the whole world blind

by Anonymous

Summary:

Operation Guard Dog was when an ANBU changed places with the asset to provide the asset with an additional layer of identity security. It was rarely used because it required that the asset be skilled enough to pass off as ANBU and the need to protect their identity outweigh the dangers of masquerading as ANBU.

It was fortunate that Minato-sensei had insisted on wearing the ANBU uniform, Kakashi thought to himself.

AU where BNHA adults meet ANBU Kakashi and are appropriately appalled.

Notes:

The title is from the saying that an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.

Chapter 1

There were five of them.

"Identify yourselves," Aizawa ordered, tightening his grip on his capture weapon as he took in the scene before him.

Two of the strangers were crouched over an obviously injured third, while the remaining two flanked them on either side. The one standing closest to Aizawa took a step forward, palms raised and open in a gesture of peace. "We mean no harm," they said calmly. "We only seek medical assistance."

Their voice was steady, their posture relaxed, but Aizawa wasn’t fooled. The person closest to him was already facing Aizawa when the hero had stepped into the clearing—they knew he was coming.

Black ops? Mercenaries? Aizawa's mind raced. The lack of unit patches or any identifying marks to mark affiliation was ominous against the matching black gear and grey armor. And then there were the masks—bone-white, streaked with blood-red. Aizawa had never seen or heard of a group, legal or otherwise, that wore such distinctive masks.

“Identify yourselves,” Aizawa repeated, harsher this time.

"I'm Viper," the man on his left said, pointing to his team member standing opposite him. "That’s Ox, she has a shoulder injury. Turtle is taking care of Lion, and the one without a mask is Kakashi-sama." He gestured to each in turn. "We’re an ANBU team hired to escort Kakashi-sama through the Fire Nation. We were ambushed by enemy shinobi, and fled using a faulty seal, but I suspect we are in a different dimension, far from home. We mean no harm. We just wish to tend to our injured, and then make our way back.”

It was worse because of how sincere the stranger sounded.

Shinobi - Aizawa bit back his first response. Faulty SEAL? He bit back his second response. He finally landed on: "A different dimension?"

"We don't recognize half of the flora to be from any of the five nations. And we would know, trust me," Viper half-shrugged. "Seeing you made it a lot more obvious though. You're clearly trained for some level of combat but ..." This time Viper actually shrugged and seesawed his hand in what was apparently the trans-dimensional gesture for meh.

That was Thursday.

——

"How is it still Thursday," Aizawa demanded.

"If that's how you feel already, you're definitely going to need this," Detective Tsukauchi set a steaming cup of coffee down in front of him. "I've got good news and bad news."

Aizawa, still massaging his temples, waved at the detective to continue.

"The good news is that our travelers are likely telling the truth about dimension travel. They come from a world without quirks but the two named Viper and Ox are sane and logical albeit with gaps of knowledge that are consistent with their claims. They also passed the reality check questions but failed the time check questions. They know flowers, cups and books... but don't recognize cars, cellphones and computers. Whatever world they're from, it's a pre-industrial society. Also, Chiyo-san has reported that their physiology is close to human but... not quite. She couldn't describe it any other way."

Aizawa blinked at him. “We have aliens from another dimension, and this is good news?"

"They're just as keen to return to their world as we are to get them out,” Tsukauchi replied. “They can’t because of the injured one - Lion. He was the one who did the actual dimension jumping which is part of the reason why he’s comatose. Suzuki-san from Central Hospital tells me he is in critical condition but the hospital staff is working closely with their medic Turtle. Despite the differences in our physiology, our technology has been effective in stabilizing him. Turtle is currently waiting to re-establish communication with Viper and Ox to determine a long term treatment plan. I just finished questioning them.”

Aizawa read between the lines: They had leverage against these unknowns. As long as Central Hospital provided medical support for Lion, the dimension hopping aliens would likely remain cooperate.They had already surrended their weapons and were submitting to the interrogations that HPSC had demanded.

"So what’s the bad news?"

Tsukuauchi hesitated. "I read your report. You mentioned that they identified as an anbu team."

"Yes," Aizawa took a sip of his coffee. Double-shot cafe latte. The detective remembered his favorite. "Black(暗) ops(部). An(暗) bu(部)."

Tsukauchi tapped the manila folders he had against his leg in thought. "Yes, but not quite. It's an abbreviation. For an(暗)satsu senjutsu tokushu bu(部)tai."

The hero spat out his coffee. "They're an assassination and tactical team?"

"Yes. Kakashi-kun is someone much more important than they let on if someone hired an entire assassination team to keep him safe. He's the last interview I have left," Tsukauchi sighed. “Let’s see if I can figure out why.”

——

The boy who appeared with a team of professional assassins for protection was exactly as described in the report: silver-haired, scrawny, and dressed in matching black tactical gear. Probably a teenager, somewhere between fifteen and eighteen, Aizawa had written. Tsukauchi wasn’t sure how the hero had pinpointed the boy’s age, especially given that only a quarter of his face was visible between his headband and mask.

"Hello, Kakashi-kun. I’m Detective Tsukauchi." Tsukauchi closed the door behind him carefully, his eyes never leaving the boy. "I’ll be asking you a few questions today."

Kakashi’s gaze flicked to the door as it closed, before it turned back to the detective, sizing him up in silence.There was no other reaction as Tsukauchi sat down across from him.

And that was the other thing noted in Aizawa’s report—how eerily still the kid was. It wasn’t just that he was quiet; it was the absolute lack of movement, the perfect stillness in his posture. It was unnatural, and unnerving.

“I want to start by assuring you that you aren’t in trouble. We just need to confirm a few things.”

"You spoke to my team already?"

Almighty, he sounded young.

Tsukauchi pushed that troubling thought aside to take mental note of what the boy said: My team. There was a sense of responsibility there

"Yes, with both of them. And that's why I'm going to offer you the same courtesy by warning you beforehand that my quirk is detecting lies. I ask you speak the truth, and this will be over faster for both or us."

Most people, intimidated by the prospect of talking to a human lie detector, clammed up at that point in Tsukauchi’s experience. Not Kakashi.

“Two truths and a lie,” Kakashi said. “Tell me which is which. I graduated the Academy when I was five. My clan hails from Iron. Viper’s favorite drink is beer.”

“Uhh...” Tsukauchi blinked, struggling to process. "That... was two lies and only one truth."

His quirk was clear: truth, lie, lie. That was one truth and two lies. Yet Kakashi's previous declaration had also registered as truth.

"Interesting,” Kakashi remarked, his single exposed dark eye gleaming with something that might have been curiosity—or calculation. “So you can tell whether a statement about my knowledge of another person's subjective preferences is true or false.

"Clearly your ... 'quirk' is based on the speaker's knowledge and intentions rather than reality. That makes more sense—if it were the latter, and your quirk was based on objective truth, you wouldn't have to interrogate me at all and could just ask anyone else your questions instead," Kakashi sat back in his chair with his arms crossed across his stomach. "Judging by your shock, my original statement did ring as true, which it should have. I meant to give you two truths and a lie but I changed my mind.”

A beat of silence hung in the air. Kakashi studied him, head tilted like a hunting dog.

"I see why you're in investigations rather that counter-terrorism or other preventive work. Your ability has obvious weaknesses if you aren't asking fact based questions."

Tsukauchi’s mouth went dry. He had to stop himself from gaping. Kakashi’s points were all correct. The detective’s quirk—while incredibly useful—could be tricked though it wasn't actually as simple as 'changing your mind.' That was why Tsukauchi typically told people his quirk before starting questioning.

To fool his quirk, you had to believe what you were saying, like you believed the sky is blue and the fall of gravity, the way you knew your own name: beyond every fiber of your being and without a hint of doubt.

It took HPSC agents weeks if not months of anti-interrogation training before they ever succeeded, and much longer to be able to consistently fool the Lie Detector quirk.

But here was Kakashi, after barely five minutes, not only understanding the limits of Tsukauchi’s quirk but exploiting it with the ease of someone who had been doing it for years. Tsukauchi's mind raced. What the fuck.

——

Still, as if satisfied of showing that he could defeat the Lie Detector Quirk, Kakashi was willing to answer Tsukauchi’s questions, and his story aligned with what Viper and Ox had said: they were traveling through enemy territory when they were ambushed by enemy shinobi. In the chaos, Lion had used a seal meant to translocate them to a safe haven. But something had gone wrong. Instead of finding safety, they ended up in the Beast’s Forest.

The details matched too perfectly. Tsukauchi couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something off about the entire account. The story was too rehearsed, too smooth. Every detail seemed intentionally vague, just enough to be plausible, but not enough to feel entirely genuine. But they were telling the truth about being from a different dimension. What other truth could there be that was so valuable they needed to hide? 

What bothered Tsukauchi most, however, was the strange aggression that Kakashi casually displayed. Viper and Ox had been cooperative, almost overly deferential in their responses.

In contrast, Kakashi’s answers were calm, controlled with an edge to them. A quiet confidence that bordered on arrogance. It wasn’t the sort of bravado that came with youth. This was something more. Something calculated. Tsukauchi knew it well—he’d seen it before and it made Tsukauchi uneasy to see such anti-interrogation skills in a child. Was Kakashi really just a client with hired protection—or was there something more that was going on?

“Tell me about your team,” Tsukauchi tried.

Without missing a beat, Kakashi replied, “Revealing the identity of ANBU is tantamount to treason and punished by execution.”

The detective paused. That response was nearly identical, word-for-word, to what Viper and Ox had said. It heavily implied that Kakashi knew the identities of his team members but was refusing to share them and if the punishment for revealingthe identity of ANBU  was execution, then Tsukauchi was certain the identities themselves were fiercely guarded. A mere client—even a repeat VIP— shouldn’t be privy to such information. Kakashi was clearly hiding something.

"How long have you known Viper?”

Kakashi blinked, as though surprised by the shift in the conversation. "A couple of years, at least."

"Ox?"

"I met her later than Viper. The following winter."

"Turtle?"

"This is my first time working with him."

"Lion?"

"A decently long time. His teacher was friends with my father."

And there was the briefest pause on that last word. For the first time, Tsukauchi saw something flicker briefly in the boy's face.

Tsukauchi tapped his pen against his clipboard. If Kakashi had a preexisting personal relationship with one member of his guard, it made more sense that Kakashi personally knew the others. But Tsukauchi's gut was telling him there was something more.

"How much longer?" Tsukauchi pressed, watching Kakashi closely. “With Lion, I mean. How long have you known him?"

“…Tell me, Tsukauchi-san," Kakashi’s single eye curved into a smile. It was the most insincere smile Tsukauchi had ever seen, and he dealt with politicians on a weekly basis. "Will I ever get a chance to talk Aizawa-san or will he just continue to watch us like a pervert?"

——

It took every ounce of restraint for Tsukauchi not to react outwardly to that. Kakashi was obviously changing the subject and the attempt was blunt but effective because Aizawa was behind the one-way mirror, observing the proceedings from the other side. As a teacher at UA High School, Aizawa had been designated as the neutral third party and acting guardian of Kakashi, who was clearly a minor, to oversee the interview and advocate for Kakashi’s well-being.

But how did Kakashi know? Tsukauchi hadn’t expected someone from a supposedly pre-industrial society, someone with so little exposure to modern law enforcement, to recognize the setup. Even if Kakashi did recognize it, why would he expect Aizawa—who, Kakashi wouldn’t have seen since Kakashi was transferred into police custody hours ago—would be watching him now?

Unless Kakashi somehow really knew Aizawa was there. Could he see through the window? Somehow hear through the walls?

Tsukauchi ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his pen tapping against the desk in an absent rhythm, synchronized with the unnerving sound of something dripping in the silence.

