Without any further arguing—a miracle in itself—the three made their way to the stairwell and proceeded in a tactical formation up to the roof. Kakashi made sure to appear he’d been waiting up there for them the whole time and also made sure to keep his body-language non-threatening. He lounged on the ground in a careless sprawl, chin propped up on one hand as he read his book.

His three cute little students relaxed only marginally upon seeing him. What smart kids I have. That level of caution and suspicion usually had to be all but beaten into fresh genin. His students had the misfortune of having a head start on that count.

“Good teamwork,” he acknowledged, because even if their formation was a little sloppy, and even if Naruto had had to remind the others to be careful in the first place, he could at least reward the behaviors he wanted to see become habit. “Now, come sit and we’ll do introductions.”

They made their way over hesitantly, but when Kakashi continued to be as non-threatening as possible, they relaxed further. Now, for the hard part: opening up and building trust. He wanted to crawl into a hole just thinking about it, but he’d already made up his mind. This was going to be his team. He’d arranged for them to move into a house together. It was a little late to back out now.

“I’m Hatake Kakashi, jounin of Konoha and now your sensei. My mission history is mostly redacted, so don’t bother digging around. You won’t find anything useful. I like dogs and eggplant. I dislike overly sweet food and…hm…people who abandon their comrades. A hobby I like is reading. My goal is to turn you three into the best team of this generation, but only if you’re willing to work for it.”

Kakashi breathed and tried to ignore the vague nausea swirling in his stomach. Nerves. It was fine, he told himself. You’re doing fine. A quick look at his students revealed that they were less tense than they’d been a moment ago. They also looked…pleased, he thought.

“Blondie, you’re up.”

Naruto perked up. “I’m Uzumaki Naruto. Uh…I like ramen, dattebayo, and seals. I dislike how long it takes to cook some things. And—” he chewed on his bottom lip, blue eyes flicking up to Kakashi as if weighing his very being, deciding if he was worthy of the truth “—liars. One of my hobbies is growing plants. My goal is to be Hokage!”

Kakashi nodded. Hokage was a big goal, and with the way Naruto was all but glaring at him, the boy was waiting for Kakashi to tell him he couldn’t do it. Lots of people have probably told him he couldn’t do it. Kakashi wasn’t going to be one of them.

“Good. It might take a while to be Hokage, though, so in the meantime, I want you to think of some short-term goals you can use as stepping-stones to get there.”

Naruto stared, mouth hanging open slightly, eyes wide and wondering. It was a little uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of a look that Kakashi didn’t think he deserved in the slightest, so he turned to Sasuke.

“Broody, your turn.”

Sasuke scowled. “Hn. Uchiha Sasuke. I like training and tomatoes. I dislike fangirls—” he side-eyed Sakura “—and people who only talk to me because they want something. My hobby is training—”

“Nope.” Kakashi eye-smiled. “Do you have any hobbies that aren’t related to the ninja arts?”

Sasuke narrowed his eyes. “That would be useless.”

“Hm. Would it? No, I don’t think so.” Kakashi sighed, then made sure he had all his students’ attention. “Listen up. When you become active in the field, you will spend hours every day training when you’re not on missions, and when you are on missions, you will have to give them 100% of your focus. You might not think so now, but that’s going to wear you down. It’s important to have something outside of the fighting and interrogation and guarding or whatever else you end up doing. It’s important to be able to be a person and not just a soldier. Do you understand?”

Slowly, each of them nodded.

Through gritted teeth, Sasuke said, “I cook sometimes.”

“Good. Now, your goal?” Kakashi had a bad feeling that he already knew what it was.

“It’s more of an ambition. I’m going to get strong enough to kill a certain man, and then I’m going to restore my clan.”

So the revenge aspect of his psych profile was spot on, Kakashi mused. But he also couldn’t exactly blame the kid. Kakashi knew he’d spiraled after his own loss, had submerged himself in ANBU and become little more than a killing machine. He was in no place to judge Sasuke for his coping mechanisms. Was that the healthiest goal and mindset to have? Maybe not. But maybe Kakashi could help him find balance.

“Okay. Like I told Naruto, your goal is also more of a big, long-term goal. I want you to break it down, give yourself smaller goals to help measure your progress. Maybe that means you want to master your chakra nature affinity, or you want to become a jounin. Think about it.”

Sasuke nodded, and so Kakashi turned to his last student.

“Pinky.”

“I’m Haruno Sakura,” she said, voice bubbly and entirely at odds with tension in her shoulders. “I like…hehe.” She blushed a little and smiled at Sasuke, who just looked tired and uncomfortable. “My hobbies are…” She blushed further, eyes darting over to Sasuke again, and then, “And my goals is—”  

“Okay, no. Stop.”

Everyone startled.

“N-no?” Sakura asked, suddenly serious. Her green eyes were wide and unsure, her hands trembling minutely at her side.

“If we are going to be a team,” he started, carefully thinking through his words, “then we are not going to lie to each other.”

“But I’m not—” Sakura said, then trailed off at Kakashi’s raised brow.

“We’ll go over the specifics of what I expect from you as a team and what you can expect from me as your sensei later, but I want to be very clear. There will be times where I cannot answer your questions or tell you what you want to know—whether because it’s classified, or we’re under time constraints, or doing so puts you in danger—but I will never lie to you. I think—” he looked each of his students in the eyes “—that you have had enough of that from other people.”

He paused, let that sink in for a long moment.

“Teams are built on trust. You need to be able to know that your teammates have your back. That if you get separated, they’re going to come get you. That if you get hurt, they will do their best to help. If someone is your enemy, they are our enemy too. If your goal feels impossible, we will help you achieve it. This takes time, and it’s a process, and it’s not going to be easy. But we start by being honest with each other, and we’ll go from there.”

He let them think on that, too, until Sakura nodded shakily.

“Now,” he said, trying to be encouraging and hoping he was at least somewhat succeeding. "Try that again."

“I’m Sakura. I like reading about chakra and jutsus, and being alone in the woods. I dislike…I dislike my…my hair and when people are really loud. My hobby is, um.” She frowned, clenched her fists. “I don’t think I have any hobbies that I like, so I guess my goals are to find one, become a strong ninja, and move out of my parents’ house.”

Naruto and Sasuke were both gaping at her, and Sakura shrunk under the attention. Kakashi smiled.

“All very actionable goals, Sakura. Well done.”

And that’s enough of that for today. Feelings had a way of leaving Kakashi utterly drained.

“Tomorrow, be at Training Ground 3 at dawn. We’ll be having a little…survival test. Oh, and if you eat breakfast, you might throw up.” He eye-smiled at them again and offered a small wave. “See you then.”

He poofed away again, and this time he really did leave them. Tomorrow would be…an experience. But right now, he just wanted to collapse in his bed and not think for a little while.

Chapter Text

The bell test went about how Kakashi thought it would. Mostly.

He’d arrived only an hour late because he was trying, but breaking old habits was hard, and the emotional and mental toll he knew the day would take on him made him not want to get out of bed. Only the reminder that he already had to work hard to earn his students’ trust and the fact that repeatedly disappointing them was counterproductive to that got him up and moving.

Naruto still complained about him being late, but that was quickly forgotten in the face of the test.

What Kakashi had expected: Sakura pulling back to watch and wait, Naruto rushing in first with a direct but surprisingly effective attack—not that it would do anything against a jounin like Kakashi—and then Sasuke trying and failing to be sneaky. No coordination at all.

What he got was something more like this:

Sakura and Sasuke both dispersed immediately, and Naruto did run at him like he’d expected. But it wasn’t quite the flurry of unrefined-yet-strangely-coordinated taijutsu Kakashi thought Naruto might go for. Rather, the blond boy rushed forward, feinted left and managed to duck under Kakashi’s block, only to land a barely-there tap to the back of his right shoulder-blade. Instead of sticking around to either crow about his success or take that as a sign he should push his advantage, Naruto darted off into the trees.

Which was, of course, when Sasuke attacked from behind, reaching for one of the bells with all the finesse of a newborn pup. What surprised him was that Sasuke somehow managed to touch one of the bells even though Kakashi could see him coming from a mile away. The boy wasn’t fast enough to actually grab it, but still.

A blur of golden orange in his periphery alerted him to Naruto making another attack, and Kakashi grabbed Sasuke’s arm and flung him at the blond boy. Only either his timing was off or Naruto was moving faster than he looked because Kakashi missed.

What the fuck?

It took another two attempted attacks from Naruto before he figured it out: that first touch that Naruto had landed, he’d somehow managed to stick a seal on Kakashi without him noticing. Now that he was aware of it, Kakashi ripped the seal off and felt as his reaction time returned to normal.

What. The. Fuck.

That was so not a genin-level skill. Already Kakashi was imagining how brilliant Naruto would be once they got him moving beyond sealing paper, once Naruto could plant a seal made entirely of chakra with just a tap. He didn’t have long to think about it, however, because Sakura was finally making her move.

And it was rather genius, for a genin.

Naruto, after the frustration of Kakashi finding his seal, had made about three dozen shadow clones to attack from all angles. A good idea, but lacks direction. Sasuke was over behind a bush waiting, presumably, for Kakashi to get tired. He’ll be waiting a long time.

But Sakura, smart, clever Sakura, had henged herself to look like Naruto. It was imperfect—she’d gotten the shade of Naruto’s eyes slightly off, the orange of his jumpsuit somehow even more garish than it was in reality—but the concept was good.

Not good enough, naturally, because they were fighting a jounin and they weren’t communicating as they ought to have been, but it was a solid start.

Kakashi smiled behind his mask. Maybe it was time to show them just how outclassed they were.

When the timer went off at noon, all three kids were wiped. Naruto and Sasuke were both covered in mud and leaves. Half of that was because Kakashi had run them in circles until they were tripping over each other, and half was because Sasuke had gotten caught in one of Naruto’s traps, gotten pissed about it, and then dragged Naruto into it too. Sakura, for her part, was deep in thought with a slightly glazed look. The genjutsu Kakashi had trapped her in hadn’t been horrible in the sense that he hadn’t made her watch anyone die, but he’d shown her an illusion of herself standing there in the training ground, her combat gear traded out for one of those ridiculous dresses that her mother liked, no weapons to be found, her teammates absent. It wasn’t the cruelest genjutsu he could’ve put her in, but Sakura was smart enough to understand the implications, and it had left her a little shaken.

“Well that was terrible,” Kakashi said idly as they all sat before him. “Not the worst I’ve seen, but still terrible.”

The worst had been a team three years ago where one of the kids had actually incapacitated the other two so he wouldn’t have to risk them getting the bells instead of him. Kakashi had knocked that kid out so fast he hadn’t had even a chance of escape, and then Kakashi had written a long, long evaluation on why they needed to make sure that kid never became an official ninja. It was one thing not to help your teammates—not every ninja believed in Kakashi’s “your team is your lifeline” spiel—but it was another thing entirely to purposefully sabotage them for your own success. That was the kind of shit they pulled in Kiri, and Kakashi wasn’t having any of it.

All three of his current kids slumped unhappily. Kakashi sighed.

“Alright, let’s start with what you did correctly.” Positive reinforcement was good. It was just like training dogs. You had to reward them for the correct behaviors, not just reprimand them for the bad ones. “Naruto, your seal work is very impressive. You had me for a few seconds at the beginning, and the attack/retreat pattern you set up was a decent strategy, especially against someone who’s stronger than you. Sasuke, your aim is very good—” there had been a kunai or three that had gotten a little too close for comfort “—and the fire jutsu you used was well-executed. Sakura, waiting back to formulate a plan against an unknown opponent was a smart play, and henging yourself to look like one of Naruto’s clones was an inspired idea.”

They smiled tiredly at him, and he returned the look.

“Can you guess what you did wrong?”

Sakura raised her hand slowly, and Kakashi nodded at her.

“Outside of disguising myself as Naruto, I didn’t have much of a plan.”

Naruto was next. “Uh…I didn’t take advantage of my seal’s effect enough at the beginning?”

Sasuke grunted. “I timed my attacks too late.”

Kakashi hummed. “That’s all part of it. Think a little bigger.”

Sakura was the first to understand. “If…if we had coordinated our attacks, we’d have had a better chance.” Kakashi nodded for her to continue, and she picked up more confidence as she spoke. “Like, if Naruto had placed his seal, then immediately made the clones, and Sasuke and I both disguised ourselves to attack when you were most distracted, maybe we could have gotten the bells.”

“Oh.” Naruto slapped a hand to his head with a dramatic groan. “Teamwork.”

Sasuke’s mouth was pinched.

Kakashi clapped once, eye crinkled happily. “Very good, my cute little genin.”

“So…” Sakura’s hands twisted in her lap. “You’re not going to…get rid of us?”

“Maa, Sakura-chan, I’ve already filled out all the paperwork. You’re stuck with me. Speaking of which, remember how I said we’d talk about expectations?”

