Chapter Text
Minato liked telling him the story, of split souls, inked names in skin, a time before humans, of kami’s and wild things. Kakashi tuned it out. It wasn’t as good as Icha Icha, and Minato was a lovesick idiot.
He never expected to wake up in the middle of the night, sweat sticking to his skin, screaming. Everything burned. Nightmares didn’t bother him. Not anymore. There wasn’t much left to truly frighten him, and besides, he liked seeing Obito in his dreams. It was better than glancing into a mirror and seeing his eye staring back at him, Sharingan red.
Stupidly, he went to Minato. His mentor was half-asleep, still at his desk and drooling into the paperwork.
“Minato-sensei.” Kakashi shook him awake. “There’s something wrong with me.”
Minato was instantly alert. “What happened?”
Kakashi was everything a shinobi should be. He was composed and blank. He never gave anything away, and he trained every spare minute. Now he was a thirteen year old boy, and everything came out in a flood of words.
Minato laughed.
“What?” Kakashi asked, irritated.
“Sorry,” he grinned sheepishly. “Take off your shirt.”
Kakashi didn’t disobey orders, so he slipped it off, confused and annoyed.
Still smiling, Minato walked around him to look at his back. It grew silent. “What?” Kakashi kept his voice level. “You’re being weird.”
“Sorry,” Minato said. “It’s just – it’s your soulmate name.”
He stiffened. “Tell me.”
Minato grasped his shoulder, turning him around. His eyes were full of sympathy. “It says Uchiha.”
“Not Obito.” It wasn’t a question. He couldn’t stand having Obito’s eye, Obito’s name carved into his skin. It wasn’t possible anyway. Obito was dead.
“No,” Minato assured. “If your soulmate was – well, it would be gray. Yours is new. Black.”
Not Obito. That was all that mattered. He didn’t like the Uchiha, and they didn’t like him. Sometimes he considered cutting out this eye and giving it to them, but that hadn’t been what Obito wanted. Kakashi had been selfish enough. If all he could do was honor Obito’s last wish, then that was all he would do.
“Guess it doesn’t matter then,” Kakashi shrugged.
Minato tilted his head. “Oh? Why not?”
He snorted. “Uchiha don’t marry out of the clan anyway.”
Carefully, he flipped the body over. Classic Uchiha features, the high cheekbones, the dark hair. Only eight years old. A child. Kakashi sighed heavily, rising to his feet and nodding at the masked woman next to him.
“Dead,” he said when she didn’t reply. “They’re all dead.”
Yugao stared at him. “Itachi couldn’t have done this.”
Itachi was all too much like him. Prodigy. A soldier too young. Kakashi wondered if he could have done this, killed his own family, one after the other. Parents, elders, children. Maybe another version of him could have. Maybe this wasn’t as clear-cut as it seemed.
“That’s not our job,” he told her. “I’ll report this to the Hokage. Look for survivors.”
She straightened. “If there are any left, I’ll find them.”
Kakashi mustered a feigned smile and flickered away.
Later, he found the name on his back. It was black, the characters bold and unchanged. They were alive, and now he had narrowed it down to only two possibilities. Itachi Uchiha, a murderer. Sasuke Uchiha, a child.
Fuck. Fuck.
“My first impression of you?” He tapped his chin, looking upwards as if in thought. “I hate you all.”
Their faces fell.
It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. Minato had been a father to him, and Kakashi had done nothing for his son. Sasuke was all of his own arrogance and none of Obito’s goodness. Sakura was soft and civilian-born.
He had no intention of passing them, but somehow, they didn’t fail.
Kakashi didn’t mean to like them either, but they were all pretty cute. They ran around and caught cats and complained about him being late.
Like now.
He dropped in on the bridge to two loud accusations of “late”. Sasuke’s thinly veiled glance of annoyance was no different.
“Yo,” he waved jauntily. “Let’s see… today… training.”