He glanced over at Kakashi, whose water bottle sat untouched on the table, its seal still intact. Tsukauchi’s own bottle was already empty. He shifted in his seat, absently adjusting his tie as his gaze drifted downward. Perhaps a discarded bottle from a previous interrogation had rolled under the table. But as his eyes moved lower, his stomach dropped.

"You're bleeding," Tsukauchi said with horror.

Blood was dripping steadily from Kakashi, each drop falling with a soft, sickening plink as it hit the floor. The crimson liquid had already pooled around the legs of the chair, darkening the floor in an ominous spread.

Tsukauchi jumped to his feet, not noticing his chair clattering loudly to the floor in the sudden movement. "Kakashi-kun, you were injured?"

For the first time since the detective entered the room, Kakashi looked surprised. He was still leaning back against his chair with his arms crossed, holding himself stiffly - and now that Tsukauchi was looking, he saw underneath the calm, pain. "I thought you knew.”

“Why would I—there wasn’t anything in the file,” Tsukauchi replied, his voice quick with frustration. He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He should’ve known.  Kakashi’s injuries weren’t just some minor scrape or bruise. They were serious, and Tsukauchi had missed them.

Now that he was closer, he could see the clamminess of Kakashi’s skin, the way his pale complexion had taken on a sickly hue. Tsukauchi swore under his breath. “You’re burning up,” he muttered, reaching out instinctively, his hand hovering just above Kakashi’s arm. “You need to go to the hospital, now.”

“No.” Kakashi’s voice was sharp as he knocked Tsukauchi’s hand away. “Lion and Ox’s injuries are extensive. They need to be the priority. I can continue with the interrogation.”

Tsukauchi stared at him for a moment, not understanding.

“We’re not— you’re not —” Tsukauchi’s words caught in his throat. He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, struggling to rein in his growing frustration. “Kakashi-kun, this isn’t an interrogation. The medical treatment isn’t conditional on your answers. You need care. ”

Kakashi’s expression hardened in response, the faintest flicker of defiance behind his eye. Kakashi shifted his gaze, deliberately glancing toward the one-way mirror across the room—the mirror that allowed Aizawa to observe the questioning. Tsukauchi followed the boy’s gaze, suddenly understanding what Kakashi was implying.

“I can continue with the questions,” Kakashi said flatly, his tone leaving little room for argument

——

Something ugly that had been slowly unfurling in Aizawa’s chest throughout the proceedings finally reared its head. It was a gnawing discomfort, a creeping sense of wrongness that only grew as the minutes ticked by. He didn’t like what he was seeing—Kakashi’ extreme compliance, the almost unnatural calm in his demeanor as though he’d been conditioned to deal with similar situations like this, his surprise and suspicion when he was offered water. That Kakashi hid his own injuries under a misguided belief that medical aid was being rationed.

Kakashi clearly had expected to be interrogated, if not outright tortured. 

And Aizawa knew the HPSC would happily exploit that misunderstanding for more intelligence but Aizawa was not going to watch an injured child barter information for their life.

"No," he said, pressing down on the speakerphone so the detective could hear him. He had no doubt the detective would agree with him but it sounded like Kakashi believed Aizawa was calling the shots and the hero would use that. “We're done for today. Kakashi-kun needs immediate medical attention,” For Kakashi’s benefit, he adds, “Tsukauchi-san, I will consider any further attempts to continue as torture and a serious violation of human rights. This interview is over; please take Kakashi-kun to the hospital immediately."

——

It turned out that Kakashi had three broken ribs, a grade 2 concussion, a stab wound in his gut, and so many cuts and bruises. It was hard to tell where one injury ended and another began

He might be sick, Tsukauchi thought to himself as he watched Kakashi settle down on the exam table. The detective had only seen children with injuries like this in domesitic violence cases.

“Who did this?” Tsukauchi asked flatly.

Kakashi had shedded out of the tactical vest but he still wore his mask and headband, which somehow made him look even younger. It was a stark contrast to the hard-eyed, composed person he had been just minutes ago. The boy shrugged nonchalant. “People who want me dead.”

Kakashi rested his chin on a propped up palm, seemingly not noticing the pressure it placed on his new stitches.

"My father was a prominent figure in the last war,” Kakashi continued, his voice as detached as ever, but Tsukauchi could hear the faint undercurrent of something deeper, darker, behind the words. “He’s dead now. But there are still people who would like a shot at revenge.”

The words hit Tsukauchi harder than he expected. He couldn’t understand Kakashi’s casual acceptance of the idea of a child being punished for the actions of his father. 

“I have nations willing to pay handsomely for my head. Some want the rest of me attached to it and breathing. Others...” Kakashi shrugged again. “Just the head is enough.”

The boy wasn’t just talking about threats. He was talking about bounty hunting. About assassination. And Tsukauchi’s quirk told him it was the truth.

When Tsukauchi’s phone rang, the detective was almost glad for an excuse to step out. He needed space and time to think.

There was no reason not to believe Kakashi - no reason for the boy to lie about this.

The problem in all of this was, Tsukauchi realized, the boy’s unnerving stillness wasn't the nervous silence of the hunted. It was the quiet patience of a hunter, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

 

Notes:

Apologies for any errors - this is just a fun one I’m writing after finishing a heavier series (i’m drowning (you’re dreaming)) so I can write an outsider POV of Kakashi and Kakashi say a lot of tragic things out of context that are still true. My BNHA knowledge is actually pretty limited.

 

Comments and kudos are ❤️

Chapter 2

“Why did you let Kakashi-kun refuse pain killers.”

It was less a question, and more an accusation from Tsukauchi. Aizawa took a moment to process it, before slowly, deliberately, closing the door to Kakashi’s hospital room. The quiet beep of medical equipment was the only sound in the hallway. Kakashi’s fever had broken and the kid was finally asleep.

“He was getting stitches,” The detective continued. “You’re his designated guardian - you could have talked to Dr. Hayashi.”

The doctor had said that the delay in treatment had likely caused an infection to set. Tsukauchi clearly blamed himself for not noticing Kakashi’s condition sooner and Aizawa understood the weight of that kind of guilt all too well. It was going to  be hard to stomach, especially for someone who prided themselves on protecting others.

Particularly because the sheer brutality of Kakashi’s condition was a different matter altogether. The UA teacher was no stranger of seeing young people like his students get hurt in the field but this felt something closer to from a war zone. A stab wound from a serrated knife, one that had been twisted mercilessly after it was plunged in. A concussion, bruises, cuts, and multiple bone fractures in various stages of healing.

Then there was the rest of the team. Ox, with her left shoulder which was likely to never regain full mobility again. Viper, with a second-degree burn on his right arm and leg that would leave a permanent scar. Lion, physically uninjured but in the alien-equivalent of a coma.

These weren’t the kinds of wounds that could be fixed with a few days of rest. These were the injuries of people who lived a life where nothing was certain. Where survival was a gamble, and the stakes were always high.

It was the weight of that understanding that led Aizawa to finally speak, his voice quiet but firm. “Tsukauchi-san, Kakashi is old enough for his medical decisions to be respected. Refusing painkillers was no doubt unwise, but I’m a stranger to him—we all are. Putting aside whether or not he’d even listen to me if I stepped in, I’m not pulling that card and forcing something unless I absolutely have to.”

——

Tsukauchi squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the urge to snap.

Aizawa was right, even if it didn’t make the situation any easier to swallow. Kakashi was already hostile. Forcing medication on the kid, who was likely refusing it out of suspicion, would only make him more distrustful. Worse, no one couldn’t predict how Kakashi’s protection detail, oddly compliant so far, would react.

It wasn’t about the medication at all, Tsukauchi knew deep down. It was his own guilt, weighing him down, making him wish he could fix something, anything.

With a deep sigh, Tsukauchi rubbed his temples, trying to massage away the tension that had built up in his neck as the exhaustion of the past day suddenly hit him.

He was being unfair to Aizawa. The hero had maintained his usual stoic composure through it all, but Tsukauchi knew Aizawa had been working nonstop all week to track down Scrabble, a new villain who’d been using his quirk to swap objects and commit petty thefts. Now, Aizawa had spent the entire day juggling the demands of local authorities and HPSC, who were itching to take control of Kakashi’s case and understand the so-called chakra power that these strangers held. The dark circles under his eyes were even deeper than usual.

“Go home,” Tsukauchi said in leiu of an apology. “The kid’s stable for now so let me take over for the night. I’ve got paperwork that’ll take a while to go through anyway. I can handle one night while you get some proper sleep.”

Aizawa hesitated, his gaze flicking to Kakashi's room, then back to Tsukauchi. He looked like he wanted to argue, to insist on staying, but knew better. The man was a veteran who recognized his own limits.

“Fine. But only for a few hours," Aizawa muttered, the rough edge of his voice softening under the weight of fatigue. "I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

——

Tsukauchi settled in for the night, dragging a second chair closer and propping his feet up, the weight of the day still lingering in his bones. He flipped through the case file for a potential murder, his eyes scanning the details with a kind of mechanical familiarity. He sat in the corner of the hospital room, the faint beeping of medical equipment the only sound accompanying him, though his attention was divided—occasionally flicking over to Kakashi, who was sound asleep in the bed across the room. The boy’s breathing was steady, making soft snuffling sounds that seemed almost peaceful.

The night outside was bright, a harsh moon casting a sickly glow across the darkened room. The heat of the summer night seeped through the open windows, the sticky air making it difficult to think straight. Tsukauchi glanced over at the window, the light from outside too sharp, too intrusive. With a sigh, he got up to close it, one hand on the window frame as he began to slide it shut.

It was then that he heard a rustle behind him. A soft sound, but out of place in the otherwise still room.

Tsukauchi twisted instinctively, and stared straight into something bright and startlingly red: pinwheels, lazily spinning—

——

Tsukauchi blinked. He was… looking at paperwork, he remembered, the weight of the case files heavy in his lap. Kakashi was still sound asleep.

Still? Tsukauchi frowned, feeling out that thought in his head.

The night outside was cloudy, casting the room in darkness. The heat of the summer night had cooled off a bit, but the sound of cicades carried through open windows, the trilling making it difficult to think straight. Tsukauchi glanced over at the window. With a sigh, he got up and closed it, one hand on the window frame as he slid it shut.

He paused again. He thought he had…

Tsukauchi shook his head and went back to work.

——

Aizawa, in fresh clothes, fueled by real sleep in his own bed, sat in the corner of Kakashi’s hospital room, the sterile scent of antiseptic heavy in the air.

He was glad he took up Tsukauchi on his offer. It gave him new found strength to study the eerie sight before him: two masked figures stood unmoving on either side of Kakashi’s bed, like sentinels, a stark contrast to the chaos that had brought them here.

“Physically, Lion has only minor cuts and scratches, but his chakra system is a mess right now,” Turtle was reporting. “He is suffering extreme chakra exhaustion, and more than half his tenketsu points are damaged from overuse, making his entire system unbalanced.”

“And an unbalanced system is inefficient,” Kakashi nodded once, apparently seeing where Turtle was going, “Which is why he was losing chakra despite all the transfusions.”

“Yes, he’s essentially a leaking bucket right now. His rate of chakra loss has finally slowed down today, but he’s not back to baseline yet,” Turtle explained. “If we can get him there, his own chakra system will stabilize, and it’ll start healing itself. Once that happens, he’ll hopefully regain consciousness.”

“Hopefully? ” Kakashi’s tone was skeptical, the hint of a frown forming as he glanced at Turtle, trying to gauge the medic’s certainty.

Turtle’s bone-white mask betrayed nothing. With a practiced clinical detachment, Turtle replied, “If the damage was severe enough, it might take longer. The only thing I can say for sure is that we’ve made progress. The path to recovery is never linear.”