They nodded.

“When you become a genin, you’re legally considered an adult by Konoha’s laws. But until you become a chuunin or our team gets disbanded and you join the genin corps, you fall under my jurisdiction. You train when I tell you to train. You rest when I tell you to rest. You go where I tell you to go. Understood?”

They nodded again.

“I also said I wouldn’t lie to you,” he continued, more solemn than before, and he could tell he had their full attention. “There are people in this village who are not…happy about our team.” He held up a hand before the hundreds of questions that were building in his students could overflow. “I can’t get into specifics right now. It’s my job to train you, but it’s also my job to keep you safe. For that reason—among others—we will be going about things in a bit of an unusual way.” He took another breath. No going back after this. “Effective immediately, you three are to move into the Hatake compound.”

“What?” Sakura’s voice was little more than a whisper. Naruto and Sasuke for their parts were looking at him with nearly identical expressions of shock. Kakashi barely withheld a snort at the image—they were more alike than they liked to admit.

He braced himself to say the more difficult part. Honesty is important. Honesty is important.

“When I was informed that I had been assigned you three, I wanted to know what I was getting into if I decided to take you on as students. And I had some concerns about your living situations. All of you. If you feel you have a valid reason for not moving into the Hatake compound or if you have questions, feel free to voice them now.”

“My apartment—”

“My parents—”

“The Uchiha compound—”

“One at a time, please,” Kakashi said.

“My apartment,” Naruto started again, but seemed to fizzle out with a shrug and a confused expression.

“Your apartment is going to fall over, Naruto. That building should have been torn down ages ago. Not to mention that it’s in one of the worst neighborhoods, and despite your frankly impressive defenses, is actually quite easy to break into for a skilled nin.”

“It’s the only place that would rent to me,” he said quietly.

“You won’t have that issue at my house. I’m insisting on the move, and you’re my students besides. I’m not asking for rent money.” Seeing that Naruto still looked uncertain even if he didn’t have a legitimate reason to refuse, Kakashi added, “Bring anything you’d like from your old place. It’ll be your home now too.”

“I have a lot of plants,” Naruto said, squinting at Kakashi as if this was some sort of test.

“I have a greenhouse.”

And for Naruto, that was that.

Sasuke was not so easily convinced.

“The Uchiha compound is my birthright. I’m not giving it up.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Kakashi tried to soothe. He’d known this would be an issue. “But I am not going to let you live there in a house full of ghosts. The Hokage should never have let you move back in there in the first place. The compound will still be there, and no one is stopping you from visiting, but can you honestly tell me you feel safe there? At ease?”

Sasuke scowled deeper but didn’t answer. That was progress, Kakashi supposed.

And then it was Sakura’s turn, and she was shaking. “My parents won’t let me.”

“That’s not their decision, Sakura.”

“You don’t know what they’re like. They don’t want me to…I had to sneak out yesterday and this morning. When they find out where I’ve been all day—” her eyes squeezed shut and she shook her head. “They’re going to make me marry Tanaka-san even though he doesn’t even live in Konoha and he’s so much older and weird and I’m going to be trapped forever, and, and I can’t even do anything—”

“Breathe, Sakura,” Kakashi said, and then dropped Pakkun—who he’d summoned in a panic because Sakura looked like she might hyperventilate or cry, and Kakashi wasn’t prepared for either—into her lap. The dog sighed and rolled his eyes, but leaned heavily against Sakura, and at least the shock of having a dog unceremoniously dropped in her lap seemed to have knocked her out of her panic spiral.

For the time being, he ignored Naruto’s angry spluttering and Sasuke’s quiet “what the fuck” that he probably wasn’t meant to hear, and focused on his pink student instead.

“Sakura, do you want to be a shinobi?”

“Yes,” she rasped.

“And you said one of your goals was to move out, yes?”

She nodded.

“And if being a genin makes you an adult in Konoha’s eyes, and on top of that, your superior officer is ordering you to move, then tell me why you think what your parents want has to matter at all?”

Sakura swallowed heavily. “Oh.”

“If you want, I’ll explain the situation to your parents while you collect your things. You don’t have to deal with them anymore if you don’t want to.” Kakashi certainly wished someone else would offer to deal with Sakura’s parents for him.

“Oh.” She blinked, took a few shuddering breaths, and nodded. “Yes, please.”

He patted her once on the head—very, very lightly—and eye-smiled at his students. “Then why don’t you three go pack up Naruto and Sasuke’s things while I let the Hokage know you passed, and then we’ll deal with Sakura’s things after.”

The kids headed off in the direction of Naruto’s place without too much fussing. A little grumbling here and there, but no outright fighting. They weren’t a team yet—not in the way Kakashi wanted—but after today he knew for sure he could make them into one.

He’d just have to explain a few things to the Hokage first.

One of the simple joys in life was watching as everyone in the Hokage’s office collectively turned to stare at Kakashi as he, firstly, was only late by about ten minutes, and secondly, confirmed that Team 7 passed. He was pretty sure Asuma and Kurenai—and probably Gai, too—had made some sort of bet on whether or not he’d fail yet another genin team, but Kakashi didn’t know the outcome.

After everyone had left except for Kakashi and the Hokage, Hiruzen sighed and folded his hands, propping his chin upon them. It wasn’t always apparent how old the Sandaime was—Hiruzen carried himself well and his power tended to compensate for whatever he lacked in youth—but now he looked every inch his age.

“What are you doing, Kakashi?”

“My job.”

The Sandaime pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know the Council is going to protest this.”

“The Council that insisted I take on Sasuke as a student? The Council that insisted I wasn’t allowed to fail him?” Kakashi hummed. “If they wanted a jounin they could control, they should have picked someone else.”

“And Naruto?”

Kakashi stared him down, saying nothing.

Hiruzen sighed again. “I can see you won’t be swayed.”

Eye crinkling into a disingenuous smile, Kakashi asked, “Is that all, Hokage-sama?”

If the Hokage had wanted to say more, it was only apparent in the tight press of his mouth. He waved Kakashi off, and Kakashi wasted no time in slipping out the window, glad to be done with that, at least.

Kakashi was paying for his relatively uncomplicated conversation with the Hokage tenfold by way of the Harunos.

Wanting to avoid as much drama as possible, Kakashi had sent the kids to climb up the lattice by Sakura’s bedroom window so they could avoid confronting her parents—laying it out as their first official team challenge had gotten Naruto excited and earned Kakashi a very suspicious side-eye from Sasuke, but at least they’d keep out of the way. Kakashi promised he’d handle the Harunos himself to Sakura’s great relief. But while his distant observations of Sakura’s parents had revealed them to be unpleasant people, actually talking with them was at least twice as bad.

“You can’t do this,” Kizashi—Sakura’s father—said for the fifth time, all huffy and self-important. “Sakura is my daughter, and she’ll do as I wish.”

“You seem to be under the misinformed impression that I am asking for permission,” Kakashi drawled. “Sakura is a genin of Konoha and under my direct command. Informing you is merely a courtesy.”

“She is not,” Mebuki protested. “We humored her silly ninja phase while she was a child, but now she has a duty to this family—”

“She has a duty to Konoha,” Kakashi corrected blandly.

“Now you listen—”

“If you did not want a ninja daughter, why send her to the Academy and waste Konoha’s resources? Why sign the forms confirming your understanding of the duties and responsibilities students would take on upon graduation? Paperwork like that is designed to prevent this precise situation.” Kakashi tilted his head. “Or do you just not read the documents you sign?”

Kizashi was angry now. “The engagement with Tanaka-san has been in the works for years. Years! Hours spent on careful negotiations. Months of letters exchanged back and forth to hammer out the details. It will not be ruined by some upstart ninja—”

Kakashi was not technically allowed to threaten civilians.

Technically.

“Maa, Haruno-san, I would be very careful if I were you. It almost sounds as if you think your personal business outweighs village security.”

Mebuki huffed. “If you think the Civilian Council will let you get away with this—”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to direct all your complaints to Sandaime-sama,” Kakashi interrupted, standing. His students’ chakra signatures were making their way back down the lattice now, which meant Kakashi could end this irritating, cyclical conversation.

He left as they shouted indignantly behind him, audible even once the door was shut and he was halfway down the street. His kids fell into step beside him easily, whatever Sakura had decided to bring with her sealed away in one of Naruto’s nonsensical storage scrolls.

“What a day,” Kakashi commented, mouth quirking underneath his mask as his students all offered various hums and grunts and nods in response. “Let’s go home.”

The Hatake compound was situated off to the outskirts of Konoha’s eastern quadrant, well away from the bustle of the market and the civilian sector and most of the other clans. The plot of land was large despite the fact that the Hatake had never had numbers as high as the Uchiha, and most of it was cultivated to simulate a forest with the few houses tucked away in the center. They’d been a wild, roaming clan before they’d come to Konoha, and the idea of living in the midst of a city was contradictory to their nature. Kakashi appreciated that now as he and his students walked down the long path towards the main house.

It was quiet here. Peaceful. Almost like it was in a world of its own away from the rest of the village.

“Woah,” Naruto said, breathless and full of wonder as they finally came upon the house. It was neither as well-decorated as Sakura’s old home had been nor as grand as the Uchiha main house, but to Naruto, who had only ever lived in orphanages and shit apartments, it must have seemed extraordinary. Kakashi patted him gently on the head, faltering for a moment when Naruto responded to that miniscule show of affection with huge eyes and a tentative smile.

He showed them to their rooms, which they fortunately accepted without complaint or argument, and left them to unpack their things while he went down to the kitchen to scrounge up something for dinner. It was strange being able to hear them move around upstairs—their quiet, careful footfalls, the dull thud of probably-Naruto tripping over something, Sasuke snorting in response.

Strange to no longer live alone in silence.

Strange.

But not bad.

Chapter Text

Sleeping in a new place—moving into a new place—wasn’t the weird part. Naruto was used to change. He’d had 4 apartments in the past 7 years, each one worse than the last, and more than that, there had been countless nights when it wasn’t safe to sleep in his own home, nights where he’d curled up in the hollow of a tree trunk or in the back corner of a far-out training ground or—in those horrible, confusing early days of self-sufficiency—underneath a dumpster in the Red Light District.

Eventually he’d learned basic traps, and then more complex ones, and then seals on top of that, and he’d been able to make his apartments secure enough that none of the angry or drunk civilians would be able to kick down his door and trash the place. Secure enough they couldn’t throw flaming bottles through the windows. Secure enough that no one could take or destroy the few things that were his.

But that had taken time. And in the meanwhile, he’d learned how to fall asleep anywhere.

(He’d also learned to wake up in an instant if the air so much as shifted, because after that first time he’d thought he was safe only to jerk to awareness with a kick to his chest, already coughing up blood before his eyes had even opened, Naruto knew better than to let his guard down.)

No, the weird part was…well, everything else.

In the past 24 hours, he’d gone from a kid living on his own in a run-down apartment to a genin with a team and a sensei, all under one roof. One large roof. A roof that didn’t leak or have types of mold growing on it that were previously unknown to mankind.

The room Naruto had been given was half the size of his entire old apartment, the walls clean and beige, the floors perfectly intact and not in danger of giving way under his weight. There’d even been furniture in it already: a bed that made Naruto’s old futon look like less than a dog-bed in comparison, a desk and chair that didn’t creak, and a dresser for his things. The bathroom that he and Sasuke-teme were supposed to share had a shower and a tub, and the toilet flushed without having to jiggle the handle just so, and there was hot water, and…

This was the nicest place Naruto had ever been allowed inside of.

I don’t belong here, he thought.

It had been easier to ignore how out-of-place he felt during the initial tour of the house, when Kakashi-sensei was showing them the kitchen and the greenhouse room and the backyard area. Naruto had been too wrapped up in the rush of the day—the blur of the bell test, being told they were moving into a house together, collecting their things, seeing how Sasuke’s house was so impersonal, how Sakura’s parents were nothing like what Naruto thought parents should be—that he’d let the awe and excitement take over.

In the moment, it had felt like Naruto was getting everything he’d ever wanted. His team wasn’t as awful as he’d secretly been afraid of, they’d passed the test, Kakashi-sensei was taking them seriously, and now Naruto was in a house without rotted floorboards or drafty windows, warm and well-fed.

And he didn’t trust it.

Things like this didn’t happen to him. Yes, people could be good, and generous, and caring, but never to Naruto. Once, when he was younger, an elderly woman had given him a meat bun, and Naruto had nearly cried at the simple act of kindness. Except the meat inside was rotted and Naruto had thrown up for an hour afterwards. There was the weapon supplies shop that would sell to Naruto, but only the chipped and broken kunai, and for double the cost. There were the teachers at the Academy who taught Naruto the wrong form for the standard katas.