“You told us to come at eight,” Sakura accused, pointing at him. “Do you see my hair, sensei? I didn’t get to blow dry this morning.”
“Sakura-chan,” he reached over, messing up her hair and ignoring her protests. It looked the same to him, but he wasn’t ever going to understand girls at twelve. Asuma and Kakashi both agreed that Kurenai would be better. “Don’t you think it makes more sense to shower after training?”
“I do both,” she lifted her chin haughtily.
“What are we doing?” Sasuke asked, impatient, and Sakura immediately transferred her gaze to him, staring with adoration.
Kakashi only hoped he wouldn’t break her heart like he had done with Rin.
“Washing my ninken,” he smiled.
“What?” Naruto’s eyes widened. “That’s not training! How are we supposed to defeat the bad guys by – that!”
“Dobe’s not wrong,” Sasuke admitted.
Kakashi ignored him. “Are you saying you can’t do it?”
“I can do it!” Naruto punched at the sky. “I can do anything. I’m going to be Hokage. I can wash your… whatever!”
Sasuke began arguing with him, but Sakura turned to him, green eyes knowing.
“I see what you did there, you know,” she informed him, crossing her arms.
He smiled, genuinely this time, and ruffled her hair again.
Dragging his mask down, he took a sip of the sake, gaze intent on his orange-covered novel. Kakashi giggled, flipping to the next page. He had always loved this chapter – some of Jiraiya’s best prose.
“Are you done giggling at porn?” Asuma asked him.
“When you decide to be more interesting than porn,” Kakashi said, not glancing up from the text.
“I can take that,” Kurenai leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Are you signing up your kids for the chunin exams?”
His kids. He knew Asuma and Kurenai had almost a parental or older sibling relationship with their genins. Minato hadn’t been too different for him, but Kakashi couldn’t do the same. Another way he had failed his sensei, but he couldn’t replace Minato for Naruto. He was wary of Sasuke with his matching Sharingan red eyes, and he couldn’t understand Sakura and her happy, girlish chatter.
None of them were ready for the chunin exams.
“Yeah,” Asuma said. “Not sure if they’re there yet, but I’ve got a good feeling about Shikamaru.”
Kurenari raised her eyebrows. “Already? They’re so young.”
“It’s been done younger,” Asuma shrugged. Neither of them glance toward Kakashi. “Besides, it’s not like I think they’ll pass, but no one becomes a chunin on their first try.” He grinned at Kurenai. “Your kids not up to par?”
“Stop flirting,” Kakashi flipped another page.
“I’m not,” Asuma protested, reddening. He was, but it wasn’t really Kakashi’s business. What was his business was to make every possible situation as difficult for Asuma was possible.
Kurenai took mercy. “I was planning to. I’m not so sure if Hinata’s ready though. What about you, Kakashi?”
Kakashi reached for his sake. “Yes.”
“Planning on expanding on that?” Asuma asked.
Kakashi glanced up. “I bet Gai my genins would do better.”
Kurenai sighed.
It was morning. Evening. Night. He wasn’t sure. The colors of the sky changed, bleeding blue to black to red. Like a bruise. He wasn’t really paying attention, not to anything but the memorial stone before him. Not to anything but Obito’s name.
“I failed him, didn’t I?” He asked Obito. “I failed Sasuke. I failed you.”
Sasuke was gone, hungry for power. Naruto was chasing him. Sakura was the broken-hearted thing left sleeping on a bench. It was Kakashi who realized he was gone. It was Kakashi who found Sakura, still asleep. It was Kakashi who gripped her shoulder, uncertain and awkward, as she broke into tears.
“I asked him to let me come too,” she confessed. “I betrayed the village too. I’m a traitor.”
If there was anything he wanted to teach his team, it had been loyalty. Kakashi wouldn’t fault her for learning that lesson all too well. “I won’t tell anyone, Sakura,” he promised her. It was all the reassurance he could give.