Aizawa had spoken to medical professionals enough to recognize the underlying message in Turtle's words. They hadn’t stopped the damage; they’d merely slowed it down long enough to try for actual treatment.

Kakashi nodded, taking the news with impressive calm. “What do you need from me?”

“Lion needs as many chakra infusions as we can give him, as often as possible. The problem is, there's a limit to how much I can provide, and the people here have no chakra to speak of,” Turtle hesitated. “If Ox and Viper can be spared…”

Kakashi exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Understood,” he said, turning his attention to Ox. “Lion is our ticket back home and that makes him the highest priority. Ox, take turns with Viper to watch over him and support Turtle as instructed.”

Ox straightened, stepping forward in immediate response to the order but there was hesitation in her voice when she spoke. “Kakashi-sama,” she said, her gaze flicking briefly toward Aizawa, “Surely, one of us should be with you. This situation is delicate, and given your injuries—”

Kakashi waved the concern away. “Our hosts have arranged for Aizawa-san to watch over me. Dismissed.”

His tone was sharp, but there was an undercurrent of finality in it that left no room for further argument. The white-and-red masks concealed the agents' faces, but Aizawa could almost see unhappiness radiating from Ox.

After Turtle and Ox departed, Aizawa let the silence stretch for a respectful moment before he broke it.

“You're allowed to have your guard with you, if you want to," he said, leaning back in his chair. His arms were crossed, his gaze unwavering as it settled on Kakashi. "Your case is unusual so you have me instead of a social worker, but I’m not trying to keep you separated from your team."

Kakashi looked at Aizawa for a long moment, before asking. “What use am I to you if Ox or Viper are with me?”

Aizawa blinked, unsure if he was truly hearing what he thought he was hearing. "I’m not—you're not a hostage, kid.”

Kakashi's expression turned unreadable. The soft light of the afternoon sun bathed the room in a muted, golden hue, but it didn’t seem to reach him. He tilted his head ever so slightly, as if weighing Aizawa’s response before offering his own.

“The most effective way to secure compliance from high-risk, unknown threats is to take what they value most as leverage. As long as I’m under your control, my team will cooperate. You don’t need to pretend you’re here for my benefit, Aizawa-san.”

There it was again— that unnatural calm Aizawa had seen during the interview with Tsukauchi. 

“You really think that’s what I’m doing right now?” Aizawa asked, his voice coming out sharper than he intended. He was trying to understand, to bridge the gap between his intentions and Kakashi’s perspective. But the more he considered Kakashi’s words, the more they felt utterly alien. “Watching you like a jailor to make sure your team stays in line?”

Kakashi stared at him. “That’s what I would do if our roles were reversed. If I, for some reason, had to keep the incredibly suspicious unknowns alive.”

Aizawa felt the weight of Kakashi’s words drop into the room like a stone sinking into water, the ripples expanding out of his grasp.

There was no panic or fear in Kakashi’s open eye—just cold, calculated logic. And underlying it, the calm belief that if anyone could hurt him, they would.

——

The first time Aizawa saw Kakashi’s left eye was after Kakashi was rushed to Central Hospital from the police station. The kid’s headband had been removed along with his most of his other clothes for the doctors, trying to control the fever, to place ice packs over his body.

Hidden under the headband was a deep, jagged scar that bisected Kakashi’s face, badly healed and looking like it hadn’t been treated properly—if at all. It was a wound that no eye could survive.

But, as if feeling Aizawa’s gaze on him, Kakashi had stirred, both eyes flickering open, and Aizawa had frozen.

The eye was unlike any Aizawa had ever seen—red, swirling, almost hypnotic. Beautiful, but inhuman. And, his instincts warned him, dangerous.

It was a gift from a friend, Kakashi, half delirious, had said like a challenge. To win the war, he added, like an afterthought.

Aizawa had stared at the scar, and the mismatched eyes, at the stitches, old and new scars, and yellow and purple bruises littered across Kakashi’s body. Imagined his students’ faces staring back, wearing such casual marks of violence like they knew nothing else.

“You didn’t deserve that,” Aizawa had said, his words heavy with grief.

——

What Aizawa had meant was this: your world failed you. For a child to be forced into war, to be made to carry a dead friend’s eye in their head, all for the sake of being a better weapon, that was a world that deserved to burn.

What the hero had meant but didn’t say because it was so painfully obvious to him was this: you didn’t deserve that because you deserved better.

And therein lay the crux of the problem. The gap between their experiences, the divide in their understanding of the world, was too great. The difference between a world where children grew up dreaming of heroes, and a world where children were made to be soldiers was not one easily bridged.

There was no way for Aizawa to know that Kakashi hadn’t thought of himself as a child since he was five, or that he believed himself responsible to finish the war his father started or die trying.

It would never occur to the man that he could say you didn’t deserve that and Kakashi, who had to fight to keep the sharingan from getting ripped out of him by the Uchiha, would hear: you were weak, you’re worthless, you don’t deserve it.

——

There was simply no way for Aizawa to know, so when Kakashi laughed and said I know, he let it go. 

 

Notes:

I swear this was supposed to be lighthearted.

Comments and kudos aee ❤️

Chapter 3: Interlude

Notes:

Here is Kakashi’s perspective of things since he arrived.

Kakashi snapped awake with a kunai in his hand and a name on his mind that he knew better than to say outloud: Minato-sensei.

His teacher lay crumpled beside him at the center of the shattered ground, where Hiraishin had no doubt dropped them all. The sight of his teacher so still was a heart-clenching sight but Kakashi’s training took over. He found Minato's pulse frighteningly weak but there and turned to the other shinobi who Minato, even unconscious and dying, hadn’t let go.  

"Turtle!" Kakashi shook the medic-nin by the shoulder. When he failed to respond, Kakashi swept a glance around, pulled the turtle mask up and delivered a sharp slap across his cheek. "Turtle! Lion is down."

To his credit, that was all it took to snap the Hyuuga into action. While Turtle began assessing Minato’s condition and administering first aid, Kakashi turned to his remaining two teammates. Thankfully, both had already awakened and were in the state of instant readiness that all veteran ANBU seemed to acquire.

“Status,” Kakashi barked.

“Minor concussion, moderate burns to the right arm and leg, but nothing that’ll hinder seal work,” Viper reported. “Thirty-five percent chakra.”

“A level one stab wound to the hip, a level five to the shoulder, forty percent chakra,” Ox rattled off, her tone as unfazed as ever.

The ANBU scale, ranging from one to five instead of Konoha’s standard one to ten, was used to measure pain levels as a proxy for injury severity in the field. A level five on the ANBU scale was considered to be equivalent to a twelve on Konoha’s.

Kakashi’s gaze flicked to Ox’s shoulder, where the bleeding had slowed but if the rot set in, she would deteriorate quickly. He could see the effort it took for Ox to stay composed, her jaw clenched and eyes sharp despite the pain.

"A sprained ankle, level three stab wound, four, maybe five broken ribs, and seventeen percent chakra for me." Kakashi paused, weighing the options. Protocol dictated that Turtle prioritize Minato-sensei, but Ox was going to need medical attention soon if they wanted save her shoulder.

“Viper, scout the area. Sitrep in five," Kakashi ordered. Viper was gone before the last word left his mouth, a blur of motion. "Ox, stand guard and keep watch. Turtle, status?"

Turtle didn’t hesitate. "Minor cuts and bruises. Chakra’s at sixty percent." He wiped a streak of sweat from his brow. "For Lion... minor cuts and bruises, but his chakra system is in critical condition. We need to get his levels up, or his entire system will collapse. I'm stabilizing him for transport, but he’s going to need at least five full chakra infusions."

Five chakra infusions. Kakashi ignored the sharp intake of breath from Ox. It meant Minato’s chakra was less than ten percent, the threshold for organ failure. People usually couldn’t walk with less than fifteen percent, and most were unconscious by ten.

They needed a hospital, now. But as Kakashi scanned the surrounding area, dread crept into the pit of his stomach. The dense forest around them was unfamiliar and despite his extensive mission experience and vast knowledge of terrain across the continent, there was not a single plant or tree that he recognized.

Where in the five nations were they?

“Captain!” Viper dropped down into view. “An armed unknown incoming, eta twenty seconds!”

Fucking fantastic. Kakashi looked at his teacher who was dying, his teammate who was bleeding, and Turtle who would only be able to save one. They were somewhere Kakashi couldn’t recognize at all, far enough that it drained Minato’s vast chakra reserves, and half the team needed immediate medical attention.

Kakashi took a deep breath and made his decision. 

——

Operation Guard Dog was when an ANBU changed places with the asset to provide the asset with an additional layer of identity security. It was rarely used because it required that the asset be skilled enough to pass off as ANBU and the need to protect their identity outweigh the dangers of masquerading as ANBU.

It was fortunate that Minato-sensei had insisted on wearing the ANBU uniform, Kakashi thought to himself. Once Kakashi slipped his own mask onto Minato, he was free to take Minato's place, acting as though he were the one the ANBU team had been assigned to protect.

Kakashi was glad for the time it bought them—time to breathe, time to regroup, and most importantly, time to learn about this strange, foreign world. His clone, sent out to investigate the city, had returned with vivid memories of a place unlike anything he had ever known.

The first thing his clone recalled was standing at the edge of an incredibly high building, the city stretching out beneath him like a vast labyrinth of glass and steel. From that height, the world seemed peaceful, almost idyllic. The streets were busy, but there was no urgency, no signs of chaos. People walked side by side, exchanging casual greetings, smiling at strangers. Children waved from the safety of crosswalks as adults helped them across the road.

It was a society that was built around a different foundation—a foundation of cooperation, perhaps, or complacency. People lived their lives without fear of ambush, without the constant awareness of enemies lurking in the shadows, without the weight of political or social tension tearing at the edges of their lives. 

This was a world that looked at Kakashi and saw a child.

——

Their first night in this strange new dimension, his team finally reconvened in the dead of night, entering Kakashi’s room through the window, shielded by the cover of darkness and Kakashi’s sharingan. Ox kept watch over the Hokage, but Turtle wasted no time flipping through Kakashi’s medical chart.

“Captain, I see you’re refused painkillers twice,” At the medics’s tone, Viper, who was standing guard by the door, shifted on his feet as if to lean further away from Kakashi, earning a side glare. “Spare us the bravado and listen to the civillian medics. Their treatment of Lion so far has been trustworthy.”

Kakashi winced. “I didn’t want my senses dulled.”

“These people have as much chakra as a civillian child,” Turtle sounded dryer than sand. “I highly doubt you’re in grave danger from them by letting them take the edge off the pain. Better that you take the meds and stay awake than lose conscious from it again.”

Kakashi took the point and tilted his head back, briefly baring his neck - the informal ANBU salute to each other, not to be confused with the formal salute which was closing your fist in mimicry of the swirl ANBU tattoo in front of your heart, or the informal informal salute of tapping your own mask twice, an affectionate fuck you.

"Enjoying the babysitting?" Viper asked, glancing toward the detective slumped in the corner, still in the throes of the sharingan genjutsu. "Shock’s keeping things quiet for now, but once it wears off, they’ll start asking questions. We’ve already had one of the T&I types sniffing around about Lion and it won’t be long before someone asks why your protection detail is spending so much time protecting someone else.”

Kakashi’s frown deepened. "I’ll help Turtle establish he needs both you and Ox around for chakra infusions and that should be a good excuse for a while. No matter how friendly this world has been so far, we’re not leaving Lion unguarded.”

"It wouldn’t even be a lie that you can’t provide chakra infusions, Cap,” Viper piped up. “With how low your chakra always is, we’d probably just need another bed next to Lion if you tried.”

Kakashi didn’t have his own ANBU mask to tap twice so, like all skilled ANBU, he improvised—and flipped his teammate off instead.