And there was Mizuki, who had lied that stealing the scroll from the Hokage’s office was part of the graduation exam, who had pretended to Naruto’s face to be sympathetic and helpful, who had turned around and tried to kill Naruto the instant the act stopped being necessary.

It would be stupid to think there wouldn’t be a catch, a condition, to Kakashi-sensei’s kindness too. It was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped.

(Did it make Naruto as much of an idiot as everyone always said if he wished, just this once, that everything could be exactly the way it seemed? Did it make him a naïve fool to hope, even a little bit, that Kakashi-sensei wasn’t lying? To hope that Naruto could really have something like this? A home? People who could, maybe, come to mean something to him?)

Just in case, Naruto told himself as he unsealed his own futon and rolled it out underneath the bed, because it was always better sleep where people didn’t expect you to be.

Just in case, he thought as he strung together a wire trap by the window, laid out a series of pre-made seal traps that would set off a controlled explosion if they were touched by anyone other than himself.

Just in case, he repeated, tucking a kunai underneath his pillow.

(But he hoped—he hoped—that he wouldn’t need them.)

Sasuke couldn’t sleep.

For once, it had nothing to do with the usual reason. The benefit of moving into the Hatake compound was that, at least for a while, no one would think to look for him here.

(Ani Itach That man wouldn’t look for him here.)

Everything about Kakashi’s house was unfamiliar, and it was hitting Sasuke now that the last time he hadn’t spent the night in his family home was when he was in the hospital in the direct aftermath of the massacre. Before that…he couldn’t remember. Maybe he never had. He’d certainly never had a close friend to have a sleepover with when he was younger, and from what he remembered of his father, he didn’t seem the type to allow it anyway. The Uchiha belonged on the Uchiha lands, and that was that.

Sasuke thought it should have made him uneasy to suddenly be in a completely unfamiliar place. This wasn’t his home. This wasn’t the place where he was comfortable.

And yet Kakashi’s words kept coming back to him.

“I am not going to let you live there in a house full of ghosts,” he’d said. “Can you honestly tell me you feel safe there? At ease?”

Sasuke had wanted to protest. He was an Uchiha. There was no place for him other than the Uchiha compound. No place for him other than the house he’d grown up in.

(Isn’t that what all the village elders had told him? He was the last Uchiha, the last of one of the founding clans of Konoha. Of course he should return to his family’s land. Where else would he go?)

But the words wouldn’t come. They’d clogged up inside his throat and nearly choked him. Whatever protest he might have mustered would have tasted false on his tongue. Because Kakashi wasn’t wrong.

“The Hokage should never have let you move back in there in the first place.”

This was the part Sasuke couldn’t stop thinking about, the words turning over and over in his head, so loud he couldn’t shut them out no matter what he tried. This was the part that kept Sasuke awake well past midnight.

Because no one had ever said that he shouldn’t have gone back. They’d never even suggested it.

(“It’s your responsibility to carry on the Uchiha name now,” one of the elders—an older woman—had said, her face stern. “You must do your clan proud.”)

(“The Uchiha boy must stay strong as a sign that Konoha has not faltered.” Another elder, this one a man. Sasuke would always remember him for the falsity of his smile.)

24 hours ago, the idea would have been unthinkable. And yet Kakashi said it like it was a simple truth. The Hokage should never have let you move back in there in the first place.

No thought given to what Sasuke’s clan would have wanted him to do. No consideration for whether history or tradition would be ruined if he left it all behind and never looked back. No insistence that the name and power of the Uchiha came first and foremost, that it mattered more than what Sasuke wanted.

(“You are your clan now,” the Hokage had said, voice heavy and somber.)

Sasuke was proud to be an Uchiha, but…sometimes it felt like the name had become too big for him to carry. It felt like the expectation of it all was swallowing him whole. It felt like it didn’t matter who Sasuke was, because the only thing people cared about was his clan.

(Naruto hadn’t. He’d picked Sasuke for a rival because Sasuke was strong, not because Uchiha were supposed to be. Sasuke spent a lot of time thinking about it.)

And now there was Kakashi telling him that the Hokage was wrong, that everyone was wrong. That the sense of duty and obligation that they’d piled onto him was wrong. Not just that Sasuke didn’t have to be what they expected him to be, but that they shouldn’t have asked it of him in the first place.

He didn’t know, yet, how to feel about it, but there was a strange lightness in his chest, as if his lungs had been a sealed room and now there was a crack in the doorway. Not much, but enough to let some air through.

Enough to feel like he could finally breathe.

Nothing in Kakashi-sensei’s house was pink. It was a silly thing to notice, Sakura could acknowledge, but it was the first thing she’d thought nonetheless. Instead, there was a lot of beige and dark wood, sage-green and blue-gray tones. Everything was designed for function and comfort rather than aesthetic appeal, the exact sort of décor her mother would have turned her nose up at for not being fashionable enough.

Sakura loved it.

She still felt a bit as though she was caught up in a genjutsu, because even in her most optimistic plans, she’d only imagined being able to move away from her parents after months of work, and she’d only imagined a shoebox sized apartment. And that was before she’d learned that the engagement with Tanaka-san would go through even after Sakura had managed to become a genin. For the past week, it had become more and more likely that she’d have to run away if she wanted to avoid the fate her parents wanted for her, and in the back of her mind, Sakura had wondered how she would manage to live on the streets. She had no money of her own yet, and genin pay wasn’t very high anyway. And there was no one who would have taken her in, no one she could lean on.

(Maybe once, Ino would have, back when they’d still been more friends than rivals. But that had been years ago now, and the person Ino had become wouldn’t lift a finger to help Sakura even if she was drowning right in front of her.)

The only reason it hadn’t come to that was because of her new sensei. He must have only known about them for, what, a week at most? And decided to have them move into his house instead of staying where they were because he’d seen how they lived and didn’t approve. Not that Sakura could blame him—she’d seen Naruto’s death-trap of an apartment firsthand now, as well as Sasuke’s freakishly cleaned-and-unlived-in house—but it was…weird, having someone think that Sakura might need a way out too.

How many times had she tried to complain about her parents being controlling and obsessive and demanding only to be met with, “Ugh, yeah, my parents are like that too.” Except they never were. Ino’s parents didn’t make her skip dinner if they’d thought she’d eaten too much, and they didn’t try to sell her away to some 30-year-old man for the sake of a business deal, and they didn’t decide what clothes she could wear and what people she could talk to and what she was allowed to do with her free time. But Sakura’s parents did.

And somehow, even if nobody else had noticed how miserably trapped Sakura was—not her friends or her teachers or anyone—Kakashi-sensei had.

Sakura stared at the pile of her things that sat stacked up on the bed in her new room. Her old bedroom had been soft and frilly, delicate in every way except for the kunai hidden under her mattress, tucked into the bottom of her dresser under the slips and nightgowns. This new room was empty in comparison, almost bland, but the off-white walls and simple furniture mostly just felt clean. Fresh. New. Different.

In the end, she really hadn’t brought much from her parents’ house: her weapons of course, and the jutsu and chakra scrolls she’d borrowed from the library, basic toiletries and the most practical clothes she owned. Nothing else that had been in her room back home had really felt like hers. The gilded hairbrush and the floral hairclips, the pink butterfly sheets, the embroidery set—those had all belonged to the illusion of the daughter her parents wanted.

She wouldn’t have to be that person here. She might not ever have to be that person again.

“We are not going to lie to each other,” Kakashi-sensei had said, and that meant no more putting on an act, no more rearranging herself to be what other people would find most pleasing.

(The Harunos’ perfect daughter. Ino’s best friend rival. Top kunoichi of the year. They were all just titles, shapes to mold herself into so that other people could define her.)

But that left the question: who was Sakura when she wasn’t playing a role?

She looked again at the small pile of her things, at the mostly empty room of this new house, at the vague reflection of herself in the darkened window.

She didn’t know.

But she figured now was as good a time as any to find out.

Midnight at the memorial stone was just as mercifully quiet as the early morning, Kakashi discovered, having snuck out of his house once he was confident all three kids were settled, if not yet asleep.

“Hey,” Kakashi murmured in greeting as he settled in front of the stone, carefully tracing over the names. Kushina-nee and Minato-sensei. Rin. Obito. For a long moment, he sat quietly, until the words finally came. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Obito, I know you’d agree that I’m the last person who should have been given a genin team. Rin and Minato-sensei always gave me more credit than I deserved, but you knew what a mess I was even when we were kids. You’d have been a better choice, but I think Rin would have been the best sensei. She wrangled us just fine, even if she couldn’t get us to stop fighting.”

He huffed a small laugh. “They’re so much like us, my kids. And then, in some ways, not at all. Naruto—you’d have loved him, Obito. He’s brash and loud and a little clumsy, but he’s so much smarter than you’d think. He’s so bright, and cares so much—you should’ve seen him when he unsealed his plants to put in the new greenhouse, cradling them like they were precious and fragile.”

“But—” and here, Kakashi frowned “—he’s also sharp at the edges. I don’t know if anyone’s ever earned his trust before. Konoha…Konoha hasn’t been kind to him. Minato-sensei and Kushina-nee would have been disappointed—no, furious. And Sasuke is like me, all wrapped up in grief and isolated, except he might actually be worse off, and I have no idea if putting him in a house with his team is going to be enough to make him care about them. I was never any good at that, Obito. It was all you.”

“I don’t want to fuck this up,” he said, voice little more than a hoarse whisper. “Getting Naruto and Sasuke and Sakura out of their old houses—I know that was the right thing to do. But I don’t know how to keep doing the right thing. I don’t know how to be a sensei. I don’t know how to…how to guide them. How to keep them safe. How to make them strong enough to make it through.”

“I don’t want them to end up like us.”

If Minato-sensei were here, he’d probably tell Kakashi to keep doing what felt right. Rin would reassure him that Kakashi already knew how to care for people, even if it was in his own way. Kushina-nee would suggest ramen as a bonding activity.

Obito would smack him upside the head and call him Bakashi and yell at him that he’d already committed to those kids so he’d better not be thinking of how to back out now.

But of course, those precious people were dead, and so there was no sound but the rustling of leaves in the cool night breeze.

Chapter Text

There was something about knowing he had three children to feed that was good for getting Kakashi out of bed the morning after he’d moved his genin team into his old family compound. He moved through his simple morning routine quickly, and then turned his attention towards breakfast. It would have to be filling—high in protein and carbs so they’d maintain their energy through morning training—but not heavy. And until he learned their preferences (beyond Sasuke’s tomato obsession and Naruto’s ramen problem), perhaps a basic, traditional breakfast would be best.  

The ghosts of his old team had been as silent as always, but talking his thoughts aloud at the memorial stone had solidified one thing: Kakashi was going to do whatever it took to make sure these kids were as prepared as possible for the life ahead of them. He couldn’t make them invincible or unkillable. He couldn’t protect them from everything. He couldn’t even guarantee that they’d make it to adulthood.

But he could train them with every scrap of knowledge he’d picked up. He could make them strong. He could be someone to rely on because Kami knew his kids didn’t have anyone else. And he could give them a home, a safe place to come back to, basic care.

Kakashi was never going to be as good a sensei as Minato, and he was never going to be able to fill the space where Naruto or Sakura’s parents should be, where Sasuke’s whole clan should have been. But maybe, with enough luck, this would be enough.

By the time breakfast was nearly done, all three of his students had made their way downstairs, clustered together and loosely in a defensive formation, though he wasn’t sure they realized it. Alone together in foreign territory, Kakashi thought, caught somewhere between amused and concerned. At least they’ve banded together.

Kakashi kept his motions unhurried and obvious as he placed the food on the table, watching in his periphery as they relaxed incrementally with each passing minute. He wasn’t exactly surprised they were being cautious—they were smart, paranoid, traumatized kids, all of them, and trust would be slow going—but it made something in Kakashi hurt.

(They were too much like him.)

“Food’s ready. Sit, eat, and we’ll go over today’s schedule.”

Naruto was the first, Sasuke and Sakura following much more hesitantly. For a long moment, nobody moved beyond examining the food in front of them: Sakura rolling her chopsticks between her palms, Sasuke poking at the tofu in the miso soup, Naruto…

Kakashi frowned curiously, watching as Naruto systematically prodded everything in front of him, from rice to soup to tofu to salmon, lifting everything and flipping it over, nostrils slightly flared.

“Naruto.” Kakashi was certain he’d kept his voice gentle, curious rather than admonishing, and yet the blond boy still froze, eyes wide and tinged with panic, not unlike a fox caught in a trap. “Maa, Naruto, relax. I was just wondering what you’re doing.”

Blue eyes flicked over Kakashi’s face—or what little was visible of it, at least—then darted to the side. Avoidant, but why?

“Was jus’ checking,” Naruto mumbled, barely audible despite the near-silent table.