The same story. Kakashi broke Rin’s heart. Sasuke broke Sakura’s heart.
But Kakashi had learned.
“I thought it could be Sasuke,” he told Obito. “Not like Minato and Kushina. Different. Like I was put in his path to save him. To value his friends, his village, over revenge.”
Soulmates were almost always lovers, but sometimes it was a little different. The legendary Sannin all had each other’s name written in their skin. They could never be separate from each other, no matter the treachery and the betrayal. He had hoped he was meant to be Sasuke’s mentor. To do right by him.
“I was wrong,” he sighed, staring down at his hands. “I was always wrong.”
Rin touched his shoulder, a teenager still, pretty smile. “I forgive you, Kakashi. I always forgive you.”
He stared at her. It wasn’t often she would come to him, sweet eyes, gentle voice. Rin. He didn’t have her eye, didn’t have her surname, but she was seared in his blood anyway. “I wish you didn’t,” he said. “And I wish you’d send Obito.”
“Obito will talk to you when you stop being an idiot,” Rin pursed her lips.
It was a strange scene, but it wasn’t as if anyone else could see it. A man bowed to his knees. A girl standing before him, bestowing her forgiveness, her smile.
“I failed him, Rin,” he shook his head, but he couldn’t expect her to understand. She never had a chance to grow older. To understand.
“It’s not the same, Kakashi,” she knelt down to be eye level with him, clutching his shoulders. “It’s not the same story. You have to stop thinking it is.”
“I know,” Kakashi looked down again. “I know. But it’s too much the same.”
He could see Obito’s determination in Naruto’s smile. Rin’s hope in Sakura’s eyes. And him, himhimhim, in Sasuke’s arrogance.
When he looked up again, she was gone.
Hands shoved in his pockets, he strolled in the Yamanaka’s flower shop. It was always nauseatingly sweet in here, but Kakashi had a sensitive nose. It wasn’t too bad. By now, he was used to it.
It was Asuma’s genin standing behind the counter. “Hatake-san,” she smiled sweetly. “Your usual? We have a discount on roses, you know.”
Kakashi feigned a smile at her. “The usual’s fine.” It was always lilies, and even if he was seeing someone, he wouldn’t tell Ino. She was only thirteen, but she was already as big a gossip as her mother. And, perhaps, as good at secrets as her father.
It was difficult to tell. He didn’t understand girls any more than he did a year ago.
“Coming right up,” she chirped. “It’ll go on your tab.”
Kakashi paid at the end of each month. He was never late for that.
“So,” she leaned forward. “Seen Sakura lately?”
“I’m not a genin sensei anymore,” he said, but he had a feeling she already knew.
“Huh,” she widened her eyes. “You know, Shikamaru still trains with us, even though he’s ahead now.”
Kakashi had a feeling it was time for him to go, but Ino had a vice-like grip on his flowers. Asuma always complained about how conniving Ino was, but Kakashi had never taken him seriously. She was a child, as shallow as Sakura, more concerned about boys and blow drying her hair than much else.
“That’s nice,” he said politely.
“I’ve seen Sakura, lately,” she leaned in more. “It’s so sad, you know. She gets her heartbreak by that Uchiha. Naruto leaves to train with someone else. And then her own sensei doesn’t show up for practice.”
“I hear she’s training with Tsunade,” he offered a cheerful smile. “An honor.” It seemed fitting. All his students were training with a Sannin. He expected Sakura wouldn’t want to continue as a genin, but he was pleasantly surprised.
It didn’t matter, either way. He had never been the right sensei for her.
Ino rolled her eyes and shoved the flowers at him. “You’re awful.”
“I won’t argue,” he took the flowers and left, still smiling.
“Kakashi-sensei!”
A voice carried to reach him, and he stiffened but kept walking. There was only one person in the village who would call him that. It was a title he didn’t deserve, and he almost turned around to ask her to stop calling him that, but he didn’t know what else to ask of her.