——

The people here spoke of heros and villians as if right and wrong were absolute. The simplicity of it was baffling. There was no room for nuance, no understanding that sometimes the lines blurred. They had created a world of clear-cut roles, and the complexities of real life were left out of the equation. Kakashi couldn’t decide if they were naive, sheltered or just dumb.

Or, a small voice in his head wondered, maybe this is what peace looks like.

It wasn’t like Kakashi would know.

——

Quirks basically seemed to be kekkei genkai — if bloodline limits were random and couldn’t be inherited — but the people were weak. Heroes and villains alike adopted monikers that hinted at their quirks, sharing information about their abilities openly. It was a strange kind of arrogance, as if the mere possession of power made them invincible.

Which made it all the more interesting, when, on the second day of Kakashi’s stay in the hospital, barely five minutes after Aizawa had to step out for urgent business, someone else walked in.

It was a woman in slacks and a cardigan, with her hair up in a tight bun. Black hair, brown eyes, small stature with a gentle smile. She was utterly unremarkable and looked completely harmless—except that underneath the floral purfume and fruity shampoo, was the unmistakable stench of dried blood.

Ah, Kakashi thought, watching the woman walk in. One of the T&I types that Viper had mentioned.

“Kakashi-san, it’s a pleasure to finally get to meet you. My name is Suzuki Aiko,” The woman smiled. “I’m with the Hero Public Safety Commission.”

“Suzuki-san, thank you for the medical assistance the HPSC has provided, including Aizawa-san’s time,” Kakashi replied, his tone polite. “He was here just a minute ago but he had to step out unexpectedly.”

“Hero business, I assume,” Suzuki murmured, seeming pleased. Kakashi suspected Aizawa’s urgent departure and her sudden appearance weren’t coincidental. “Aizawa-san’s abilities are quite valuable and in frequent need. I’m glad to hear that you and your team are settling in well. I wanted to ask if you would be able to help me.”

Kakashi didn’t blink. “How so?”

“To speak plainly, we’re facing some pushback in treating your team at the hospital. Considering that Viper and the others arrived in our dimension heavily armed, proper prcedure is to have them in holding until their identities are verified,” Suzuki explained, sounding apologetic. “The unusual nature of the situation, along with the severity of their injuries, has obviously been taken into consideration but,” Suzuki paused. “The hospital’s resources are not infinite and I want to make sure Lion-san’s treatment isn’t deprioritized.”

An unexpected cold wave of dread washed over Kakashi, his pulse quickening. “What do you need?”

Suzuki smiled. “I understand that Viper-san is not as injured as the others.”

She wanted to take Viper. But for what? And how long?

His thoughts raced, and a knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach. He had been expecting this despite Aizawa’s insistence that Kakashi wasn’t a hostage—taking Viper would split them up further, placing their most capable member firmly under their control, while leaving Lion, Ox, and even Kakashi himself vulnerable. Lion’s treatment, their safety—everything could be used against Viper as a bargaining chip. “What do you want with Viper?”

“Nothing special. We would like to talk to him, learn more about your world, about chakra,” Suzuki smiled, seemingly oblivious to Kakashi’s growing panic. “It would all be purely academic, but I understand from Viper-san that you are his client and have final say.”

A cold sweat began to form on the back of Kakashi’s neck. The weight of her words seemed to press against him, and he felt his chest tightening, his heart pounding louder in his ears. 

Kakashi gritted his teeth, desperately trying to push the growing panic out of his head, trying to think clearly— but he couldn’t. His breath was coming quicker now, and the room felt smaller, suffocating.It was as though something had gripped his chest, squeezing harder with each passing second. His muscles were locking up, his limbs heavy and unresponsive. His body was betraying him, and he couldn’t understand why, why couldn’t he control himself—

It was her. 

Kakashi’s eyes narrowed, the realization piercing through the haze of artificial panic. The feeling of paralysis, the panic choking him—this had to be her doing. Her quirk had to be related to manipulating emotions, which would explain why she hadn’t batted an eye at Kakashi obviously working his way to a panic attack. She was probing for weaknesses, trying to push him into a corner where he couldn’t think straight to force Kakashi to agree with her and hand over Viper.

He could kill her.

But even before the thought fully formed, it was already being discarded. Minato-sensei still needed the medical attention, and the rest of the team was far from being out of danger. The last thing they could needed right now was to be hunted down, on the run, exposed in a foreign dimension.

The cost of a quick solution wasn’t worth it. Not now.

The alternative? He could offer up Viper like they clearly wanted but that would weaken Lion’s guard and delay his recovery. Ox was holding on so far by sheer force of will, but there was a limit to the chakra she could spare when she had to focus on her own healing.

Kakashi’s heart was racing, his vision swimming, but now that he recognized what was happening, it was easier to bear. He clenched his fists hard enough until he felt the sharp bloom of pain and blood. Focus.

Two breaths in, four breaths out. Kakashi dug deeper into himself, forcing himself to calm, to center. The panic, the dread, the suffocating weight pressing in on him—he didn’t fight it; instead, he gathered it up, rolled it into a tight ball, and found in his mind the spot to bury it: the overgrown patch of daffodils in the northern corner of the Hatake grounds, where his ninken used to hide his shoes when they thought they were being funny.

He buried it, and Suzuki, as if sensing his sudden calm, stiffened.

“You should have said so sooner, Suzuki-san. I can help out instead of Viper,” Kakashi said, his voice cheerful. “I’ve been bored here with nothing to do. When should we start?”

She stared at him for a heartbeat, a brief moment of uncertainty flashing in her eyes before it was replaced with cool professionalism.

“That sounds like a great idea,” she said smoothly. “I’ll speak to Aizawa-san and see to getting a schedule set up.”

“I look forward to it,” Kakashi smiled at the stranger who just tried threaten him and take his teammate, and reminded himself that the cost of a quick solution wasn’t worth it.

Not yet.

Notes:

Writing Kakashi with his team is fun - he’s much more relaxed.

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Chapter 4

When Aizawa found out what happened between Kakashi and Suzuki, he was furious.

“Kakashi-kun, she shouldn’t have talked to you without me present.”

Kakashi’s attention was glued to the iPad Tsukauchi had given him earlier that week. After Aizawa had walked him through the basics of the device, the kid had gotten hooked instantly and Aizawa was secretly delighted to learn that Kakashi was a bookworm who found the games boring, but could spend hours reading whatever information he could find online.

Now, though, Kakashi was using the device to avoid the conversation. Like a real teenager, Aizawa thought dryly. He recognized the irony.

The kid shrugged, continuing to scroll through an article titled Fifteen Cutest Dog Breeds! “It was when you got called away earlier today for some emergency in downtown. She just wanted to talk to me. I didn’t think it was such a big deal.”

“She used her quirk on you. How could this not be a big deal?”

“No, she tried to,” Kakashi corrected. “But I ignored it.”

Aizawa took a deep breath. Twice. “Setting aside how that’s even possible, it doesn’t change the fact that she used her quirk against you without your consent and without me present.  We have protocols for a reason because you have protections here. Even the HPSC doesn’t just get to waltz in and ignore all that. What she did was illegal.”

“That’s cute,” Kakashi muttered. He was zooming in on photos of breed number five: pugs. “Aizawa-san, it all worked out. Her quirk didn’t work on me, ergo, it doesn’t matter.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed, “If it didn’t work on you, why did I find you in the middle of a panic attack when I got back?”

Kakashi finally looked up, expression neutral, but his words were clipped. “It wasn’t a panic attack. It was a controlled response. I had to compartmentalize the artificial panic she planted in me during our meetimg so I was processing it after she left.”

That… was the most messed up thing he had heard Kakashi say yet.

"I’m sorry," Aizawa cleared his throat. "Did you just say you were processing panic as if it’s was something to check off your list?"

"Yes,” Kakashi said in a tone that suggested Aizawa was the one being slow. “That’s what compartmentalizing is. You visualize whatever you're feeling as a shape you can shrink. You find a place in your mind that’s hard to reach—whatever that means to you—and you put it there. It’s usually best to put it inside or under something, but you can get creative. Then you keep it there until you have the time and place to deal with it as appropriate or whenever it’s safe to do so.”

One, that was not how compartmentalizing worked. Two, he was trained to be this way Aizawa realized, recognizing the rote quality in Kakashi’s explanation. The teenager’s entire framework for dealing with pain, fear, or anxiety was to shove it all away, lock it up in a mental box, and forget about it until a later date and this conditioning so deeply ingrained that even a trigger as strong as Suzuki’s quirk was met with that reflexive response.

The hero forced himself to ask, "How-no, why did you learn to do that?"

The teen’s gaze flickered away at the question for what felt like an eternity before he looked back but with his grey eye closed, and his red eye open.

“This eye,” Kakashi said, sounding too tired for someone so young. “It feeds on my chakra, and I can’t turn it off, so it’s always there, itching, always nagging at the edge of my senses. It feels…” He trailed off, his words barely more than a breath. “Never mind, that’s not important. Point is, when I first got it, I kept trying to dig it out and of all the methods we tried, that was the only one that let me ignore the itch.”

Aizawa’s stomach churned. His hand instinctively clenched, but it didn’t help to steady the sick feeling twisting inside him.

“You... you tried to dig your eye out?” His voice cracked, his words almost choking him. Aizawa hoped he was misunderstanding. “You mean you actually tried to—"

“Only in my sleep,” Kakashi interjected quickly as if that made it better. “I could ignore it when I was awake. Sensei and his wife took turns keeping watch at night until I was able to ignore it in my sleep, too.”

“That’s… that’s…” Aizawa trailed off, his mind spinning in circles as he struggled to process what he was hearing. Horrifying? Insane? Neither word seemed even remotely adequate to describe the monstrosity of what Kakashi had endured. Was still enduring.

Because Kakashi was describing a constant sensation of violation and the solution hadn’t been to fix it, which would have been to remove the damn eye. No, the answer had been to train him to simply ignore it and pretend it didn’t exist.

“Why didn’t they remove the eye?” Aizawa demanded. His grip on his own composure was slipping. “Why didn’t anyone help you?”

“Sensei did help. The Uchiha—my friend’s family wanted it removed, but sensei fought them, and stopped them from taking it.”

The words hit Aizawa like a physical blow and the storm inside him finally erupted.

“Your teacher had you keep the eye?" Aizawa’s voice trembled with rising fury. "Against the wishes of the bereaved family? He made you live with it?"

For the first time, Kakashi's usual calm cracked, and something sharp flared in his eyes, “Sensei didn’t make me do anything. It was my choice—it was Obito and my choice."

Aizawa's chest tightened, a cold weight settling there. Kakashi’s defensiveness felt all too familiar, too close to something Aizawa had seen in the cases he’d rather forget. It reminded him of Kinoshita Hibiki, the runaway found drugged and trapped in a prostitution ring, adamant that her pimp boyfriend still loved her. Of Shibata Kouji, his face bruised and swollen but smiling because it was his fault, he was too loud, he woke daddy up.

Aizawa asked quietly. “How old were you?”

“What is with the obsession with age here-“

“Indulge me. Please, Kakashi,” Aizawa said tightly.

Kakashi’s eyes narrowed, studying Aizawa for a moment. He had placed the iPad down in his lap in response to Aizawa’s growing agitation and there was something wary in the way he held himself now. When Kakashi finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost reluctant, “I was eleven.”

Aizawa felt the world shift beneath him. The very foundation of everything he thought he knew about duty and protection crumbling in the face of this revelation.

Eleven years old when Kakashi had been made to choose whether to implant a parasite eye of a dead friend, all for a cause that Aizawa could barely comprehend let alone justify.