Kakashi’s head tilted. Checking? Checking what? That it was done? Kakashi supposed he didn’t really look like the sort of person who could cook, so maybe Naruto—

Kakashi’s brain screeched to a sudden halt. Years ago, when they were all still young, still rookies, really, Genma had been poisoned on a mission, slipped into his food by a spy working in the kitchen of the inn he’d stayed at. For months after, he’d refused to eat anything he hadn’t prepared himself. For years, he’d checked everything twice over before he took so much as a bite. Even now, despite being largely immune to most of the common poisons in the elemental nations as a result of chewing on his damn senbon all the time, whenever he was outside of Konoha, Genma had something of a ritual for checking his food.

And even if Genma was decidedly more discreet about it, it was functionally the same as what Naruto was doing right now.

“Checking…to make sure it’s safe,” Kakashi said slowly, lightly. Naruto nodded, head still ducked.

Right. Well then.

I’m going to burn down the village, Kakashi thought first. He took a steadying breath, held it for a moment, then released it. Inhale, hold, release. Inhale, hold, release. I am going to find the people responsible and quietly make them disappear.

He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse, but it was definitely a more realistic goal. In the meantime, though, he had to reassure Naruto. And the other kids, too, because both of them were staring at the blond boy: Sasuke with surprise and a furrow in his brow, and Sakura with blatant horror.

“Alright.” Kakashi nodded. “Check it as much as you need to. Or if it would make you feel safer, we can trade plates.”

Three heads swiveled towards him.

“You would do that?” Naruto asked.

Kakashi nodded again. Everyone’s meal was identical, so it hardly mattered to him. And if it helped Naruto…

“Ah, that’s not necessary, sensei!” Naruto said, waving his hands. “Everything smells really good, actually. Itadakimasu!”

The three kids dug into their food, apparently satisfied that Kakashi wasn’t going to poison them, though another small issue became apparent a moment later.

His mask.

Fuck.

He could do what he always did when he had to eat in front of others: wait until they weren’t looking, yank down his mask just enough to shovel food in, and then eat as quickly as possible while hoping he doesn’t have indigestion later. But this was where he lived now, and this was going to be an everyday, multiple times a day kind of thing.

And they’re my team now. I’ve already moved them into my ancestral home. What’s one more layer? Sure, the idea of baring his face made his skin itch a little. Sure, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d shown his face while he was still himself and not undercover and in disguise.

An all-too wise, nagging little voice that sounded a lot like Minato-sensei said, You can’t expect them to open up if you don’t.

Kakashi pulled down his mask. The kids only glanced up for a second before returning to their own food, and he breathed a quiet sigh. There, it’s done, and it’s not awful.

The rest of the meal went smoothly as the kids ate while Kakashi explained that they’d be heading to the training ground after they were done, and he made mental notes as the meal progressed. Naruto probably needs more food—double the protein? Sasuke prefers fish over tofu. Sakura only ate half.

“Are you full already, Sakura?”

She looked down at her own bowl guiltily. “I’m sorry, sensei. It’s just more than I’m used to eating.”

Should have expected that, Kakashi mentally berated himself. When he’d been thinking about getting Sakura’s nutrition up to task, he’d forgotten to account for the fact that her stomach wouldn’t be able to handle normal amounts of food right away. Fucking Haruno Mebuki.

Kakashi gently patted Sakura’s head as he collected the plates and took them to the sink. “That’s alright, Sakura. We’ll have you eat small meals periodically throughout the day until you get used to eating enough.”

Visible relief flushed her expression. “Hai! Thank you, sensei.”

Good. Easy enough. He could do this. One step at a time.

The thing about being a child prodigy first, then ending up on Minato-sensei’s team, only to spend the rest of his formative years in ANBU, and never having passed a genin team before was that Kakashi had no idea how to train children. Everything about the ninja arts had always been intuitive for him, natural. Even the ANBU recruits he’d trained sometimes had trouble keeping up, and they already had a solid foundation. What the hell was Kakashi supposed to do with kids?

Kids who needed a lot of work, too. Upon arriving at the training field, he’d had them warm up and run through some basic exercises just to get an idea of their abilities. The bell test was great for testing teamwork, but it was hard to really assess their individual skills in that kind of environment. Yes, they’d impressed him between Naruto’s seal-work, Sasuke’s ninjutsu, and Sakura’s quick thinking, but he wanted to know the full scope of what he was working with.

Having the nindogs chase his kids around the village to test their stamina was hilarious to watch, though it had revealed that Sakura was both slow and quick to tire. Sasuke was much faster, matching speed with Naruto for a little while, though he too was quick to tire out. That wasn’t particularly surprising, given Sakura’s previously abysmal diet and Sasuke’s obvious lack of self-care. At least endurance wasn’t a problem for Naruto, who could make it three whole laps around the village and then go on to do pushups, sit ups, and pull ups without breaking into more than a light sweat.  

In terms of aiming kunai, though, Naruto earned his dead-last reputation. Whoever had taught him had either purposefully taught him wrong or else neglected to bother correcting him at any point in the academy. Even Sakura with her noodle arms had better skill with throwing kunai than Naruto did. Sasuke was naturally the best, though he’d had more trouble with a moving target than Kakashi had anticipated.

And none of them could fight.

Well, that was maybe a bit uncharitable. It wasn’t that they couldn’t do it if pressed.

Naruto was fast and had a lot of power behind his punches and kicks, but he was sloppy. There was no technique, no form. In the two minute spar he’d had them each do, Naruto had only landed a hit on Sasuke once, and only out of sheer luck.

Sakura was clearly a strategic planner, but she was hesitant to act on any of her plans, and it became obvious rather quickly that her body was in no condition to be used as a weapon of any sort. She wasn’t fast enough to dodge, wasn’t strong enough to block, and so she’d been knocked down in thirty seconds flat.

Sasuke was picture-perfect form, but it was clear that he’d practiced katas more than he’d experienced fighting. He could execute all the correct moves, but his attacks tended to be obvious and he struggled against an opponent like Naruto who was the definition of unpredictable. It was also apparent that he was unused to dealing with an actual moving opponent rather than a training dummy.

Kakashi had called a halt to the sparring immediately. They’ll just be practicing bad habits at this point. It won’t actually help them learn anything.

Sakura and Sasuke needed physical conditioning and strict guidance on eating and sleeping enough. Which was good, actually, because Kakashi could set them to doing running and calisthenics while he spent time adjusting all of Naruto’s technical issues, and hopefully in a few weeks they would all be a bit more evenly rounded out. Enough, at least, that they could spar properly and start learning ninja skills beyond what was taught (or should have been taught) in the academy.

When they stopped for lunch, all three kids sprawled out across the grass in the shade and Kakashi passed out bento boxes.

“The other day when we did our introductions, we talked about goals. Do you remember what I told you?”

Naruto and Sakura nodded, while Sasuke said, “Hn.”

“Have you thought any more about what you’d like your immediate goals to be?” They all nodded again, so Kakashi flashed an eye-smile. “Who would like to share first?”

Sakura smiled hesitantly. “I’m going to make a list of hobbies that I’d like to try, and then go through and see which ones are actually fun. Um…things like knitting and painting and, uh, baking, maybe?”

“That sounds like a lot of fun, Sakura-chan!” Naruto said brightly.

Kakashi nodded. “Let us know if there’s anything you want or need help with. Naruto?”

“So I was thinking about all the other Hokages, right? Like what do they all have in common? And they’re all really strong, of course, but what makes them different from all the other ninja in the village? So I was thinking that they all had something that they were really, really good at, you know, and most of them even had their own special techniques. Like, uh, the first Hokage and his tree stuff—”

“Shodaime-sama,” Sakura said. “And it’s called mokuton.”

“—Right! Or the second Hokage, who was pretty cool ‘cause he could use water jutsus without hand-signs and, like, he made a bunch of cool jutsus too, like the shadow-clones I use! And the fourth Hokage had that awesome seal-flash-jutsu thingy where he teleported and stuff. So anyway, I, uh, I want to figure out what jutsus I’d be good at, dattebayo, and I want to keep making my own seals ‘cause I’m really good at them, I think. And eventually I want to make my own special jutsus, like the other Hokages did.”

Kakashi blinked, and he saw that the other two kids were staring.

“Oi, dobe,” Sasuke said consideringly. “That’s actually kind of smart.”

Naruto pouted and swatted at the other boy, who only ducked in response.

“That was really well thought out, Naruto,” Kakashi praised, distracting them from starting a fight. “Once everyone’s physical conditioning and basic techniques are caught up to where I’d like them to be, we’ll start looking at your chakra natures and figure out your elemental affinities, alright?”

Naruto cheered. “So cool, sensei!”

“What about you, Sasuke?”

The dark-haired boy scowled, muttering. Naruto elbowed him in the side.

“Speak up, teme.”

Sasuke huffed but complied. “I said, I don’t know. I—” He paused, eyes darting to Kakashi’s before looking away, though whether it was stubbornness or embarrassment, Kakashi wasn’t sure. “—I’m not sure how to…to make the big goals into smaller pieces. I don’t know how to—” He trailed off, this time his face contorting as he tried to find the words, a frustrated noise slipping out when he came up empty.

Kakashi hummed. He’d figured Sasuke would be the most difficult, if only because of the inherent trauma attached to his goals. Kill a certain man and restore the Uchiha clan. Two big goals, and more than a few obstacles to both of them. A headache to say the least.

“Maa, Sasuke, let’s think about it like this. You need to get stronger for at least one of your goals, right?”

Sasuke nodded.

“So what does strength look like to you? What is power?”

Sasuke opened his mouth but paused. For a long moment, the dark-haired boy just sat there thinking, frowning. Kakashi was content to let him think.

“What about you, Naruto? Sakura? What is power? What is strength?”

“Whaddya mean, sensei?” Naruto’s nose scrunched up. “Like jutsus and stuff?”

Kakashi shrugged. “Maybe. Do you think strength is jutsus and stuff?”

Now Naruto was silent, thinking.

Sakura tapped at her chin. “Well…I think it can be lots of things. But—” She smiled slightly “—I keep thinking about how you told my parents I was going to leave and that they couldn’t do anything about it. And how before I was a genin, my parents made all the decisions for me, about everything—who I could talk to, what I could wear or eat or read, what I was allowed to say. So I think power is a lot about the freedom to make your own choices. Or maybe it’s more like…power is the ability to change your fate? To…to set your own path?”

Both of the boys were staring at her, wide-eyed.

“And that’s why the Hokage is the most powerful person in the village,” she continued. “Because they’re not just controlling their own path, but a bunch of other people’s paths too, even indirectly. They’re…changing the fate of the whole village when they make choices.”

Sakura’s voice slowly tapered off as she realized how intensely everyone was watching her, cheeks flushing lightly.

“Hmm. Very interesting, Sakura,” Kakashi said. “I think that’s definitely one aspect of power. A big one, too.”

Naruto raised his hand, and Kakashi ruffled his hair as he nodded, eye crinkling at the way Naruto seemed caught between leaning into the touch and ducking away from it.

“Sensei, if power is making choices and stuff, is strength like…protection?”

Kakashi’s head tilted. “Can you explain that a little, Naruto?”

Naruto hummed a little, body swaying side to side as he thought for a moment. “I guess…I don’t have a lot of power. I mean, I can decide little things, like being a ninja and what I say and stuff like that. But there are a lot of places I can’t go because the shopkeepers don’t like me, and there are a lot of food places that won’t sell to me, and a lot of people who get mad if I try to talk to them. I can’t change how people treat me right now, and that means a lot of things are really limited.”

Never mind. Kakashi was back to Plan A. He really was going to burn down the village. Judging by the pissed off little scowl on Sasuke’s face, the Uchiha might even help.

“But even though I couldn’t make people stop wanting to break into my apartment—”

“What the fuck,” Sasuke said, quietly. Kakashi was in full agreement there.

“—I could stop them from actually getting in once I figured out how to make traps and seals and stuff. I couldn’t change my path or anything, like Sakura was talking about, but…I could protect anything I wanted from pretty much anyone else. So, I guess that’s why I think strength is jutsus and stuff, or at least partly.”

Kakashi took a moment to just process and let the anger drift away. At least he had already fixed Naruto’s living situation, so that was no longer an immediate concern.

“For now, let’s say that power is the ability to influence your life and the world around you, yes?” They all nodded. “And strength is the ability to back that up if it’s tested. Being able to enforce your power against others.” Kakashi eye-smiled at Sasuke. “I think that’s given us all plenty to think of for a little while. We can re-check in on goals again later.”

Preferably after Kakashi had hunted down a few people or had a mental breakdown, whichever came first.

The afternoon had mostly been spent practicing meditation techniques and getting attuned to their internal awareness of chakra. It was a good way to slow down after the morning’s activities and had the added benefit of giving everyone a little time to process the heavy lunch conversation. Kakashi wasn’t sure what Sasuke would takeaway from that, but he’d at least looked thoughtful.