Kakashi? He didn’t mind, but Sakura was always too polite. Hatake? No, that was too strange.
“Yo, Sakura-chan,” he glanced up from his book when she caught up with him, out of breath. He crinkled an eye at her. “Congrats.”
“What?” She furrowed her brows. “Oh. Thanks. But that was months ago.”
He shrugged. “But I didn’t congratulate you then.”
Only one of his students had made it to chunin, and it wasn’t the one he expected. But he didn’t put much stock in his expectations anymore. They had turned out wrong and wrong again. He had never given Sakura enough credit, and she had always been too good to hold it against him.
Well, maybe. He had never stuck around long enough to find out. Kakashi had left chocolates at her window after he had returned from a mission to find his ex-student was a chunin, but there was no card. Better she imagine it was from some secret admirer than her old sensei. The Sakura he knew would like that, but he didn’t know her anymore.
She smiled shyly. “Okay.”
They walked in silence a little, and Kakashi let Sakura gather up the courage for whatever it was she wanted to ask. He knew her enough for that. It was written all over her face, from her scrunched up nose to the way her eyes kept darting up at him.
“Kakashi-sensei?” She sucked in a breath. “Do you have a soulmate?”
He glanced at her, surprised. It was about time. She had probably known for two years now, maybe a little less, maybe a little more. All apart from each other, all of his genins would have gotten their names by now, if they had any. If it was Sasuke, he would know. If it was Itachi, he had known for a while now.
“Isn’t this a better conversation to have with your mother?” He dodged the question. “Or Tsunade?”
She stared at him. “My parents are dead. And have you met Tsunade-shishou?”
Kakashi kept his eyes on his book. “When?”
Sakura offered him a tired smile. “It doesn’t matter, sensei. I didn’t expect you to notice.”
The comment stung. He shut the book. The least he owed her was his full attention. “I have a soulmate. A soulmark.”
“Have you met them?” Sakura asked, wide-eyed.
“Probably,” Kakashi said. He had no plans to tell her. If she was still pining for Sasuke, better she didn’t know her own former sensei was more likely to be his soulmate.
“Do… people get different soulmates?” Sakura twirled her hair. “Like, if Ino’s soulmate was Shikamaru, but Shikamaru’s soulmate was someone else.”
“It happens,” Kakashi nodded, stealing a glance at her. “Is it… that you think that’s the case with you?” He hoped for her sake that the name on her skin didn’t look anything like his.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ve met him. He would know before I would. Don’t you think if he had my name, he would treat me differently? Wouldn’t I know?”
He had never been good at this. Sakura no longer felt like his charge, his student. She never really had to begin with, but she was, in some ways, his responsibility. She suffered because he couldn’t sway Sasuke.
It couldn’t be Sasuke either. They were close to the same age, and Sasuke hadn’t known before he left the village.
“Sakura,” he sighed. “I don’t know for sure who my soulmate is. I imagine it’s not romantic. Something to do with their lives or mine. It’s just a name. Love whoever you want to.” He offered her another eye crinkled smile. “It’ll be just fine.”
Another promise. Maybe this one he would keep.
She nodded solemnly, and they walked in quiet for a little longer before she broke the silence. “Can you call me Sakura-chan?”
“Sure,” he shrugged. “I thought you’d want me to drop it.”
She shook her head, smiling a little sadly. She was already too old for fifteen. “It’s a nice reminder.”
Earth shattered around him, dust rising to the surface. He stared up, eyes wide, and Sakura smiling down at him.
“Found you, sensei,” she beamed.
Stronger than he knew.
Now, she was drunker. Sixteen and between taxing missions, Sakura had done what most shinobi her age did to celebrate their birthday. Get smashed. He didn’t have a problem, but did it have to be at his bar?
“Ugh,” he took another long inhale of his sake.
“It’s the power of youth,” Gai grinned. “Isn’t it astounding? Marvelous?”