And the man who dared to call himself Kakashi’s teacher had allowed it. Had fought for it.

A dark wave of anger rose within the hero, threatening to consume him. But he forced it down, burying it beneath layers of control. There was no point in letting that rage take over—not here, not now. Not in front of Kakashi.

He had to stay focused. One thing at a time, starting with—

"Just because you can ignore things," Aizawa said slowly, "Doesn’t mean it goes away, Kakashi. Just because you can control it, doesn’t mean you’re okay. You have to learn to really face your feelings, not just weather them. No one can be in constant control forever, not even you. What happens then?”

Kakashi looked back at him with mismatched eyes, and Aizawa recognized the same detached calm he’d seen during the interrogation—eyes distant, expression neutral, the perfect mask.  The unnatural calm that Aizawa was starting to really hate.

“Then I die,” Kakashi said. “But as long as I don’t break on the field and take my team down with me, that’s okay.”

——

“You should really know better than to smoke, Aizawa-san. What would your students say if they saw you?”

The voice belonged to one Dr. Hayashi, the lead physician overseeing Kakashi and the ANBU’s care. He raised his hands in a placating gesture when he saw Aizawa start and jump to his feet. “Kakashi-kun and the others are fine, no need to panic. I just saw you’ve been out here for a while and wanted to check in.”

Aizawa dropped the cigarette he’d been holding more than smoking and crushed it under his heel, the faint scent of burnt tobacco mixing with the cold night air. “Dr. Hayashi. Thank you for all your hard work. How is everyone?”

Clearly expecting the question, the doctor walked Aizawa through a status update of the ANBU team, which boiled down to the rest were healing but Lion had still yet to wake.

“And Kakashi?”

“He’s young, and his resilience is impressive. His prognosis for his current injuries is positive,” The doctor hesitated. “But as a physician, I feel obligated to point out to you the extent of his past wounds and obvious psychological trauma.”

Aizawa nodded once, recognizing this was why the doctor sought him out. For a conversation long overdue. “Please, sit down. I’ve made a few observations myself, but it would help to hear a professional’s perspective.”

Dr. Hayashi took the offer, settling down next to Aizawa, and exhaled slowly. “Kakashi-kun has clearly experienced repeated physical trauma over the years. He has extensive scarring all over his body and in every X-ray we took of him, his bones show signs of multiple fractures, most healed, some badly healed. It’s very clear his body has been under constant strain for a very long time.

“It’s caused his growth to be stunted—when your body has to constantly repair itself, it doesn’t have the time or resources to grow properly. Add in the fact he’s just one step above malnourished, and it’s not surprising his bones and muscles are all underdeveloped for his age by our standards.”

Aizawa waited, sensing that the doctor wasn’t done yet.

“Aizawa-san, what concerns me is how old Kakashi-kun’s scars are,” Dr. Hayashi turned to look at the hero. “Some of them, I would estimate older than ten years… which would mean Kakashi-kun would have only been…”

“Five, maybe six,” Aizawa agreed, heart sinking.

“And then we have Kakashi-kun’s mental health. He’s in a constant state of hypervigilance—always on edge, and anticipating the next crisis. Even if we were to assume his current circumstances are likely causing elevated levels of stress -which may explain away the anxiety, depression, and potentially even the PTSD, it doesn’t explain the most concerning symptom - suicidal ideation.”

Aizawa froze. “The what?”

“Kakashi-kun isn’t the type to make direct threats or gestures but there are behaviors—patterns—that indicate he is at risk,” The doctor pressed his hands together, “He’s numbed himself to pain, and it makes him look like he’s coping, or at least he’s functional but… His tendency to put himself in dangerous situations, his disregard for his own safety, treatment and health—those are signs that, on some level, he might be subconsciously looking for a way out.”

(“Then I die,” Kakashi said. “But as long as I don’t break on the field and take my team down with me, that’s okay.”)

“What can we do?” Aizawa asked, his voice strained. “How do we help him?”

Dr. Hayashi’s eyes softened. “You have to understand, I’m speaking from a long term perspective, Aizawa-san. It’s not that I believe Kakashi is in immediate danger of harming himself—If anything, it’s the opposite. He has a low sense of self-worth, but feels responsible and is fiercely protective of his team. That bond is stronger than any desire he might have to escape. He’s not likely to harm himself, not when it would put his team at risk.”

Aizawa recognized the truth in that but with it came another realization that made his gut twist. The inverse was true as well: Kakashi would stop at nothing if it meant it protected his team.

And once the HPSC realized this too, they would use it.

Dr. Hayashi continued, unaware of the darker turn in Aizawa’s thoughts. “For now, the best approach would be to help him feel safe where he is. To show him that he doesn’t have to face every threat alone. It won’t be easy, but the first step will be for Kakashi-kun to trust us. Once he does, we can start focusing on more specialized treatment.”

——

Armed with this new knowledge, Aizawa kept a watchful eye from the corner of the room as Suzuki questioned Kakashi the following morning. She seemed intent on keeping things cordial, and didn’t dare use her emotion-manipulation quirk again. Instead, she was focused on probing into Kakashi’s world—the political structure, the resources and climate, the way of life.  Aizawa had to admit, it was a fascinating exchange.

Kakashi came from a world that didn’t have quirks, but had chakra—an energy source used for everything from combat to healing. A world where violence and death were so tightly woven into the fabric of daily life that it felt like a constant hum in the background. He spoke about shinobi, which appeared to be more of a social class than an occupation, who were part mercenary, part handyman, sometimes entire clans. The work they did depended on the mission they were assigned, which could range from painting fences to fighting wars. Kakashi himself was a jounin, the highest rank that could be achieved and outranked only by ANBU.

Suzuki leaned in, her pen poised above her notepad. "Tell me about ANBU, Kakashi-san. How are they different from regular shinobi?”

"They’re baby killers."

Suzuki blinked, waiting for more, but Kakashi’s face remained impassive, his gaze distant. When no further explanation came, she pressed, her voice tinged with the slightest edge of disbelief. "Is that all they do?"

“They’re ANBU,” Kakashi repeated as if the answer was self-explanatory. "That’s what they’re known for. They’re the ones sent when a mission’s too horrific to send anyone else. When it’s something the village can’t afford to acknowledge. Things you don’t speak about.”

Aizawa didn’t want to know what kind of missions could be so vile, so devastating for even highly trained jounin that they had to be delegated away.

“Their identities are kept secret,” Kakashi continued, his voice level. “The punishment for exposing them, or even trying to learn who they are, is death. Among shinobi, the rule is to look away when you meet them.”

Suzuki was the first to break the silence. “Kakashi-san, if you’re a jounin of the village, what’s so terrible about guarding you that an entire ANBU team needed to be assigned to the task?”

Kakashi paused at the question, the first sign of discomfort. He hadn’t yet been pressed on anything personal, but Suzuki’s question clearly cut too close to the bone. Aizawa shifted in his seat, prepared to intervene but Kakashi beat him to it. 

“My father is responsible for causing the most recent war,” Kakashi said, his words cold and even. “He killed himself in shame shortly after but that didn’t stop a war that had already started. I’m hated for that—for his legacy. If I were put on a team with other shinobi, most would either let me die or actively sabotage me.

“So, to answer your question, Suzuki-san—about what’s so terrible about guarding me,” Kakashi’s eyes curved into a fake, hollow smile. “I guess I have to say: me.”

Suzuki wisely did not press the matter further. Aizawa would have thrown her out if she tried. "The ANBU, who do they answer to?”

"All Konoha shinobi answer to the Hokage. But the ANBU are widely considered to be the Hokage’s own.”

Aizawa’s brow furrowed slightly at the mention of the title. It had come up several times before and Kakashi had scoffed at the idea of the Hokage being elected through a majority vote or appointed through some bureaucratic process. It was a title reserved for the most powerful shinobi in the village—someone who stood as the final line of defense, a figure who commanded loyalty from every shinobi in Konoha.

“How is the Hokage chosen?” Suzuki asked. “You had mentioned the current Hokage is the grand-student of the previous one. Does that mean the student of the current Hokage will be the Fifth?”

Kakashi’s response came in the form of a harsh, humorless laugh. “No. Lord Fourth’s student is worthless trash. That would never happen.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow at the venom in Kakashi’s tone. There was history there. A deep animosity that ran far beyond casual disdain.

“Is that your personal opinion or one shared by most?” Suzuki asked, clearly thinking the same.

“The village calls him friend-killer. You tell me.”

Aizawa worked over the implications of the label in his mind. To be called friend-killer in a world where bonds were forged in blood and loyalty was everything, that was an accusation that carried a weight beyond words.

“Do you know this person well?” Aizawa asked, interjecting for the first time.

"Well enough," Kakashi shrugged, and that was that.

——

After Suzuki left—prompted by Aizawa’s pointed remark on the time—Aizawa had given Kakashi some space to decompress, leaving him to his own devices. Now, Aizawa stole a glance at his phone, then at the door. It should be any moment now.

A cheerful bark rang through the room.

Kakashi’s head snapped up so quickly that Aizawa almost laughed.

By the door, sitting like it owned the place, was a golden retriever—Sidekick, the hospital’s therapy dog. The dog wore a red vest with “Working” stitched across the side, as it sat there, looking expectantly at Kakashi.

For a second, the room was silent again, the only sound being the soft thud of Sidekick’s tail thumping against the floor.

The look of pure shock of Kakashi’s face was a sight to behold. Kakashi’ hand twitched an aborted movement, as if he was about to reach out and Sidekick’s ears perked up, sensing an invitation. In the next instant, the dog bounded over and up to the bed, tail wagging even faster now. Sidekick plopped itself onto Kakashi’s legs and nudged Kakashi’s hand with its nose, demanding pets.

Kakashi obliged, allowing his hand to settle on the dog’s head, and in that instant, something in him seemed to relax. His fingers gently stroked the dog’s soft fur, as he pulled  Sidekick closer to him, cooing as he gave the dog belly rubs.

Aizawa’s grin widened. He wasn’t expecting this reaction from Kakashi—he figured the kid would like the dog and give it a pet but there was a real softness in his touch, a gentleness that Aizawa hadn’t seen before.

The dog let out a contented sigh, its eyes closing as it leaned further into Kakashi’s chest. Kakashi didn’t stop, his hand moving in a slow, rhythmic and well praticed motion.

“You like dogs, huh?” Aizawa asked casually, not wanting to break the moment but also unable to resist.

“I grew up with them as a kid.” Kakashi asked, his voice noticeably lighter than it had been in days. “Was practically raised by my dad’s pack.”

Aizawa really hoped the “raised by” part was hyperbole. “Your family had a lot of dogs?”

Kakashi gave the dog an affectionate nuzzle, and Sidekick rewarded him with a series of slobbery kisses. “Dogs and wolves,” Kakashi said with a chuckle. “My dad had more wolves; my pack is more dogs.”

Aizawa blinked in in surprise at how casually Kakashi memtioned his father, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he let Kakashi have the moment, the soft sound of the dog’s contented sighs filling the room.

Later, when Sidekick had fallen asleep in Kakashi’s lap with his tongue lolling out, Kakashi caught Aizawa’s eye and his eyes curved in a smile. A real one this time. “Thanks, Aizawa-san.”

Aizawa’s heart tightened at the sincerity in Kakashi’s words.

Make him feel safe, Dr. Hayashi had said.

Aizawa had no idea if he was doing it right, or if it would be enough, but damn it, he was going to try.

——

Tsukauchi knocked on the open door of Lion and Ox’s room. It had become a familiar routine for him over the past week—coming by to deliver things like new clothes, books, and food. Though their initial wariness had been palpable, the team had warmed up to him, not just accepting his gestures, but even indulging him in his random questions and occasional observations.

