Chapter Text
As I opened my eyes, blinked, narrowed them, blinked again, squinted, blinked again…the first thing I thought to myself was ‘oh no.’
Oh no nonononono. I closed them, willing it to please for god’s fucking sake, not be real.
“This isn’t happening.”
The first thing I saw was—a mirror, showing a beautiful, pretty boy face with a single beauty mark. And gray spiky hair, wild and untamed. Right below that…
One regular eye, and another, scarred and red and if I remembered correctly, not mine.
Not this body’s.
Kakashi Hatake’s, to be exact. I had become Kakashi Hatake.
It was supposed to be a joke, dammit. I went to sleep joking to myself “hey what if I turned into Kakashi Hatake hahaha”, and lo and behold.
I became fucking Kakashi Hatake.
You know what? Might as well just...get right on it. Fuck the bullshit in the metaphorical anal wall and skip the existential angst and awkwardness.
I’m going to be OP. I’m going to do…things. Great, grand things that would make Minato proud. (And that was weird, that I had all this body’s memories—including, for some reason, a near eidetic memory about every line I’ve ever read from Jiraiya’s eroticas.
None of them were gay. Shame. And it’s actually kind of boring. Some part of Kakashi is squirming at my more refined tastes, and good, it SHOULD.
Pathetic, Jiraiya. I could do better. It’s a pity he has to be hot and yet be such an amateur like that. Actually, I should write a poorly-disguised Boys Love novel based on Jiraiya and Orochimaru. That should get the old man’s attention.)
…I might be going insane. Whatever. Anyway.
“Kamui,” I muttered with all the exhaustion in the world.
The Mangekyo Sharingan obliged with ease, and from even that I could already feel it greedily slurping up an energy from my body like a milkshake.
“Okay. Nope. Stop that. We’re doing a Kamui Blues and I’m going to learn how to use my Kamui efficiently and say fuck you to every convention and lazy thing this shitass body has ever done. I am going to LIVE and I am going to kick Madara Uchiha and Black Zetsu into a blackhole, and I am going to…”
I hummed, thinking to myself about all the things I should get to doing. Compartmentalization is great, especially against the memories of the squelch of Rin’s body being impaled through my sparking hands, and Obito being crushed to death.
Amongst other things. Huh. The Sharingan really fucking sucks.
Too bad for the Curse of Hatred and the damn thing’s propensity for retraumatizing everyone who wields it—I was already pretty fucking traumatized. I was a bisexual third-worlder, and on top of that, Catholic.
“Can’t make me break down at the wrong times, Naru-verse. Hah. Fuck you.”
It was time to write a list. Number one: keep appearances.
Hah. Lists. One of the most dangerous things in the Naruto world.
Everything should go smooth-sailing from here.
—
That was about a week ago. Everything did not go smoothly.
I was currently standing in front of the Konoha-Council-of-old-idiots-plus-Danzo. I couldn’t be bothered to remember their names, or pay too much attention to the conversation aside from the salient points, but the summonings I had been given were mainly regarding…
“You will be the jounin-sensei of Team 7.”
We’re in canon territory already? Oh come on. Thankfully, Kakashi’s body and mind came pre-loaded with the right sufficient training and habits…just kidding, they weren’t. That’d be too easy. Just the memories. I actually had to practice what to say and do, and happily they didn’t seem to take long silences badly whenever I had to think over my answer.
Aside from Danzo. Danzo looked at me like I was the scum of the Earth.
I smiled politely at him with my eyes as I walked out of the meeting room. Blegh. Blech. Bleugh.
Fucking creepy old men with genocidal tendencies. Murdering asshole and his brainwashed children.
What a fucking monster. I’m definitely feeding his body to Kurama.
After I have Sasuke take back all the Sharingan and rip his head off, of course.
After shunshining my way to the Memorial Stone (mostly for appearances), I looked up at the sky and exhaled.
Hm. Would it be weird if I put my face against the Stone for this? Yeah, probably. So instead I pulled out my notebook (titled “Naruto Analysis (and a list) for the Future”) and flipped over to the page where I pasted a picture of Obito that I stole from the Uchiha District a few nights ago when Sasuke wasn’t staring at old houses for hours.
…I should really deal with that at some point. Therapy is needed. That’s number two on the list, though also technically three…
“Mah, Obito. We’re really in it now.”
I put my forehead against the picture of Obito and heave another deep, deep sigh. Yeah.
The parts of me that were still Kakashi were finding this really stress-relieving.
Team 7. Team Disaster, more like. I had my plans, my list, my outline, my inexplicable-sudden-easy-mastery-of-Kamui…which was a lie. It took me an entire day, which was exhausting, as prodigious as it was. I don’t want to put too much effort into anything.
And Team 7 was going to need all the effort. Sigh. They better be as funny and cute as they are in the anime. If they’re just balls of angst I think I’m going to cry. Otherwise, Mokuton Sakura might take years.
… would she appreciate learning the Mokuton? If it’s even possible outside of wish-fulfillment fanfiction? I better not get her hopes up. I should try bullshitting my way into Mokuton myself first. I’ll get some notes from Yamato.
As I pull my head away from the notebook, I catch something in the corner of my eye. I turn my head.
Obito is right there . Without his mask. Staring right at me, from the bushes.
Well. Well. Well. That was. Easy? Huh. Well. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell.
Okay, what the fuck?
“Hm.”
Our eyes meet. For a second, we say nothing. Then suddenly the man has a weird aneurysm on his face and—
“DOUG.”
Whu?
A shitty dog plushie suddenly nails me in the face. I almost Kamui’d it, but my hitai-ate was pulled down and god fucking dammit I’m still getting used to this body. It falls down to the forest floor. I look back up, and Obito is gone.
I get a gut feeling, so I look back down, and a hand has explicitly shot up from the ground to nab the plushie into non-existence.
…
I process this. Yeah. That was weird.
Mentally, I pull out one of my many back-up plans and in-case-of-X ideas I memorized thanks to the Sharingan.
Hmm…hmmm…yeah, this one should be good.
“I think I’m starting to see Obito outside of my dreams, Rin,” I say outloud to thin air.
Nothing. Phase two. I pretend to blush and cover my face.
“Rin, shut up. I don’t want to—they’re not wet dreams, Rin, that was only one t—”
Predictably, something falls out of a tree nearby. Regaining my composure, I pull my hitai-ate up and shunshin… there—
Dammit, I’m too late. Nothing but track marks and a cartoonish imprint that looks like someone fell straight into the grass flailing. I scratch the back of my head.
“Huh.”
Was Obito this hilariously inept in canon?