“Please don’t cry,” Kakashi requested, nursing his drink. It was too early in the evening for his drinking partner to break out in tears. He seriously needed a new one. Maybe Anko was available.
“Found you, sensei,” Sakura sung, grabbing his hand and twirling herself around. He bore it all patiently.
“Don’t you want to go back towards your friends?” Kakashi hinted.
“Aren’t we friends?” She crossed her arms.
Kakashi hesitated. She wasn’t wrong. His closest friends were his self-proclaimed rival and two kids who were barely sixteen. “Sure, Sakura,” he smiled. “We’re friends.”
That was enough to satisfy her, and she smiled brightly before disappearing back in the crowd. He took another drink. It was like they got younger, and he got older. He sighed, running his hand through his hair.
The worst part was really that he had to keep his mask on the whole time.
When she was seventeen, they were in the midst of war, and there was no time to get drunk. He snuck her a bottle of sake anyway, and they traded it between them, sitting on a crate and staring up at the muddy sky.
“I want a birthday present,” Sakura said.
He glanced her, but she wasn’t drunk. “Wasn’t the sake enough?”
“Sure,” her lips quirked up into a smile. It wasn’t tired or sad. Kakashi took heart from that. “But I want another. And you owe me.”
Kakashi gave her an indulgent smile. “What do you want?”
He assumed it would be his face, and he was prepared to show her. It was a funny joke, but he couldn’t keep it up forever. If he had to show any of them, Sakura was his preferred choice. He was sure she wouldn’t tell a soul and tease Naruto about it for a few years at least. Even more torture, really.
As usually with Sakura, he was wrong.
“I want to know your soulmate,” she said.
Kakashi looked at her. Really looked at her. Somehow, she knew. Somehow, she must know. Otherwise she wouldn’t look desperate.
“I don’t think you should,” Kakashi tried. It wouldn’t give her any peace. It wouldn’t heal her heart.
“That’s not a no.” She softened her voice. “You kept my secret. I’ll keep yours.”
He closed his eyes. He missed the memorial stone. He wanted to speak to Rin – he never wanted that before. He missed home. Sakura was what little he had of it – of home, of Rin.
“Uchiha,” he confessed, voice hoarse. Tired with carrying a years-old sin, as tired as Sakura’s heart must be of carrying her years-old love. “It’s Uchila.”
Her expression didn’t change. “Did they die?”
“No,” he said.
She looked down at her hands. “So it’s Sasuke. That’s what you meant, all those years ago.”
“Yes.”
When she didn’t look back at him, he grabbed her hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Sakura, I don’t care. I’ve never cared.”
She laughed. “You’re lying. I can see it all now. When you met us. All those years. It’s been haunting you.”
“I was never sure if it was Itachi or Sasuke,” he admitted. “I had hoped Itachi.” In the beginning, he hadn’t known which to hope for. By now, he did. He longed for his mark to wear away when he had heard of Itachi death. He had been tempted to cut it out of his skin.
“I’m sorry,” she tilted her head.
“Don’t be,” he shook his head. “I was right. I didn’t mentor him like I had hoped, but I think we both changed each other. Irrevocably. Maybe that’s all a soulmate is.”
Kakashi knew he could never love Sasuke in any other way than how he did now. The way he loved Team Seven. The way he loved a ghost. If Sasuke was meant to be his soulmate, than the gods were wrong. Fate had screwed up.
“Do you really believe that?” Her gaze searched his.
He wanted to protect her. The way he always did. He wanted to hide her from the truth and keep empty promises. But they were past that now. “I believe we’ll never really know,” he said. “I believe it doesn’t matter. You’re right. I cared, but I have you, Sakura. Naruto. Sai.” He rolled his eyes. “Gai.”
She kissed his cheek softly, warmth emanating through the fabric of his mask. “Thank you for the birthday present, Kakashi.” In an afterthought, she added, “sensei.”
He didn’t bother to correct her. It must have been another reminder.