Which was why, after he handed off the books Ox requested, and fresh assortment of pasteries to Turtle, Tsukauchi was confident enough to ask, “What’s the Hokage’s student like?”

Viper didn’t hesitate. “The best of his generation. A living legend in the making. Possibly the greatest genius the village has ever known.” He paused, then his mask turned to Tsukauchi. “Why?”

Tsukauchi raised an eyebrow at that. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more: the glowing praise or the matter-of-fact way Viper spoke. No trace of irony. No skepticism. Just facts, as if this was all common knowledge. “That’s… not exactly what I heard.”

Ox looked up from her book, her expression unreadable beneath the mask but Tsukauchi had the distinct impression that if looks could kill, he would be dead already. “What exactly did Kakashi-sama say?”

Tsukauchi hesitated. Worthless trash, were the words Aizawa had used but the detective sensed it wouldn't be well received. “That he’s called ‘friend-killer.’”

Immediately, the temperature in the room seemed to drop, the air turning heavy and tense. Now, even Turtle had turned to stare at Tsukauchi.

“The Hokage's student is respected by those who know better than to listen to fear mongerers,” Viper snarled. “Kakashi-sama should do well to remember his place and position before parroting that kind of nonsense.”

Tsukauchi blinked, surprised by the venom in Viper’s words. He had thought, at least to some degree, that the loyalty between Kakashi and the ANBU ran both ways—that Kakashi held some sway, some degree of respect within their ranks even if he was a client rather than a colleague. But Viper’s response made it clear that ANBU’s loyalty was first and foremost to the Hokage, and by extension, his student.

“Good to know,” Tsukauchi said quietly. He had misjudged the relationship between Kakashi and ANBU. The bond wasn’t as mutual as he had assumed. In fact, it seemed far more one-sided on Kakashi’s part.

He would have to warn Aizawa not to mention to Kakashi of how highly the ANBU thought of the Hokage’s student. Tsukauchi sighed. There was no need to hurt the kid more.

Notes:

Tsukauchi doesn’t realize that Viper is basically saying STFU Kakashi, I’m not letting anyone trash talk you, not even yourself.

Also the legality/ethics of the sharingan from a modern perspective is just freaking wild, but Aizawa and Kakashi’s relationship is showing some development because he has figured out a way into Kakashi’s heart: DOGS.

Comments and Kudos are ❤️

Chapter 5

“Well, it’s been an interesting...” Tsukauchi glanced down at his phone, squinting at the screen before finishing, “Wow, has it not even been a week yet?”

“I feel like years have been taken off my life,” Aizawa poured himself a glass of beer. Hizashi was watching over Kakashi for the night, insisting Aizawa needed a day off.  Aizawa had to admit it was a relief to have a moment away to organize his thoughts and breathe. “Seriously, though... what the actual fuck,”  he said, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the lingering sense of disbelief.

Tsukauchi barked a laugh, the sound light but genuine. Aizawa, by virtue of working with highly impressionable and hyper active kids, never swore. The detective teased, “It wasn’t all bad, Aizawa-kun. Yes, you learned of the unspeakable trauma that appears to be Kakashi-kun’s life…. But hey, you found out he likes dogs.”

Aizawa softened at the memory of Kakashi petting Sidekick. “That was pretty cute. He was happy to hear that Sidekick could make extra rounds… on the condition that he eats more.”

Kakashi had rolled his one visible eye with a look of exasperation at that obvious manipulation, but Aizawa insisted, having heard from Dr. Hayashi that Kakashi had somehow lost more weight since he arrived.

“Ox enjoys playing chess and Turtle has a sweet tooth,” The detective offered. “Viper is actually afraid of snakes though he refuses to admit it.”

“Yes, the ANBU seem pretty normal,” Aizawa agreed. “If you ignore the masks, the obvious military training, and the fact they move like they’ve been taught to kill since they could walk. And then they open their mouths, and it’s just…” Aizawa, having already downed his beer, poured himself a second glass. “Some of the shit they say… Medieval-level, unholy horror stories.”

Tsukauchi sobered at that, his mind drifting to all the strange and terrifying glimpses into Kakashi’s world, and how little made sense. “Do you think Kakashi’s father was Hokage?”

Aizawa paused, his hand halting mid-pour as he mulled over the possibility. It would explain alot, like why Kakashi was given an ANBU team in the first place, his familiarity with them, or why it seemed Kakashi’s training started so young.

“I mean, how else could a single man be responsible for a war?” The detective pointed out, reading the hero’s silence correctly. “It may also explain Kakashi’s beef with the current Hokage’s student, if the position was supposed to be inherited down from his father to himself and it moved on to the student instead.”

It would really explain alot. Kakashi sometimes showed an almost careless expectation of obedience beyond what you would expect towards hired help, treating ANBU like they were his subordinates except Kakashi had said himself that ANBU outranked jounin.

But if Kakashi was a jounin who happened to be the child of the previous Hokage—someone who demanded absolute loyalty from his people—Kakashi may have been groomed for authority from birth. It would explain Kakashi’s comfort with assuming authority over those older than him. His familiarity with powerful adults, and that uncanny awareness of the power plays with the HPSC.

The only thing that didn’t make sense was Kakashi’s willingness to be separated from his guards. Why would he volunteer himself into such a vulnerable position?

Aizawa shared the thought with Tsukauchi.

Tsukauchi frowned. "You think he’s hiding something else?"

Aizawa snorted. “Of course he's hiding something else. I’m more curious what it is that's so important he can’t even risk people from another dimension knowing.”

——

To Aizawa’s surprise and relief, the days after that passed without incident.

One memorable exception was the day Hizashi came to the hospital to take over guardian duties for a second time. Hizashi, in his excitment at meeting Kakashi again, got carried away and shouted his greeting, causing Kakashi to flinch as if he’d been struck. Aizawa wasn’t sure who looked more mortified: Kakashi, who tried to mask his discomfort with a strained smile, or Yamada, who froze in horror and guilt. It was a rare moment of vulnerability from Kakashi when he admitted his hearing was better and therefore more sensitive than most.

Aside from that, things proceeded with surprising calm. Days bled into weeks as the ANBU members steadily recovered. Kakashi’s infection was healed and his stitches were almost ready to be removed. Ox underwent surgery twice and would be starting physicsl therapy soon. Viper’s burns had mostly recovered, and the man had declined cosmetic surgery for the burns.

Throughout all of this, Lion still didn’t wake up. Each visit, Turtle would shake his head, and Aizawa saw the tension in Kakashi grow more and more each day.

On the other hand, the HPSC was satisfied with the information they had gathered from Kakashi and were now waiting for Dr. Hayashi and Turtle to clear him for the chakra demonstration. According to Turtle, this world lacked any natural chakra, making its use inefficient—so much so that even a single jutsu drained more chakra than it would in Kakashi’s own world. It was why Lion’s recovery was so slow, and Turtle kept a hawk’s eye over the chakra levels of his other charges.

All in all, Kakashi and Aizawa had found a comfortable routine. Aizawa started rotating shifts with other trusted Heros in watching Kakashi. Kakashi accepted the change with minimal fuss. Things were peaceful.

Which was probably why, when Aizawa least expected it, Kakashi got kidnapped.

——

A targeted attack, Tsukauchi told him. Some villians had attacked Kakashi’s room specifically, knocked out Present Mic and Suzuki, and disappeared with Kakashi.

Aizawa, who was already out doing his usual patrols, headed straight to Central Hospital with cold dread in the pit of his stomach.

“The League of Villians?” Aizawa demanded to the nearest HPSC agent when he arrived in Kakashi’s room, now swarming with officials. “They shouldn’t even know he existed much less where he was. What did you people do?”

He didn’t get any answers until he found a bruised and bloodied Suzuki, sitting on the edge of Kakashi’s bed as a nurse fretted over her.

“We let it leak that we were going to test his skills this week. We wanted to see how Kakashi-san would respond under unexpected threat,” Suzuki admitted when Aizawa confronted her. “Our intel was solid that the Villians would attack then, not now, but we’ll get him back-“

Aizawa stormed out, having heard enough. He headed straight to Lion and Ox’s room where Tsukauchi had sent out his original SOS.

The moment he stepped inside, the first thing that hit him was the oppressive atmosphere—murderous intent almost palpable in the air. The second thing he noticed was Tsukauchi, despite having built rapport with the ANBU, standing by the door and carefully out of arm’s length.

“The HPSC leaked the information on Kakashi, expecting the villians to sabotage the chakra demonstration that was scheduled for the end of this week,” Aizawa shared without ceremony. He felt the temperature in the room drop further, the air thickening with a tension so heavy it was almost suffocating. “I understand you must be angry and the HPSC will pay for this, but first, we have to find Kakashi.”

Ox, usually unflappable, hissed, “You think angry even begins -“

The words were cut short as she snapped to attention, her body straightening in parade rest. Viper had raised his hand, and without a single word more, Ox’s temper was extinguished. Aizawa felt whiplash at how quickly the fury had been smothered by sheer discipline.

Viper’s own usual exuberance was gone, replaced by something cold and chilling—an unnaturally still presence, like a predator ready for the hunt. There was no outward anger, no sign of emotion, just a deadly calm that made the room feel even colder.

Baby-killers, Kakashi had called ANBU. Aizawa could see it now.

“Focus, Ox,” Viper’s voice was sharp, clipped. “We need to find Kakashi-sama. The one silver lining is that he’s mostly healed and has replenished most of his chakra.” His mask turned to Aizawa. “Chakra can sense other chakra and we all familiar with his. He’s currently out of my range, but if we get close enough, I’ll be able to track him, even if I can’t see him. Do we have authorization to leave the premise and search?"

Aizawa studied the ANBU, the coiled tension in their movements, the tightly leashed rage obvious even in their silence. In his mind’s eye, he could see how many ways this could go wrong.

“I authorize you leaving the premises with me to search for Kakashi,” Aizawa finally said. “But there will be no lethal force unless I say otherwise. Understood?”

Viper didn’t hesitate. “We accept those terms.”

Tsukauchi, who had been silently watching from the corner of the room, met Aizawa’s gaze and gave a barely perceptible nod. Viper was telling the truth, for now.

The hero was under no illusion on what Viper would do if they found Kakashi and he was in danger. But they had no other leads on where Kakashi was taken so it was a risk Aizawa had to take.

Viper turned to his team, “Ox, Turtle—assume this is a Fire 1 threat. Guard Lion and remain on alert in case the enemy returns. Keep sentinal formation until further instruction."

Ox and Turtle both closed one fist against their heart in a clear salute.

"We’ve already started checking the surveillance footage from around the hospital,” Tsukauchi spoke up. “The League didn’t leave any clues behind—at least, none that we can see yet. But I’ll have everything sent to your comms as soon as I get it."

Aizawa exhaled as he pushed down his worry and mentally prepared himself for the night. Kakashi was out there somewhere, in danger, because of the HPSC's recklessness. They had to find the teen before it was too late.

——

Toga Himiko’s fingers danced across the boy’s pale skin, tracing over the outline of the mask he had on with a childlike curiosity. She tilted her head, watching as the foreign boy, so still moments ago, shifted from unconsciousness to awareness in one smooth motion. His eye cracked open—only his right eye, Toga noticed—meeting her gaze without a hint of panic.

He was so different from the others they’d captured—calm, almost serene. Lockdown had chained Kakashi down to the chair, but Toga knew it was just Lockdown being his obsessive self. They could have left the boy unrestrained, and he wouldn’t have moved a muscle. The poison Stain had injected into him was designed to render its victim completely weak, incapable of resisting.

Toga poked him again, digging her finger into his stomach where she could feel stitches. He didn’t flinch. He couldn’t.

“So tiny and cute!” Toga giggled.