Then it had been off to the library to pick up some reading material. Sakura was the most academically inclined of his students, so getting her to pick out a few things to start on was easy. Genjutsu, chakra theory, anatomy texts—that would yield some interesting results, probably. For Naruto, Kakashi had found quite a few scrolls on the sealing arts. Some of it, Naruto would probably already know given his apparent proficiency, but Kakashi had the distinct sense that Naruto’s seal-work was mostly trial-and-error guesswork, so perhaps these could give him some direction. And in Sasuke’s case, Kakashi had pulled a small variety: a few scrolls on various beginner katas for different weapons, a few scrolls on basic field medicine, and some theory book about chakra natures. It would be easier to narrow in on the Uchiha’s interests once his immediate goals were a little more firmly set.

All in all, their first full day living together as a team had gone well. The kids had been a bit quiet, not really interacting much with each other outside of prompted conversations, though there had been a few muttered dobe’s and teme’s that Kakashi had been content to leave as background noise.

Really, it was going far too well.

That was probably why the messenger from Hokage Tower had shown up at the border of the Hatake lands right as Kakashi was starting to think about dinner.

“You’re needed in the Hokage’s office,” the messenger said, hands shaking slightly when Kakashi merely raised a brow. Probably a new chuunin, then. The seasoned ones weren’t nearly as skittish about interacting with jounin. Usually.

“Maa, I’ll be there in a minute.” And then Kakashi had shunshinned back to the house, quickly summoning his pack to look over the kids.

“What’s going on, sensei?” Sakura asked. All the kids were watching him intently, Sasuke’s narrow eyes flicking between the dogs and Kakashi, Naruto’s hand automatically reaching for one of the small seal tags in his pocket.

“I’ve been summoned to the Hokage. I’m not sure what for, but there are a few possibilities and none of them particularly good.” Kakashi was prepared for them, of course, but it was pretty much guaranteed to be a pain in the ass regardless.

“Is there going to be a problem?” Sasuke asked carefully. “You said there were people who weren’t happy with our team.”

Sakura and Naruto both stiffened, a note of panic threading through their postures.

“Maa, there’s no need to worry.” Gently, he bestowed each of them with a head pat. Naruto and Sakura were already getting used to the casual affection, but Sasuke mostly looked like a startled cat.

At least he’s not fighting it, Kakashi noted, pleased. The last thing they needed was for Sasuke to become even more touch starved.

“When I get back, we’ll talk, alright?”

The kids didn’t look particularly happy about having to wait for their answers, but they nodded anyway. Kakashi turned to Pakkun, who was sitting at the head of the pack, waiting for orders.

“Keep an eye on the kids. And if anyone comes onto the property while I’m gone—” Kakashi bared his teeth, the gesture visible even with his mask in the way “—treat them with extreme prejudice.”

It would be just like Danzo to think he could make a move the second Kakashi left the kids alone for even a minute. Not that it would be easy for anyone to get onto the Hatake lands uninvited, but still…it was better to be safe than sorry.

Pakkun smirked. “You got it, boss.”

Confident that matters at the house were settled, Kakashi sprinted off towards the Hokage Tower, not bothering with his typical three-hours-late routine. Whatever Hiruzen wanted—and whatever problem Kakashi was going to have to deal with tonight—would be better dealt with as soon as possible so that Kakashi could get back to the house and his the kids.

Dropping through the window, Kakashi was confronted with a weary Hokage, an unamused jounin commander, two unfortunately familiar Harunos, and a short, round-faced man who was tapping his foot impatiently.

“Hokage-sama,” Kakashi greeted, bowing his head in respect. He nodded at Shikaku. “Nara-san.”

“Ah, Hatake, thank you for coming on such short notice,” Sarutobi said. “We have had a complaint from the civilian council.”

Well, at least it’s not Danzo and the elders, he thought before smiling cheerily at the Harunos.

“Oh? I must admit, Hokage-sama, I’m not usually involved with the civilian council. May I ask why I’ve been summoned?”

“Don’t act all innocent!” Mebuki spat. “You’re the one responsible.”

The round-faced man patted Mebuki’s arm consolingly. “Now, now, Haruno-san. Let me do my job.” He turned his attention to Kakashi. “Hatake-san, was it?”

“Yo.” Kakashi waggled his fingers. He’d found that most self-important people were extremely annoyed by such a casual gesture.

The round-faced man huffed. “Hatake-san, this is a very serious issue. The Harunos are one of Konoha’s valued merchant families, you know, and they have reported that you unlawfully abducted their daughter. Now, I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding, of course.”

From the corner of the room, Shikaku rolled his eyes. Kakashi felt the urge to do the same, but instead pulled out his current copy of Icha Icha, flipping it open to a random page. It hardly mattered; he’d read it all before. Although, the scene at the inn was quite nice…

“Hokage-sama, your ninjas cannot just take civilian children on a whim. It’s outrageous. How will Konoha maintain it’s crucial trading market if merchants don’t feel safe here? If they’re children will be taken hostage by…by obscure, unhinged nin? And the Harunos are very, very worried about their daughter. They haven’t seen or heard from her since she was taken.”

Kakashi suppressed a snort. Yes, he was sure the Harunos were very worried about their daughter—and the possibly illegal arranged marriage they needed Sakura for. He wasn’t sure of the specifics of the law, but Konoha had never looked kindly on child brides, not even in the early days following the warring clans era. Not even in the midst of wars when shinobi populations were most threatened. And for all that Sakura was now a genin, she was still only twelve.

“The Civilian Council wants Haruno-san’s daughter returned, and Hatake-san to face sanctions for his actions.” The round-faced man huffed again. “And I believe further action should be taken. See? He is not even listening! This is beyond unacceptable.”

Hiruzen sighed. “Kakashi?”

“I suppose I’m just confused,” Kakashi drawled, not bothering to look up from his book. It was absolute bullshit that the Hokage had called him here for this. In the past week, Kakashi had become more and more aware of all the ways that Hiruzen had failed not only Naruto, but Sasuke too. And now, he couldn’t even take care of Sakura’s parents without Kakashi’s involvement. Or rather, he wouldn’t, since Kakashi was well aware Hiruzen had only made Kakashi come as a sort of punishment for causing this trouble in the first place.

As if the Civilian Council wasn’t enough of a problem on its own. They always would have ended up here, listening to some ridiculous complaint or another. It was just that Sakura was what had finally tipped the scale.

“Confused?” the round-faced civilian man repeated with a sneer.

“About why a representative of the civilian council is here.”

The man’s face turned puce. “Have you not been paying attention? Because of the Haruno’s daughter, you daft—”

Kakashi tilted his head, lifting his sole visible eye to peer at the man, instantly silencing him with a glance. “But the Haruno’s don’t have a civilian daughter?”

Round-face spluttered. “Haruno Sakura—”

“Sakura-san is a genin. Not a civilian.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you,” Mebuki said, practically shaking with anger. “But Sakura is not a genin.”

“Explain that to me,” Kakashi said, cutting off the annoying woman before she could really get going. “Because to be a genin, you have to go to the academy, which Sakura did. Which you signed her up for, unless you want me to believe that an eight year old applied for school, forged her parents signatures, and went to all the parent-teacher meetings in a henge.”

Mebuki spluttered, but Kakashi wasn’t done.

“And then, genin have to pass not only their graduation exam, but also whatever test was set by their jounin sensei. Which Sakura did. In fact, she graduated as top kunoichi of her class, and succeeded in making the top 33% of all graduates from her year.” Kakashi snapped his book shut and tucked it back in his pocket. “So unless Sakura either resigns herself, or else is discharged from service, she is very much not a civilian, and therefore not under your purview. So why. Are. You. Here.”

“Hokage-sama!” The round-faced man turned pleadingly but was met with indifference.

“Hatake-san makes many good points. In fact, he is the only one here with any point at all.” The Hokage blinked impassively at the round-faced man, and then turned his sharp eyes on the Harunos. “And if the valued merchant family of the Harunos is displeased with my decision, they may take their civilian business out my shinobi village. Hatake-san, you may return to your students.”

Kakashi nodded curtly. “Thank you, Hokage-sama.”

Without wasting another moment, he darted back out the window and across the rooftops. The Harunos were handled, the night air was cool and light, and as he crossed the boundary into the Hatake lands, the steady flicker of his students’ chakra signatures assured him they were safe.

He wouldn’t have time to visit the memorial stone tonight—not if he wanted to re-work the schedule he had planned for his kids’ training, make sure everyone had dinner and that there was enough food for meals tomorrow, get everyone settled in bed at a decent hour, and be ready to get up early in the morning—but he sent out a small prayer as he stood outside the front door, where he could already hear Naruto and Sasuke bickering over something on the stove-top, could hear Sakura’s still-hesitant laughter, could hear the dogs yipping happily.

Minato-sensei, I think I’m doing alright.

Chapter Text

“Team 7 has a bit of a…legacy,” Kakashi said slowly, thinking how he was going to lay this out for them in a way that they would understand, but hopefully not panic too much about. There were things that needed to be said, thing the kids needed to know if they were all going to be a team, if they were going to trust each other.

That was why he’d gathered them together in the living room after dinner, late hour be damned. He’d promised that he wouldn’t lie to them, and he’d promised himself that he’d give them the best chance at survival that he could. And if what he was about to do was maybe a little bit illegal, well then it was a good thing the Hatake lands were private and warded well enough to keep out unwanted listeners.

“The Sannin were the first famous group to come out of Team 7, each of them powerhouses in their own right. Senju Tsunade, who is not only an incredibly talented frontline medic, but also well-known for her strength. Jiraiya, the Toad Sage, is a frighteningly competent spymaster as well as a taijutsu expert. And Orochimaru, a ninjutsu master who is well-ranged in jutsus of every element imaginable and a certifiable genius on top of that.”

“But—” Naruto said, face scrunched “—if they’re so famous, where are they? Unless…”

“All three of them are very much alive. Orochimaru is a missing nin. He fled the village after it was discovered he had been conducting illegal human experimentation.” Kakashi grimaced—there was a little more to it than that, but that seemed like a whole other conversation—and continued, “Jiraiya and Tsunade are both…traveling.”

“What does that mean? Traveling?” Sasuke asked, eyes narrowed.

“It’s a nice way of saying they’re out of village and refuse to come back, though they haven’t been reprimanded for it.” Kakashi huffed. “Mostly because they’re the Hokage’s former students.”

“Hn.”

“Then Jiraiya took a team, another Team 7, though the only famous person to come out of that group was Minato-sensei. The Fourth Hokage.” Kakashi took a deep breath, carefully pulling out a photograph from his pocket, holding it gingerly. “And Minato-sensei also led Team 7, my genin team. Of the four of us, I’m—” Fuck, this was harder to say out loud than he’d thought “—I’m the only one left.”

He ignored the stinging behind his eyes and carefully flipped the photograph around so the kids could see it.

“Nohara Rin. Uchiha Obito. Me, you know. And Minato-sensei.”

His three students were all staring at the photo intently: Sakura, quiet and solemn, Sasuke with some mixture of understanding and grief, and Naruto…

Naruto looked like someone had ripped the rug out from under his feet.

Naruto stared at Kakashi-sensei’s own team photo: Kakashi with his trademark mask and silver-gray hair—though both his eyes were visible here—an obviously Uchiha boy with bright orange goggles, and a pretty brown-haired girl with purple face markings. And then, the Fourth Hokage. Bright blonde hair and blue eyes, the exact same shade as Naruto’s own, and even if their faces were different—Naruto’s was rounder, softer, his nose not quite so narrow, his own smile a little wider, sharper—it was almost like looking in a mirror.

“He…he looks like…”

It was strange. Naruto had looked up at the Hokage mountain his whole life, had spent hours staring at it, hours defacing it, hours cleaning it when Jiji had caught him that one time. If he’d had any talent for art whatsoever, he could have drawn their faces from memory in a heartbeat. It had never occurred to him—and the idea itself seemed almost ludicrous even now—yet looking at the photo, there was no denying the resemblance. No denying the fact that there was no one else in Konoha with that same hair color, those same eyes.

“Is that…is he—” Naruto took a shaky breath “—am I…”

He was prepared for Kakashi-sensei to laugh at him for even considering it, but—

Kakashi-sensei hummed. “If you were the Fourth Hokage’s son, that would probably be an S-rank secret that I would be legally forbidden to tell you about, and which only a small handful of people would be privy to at all. Due, of course, to the fact that Minato-sensei had a lot of enemies who would try to kill you if they knew about your existence.” He paused. “Hypothetically.”

Naruto was distantly aware of Sasuke’s sharp inhale, Sakura’s quick back-and-forth glances between the photo and Naruto himself, but he was too…too untethered to think beyond the sudden realization that—

Look. He wasn’t an idiot no matter what everyone else liked to think. He knew he must have had parents at one point, even if they hadn’t wanted him, even if they were gone now. But when he’d tried to picture his parents, they were just…blobs. Unspecific people, little more than vague shapes.

