Chapter Text
The shrieking of a newly born infant penetrates the otherwise silent and desolate night. Its howling voice, breeching every erected barrier and wall, seeping into the eardrums of any lonely soul still wandering the streets at a time when only the dead would be brave enough to venture the nights.
It inhales a gasping breath and again unleashes a healthy burst of high pitched shrieking from out of powerful lungs and the three inhabitants of the room smile at each other. The man holds the woman’s hands as the child wails between them, and the nurse sending a chaste smile towards the stars, steps away from the couple to give them space to marvel at their treasure.
There is nothing more beautiful than the first cries of a baby. The eagerly awaited noise that signals the beginnings of life. The noise that begets the exhale of anxiously held breaths of every person in the vicinity, for there is nothing more tragic and heart destroying than silence upon an infant’s birth. The kind of silence only broken by the subsequent wails of the mother, and the rage of a briefly established father.
As the infant gradually quietens, and both mother and child drift to sleep, no one notices the fourth shadow within the room, too big to be that of the child and yet not belonging to any of the other adults that occupied the space. The joy within the room was too great, the admiration of the newest inhabitant of the village too strong to be dampened by the foreign feeling saturating the room, as though there was something other watching them from a distance, it too admiring the little tufts of silver hair atop the infant’s head, it’s scrunched eyes and balled up miniature fists.
Little did any of them realise that this would be the first of two trips to the hospital within the week. One for the purpose of new life and one for the loss of another. As Konoha’s White Fang rushed the limp body of his wife out of their house, leaping across rooftops as fast as his years of brutally trained legs would take him, he watched, tears falling from his eyes, as the life drained from hers.
And as their week old son, Kakashi, cried within his gently rocking cot at their supposedly empty home, he was lulled back to sleep by the soothing hum of a vague shadowed form.
***
Kakashi Hatake was what the village liked to call a prodigy, for they liked to label all citizens. Innocent enough little labels they could fit all people into and control their behaviour. Shinobi, citizen, prodigy, dead-last— every person could be classified. It made the Hokage’s job that little bit easier when you could reduce an entire person’s story down to one tiny, insignificant label.
By the age of 4, Kakashi had already enrolled into the ninja Academy and was rising to the top of his class at an alarming rate. No one paid attention to the fact that the child rarely interacted with his peers, or that despite his prodigious status, he seemed a little too independent for a child his age. For that was what he was, a child. All they saw was the prodigy. Kakashi Hatake, prodigy son of Konoha’s White Fang and his dearly departed wife.
Nothing more and nothing less.
This was fine with Kakashi. He prefered solitude. The gratifying breath you could take alone. The mask you could shed when not in the presence of others. He may have been a child but he knew how the ninja world worked. The weak were annihilated whilst the strong thrived. He too would thrive, like his father. It was better not to be weighed down by emotions that would eventually get you killed. But there was one person Kakashi could truly say he felt anything for in the entire village and that was his father. Sakumo Hatake, the White Fang and legendary warrior. Not only did Kakashi love him, but he admired him. Wanted nothing more than to make him proud. And so he would work as much as his young limbs would allow him, and then some.
Kakashi didn’t mind the fact that his father was rarely present at home when he came back from the Academy, nor did he mind having to eat dinner by himself some nights during the week, and this was because he knew he could count on his father to be there when it really mattered. He was there when he had first enrolled into the academy, being embarrassing and trying to make him become friends with some weird kid wearing green spandex. He had been the one to teach him his first jutsu and how to throw a kunai. Had been there on nights where Kakashi couldn't sleep for fear of the nightmares he seemed to get whenever he was alone for too long.
He had been there, and for Kakashi that was all that mattered.
Tonight was one of those nights where Kakashi was left alone to his own devices as his father had yet another mission to attend to. In the dimly lit kitchen, Kakashi’s small 4 and a half year old frame stood attempting to think of something to make for dinner. Looking around Kakashi was not pleased with what he saw, which wasn't much considering he was about half the size of the table tops and stretching on his tiptoes didn't seem to be cutting it. Either way as he stood there Kakashi realised that he had failed to buy anymore food from the grocery store after running out the previous night. As his stomach grumbled, Kakashi could think of nothing other than getting food and getting food quickly so, pulling up a chair towards the cupboard, he made it his mission to scavenge some form of edible substance from within the dismal looking kitchen.
Two cupboards in, and Kakashi knew the chances of getting anything to eat tonight were slim, but it was as he was about to close the third cupboard that he saw it. There, tucked away in one dark and slightly cobwebbed corner was a pot of instant ramen. Lunging, his small hands closed around the pot and he almost cried tears of joy. Mind you, this was not to say that Kakashi enjoyed much ramen, but at this point anything would be better than going hungry tonight. With this in mind Kakashi set about preparing his meal.
As Kakashi padded around the kitchen attempting to turn the kettle on, a shadow flickered behind his body, just far enough away to not be seen, and with that it had begun. A dance of sorts in which only one partner was aware. A gentle game of “keep out of reach”, for each time he came close to seeing the shadowed form it vanished from sight, tucked away within a larger shadow or simply disappearing.
As Kakashi replaced the kettle filled with freshly boiled water, he turned back to watch the ramen for the two minutes it would take to cook. Little did the young Hatake know that he had not correctly returned the kettle to its rightful place and as he turned his back, it wobbled precariously and began falling towards him, scalding water about to wrap the boy in its embrace. Only it seemed this love story had been cut short. Not only did the hot water not hit the boy, it didn’t even make it halfway through its descent towards the ground. The once rapidly plummeting kettle now lay frozen in the air mid-fall as though frozen in time. And just as quickly as it had begun its downwards journey, it returned back to its rightful place. Sensing something amiss, the child prodigy glanced behind him but was too late and so he missed the shadowed form that seamlessly melted back into the darkness. With a shake of his head, and a gentle reprimand for always being so on edge, the young boy returned to watching his ramen cook.