“Hatake Kakashi, jounin, 009720,” he said hoarsely, his words almost mechanical.

Toga’s eyes lit up with excitement, her grin widening. “He thinks he’s a soldier!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing with delight.

He repeated his name, rank and registration number.

“Don’t you worry, I like it when people make things hard. It’s way more fun that way!” Toga’s finger moved to his cheek, tracing the faint scar that marked his face. She tilted her head as if savoring the texture, before humming in thought. “I wonder what makes you tick, Kakashi-kun?”

The boy fell silent but Toga could tell it wasn’t out of fear. There was a certain sharpness to him, something lurking beneath that tranquil calm. The villian saw it, and it only made her grin wider, more feral.

“Tell me, Kakashi-kun,” she purred, leaning in even closer now, “Do you ever get scared?”

Impulsively, she pressed her finger into the scarred skin around his left eye, forcing it open with a cruel twist.

“Your eyes don’t match!” Toga realized, her voice light with amusement. “I see why you hide it. It’s so pretty. Maybe I’ll take it for myself.”

That got a reaction.

Kakashi jerked his head sharply, breaking free of her grip and snapping both eyes open as if in challenge. The temperature in the room dropped, the tension crackling in the air like an electric charge. Kakashi’s expression had shifted, dangerous, like a storm building on the horizon. Toga felt a chill run through her—a coldness crawling down her spine.

“Try it,” Kakashi said quietly. “And see what I do to you.”

It was a threat, and the weight of it pressed in on the room, thickening the air, making every breath feel heavy and labored. Toga felt it in her bones—instinct, raw and primal, screaming of death and danger.

But she didn’t flinch.

Instead, she reveled in it.

Her pulse quickened, a twisted sense of exhilaration bubbling up inside her, filling her chest like wildfire. The danger, the threat of death—it was all part of the game, wasn’t it? Her heart raced with the thrill of it, the edge of chaos sharpening her senses.

“No? Okay, I’ll take this instead,” She laughed and, to Kakashi’s shock, yanked his head back, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat, and sank her teeth into his skin.

——

Viper led them through the city, his steps swift and deliberate, cutting through the streets as if he knew exactly where to go despite him not having left the hospital since they arrived. They wound through narrow alleyways and across busy intersections until they reached a quiet residential neighborhood. At the top of a green house at the corner of the street, standing on the roof as if he belonged there, to Aizawa’s shock, was Kakashi.

“It’s not him—it's his clone,” Viper said sharply before Aizawa could react. He didn’t wait for Aizawa’s response, already focusing on the clone who jumped down to meet them. “Report.”

The clone glanced at Aizawa in suspicion before flickering through several hand signs. Whatever it said made Viper even angier.

“He actually—,” Viper hissed before visible cutting himself off from a more vocal outburst. At Aizawa’s demand, he translated, “The clone witnessed everything. The enemy had someone capable of deploying a field-based paralysis. They used it on Kakashi, paralyzed him, injected him with something, and then simply walked through some sort of dimension gate.”

“It must be Kurogiri,” Aizawa realized. “He has a warp gate ability. How many villians were present during the attack?”

“Three,” Kakashi’s clone drawled. Aizawa almost jumped, startled by the sound. He had assumed the clone’s speech would be limited, given it had just communicated with hand signs. But if it could speak and chose not to, it raised more questions. Viper likely hadn’t translated everything the clone had previously hand-signed, and Aizawa mentally filed that away for later.

“They have to be in city limits then,” Aizawa said outloud, texting Tsukauchi this update. “It would take immense amount of energy for Kurogiri to move four people further than that.”

“It doesn’t change what we need to do. If you find him, send a messenger,” Viper ordered to the clone.

The clone gave a quick, sharp salute, and without another word, it flickered out of sight, vanishing into the shadows as silently as it had appeared.

——

“Naughty— you should have said that the pretty red eye isn’t yours!” Toga giggled, wiping the blood from her mouth with a mischievous swipe of her hand. The fresh crimson streaked her lips, and her eyes glinted with manic energy.

Her form had shifted—tall, lanky, and scarred, mirroring Kakashi’s appearance. But the change wasn’t perfect. Where his grey and red mismatched eyes should have been, she had two dull grey ones.

The teen stared at her in disbelief. Blood was still dripping down the side of his neck, staining his hospital gown. “Blood thief.”

“Toga-san, I leave you with him for five minutes,” a deep voice interrupted. Toga frowned. Kurogiri was here to ruin her fun.

The villain’s gaze swept over the scene, taking in the bloodied teen, the mess, and Toga’s mischievous grin. He stood tall in his impeccable suit, his expression as unreadable as ever, his usual picture of controlled composure. “I’d like to speak with our new guest.”

“Aww, you’re no fun,” she whined in mock annoyance but there was something darker in her eyes as she stayed planted in front of Kakashi.

Kurogiri’s stare didn’t waver.

Five heartbeats later, Toga threw her hands up in exasperation, with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Fine, fine. Such a buzzkill. I’ll be back, Kakashi-kun!”

The door clicked shut behind her, and she heard Kurogiri, like a soft echo from the other side, tell Kakshi. “I assume you have some questions…”

She snorted. Kurogiri was always so serious. But that was fine. She was already thinking of ways to come back to Kakashi and make it fun again.

 

Notes:

apologies for any inconsistencies with the BNHA universe. Let’s just wave that vaguely away since this entire story is really just an excuse to write hurt ANBU Kakashi and protective ANBU anyways.

With Toga, the idea is that because the sharingan is connected to Kakashi through chakra, Toga’s ability to use blood to transform can’t replicate the sharingan.

Next chapter will be more plot and the one after that will be another interlude from Kakashi’s POV, which will also reveal what the clone said and why Viper got so pissed.

Comments and kudos are ❤️

Chapter 6

Notes:

Warning: torture

Three hours in, and Kakashi was still nowhere to be found.

Kakashi’s clone combed Musutafu from the west, while Aizawa and Viper worked from east to west, covering as much ground as they could.

Aizawa’s question of if Viper could also create clones to help the search was met with an icy answer that the shadow clone technique was a highly advanced technique that no one else on his team could use, and even if they could, it would be unwise to do so considering the inexorbent chakra cost of the technique in a world that already made chakra use so inefficient, especially if you were someone with lower chakra reserves who seemed to suffer chakra exhaustion every other day. Aizawa sensed they were no longer talking about shadow clones and wisely let the matter drop.

"Is it normal for Kakashi's clone not to know where he is?" Aizawa asked instead, his voice cutting through the wind as they leapt from rooftop to rooftop.

“There’s no tracking ability between the clone and the caster once the shadow clone is created. There doesn’t need to be, since its memories return to the original when its dispelled,” Viper replied, his eyes scanning the city below. “But that won’t help us now. Kakashi-sama would know we’re searching for him. The clone is better used covering ground in this damn oversized city,” The ANBU hesitated for the briefest moment, then continued, almost gently, “A clone can be dispelled for a number of reasons, but as long as it exists, it means the caster is alive.”

Aizawa nodded curtly, accepting the small comfort.

At dawn, Tsukauchi’s voice crackled through their earpieces, breaking the tense silence.

“Got something,” The detective reported, his tone clipped but urgent. “A forager on the western edge of town spotted flickering lights and muffled sounds coming from the old hospital. Could be nothing, but it’s worth checking out.”

“The one across the river? The malpractice one?” At Tsukauchi’s confirmation, Aizawa jerked his head to Viper, “I know where it is. Follow me.”

They continued west but also now southward, causing the city skyline to quickly fade behind them. The hospital in question was a small, once well-regarded local institution, nestled in the forests at the foot of mountain Hakko, having served the community for four generations. But after the last heir took over and tried to slash costs at every corner, things spiraled—malpractice suits piled up, and the hospital was forced to close its doors three years ago.

Once they had crossed the river, half a mile out from the hospital, Viper abruptly tensed before he picked up his speed, taking the lead.  “I feel him.”

They both moved with renewed intent now, as Viper weaved through the dark forest with an unnerving accuracy. When the abandoned hospital finally broke into view, it loomed before them, its silhouette jagged and ghostly against the pale light of the breaking dawn. 

Both men dropped low, blending into the shadows, to take in the hospital. From the outside, the place appeared completely deserted—no movement, no signs of life, not even a flicker of light—but somewhere in there, Kakashi was alive. 

And, Aizawa thought, so were the villians took Kakashi as well. The people who likely hurt him.

——

Viper was crouched down, his focus clearly locked entirely on the crumbling hospital ahead. His posture tight with tension, every muscle coiled like a spring. Aizawa stepped into Viper’s line of sight, forcing the younger man to shift.

“Viper, we can’t afford to be seen,” Aizawa said. “As long as they have Kurogiri, they can warp away again, and we’ll be right back where we started.”

But that wasn’t really what Aizawa wanted to say. As if sensing this, Viper, clad in his tactical gear he wore the first day they arrived, and his bone white mask stared up at Aizawa.

Aizawa still didn’t understand the depth of difference between a jounin like Kakashi and ANBU like Viper, but in some way, Aizawa didn’t need to. He knew men in the black ops, who served in the shadows. He knew what men like Viper did when they had to.

But he also knew that Viper was probably only ten years older than Kakashi and imagining Kakashi, ten years older staring back at him, Aizawa wanted to at least least try.

“If you kill someone in there,” Aizawa said quietly, “I can’t protect you. Kakashi can’t either. You’ll have to face the consequences alone.”

Viper didn’t hesitate. The hero hadn’t really expect him to. “I accept those terms.”

——

They slipped in through a broken window and navigated through empty hallways and double doors. Aizawa kept his eye out but the hospital had long been vandalized and the building was mostly empty, leaving very little shadow for any enemy to hide in.

At one undescript hallway beside what used to be a waiting room, Viper, paused. He lifted a hand, pointing upward before holding up four fingers.

Kakashi was four floors above them.

Without hesitation, they began their ascent. When they reached the third floor, Viper held a fist up, bringing Aizawa up short, and pointed to his left. Faint light spilled from a door that was marked Examination Room D.

Before Aizawa could suggest a plan, Viper stepped onto the wall and continued onto the ceiling as if no gravity was no longer a thing. The ANBU peered into the room crouched upside down from the ceiling.  A heartbeat later, he flicked his hand in a silent signal—before seeming to remember Aizawa wouldn’t understand.

Viper dropped back down, clearing the few feet distance in a single, silent jump to land beside the hero. “The room is empty,” Viper whispered. “It was cleared out in a hurry.”

“But you still feel Kakashi?”

Viper nodded once and beckoned in a clear gesture:  follow me.

They moved swiftly now, tension thick between them. On the fourth floorl Viper led them past two double doors, past a string of operation rooms to the last room at the end of the hall. The door was slightly ajar.

No lock. No guard. And Aizawa understood why the villians hadn't bothered the moment they stepped inside.

——

“Kakashi!” Aizawa hissed, instinctively rushing toward the unconscious, bloody figure slumped in the chair—only for Viper to throw out an arm, halting him in his tracks.

“Hold. It may be a trap,” Viper snapped and mystifying told Kakashi, “Wildfire.”

Kakashi—who had been entirely limp, his body slumped in a way that suggested complete unconsciousness—suddenly stirred. He opened his eye and it wasn’t the lifeless gaze of someone truly out cold, but the sharp look of a man who’d been feigning sleep. He look at Viper. “I'm only here to handle anyone in case someone came back. He’s busy searching the building.”

Viper swore, “Searching what-“

“They’re blood thieves.”

Viper went dangerously still.

“And they took his blood, so he’s trying to find it to destroy it,” Kakashi continued. “I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.”

Then, to Aizawa’s shock, Kakashi puffed into smoke and vanished. It was another clone.