(He’d tried, once, when he was much, much younger, to figure out who his parents might be in the over-simplified way that children do most things. He’d walked around Konoha in search of golden-blond hair and blue eyes, sun-tanned skin and whisker-marked cheeks—they could have been clan-markings, he liked to pretend. But he’d realized quickly that even if someone who looked like him did exist, maybe…maybe it was better if he never found them. Because if they did exist and they still had left Naruto alone, then all it meant was that they didn’t want him. Maybe it was better to pretend they were dead.)

And now he was looking at a picture of his dad. Because Kakashi-sensei said he didn’t lie, and if the Fourth Hokage wasn’t Naruto’s father, there was no reason not to say so.

“Who knows?” Sakura said shakily. “Hypothetically.”

“Most, if not all, of the clan heads and the Elders. The Hokage, obviously. Me, a few ANBU who were on guard the night Naruto was born.” Kakashi-sensei seemed to hesitate for a long moment, but he continued on anyway. “Jiraiya was—is—supposed to be your godfather.”

Jiraiya who refused to come back to the village. Jiraiya who Naruto had never met or even heard of, really, until now. Jiraiya who was still not here, who had never been here for Naruto.

The only balm for the surge of hurt and betrayal Naruto felt was that Kakashi-sensei’s voice had been bitter and underlaid with anger, too.

(Kakashi-sensei was angry a lot, but not like other people. Kakashi-sensei had never seemed angry at Naruto, or Sakura, or Sasuke, but angry for them. And that…that made all the difference.)

“And—” Kakashi-sensei was pausing again, though this time his dark gray eye was watching Sasuke carefully “—Uchiha Mikoto was supposed to be your godmother.”

“What.” Sasuke looked pale, stricken, his eyes wide and pained and wretched. Naruto hadn’t known Sasuke could look like that, like something in him had been torn open.

(Naruto wanted it to stop, wanted to fix it. People weren’t meant to hold that much grief in them, that much anguish.)

(Naruto did, but that was part of what made him a monster demon evil beast not normal not human)

“Mikoto was good friends with Naruto’s mother,” Kakashi-sensei explained gently, steady as ever even though Naruto could tell this was hard on him.

(Kakashi-sensei had been Naruto’s dad’s student. Was Kakashi’s genin team like Naruto’s? Did they live together, or spend a lot of time together? Had they been close? Had they been a bit like family?

Did that make Kakashi-sensei Naruto’s family?)

“—should know that Mikoto tried to adopt you, Naruto, after your parents died.”

Naruto snapped back to attention.

“She tried. For days, she came to see you in the hospital and tried to convince the Hokage to let her raise you.”

“He said no,” Sasuke said, sure and bitter, fists clenched at his side. “He must have, otherwise okaa-san would’ve—”

“Mikoto-oba-san was your mom?” Naruto asked, jaw hanging open.

Sasuke nodded tersely, and then turned a frown on Kakashi. “Why didn’t he let her?”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Sakura said, finger tapping against her mouth. “I get that they had to keep Naruto’s parentage a secret, but…was it a power thing? Because Naruto was the Fourth Hokage’s son, and they didn’t want any of the clans to seem like they were favored over someone else?”

“That’s stupid,” Sasuke spat, apparently still angry about the fact that his mom hadn’t been allowed to adopt Naruto. “He was a baby.”

(And Naruto was still reeling, still just trying to process. He had had parents who only left because they were dead. He’d had godparents—a godmother who had wanted him badly enough to argue with the Hokage! He would have been Sasuke’s brother, except—

But why hadn’t Hokage-jiji let Mikoto-oba-san give him a home?

Why had Naruto had to grow up alone?)

“You’re almost right, Sakura. It was a power thing,” Kakashi said, and then his knowing, gray eye found Naruto’s. “But not because he was Minato-sensei’s son.”

Naruto suddenly felt frozen to the spot, stomach churning. Of course it had to do with the kyuubi. Ever since he’d discovered the bijuu’s connection to himself, Naruto had increasingly realized how every aspect of his life had been impacted by the damned fox. It was why people hated him, why people had hurt him or sabotaged him or avoided him. And now, it was apparently the reason he’d had to grow up an orphan, and more than that, it was the reason no one had been allowed to adopt him. Even though Mikoto-oba-san had wanted to.

Or maybe it’s the Hokage’s fault, Naruto thought. Mikoto-oba-san wanted me even with the kyuubi sealed inside, but Jiji told her no. That’s not the fox’s fault.

It hurt, because for so long, Hokage-jiji was the only person who Naruto had relied on to be nice to him. But the Hokage had known about the fox and not told Naruto because he “didn’t think Naruto would be able to keep the secret” even though it seemed like everyone in the village already knew. And the Hokage had known about Naruto’s parents, but never told him anything about that either.

He wouldn’t have even had to tell me their names, Naruto thought somewhat desperately. Just knowing that they had existed, that they had loved me, would have been enough.

Both his teammates were looking at him curiously now, and Naruto felt the creeping panic in the back of his throat.

Once they know about the kyuubi, will they hate me too? He didn’t want to think so, because Kakashi-sensei knew and he didn’t seem to hate Naruto. But Sakura-chan already thought Naruto was loud and annoying, and Sasuke-teme thought Naruto was stupid and weak, and—

But is that really true? a part of him wondered. They hadn’t been a team very long, but…but hadn’t Sasuke called him smart earlier? And Sakura hadn’t smacked him over the head even once since the Academy, so…

“It’s your secret, Naruto,” Kakashi said gently. “Ideally, I’d like for you to feel comfortable telling your teammates, but only when you’re ready.”

The idea was nice, that he could wait and tell them later, but…

Naruto knew that if he didn’t tell them now, they might all eventually become friends, and when he did tell them later, if they hated him after all, it would only hurt worse.

Better to get it out of the way now, and if they did hate him, well, at least the hurt would be manageable.

“On the night of the kyuubi attack, the Fourth—my…dad, um, stopped the nine-tailed fox by sealing it away. Um. Inside me.”

There was a long pause.

“I’m sorry,” Sakura said faintly. “What do you mean it’s inside you? Wasn’t it supposed to be taller than buildings?”

“Maa, Sakura, with seals, the size of the object doesn’t matter so much,” Kakashi-sensei said. “We put things in sealing scrolls all the time. Just the other day, we packed away part of your bedroom into Naruto’s scrolls.”

“Oh. Huh. So you can seal away living things, too?”

“With the right seal, yes.”

“And you can seal things into a living person, obviously.” Sakura hummed. “Could you put a seal on your arm that has the same function as a sealing scroll?”

Kakashi-sensei blinked. So did Naruto.

“Sakura-chan,” Naruto said hesitantly. “You’re not…worried? About the kyuubi?”

She frowned. “Well…no? You said the Fourth Hokage sealed him in you, and that was 12 years ago, right?” Sakura shrugged. “I mean, the kyuubi hasn’t appeared since then, and probably won’t unless something goes wrong with the seal. And, well, um…you’re pretty good with seals, aren’t you? If something did go wrong, you’d probably know.”

“That’s…a very good point,” Kakashi-sensei said before his eye crinkled into a smile, and he patted Sakura gently on the head.

“Question,” Sasuke drawled. “Is that why all the villagers are shitbags to Naruto?”

Naruto choked.

“Sasuke-kun!” Sakura shouted, scandalized.

Kakashi-sensei nodded grimly. “Yes. Years ago, someone leaked the information that he was the kyuubi’s jinchuuriki, and so all the adults in the village know, even though it’s technically supposed to be a secret.”

Sasuke frowned. “Is that what you meant by some people not being happy about our team?”

Naruto and Sakura nodded eagerly at that question, but Kakashi merely hummed.

“Partly. There are…some people who think that because Naruto is the kyuubi’s jinchuuriki, he needs to be trained separately to tap into that power. That he shouldn’t be with a genin team at all.”

For what had to have been the dozenth time in the past hour alone, Naruto’s stomach dropped. Sure, months ago when he was still in the academy and alone, the idea of special training would have seemed like a dream. But he’d been a lot more foolish then, still trusting people at their word—look where that had gotten him with Mizuki-sensei, look at all that had been kept from him by the Hokage—and who knew what this special training really was. Something questionable given the way that Kakashi-sensei talked about it. Besides, now that Naruto had a team…

Kakashi-sensei was weird, but so far, everything he’d done was to help Naruto and his teammates. Sakura wasn’t half as mean to Naruto as he’d been expecting, really, and Sasuke was still a teme but—

But if this was what it was like to have people looking out for you, to have people to look after yourself, then Naruto was never, ever giving it up. Not for anything.

“But he’s on our genin team,” Sakura said, voice wavering just slightly. “They’re not going to…to take him away, right?”

“They might try,” Kakashi said, and everybody tensed. “The situation is complicated. The people who want to train Naruto have a lot of influence over the Hokage. If they find any reason that our genin team is…inadequate, they will try to use that as leverage to get their way. But it’s not just about Naruto. There’s also the issue that some people believe the top kunoichi of the year shouldn’t be a civilian-born girl, and the Harunos weren’t happy with Sakura being assigned to Team 7, to the point that they involved the Civilian Council—”

Sakura had paled significantly. “The Civilian Council—”

“I’ve already handled them, at least,” Kakashi reassured her. “But I doubt we’ve heard the last on the matter. And then there’s Sasuke. People think this team is going to hold him back and that he needs to be trained with others on his level, so to speak.”

Sasuke, who had been listening intently, suddenly spoke, “It’s the Elders, isn’t it? Not just for me. For all of it.”

“What Elders?” Naruto asked.

“Hn. There’s two old men and one old woman who consult with the Hokage,” Sasuke clarified. “They’re nosy and they have…expectations.”

Kakashi nodded slowly. “Yes. I expect that it’ll only be a matter of time before I have to argue with them over the right to keep this team.”

“We have to train hard, don’t we?” Sakura asked. Before Naruto could say duh, of course they did if they wanted to be great ninja, she continued, “Because whether we get to stay together is dependent on our success as a team. We can’t just be good, we have to be the best. Or else they’ll think Sasuke-kun is being held back by our team. They’ll take Naruto away for training. I’ll…I’ll probably be shuffled off to the genin corps, right?”

Naruto hadn’t thought about it like that. They needed to show they were learning, getting strong. They needed to show that Kakashi-sensei was a good teacher—no, that he was the right teacher for them, or else they’d get taken away.

“Maa, Sakura, don’t be too worried.” Kakashi patted her head, then Naruto and Sasuke, too. “It would take something significant to get any of you pulled from my team at this point. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t work hard and be vigilant. It’s important to be aware of what’s going on behind the scenes, to look underneath the underneath and find the truth.”

Underneath the underneath, Naruto thought to himself. Look beyond what people say, look at what they do and why they do it, and think about what they hope to gain from it.

He could do that. He’d been doing that for a long while now just to survive, even if he didn’t know what to call it. The only difference was that now his opponents were probably more dangerous that just civilians hoping to slip him some rotted food.

He had a lot to think about. Finding out about his dad, learning about these Elders who wanted to break his team apart, the realization that his team didn’t care that Naruto was housing the kyuubi. But first, he was going to think about Jiji: think about the differences in what the Hokage had said versus what he had done, try to figure out why he’d lied, try to figure out what he’d gotten from it, try to figure out if Naruto could forgive him for any of it.

Chapter Text

Sweat dripped uncomfortably into Sasuke’s eyes as he ran. He was on his fourth lap around the village, and the weighted vest Kakashi-sensei had told him to wear felt like it was getting heavier by the second. But he had no intention of giving up, instead pushing his legs to move faster. During the previous day’s assessment, Naruto had beaten him when it came to stamina. The blond boy had looked like he could have run double what had been asked, like he could have kept going with pushups and sit-ups for hours more even when Sasuke’s lungs started burning, when his arms had felt like fragile glass ready to shatter.

It was infuriating to be second to the dobe in anything, to have fallen behind despite all of Sasuke’s best efforts to be the strongest, the best.

And at the same time, if Naruto hadn’t outrun him yesterday, if he hadn’t proved without a shadow of a doubt that his endurance was better, would Sasuke have pushed himself this hard? Would he have put on the weighted vest and run the laps Kakashi-sensei told him to without complaint? Or would he have called it a waste of time, argued that it wouldn’t really make him strong, that he needed to spend time on useful training?

Sasuke grimaced, and it wasn’t just because of the burning ache in his legs as he ran. He thought he’d been challenging himself: throwing kunai for hours upon hours until his aim was perfect from any angle, running through kata over and over again until it flowed so smoothly and effortlessly that he could have done it in his sleep. It had been enough to make him leagues above his classmates, enough to make him feel superior, enough to put him at the top of his class and get comfortable there.

Stupid. Careless. Complacency will get you killed.

