Genres: Humor – Family – Slice of Life / One-shot

Rating: +8

Summary: Kakashi hadn’t expected the adult world to be so harsh on him, let alone what it had in store for him. He had to make some decisions in light of what he discovered. And he was going to stick to them!

Enjoy!

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At the far end of the courtyard, near the training grounds, Kakashi was lashing out furiously with his kunai at one of the pillars, which hadn’t asked for any of this.

Returning from his training sessions with his team and Minato-sensei, he had gone straight there, barely acknowledging his father, and was using up the last of his remaining strength.

Keeping his distance, Sakumo watched him, ready to step in the moment his son stumbled, to catch him.

He missed little Kakashi. Admittedly, only a few years separated the enthusiastic toddler from the aggressive young man, but the transition had been so abrupt that he couldn’t help but think it.

He sighed in defeat as his son continued to let off steam.

True, Kakashi was a shinobi, just like him. He was even a jōnin, at only thirteen! The context of the war didn’t help either, and he regretted more than once having made his only heir a shinobi, especially since his first son’s death.

He’d also put it down to adolescence and the changes that came with it; he wouldn’t have been the first to be angry at the world, simply because of his raging hormones!

He’d tried to open a dialogue, but Kakashi would just glare at him and storm out of the room.

As if it were his fault…

The moment his son’s footing faltered, he rushed forward, catching him before he hurt himself, quickly helping him to his feet and stepping back, just as he’d wanted.

“Dinner’s ready, will you join me?” he invited.

His tendency to skip meals was worrying, but once again he couldn’t get the better of him. He’d got into the habit of leaving his portion in the fridge, slipping cereal bars into his things or bribing him with his favourite foods, but it had been another failure.

Luckily, Kakashi accepted this time, and followed him inside, washing his hands and changing.

Sakumo did most of the talking, once again, but at least it was better than eating alone.

“It’s been a while since the last time; you should invite your friends over,” he said hopefully.

“I don’t have any friends,” he replied coldly.

I wouldn’t have known it, his father stopped himself from replying.

“What about your teammates? You haven’t mentioned them to me in months! They must have grown so much since the last time!”

If he’d hoped for a response like in the old days – a tirade about Obito, snide remarks about Rin, or a glowing portrait of Minato – he was disappointed when all he got was Kakashi sitting up, looking furious, his chakra almost crackling with static electricity, before setting down his chopsticks and bowl and storming off to his room.

What else had he said?

Feeling defeated, Sakumo sighed.

It was at times like these that he regretted his wife’s death the most. He was a good shinobi, but his parenting skills were poor.

What could he do?

Deep in thought, he cleared away the dinner and set about washing the dishes.

Kakashi did like his teammates, didn’t he? At first, he’d talk about them regularly, especially that noisy kid, openly criticising everything he did. Perhaps he should have stopped him back then, but he’d been too amused to see him so animated – he who was usually so reserved – and had drawn a parallel with his own behaviour towards his own future wife at the same age.

It was cute.

Obito was the polar opposite of everything Kakashi was. A warm, enthusiastic and boisterous presence. Like an overexcited puppy.

He was the sort of child he’d want to steer clear of the shinobi path, so they might keep their smiles and their zest for life rather than lose them, chewed up by the odious machinery of their system.

During his son’s brief time at school, he’d caught sight of the boy, waiting by his side and trying to speak to him.

He had called out to him to spare him the effort – the prisoners of Iwa were more talkative than his own son – but instead he received the full attention of this young pup.

He had invited him to come home with them, earning a look of betrayal from Kakashi and a frenzied dance from their guest.

It was a fond memory, though the lad’s boundless energy had worn him out, not to mention Kakashi’s complaints the following day.

Sakumo hadn’t actually seen him again until the two children had been paired in the same team, and he’d invited the whole lot of them to a restaurant to celebrate.

The experience had been mixed, mainly due to the rumours circulating about him since that mission, but Obito was still that young, wild dog talking a mile a minute, allowing Rin and Minato to warm up and join in the conversation in turn.

The memory made him smile as he went to bed.

He missed those days.

Kakashi was unhappy.

He tried to forget it, to hide it as best he could, but he was unhappy.

And, worst of all, he didn’t understand why.

He had done some research, only to discover that he had no reason to mope. His basic needs were met: he had a full stomach, a bed to sleep in, a roof over his head, access to clean water, a loving family, and he had built his career around the profession he enjoyed. He was even recognised by his peers for his skills!

But there was still that emptiness.

An emptiness that filled with lava whenever Obito opened his big mouth to sing the praises of White Fang. Or when White Fang – his father – asked him for news of his idiot of a teammate.

One day, Rin had told him he was jealous.

It was the day his father had ruffled Obito’s hair, praising him for his insight, simply because that idiot had explained that he wore those hideous orange things on windy days to protect his eyes.

Pure common sense!

But no, his father had praised him for it and smiled!