So even though sparring or learning jutsus or training in a weapon would be more immediately useful to his goal of becoming strong enough to kill that man, Sasuke would do the exercises that Kakashi told him to. It was obvious that his own training plan could only get him so far, and besides, Kakashi had promised he wouldn’t lie to them, wouldn’t deceive them. While Sasuke wasn’t inclined to take anyone at their word alone, so far, their sensei had already proven he was willing to share information with them that other adults wouldn’t. He was willing to treat them…fairly. Respectfully.

(Not like equals, exactly, not yet, but maybe one day…)

For now, Sasuke would follow along with Kakashi’s plans and expectations and see where it took him.

By the time he made it five full laps around Konoha and returned to the training field—sweating and panting and tired, but victorious—Naruto was laid out flat on the ground looking like one big bruise while Kakashi-sensei stood over him.

“Again,” Naruto said, struggling to push himself up. “I think I almost had it that time.”

“Almost,” Kakashi agreed. “But since Sasuke’s here, why don’t we grab Sakura from the river and break for lunch?”

Ten minutes later, and the four of them were seated in the shade of a tree, homemade bentos—courtesy of Kakashi—in hand. It was strange how easy it was to sit with them and eat, how weirdly comfortable it was to be surrounded by people he wouldn’t have expected himself to be able to tolerate. Especially after being on his own for so long.

Sakura was still damp from where she’d been swimming upstream against the current, quiet and focused as she scarfed down her food—or at least as much of it as she could eat without getting sick. She was different from the overbearing, obsessive fangirl Sasuke had known in the academy, so much so that if Sasuke didn’t know better, he’d have thought his teammate was an imposter.

(But he did know better; he’d seen her parents, no matter how briefly, and he’d glimpsed the way they made her doubt herself, the way they tried to control her. Everything he’d learned about her life—from the way she hadn’t been allowed to eat to learning about the arranged marriage with a man twice her age—had made him feel sick.)

In any case, she was a lot more tolerable now: putting in the effort, not shying away from hard work, no high-pitched squealing or uncomfortable attempts to get in his personal space.

Naruto, too, was surprisingly decent. More settled than he’d been in the academy, more centered, maybe, though Sasuke was starting to suspect that it was because no one in their team was ignoring him or refusing to take him seriously. No one was hurting him or threatening him here, either.

(And if Sakura’s family life had made him feel ill, then everything Naruto mentioned—offhanded, casually, like it didn’t matter—about how he’d been treated by the village made him feel homicidal.)

(Worse, Sasuke wasn’t entirely sure why he felt so strongly about any of it. He’d never particularly cared about what was going on with other people before. Life sucked, bad things happened, and there was little point in complaining about it. Sasuke sure as fuck hadn’t, and he’d had more right to it than anyone else.

But maybe that was it—maybe it was because neither Sakura nor Naruto had whined at the unfairness of it all. They’d taken their lot and none of it had been pleasant, but they’d dealt with it the best they could. They’d known that no one else was going to solve their problems for them, so they’d taken care of themselves however they could because it was the only thing to do.

Maybe…maybe it was because they reminded him of himself. But only a little.)

The point was, both of his teammates surprised him. Kakashi-sensei, too.

And after they ate—after Naruto, more perceptive than anyone gave him credit for, had traded his tomatoes for Sasuke’s snap peas, though Sasuke had no idea when the blond boy had figured out they were Sasuke’s favorites—when Sasuke went to swim against the river’s current while Sakura was sent running and Naruto kept getting his ass personally handed to him by Kakashi, he couldn’t help but think that maybe…maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe a team wasn’t weakness.

(Maybe that man had been wrong, too.)

The bad news was that Naruto’s prior education was obviously worse than Kakashi had initially thought. There was no structure to his movements, no discernible patterns. His fighting was only loosely, tangentially based on the academy standard, and the way he threw kunai was only better than a civilian because of sheer practice and force of will, but his form was amateurish and his aim was subpar at best.

It was a miracle Naruto had been allowed to graduate, honestly, given how sloppy he was. There was no way his frankly abysmally low capabilities had gone entirely unnoticed, and the only reason Kakashi could find that would explain how Naruto had never once been corrected was that either his teachers willfully ignored him or purposefully led him in the wrong direction.

The good news was that Naruto was proving very teachable. Time and repetition would be necessary to make sure Kakashi’s lessons fully sank in, but in less than an hour, he’d been able to get Naruto to up his throwing accuracy from about 50% to 80%. Correcting his form had gone similarly well, even if it was clear that Naruto favored spontaneity and chaos over any sort of actual proper martial art form.

Which was fine, really. Kakashi wasn’t trying to make his students perfect cookie-cutter shinobi with no variation—that would just be idiotic, and likely to get them killed. A certain amount of unpredictability was a valuable asset, and one that Naruto would likely utilize in spades, but Kakashi just needed to mold him a little bit, smooth out the rough edges to make him more effective.

All things considered, Naruto’s training was going well, and if he kept it up, they could move on to sparring and chakra techniques and D-ranks soon enough. Assuming the other two kids were keeping on track, too. Kakashi wasn’t as hands-on with them right now, but he’d kept an eye on their progress and was pleased that they were taking their own assignments seriously. Even the slight increase in food intake already seemed to be helping Sakura’s energy levels, and Sasuke—who he’d expected to complain at least a little about being sent to do “basic” tasks—had thrown himself headfirst into his training without so much as a grumble.

By mid-afternoon, all three of them were wiped, and though a voice in the back of Kakashi’s mind whispered to keep pushing, keep training, keep going because it wasn’t enough, because if they went out into the world right now it would kill them, he ignored it. Baby-steps, he told himself. They were just kids, not full-fledged shinobi, not ANBU. And he wasn’t setting them loose into the dangerous landscape that was the elemental nations. He had time—at least a little, in any case—and besides, there were other things that needed taking care of.

“What are we doing for the rest of the day, sensei?” Sakura asked as he led them away from the training grounds and towards downtown.

“Shopping. You and Naruto need better gear.” There were plenty of different shinobi-oriented stores scattered throughout Konoha, but if he wanted to keep the trip to a minimum, then the shopping district was his best bet.

A shinobi’s gear was often as important as their repertoire of skills. And aside from perhaps Sasuke—who had both money and resources from his clan—the kids were severely under-prepared.

Sakura didn’t have nearly enough kunai—a single pouch-full, barely enough to train with, never mind going on missions—and her clothing was all civilian-made. Not cheap by any means, but not designed to hold up under rigorous training. Her clothes might last a week before they started wearing thin, and once they got to sparring? Not a chance.

And then there was Naruto who only had maybe two or three sets of clothes in total—which Kakashi knew because Naruto was wearing the same thing as he had yesterday, if freshly washed—all of them well-worn and haphazardly patched up. At least one of the shirts was on its last thread and the single orange jumpsuit was getting to be too small, riding up his ankles and wrists. It wasn’t exactly protective clothing either, and Kakashi wanted all of his the kids a little more well-guarded.

Naruto needs new kunai too, he noted absently as he glanced over the pile they’d been using for target practice earlier. Naruto had a decent amount—a good three dozen at least—but despite the recently sharpened edges and fresh oiling, they were all chipped, scratched or bent in some manner, some of them beyond repair.

Weapons, then clothing, and more groceries, too, Kakashi listed in his head.

He’d slightly underestimated how much food three teenagers could consume—or rather, he’d underestimated how much food Naruto specifically needed in order to keep up with his metabolism. Though the boy hadn’t complained of being hungry yet, Kakashi hadn’t missed the grumbling of his stomach a mere three hours after breakfast, nor how fast he’d scarfed up lunch. Accommodating that was easy enough, but it meant he was currently understocked.

Kakashi was busy making a rudimentary list in his head—just the basics, keep it simple, specialized equipment can come later—and so it wasn’t until they came to the door of his preferred weapons shop that he noticed Naruto’s obvious discomfort.

More specifically, that Naruto had stopped, frozen, at the corner of the building and didn’t look inclined to move an inch further. His hands were fisted in the hem of his raggedy shirt, most likely an attempt to hide their trembling, and he was staring at the door with open apprehension.

Immediately, Kakashi’s guard went up. “Naruto?”

The blond boy chewed on his lip, fingers twisting further into the fabric. “You guys go in. I’ll just wait…out here.”

An all too familiar feeling of dread—which Kakashi was beginning to associate specifically with learning something new and horrible about how his the kids had been treated—settled in his gut.

“We’re getting kunai and shuriken for Sakura and you,” he said, slowly, patiently. “I won’t be surprised if they didn’t teach you this at the academy—” the negligent fuckers hadn’t taught the kids anything of true value, as far as Kakashi was concerned “—but it’s best to always pick your own. Depending on the craftsmanship and the type of material, your weaponry can be different weights, and the balance could be varied, all of which can ultimately affect your ability to handle them effectively. I want you to test a couple different types, find something that feels right for you.”

Naruto gave an unconvincing smile. “But sensei, I already have plenty—”

“All in bad condition.” Kakashi stared at the kid, brow raised. “The real reason you don’t want to go inside, Naruto, please.”

For a moment, Naruto just looked down at his feet where he was scuffing them along the top of the cobbled walkway, and Kakashi thought he might have to prod the boy to answer. But then Naruto huffed a big sigh, something that seemed to deflate him.

“Can’t go in there. ‘M not allowed.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Sasuke asked before Kakashi could, eyes narrowed.

Naruto shrugged. “I tried to buy stuff here once, back in the academy. The guy who runs the place told me to get out, and when I didn’t go fast enough, he threw me out the door. Told me not to come back or else. So I didn’t.”

Kakashi blinked, his mind suddenly utterly still. It was the sort of blanked-out, forced calm that he had only ever associated with assassination missions. A coping technique, something he’d learned in his years in ANBU, a way to make sure—in the instant before the kill—that he was steady, unshakeable. That he wouldn’t falter or hesitate no matter who the target was or why they had to die.

(It was, ultimately, a barrier between himself and his feelings. A complete shutdown of any personal qualms he had with his mission. Medically, it was probably some sort of dissociation that—if anyone knew about—would earn him weekly sessions with some Yamanaka mind-healer.

Healthy or not, though, it was the only reason Kakashi had completed more than half the missions that he had. It was the only thing that had kept him going—if mechanically, detachedly—after losing Obito, then Rin and Minato-sensei in such short order. It had helped him survive ANBU when the back to back missions and the guilt of leaving Naruto behind would have otherwise killed him.

It was the only thing, now, that was keeping him from instantly torching the entire village and taking his kids away from the ruins of this cursed place.)

“—a violation of the Konoha’s business code,” Sakura was saying angrily when Kakashi finally came back to himself enough to pay attention to what was going on around him. “Section 3, subsection 8, code 12C: No person may be declined business within any such establishment in Konoha proper, except in cases of destruction of property, theft, violence, and/or extortion.” Sakura took a deep breath, some of the splotchiness in her face dissipating as she reigned in her anger. “And you can appeal that to the courts even if the businesses claim they have a valid reason for refusing you service. There’s a review board specifically for that purpose. And the fines for violating those terms are no joke. You could sue.”

“Oh. I don’t—I mean, I don’t really have any proof—”

“Who needs proof?” Sasuke grumbled under his breath, too quiet for the others to hear, and Kakashi was just cognizant enough to notice the way he was eying up the store, hands halfway to being bent into the right shape for a katon jutsu.

Kakashi moved on instinct, hand clamping down on Sasuke’s shoulder firmly and catching the boy’s attention. Kakashi gave him a stern look—possibly ineffective, because frankly, if he could have gotten away with it and if he wasn’t dreading the potential of having to explain why Konoha was on fire to the Hokage, he would have been ready to start some fires, too.

Sasuke huffed, a puff of smoke escaping with the breath, but lowered his hands.

“Naruto, where do you normally get your kunai, then?” Kakashi asked.

“Old man Tsubasa lets me buy up the scrap from his shop,” Naruto said with forced cheer, like he knew it wasn’t the answer Kakashi would have preferred to hear, but he was going to try to swing it anyway.

Kakashi felt a headache coming on, but given that the cause seemed to be the entirety of Konoha’s shop-owners, there wasn’t much he could do about it. “Naruto, he’s not supposed to sell scrap to shinobi, he’s supposed to sell it back to the blacksmith to be melted down and reforged. The kunai you’ve been using are already damaged beyond use.”

“Oh.” Naruto frowned. “But then what am I supposed to do? Learn to make my own?”

Blacksmithing might be a good use of Naruto’s seemingly endless energy, but Kakashi doubted the blond had the patience for that kind of concentrated craftwork. Although, Naruto had taught himself sealing and some of the more complex ones could take hours to paint, so perhaps…

Kakashi shook his head. That was a line of thought to pursue at another time.

“For now, we’ll shop here,” Kakashi said, and when Naruto looked like he’d protest again, Kakashi held up a hand to quiet him. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Naruto. Neither will your teammates.”

“If he does try something,” Sakura added, “then we’ll be your witnesses when you sue him for business misconduct.”

“Hn.”

At that, Naruto straightened his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s do it!”

Before Team 7, Naruto had never enjoyed shopping. He hadn’t been able to go into most stores, and when he was allowed inside, he had been repeatedly overcharged for basic necessities like toilet paper and toothpaste. The first year out of the orphanage, when he was still learning all the subtle, unspoken rules of life—rules that were different for him than they were for anyone else—he’d tried to buy food the proper way. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d gotten sick from being sold moldy fruit and spoiled milk and rotted meat.

He couldn’t count the number of times he’d been kicked—literally—out of stores. Couldn’t forget the way the woman running a stall for kitchenware had slapped his hand away with a wooden ladle, sending Naruto’s money flying across the street. Couldn’t help but remember the ache of not having food in his belly, how he learned it was safer to dig through the dumpsters for leftover scraps than to trust the food anyone would let him buy.

That was how he’d found most of his clothes, too. And his favorite cooking pot. And even his futon. Better to find something broken but free and mend it himself when the alternative was being shouted at and bruised and hurt.

But now, with Sasuke glaring at anyone who tried to look at Naruto weirdly, and Sakura muttering under her breath about ethical business practices, and Kakashi-sensei looming with a threatening eye-crinkle and his ever-present air of danger, Naruto could maybe, kind of, see why people enjoyed going this.

He’d walked away from the weapons shop with four dozen brand new kunai and half as many shuriken, all solid and gleaming and sharp, no dents or scratches to be found. It was almost unbelievable.

And now, standing in the midst of a shinobi clothing store, staring at a wall of shirts all made with sturdy, protective fabric—the likes of which he’d never, ever worn before—he was awestruck by the sheer range of options.

I get to choose, Naruto thought with no small amount of awe.

What he’d worn before, what he looked like, had never been something he thought much about. He’d owned two shirts, both pieced together from scraps of other shirts, and he’d had that one orange jumpsuit—a gift from the Hokage that he’d worn until it was just a bit too small for him because he couldn’t justify getting rid of clothes that were still functional.

Until now, he'd been planning on taking the jumpsuit apart at the seams and trying to remake it into something he could wear for at least another year. He didn’t have to do that, though, because Kakashi-sensei had brought them here, to this store, and said to pick anything they liked.

“As long as it makes sense for a shinobi to wear,” he’d added. “You’ll want to think about practicality and comfort as well as durability.”

Naruto didn’t really know where to start.

“Well,” Sakura said. “What do you like about the things you wear now? And what don’t you like?”

She was in the same position he was, at least in terms of choosing what to wear for herself for the first time. But she was handling it a lot better than Naruto, arms already full of tank tops in darker reds and muted greens and navy. She was moving on to pants, now, holding up cargo pants and comparing them to more flexible leggings.

“I don’t know. I guess I like that I can move around easily? And that it’s not too tight…”

Sakura nodded. “So nothing constricting. Would you say you’re more often warm or cold?”

“Warm. Definitely.” That was another thing Naruto would blame on the fox—though it had been a blessing in the cold winter months, especially because he hadn’t had a coat then and all his blankets were threadbare.

“And what about, uh, style?” Sakura asked. “I mean, you wore that orange jumpsuit, so do you, um, like to be flashy?”

Naruto thought about it for a long moment. It wasn’t like he’d chosen that jumpsuit himself, and probably, if he’d considered what real ninja looked like, he could admit that maybe bright orange wasn’t the way to go. Not if he wanted to be sneaky. But, well…

“I kind of liked that people noticed me for something that wasn’t bad,” Naruto said. “They were gonna stare at me anyway, but when I wore the orange, I could pretend it was because of that.”

Sakura’s face softened, and she hummed to herself. “Something with a little flair, then. Eye-catching but not in a way that’ll make you stand out too much in the field. It has to be loose and comfortable, preferably a little airy so you won’t overheat, with either short sleeves or…oh.”

Without another word, she grabbed ahold of Naruto’s wrist and dragged him over to a rack where swaths of pretty, almost-silky looking fabric hung from the hangers. There wasn’t anything quite as bright or bold as the blinding orange Naruto had almost become immune to, but there were more colors here than anywhere else in the shop.

“A haori would suit you really well,” Sakura said eagerly. “You could wear a mesh shirt underneath for protection, and then make this the top layer, and tie it with the belt. You’d probably want to bandage wrap the bottom of the sleeves, just to make sure they don’t get caught on anything while you’re fighting, but it’s light enough I don’t think you’ll be hot. And they’re definitely not boring to look at!”

Naruto listened to Sakura as he stared at the soft, billowy fabric. Like everything else in the store, the fabric was designed to hold up to shinobi levels of wear and tear regardless of how delicate the fabric looked, so that wouldn’t be a problem. And like Sakura had said, they were lightweight, comfortable. Plus, they were pretty.

Pretty had never been something he considered before. It had always been functionality and convenience first, with everything else being incidental.

“Thanks Sakura. You’re really good at this.”

She blushed. “Oh. Ah. Thanks, Naruto. So you like the idea?”

“You bet! Ah, but which color? I don’t know anything about this kind of stuff!”

“Tch. Blue, of course, dobe.”

Naruto jumped a little at Sasuke’s sudden appearance—Naruto had been sure the Uchiha was on the other side of the store eying up mesh armor—and then scowled. “You just say that because you wear blue all the time.”

Sasuke shrugged.

“It would match your eyes,” Sakura said, considering. She plucked one off the rack, a rich blue that was a few shades lighter than navy. “Ooh, and this one is kind of orange, but it’s more rust-toned, so it won’t stick out as much. And try on the green, too. Green would be great for camouflage around here.”

Naruto did as she commanded, sliding the green haori on and getting a feel for it. The material was every bit as comfortable as it looked, and the flow of it as he moved was nice. Sakura’s hands landed on his shoulders, and he let her guide him to look in the mirror.

He blinked.

It wasn’t a full change—he was still wearing his normal clothes underneath, after all—but just the addition of the haori was enough to make him look completely different. The soft green made his skin look warmer, healthier, and his hair looked almost golden instead of just bright. The quality of the fabric, even, made Naruto look less like he’d crawled out of a gutter and more like someone to be taken seriously.

I look like a real shinobi, Naruto thought.

“Ah, good,” Kakashi-sensei said, appearing from nowhere just as quietly as Sasuke had. “You’ve discovered colors that aren’t going to burn out my retinas. Excellent. Are we satisfied?”

“Yes, sensei,” Sakura said, and Naruto nodded along, a bit dazed.

He was still a bit dazed as sensei snagged the clothes from both their arms and added it to an already considerable pile on the checkout counter, paying for it all without so much as twitching at the cost.

And when Kakashi handed the bags back to Naruto and Sakura—and Sasuke, who looked confused since he hadn’t planned on buying anything—for them to carry, Naruto was pretty sure there was nearly twice as much stuff as he’d picked out in the bag.

Shopping with Kakashi-sensei was an entirely different experience than shopping with her mom Mebuki had been. Mebuki would have hovered, would have hand-picked everything for Sakura and never asked what she liked or didn’t. Mebuki would have had a comment for everything, and even her rare compliments were backhanded.

Kakashi-sensei had pretty much given them free reign to pick what they liked, and the only time he’d had anything to say about what they picked out was when they’d gone grocery shopping and Sasuke had tried to buy out the vegetable vendor’s supply of tomatoes.

“If you eat too many all at once, Sasuke-kun, you might become allergic,” Kakashi had warned. Sasuke had squinted at him like he wasn’t sure he believed Kakashi, but ultimately he’d agreed to have some variety in his vegetables.

But shopping was draining even when you had good company, Sakura was discovering. By the time they’d finished haggling down fish prices and had packaged everything up, the sun was well on its way to setting. All the exercise she’d done that morning was finally catching up to her in the form of aching arms and dragging legs, and the heavy bags she was carrying weren’t helping in the slightest.

“We just need to stop to get dog food,” Kakashi-sensei said. “And then we can go home.”

Home. Funny, Sakura thought, how the meaning of a word could change so much in the span of a week. She was still getting used to the Hatake compound, but within mere days it had become a refuge in the way her parents’ house never had been despite the fact that she’d lived there for 12 years.

Sakura turned towards her sensei to ask what sort of food his ninken ate and froze. As if summoned by her thoughts alone, Mebuki stood not ten meters from them at the butcher’s stall, dressed as impeccably as ever, imposing and frigid and untouchable.

Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was bad luck. Maybe the forces of the universe were set against Sakura. In an ideal world, Mebuki would have been too absorbed in her gossiping to notice Team 7 passing by, and Sakura could have returned to the Hatake compound without ever confronting her mother.

But it was not an ideal world.

Mebuki turned. Her eyes—cold, angry, dreadful—latched onto Sakura’s like a parasite, and she snarled. “You ungrateful brat!”

Fear, familiar and unwelcome, tore through Sakura. She knew that tone, knew that what followed was always unpleasant. Even if Mebuki had never been the sort to hit her—aside from the hairbrush, on occasion—her words were always cutting, vicious. She’d been able to reduce Sakura to tears with a few choice sentences, make her feel small, pathetic, like she was nothing. Like she would always be nothing.

For Mebuki to be angry enough that she’d make a scene like this in public? Sakura shuddered at the thought.

“Ah, fuck,” Kakashi-sensei said, groaning, and Sakura felt a hysterical giggle rise in her throat, only unable to escape because of how choked she felt, because of how little she could breathe. “I don’t want to deal with this shit. Consider this a training exercise. We rendezvous at the compound. Now, scatter.”

For a moment, even with Kakashi-sensei’s order, Sakura couldn’t move. She’d never tried to run away from Mebuki before—why would she, when Mebuki would just be waiting for her at home, when running would only make things worse?

And then there was a hand wrapping around her wrist, warm and firm but still gentle. It tugged at her, pulled her along, and Sakura went, because that was Naruto’s hand, and Naruto’s bright hair, and Naruto’s encouraging, “Come on, Sakura!”

He pulled her along through alleyways and side-streets, places she’d never been before, but which Naruto navigated with surety. There were footsteps at her left, a dark figure—Sasuke, running beside them, quiet but steady.

Naruto was fast and had the most endurance of them all, and Sakura could barely keep up, but Mebuki was only a civilian and one dressed impractically in heels, and even if she had tried, she would not have been able to catch them. Not even Sakura, who was the slowest.

(But Mebuki would not have tried. Sakura could not imagine her mother running anywhere, let alone after her runaway daughter.)

With all the twists and turns Naruto took, Sakura couldn’t keep track of where they were. All she knew was the pounding of her feet against the cobbled pavement, the pounding of her pulse thrumming in her ears, the steady puff of Sasuke’s breathing and Naruto’s sharp laugh. And somewhere out there—probably not too far away, probably watching from the rooftops—was Kakashi-sensei, who would make sure no matter how lost they got that they made it home.

Sakura’s real home.

(And if Mebuki’s home didn’t have to be Sakura’s real home anymore, then maybe Mebuki didn’t have to be Sakura’s real family anymore.

Maybe…

Maybe her team could be her real family, now.)

They whipped around another corner. The entrance to Hatake compound stood before them, green and wild and sharp. They crossed over the border and the cobbled path turned to dirt and grass underfoot.

Home, home, home, she thought with every slap of her foot against the ground.

They collapsed on the living room floor, lying flat on their backs as they caught their breath. A moment later, Kakashi poofed into existence beside them, unruffled as ever except that perhaps his gravity-defying hair looked even more windswept than usual.

There was something uncommonly light in Sasuke’s chest, something airy and bubbling that felt like satisfaction but better. Like pride but fuller.

He barked a laugh, then immediately clamped his hand over his mouth. It didn’t do much; the laughter was spilling out in choked huffs, shoulders trembling.

They had just run from Sakura’s mom, tearing through the market like an oni was on their heels.

Four shinobi. Had run. From a civilian woman. Just because she was irritating.

(Because staying meant that Sakura would have been hurt. Because Sakura being hurt like that—being hurt by someone who was supposed to love her, care about her—was unacceptable.)

As though it were contagious, Sasuke’s laughter brought out a giggle in Sakura, then in Naruto, and even Kakashi had sunk to the floor, head tipping back against the couch as he tried to hide the way his own shoulders shook with humor.

It took a while for them to calm again, to pull themselves up from the floor and set about putting away the groceries and the clothes—that Kakashi had bought for him when he wasn’t looking—and the other various purchases of the day. But the ease that Sasuke had felt in that moment didn’t go away.

Not even as he crawled into bed.

Not even as he sunk into sleep.

(For the first time that Sasuke could remember since the massacre, he did not dream of death and blood and that man.

He did not dream at all.)