When had he last done that for him?

A few months later – during which that stupid Uchiha had worn that damn accessory at all hours of the day – the hideous orange visor had suffered an utterly regrettable accident, shattering it beyond repair.

Obito had been inconsolable.

Refusing to admit his guilt, Kakashi had casually mentioned it to his father.

And it wasn’t long before Obito’s smile returned, along with a brand-new visor, an even garishter shade of orange than the previous one, which he never took off, whether to sleep or wash.

They stood out even more than the previous ones, but Kakashi could no longer subject them to the same fate as their predecessors. It would have looked too suspicious.

But that was fine when they were still just children.

As he grew up, and thanks to his higher status and their guardian’s lack of time due to his position as Hokage, he had undertaken missions further and further away from Konoha, sometimes alone, and sometimes with adults.

Through these assignments, he had (all too) often witnessed the interest of outsiders in… White Fang. His father.

He had caught the whispers in the camps, he had glimpsed the photos and posters passed around like sacred and precious images, he had heard the impassioned declarations, but above all, he had sometimes been the target of hatred or the perverse interest of strangers, simply because of his lineage.

At first, he had been too young and had put it down to atypical hostility towards the exceptional shinobi that he is, but adolescence had taken its toll, and he had come to this realisation:

His father, Hatake Sakumo, was a bloody sex symbol across the five nations.

His first instinct had been to confront him with this discovery, but he stopped himself at the last minute and opted instead for his second choice: Minato-sensei.

His unexpected and rather informal arrival in the Hokage’s office put everyone on high alert, but he paid it no mind as he demanded answers from the man who might have been a father to him in another life.

Only to see him look away, blushing slightly.

Stepping back in surprise, he realised his teacher was far from being the only one. It was as if the tower had turned into a tomato field! A veritable epidemic…

Deciding he’d see things more clearly if he isolated himself, he’d taken refuge in one of the village’s forests, trying to make sense of everything he’d just – unfortunately – discovered.

The shinobi world was full of perverts who had it in for his father’s arse.

Very well, he’d make protecting his father’s virtue his priority!

And so it was that he never let him out of his sight, growling through his mask whenever anyone became too touchy or friendly towards Sakumo, who met this reaction with an embarrassed laugh and apologies.

Teenagers really were a breed apart; who could guess what was going on in his son’s mind to make him act like this? The fear of growing up and no longer being his dad’s little cub?

At first, Sakumo had been delighted, thinking he was rekindling the father-son bond that their respective careers had strained, but he had quickly become disillusioned upon realising that this was not the case and that Kakashi had instead decided to become his shadow.

But now, by following him everywhere – except on missions – they had encountered practically the whole village.

Including Obito.

Obito, who displayed the same blush and starry-eyed look as an ever-growing number of targets to be taken down.

(Well, Rin too, but he didn’t care about Rin.)

And it was at that moment that Kakashi shut himself off completely, bewildered by what he was feeling, unable to open up to anyone about it, and as miserable as could be.

Or so he thought, until his hormones – them again, of course – grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him like a plum tree, until he came to a new realisation that unsettled him just as much as the last.

Obito was attractive.

It felt as though it were only yesterday that his teammate had been nothing more than an annoying genin, with teary eyes and a loud voice. And yet, he had to change his mind when they shared a room in an inn and he caught sight of the teenager wearing nothing but his pyjama bottoms, yawning profusely, a million miles away from his friend’s thoughts.

And it was surely because of this realisation that he began to focus a little more on himself from the very next day, putting the clumsy, weak genin firmly behind him, as he watched him in the thick of battle, smiling whilst his Sharingan scrutinised his opponents’ every move.

He exuded a touch of self-confidence and insolence that stirred conflicting feelings in Kakashi.

Never had his return to Konoha been more pleasant, allowing him to slip into the Hatake compound, under Sakumo’s raised eyebrow.

However, now that he could think calmly, dread gradually took hold of him as a new realisation dawned.

Obito was attractive, certainly.

But Obito, and pretty much the entire shinobi population, desired Hatake Sakumo. His father.

It was following this realisation that the jōnin began to let off steam on the targets at the training ground, when he had nothing else to stop him from thinking, exhausting himself too much to be capable of it any longer.

Exhaustion was good. Dad was too busy worrying about him, watching over him like a worried hen, to take any interest in all those disgusting humans out there.

But when it was time for bed, there were still lingering thoughts, ones that made him envision countless futures, right down to the craziest ones.

(He’d actually screamed so hard he’d torn himself away from the version where Obito became his stepfather. Stepmother. Whatever.)

It was urgent, for the sake of his peace of mind, that he find a solution to his problem. And for that, the best thing would be to make part of the problem disappear.

It was decided. To protect his father, he would go out with Obito. It was perfectly logical, well-reasoned, and absolutely not to satisfy some strange sense of possessiveness towards the Uchiha.

Definitely not.