——

They finally found Kakashi—or at least another Kakashi—on the roof, perched atop Lockdown, fingers wrapped around the villain’s hand in the middle of systematically breaking his fingers. As they approached, Kakashi didn’t even bother looking up. His voice was dry, as if he had been expecting them all along. “You’re late, Viper.”

“Hold,” Viper barked at Aizawa again, his tone brooking no argument. Without waiting for a response, he turned his attention to the teen. “Wildfire.”

Once again, Kakashi snapped up to look at him but this time, the teen answered back, “Fireworks.”

The tension Viper had been carrying all night dissolved, and the harsh line in Viper’s back softened. Kakashi clearly gave the right answer.

Aizawa, not understanding the exchange but sensing the shift, started forward, his voice firm. “Kakashi, stop—Viper, move.”

In a near mirror of their earlier moment before entering the hospital, Viper placed himself directly in Aizawa’s path, blocking him from moving forward. The unspoken message was clear: Kakashi was not to be approached yet.

Behind Viper, Kakashi turned back to the trembling villain beneath him. His grip on Lockdown’s mangled hand was steady, unhurried. “Lockdown-san,” he said, eerily polite, “Please tell me where your colleagues went.”

Then, without hesitation, he broke another finger.

The snap of bone breaking was sickening, followed immediately by a ragged, agonized scream.

“Kakashi, stop!” Aizawa shoved against Viper, but Viper was immovable, a solid wall that didn’t flinch. “KAKASHI!”

Kakashi didn’t even glance his way. His focus remained on Lockdown’s twisted hand, as he pried another digit from its joint, pushing it past its breaking point. The villain's screams crescendoed into something primal, raw and desperate, echoing into the open sky.

“I can’t stop until you tell me the truth,” Kakashi said gently. There was no anger in his words, no malice, just a quiet insistence that mirrored the methodical, surgical quality of his movements. He shifted his weight, applying just enough pressure to Lockdown’s wrist to gain better leverage, and with one precise, practiced motion—

Another crack. Another scream.

Aizawa’s heartbeat pounded in his ears, loud and discordant. This wasn’t a desperate interrogation. This wasn’t anger, or even vengeance. It was something colder, sharper—efficiency.

It was insanity.

"That's enough!" Aizawa barked, struggling against Viper’s unyielding grip. The situation was slipping through his fingers, spiraling into something he wasn’t sure he could stop.

This wasn’t what Aizawa expected to find or the Kakashi Aizawa thought he knew. The teen was restrained, bound by a level of control that made him so eerily mature. But now, beneath the quiet demeanor and the careful, deliberate movements, there was something unshackled.

As if whatever the villians had done—blood thieves, Kakashi had said—had flipped a switch.

——

Unbidden, Aizawa remembered Kakashi sitting in the interrogation room with Tsukauchi, his face stoic, his eyes distant. The hero had seen the scars on Kakashi—long, jagged reminders of a life that seemed to have been torn apart by war.

Aizawa had assumed Kakashi had been tortured. It didn't occur to him until now that Kakashi might have also been on the other side.

——

Kakashi didn’t even glance at him. “Where did they go, Lockdown-san? I’m asking nicely.”

The villian trembled, his face twisted in agony, sweat dripping from his brow. His breathing was ragged, uneven but still, he said nothing.

“That’s unfortunate.” Kakashi sighed.

Before Aizawa could react, another sickening snap rang out as Kakashi twisted the villain’s last unbroken finger at an impossible angle. Lockdown’s scream ripped through the night, raw and desperate, sending an involuntary shiver down Aizawa’s spine.

"Stop, Kakashi, please,” Aizawa shouted, his voice breaking on the last word. Ironically, that seemed to finally reach the teen. Kakashi’s gaze slid to him for the first time. The teen looked at Aizawa, expressionless, looked at the hero like he was a stranger.

Aizawa's breath hitched as he finally got a good look at Kakashi. Took in the blood staining the collar of Kakashi’s hospital gown, the fresh bruises darkening his skin, the thin cuts lining his cheek.

“They kidnapped me,” Kakashi said. “Tortured me. Took my blood.” His fingers tightened around Lockdown’s mangled hand. “Then they ran, abandoning one of their own.”

His one visible grey eye bore into Aizawa’s.

“They’re traitors and trash. But tell me—why am I the one who has to stop?”

Distantly, Aizawa felt like he was standing before a wild animal, a feral, dangerous predator that he had to reason with using human words. The futility of that, the weight of the gap between them—that chasm—pressed down on them. It was a pit of darkness that Aizawa couldn’t cross.

But he had to try.

“Don’t stoop to their level. Let the system make him take responsibility.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “An eye for an eye only makes the whole world blind.”

“An eye for an eye,” Kakashi snorted. “Don’t let an Uchiha hear you say that. That sounds like the worst deal ever.”

There was an unsettling edge of mirth to Kakashi’s words who almost seemed giddy.

“Kakashi-sama,” Viper spoke up up abruptly. “I’m your guard dog. If it must be done, let me.”

Kakashi stilled. His gaze had gone distant and unfocused. Guard dog, he seemed to mutter to himself. Then—

“Wildfire?”

"Fireworks," Viper answered immediately.

The tension returned in Viper’s shoulders as both men realized that Kakashi had no recollection of his earlier exchange with the ANBU.

Kakashi blinked again. "Viper?"

"Yes," Viper confirmed.

Before Viper could say anything further, Kakashi’s head rolled forward in a sudden, unnerving motion, his body going completely slack. The shock of it was instantaneous—Aizawa’s heart skipped a beat, his instincts kicking in as he rushed forward

Viper moved faster.

In a blur of motion, Viper was beside Kakashi, catching and pulling him into his arms. Viper’s grip was steady, practiced—like he’d done this countless times before despite Kakashi, completely out of it now, being nothing but dead weight in Viper's hold.

For a heartbeat, there was only the silence of the rooftop- except the faint hum of distant city sounds filling the air and Lockdown’s quiet sobs. Viper gently, carefully, passed Kakashi into Aizawa’s arms.

Then, he turned around, pulling a knife as long as Aizawa's forearm as he approached Lockdown.

"You have three seconds to tell me what he wanted to hear or I cut your head off. Do not try me,”The ANBU snarled as he took Kakashi’s place, standing over Lockdown with his weapon raised. “Three, two, one-"

Aizawa shouted in alarm, but his arms were full of Kakashi—he wasn't going to make it in time.

——

A fraction of a second before the cold blade bit into his skin, Lockdown screamed and told them everything.

Notes:

Aizawa thought Viper was going to be the problem but nope, it turns out Kakashi lost it .... and I finally got to use the story title!

Comments and kudos are ❤️

Psssst Minato’s POV for i’m drowning (you’e dreaming) is out: no rest for the wicked

Chapter 7: Interlude

Notes:

Warning: torture.

Kakashi was only half paying attention to Suzuki's rundown of the chakra demonstration since he already knew the overreaching plan: he would be escorted by the HPSC and Aizawa to the UA High School, their equivalent of the Academy. Viper would also join to avoid draining Kakashi’s chakra too low. It was all going to be an obvious way for HPSC to not only learn about chakra but test their skills. 

Then, something exploded.

Present Mic jumped to his feet and shouted at Kakashi to stay down. Suzuki whipped out two tonfas, which were interesting in their own right, but it was the look on her face that caught the teen’s attention.

She looked wary, but not surprised. Shocked like she was expecting this, just not now.

Kakashi tsked under his breath. Fucking schemers.

Out of view, Kakashi flashed through handsigns and felt his chakra dip as a shadow clone popped into existence outside his window. Watch, warn. Kakashi signed behind his back to his clone.

The next moment, time stopped.

Or that was how it felt at least. Suzuki and Present Mic were frozen in place, mid-motion—Present Mic still with his mouth open as if he’d been cut off mid-sentence. Kakashi couldn’t move either, frozen in bed with his hand behind his back.

The door to the room creaked open. Two men appeared in the doorway, their silhouette cut sharply against the smoke filling the hallway. The taller one’s eyes swept the room, pausing when he caught sight of Kakashi, “Bingo.”

——

There were three of them, all part of the League of Villians who were apparently here to see HPSC’s latest obsession for themselves.

The short one with the nervous blinking tic, Lockdown, was controlling the paralysis. It felt similar to the Nara techqniue though but had to be field based, depending on how his two colleagues could move around him and Lockdown’s careful positioning to keep Suzuki, Present Mic and Kakashi in his line of sight. The tall one, Stain, in what looked surprisingly similar to an ANBU uniform, had crazy mist-nin energy, and Kakashi wasn’t sure what to make of Kurogiri. The mass of a dark fog that seemed to make up his body was wrapped in a neat suit, but the rest of him was a blur, like a shadow caught in the wrong light.

“You’re coming with us,” Stain sneered to Kakashi. The villian slit Present Mic and Suzuki’s throats as he passed them. Still frozen in place, neither of them could make a sound much less try to defend themselves.

An amateur, Kakashi decided, sparing a glance at Present Mic’s wound. Stain, clearly no stranger to violence, was built like a fighter and moved light on his feet, but his knifework was sloppy—both Suzuki and Present Mic would likely survive—and he just let Kakashi know that he was valuable enough to keep alive.

Still, even untrained civillians could be dangerous in numbers, especially in this world where a single shadow clone undid days of rest. Kakashi weighed his options as Stain reached for him.

Lockdown’s quirk seemed to limit physical movement, but not chakra use. Kakashi could flare it in the right pattern and have his team come running or swap places with his clone, waiting outside of view and outside the range of Lockdown’s paralysis quirk.

On the other hand, Suzuki’s reaction suggested that this spectacular clusterfuck was a genuine mistake of HPSC’s doing. If Kakashi got taken because of this, while on their watch from right under their noses… it would give his team leverage. HPSC had already started applying more pressure: they tried to move Lion’s room away and delayed Ox’s surgery.

The villians were completely unsuspecting of Kakashi’s clone. It could follow at a distance and then report back to the rest of his team for extraction. It would be easy, Kakashi decided, and definitely worth the risk.

——

Kakashi regretted this decision ten seconds later when it turned out the swirl in a suit was capable of space jumping.  Of course his kidnappers had a transportation quirk.

Fuck, Kakashi thought as he was suddenly yanked through a portal of dark fog. He flared his chakra to substitute with his shadow clone, but it was too late. Before the substitution could take, he was dragged past the doorway of the portal and the sensation hit him like a hiraishin—a familiar, disorienting pull that made him feel like his very essence was being ripped through space.

To add insult to injury, he felt a sharp jab in his neck and Kakashi recognized the telltale burn of a drug coursing through him before darkness swallowed him whole.

——

His team was going to be pissed. Viper might actually try to kill him. Ox would likely tell on him to Minato-sensei the first chance she got. 

——

Kakashi didn’t know how long he was out but he snapped back to awareness when he realized someone was touching his face. He opened his eye, unwilling to feign sleeping with someone so close to him, and found a girl standing over him in a non-descript, windowless room with one exit, some picture frames on the wall and trash scattered on the ground.

His head spun, the world tilting unnaturally, though Kakashi was tied down to a chair. The faint scent of blood and something chemical clung to the air—no doubt the remnants of whatever had been injected into him.

Fingers dug into his stomach, and Kakashi’s mind snapped back into focus as the girl tore through his stitches.

“So tiny and cute!” Toga giggled.

Toga continued to coo at him, her tone sickeningly sweet, as if he were some sort of new pet she’d found. When she took an interest in the sharingan, Kakashi responded on instinct, killing intent exploding out from him.

Most civilians would have flinched, perhaps cowered, at the raw murderous intent leaking from him. But not Toga. No, she seemed to enjoy it, her excitement only growing in response to the violence he couldn’t contain. Her grin widened.

She was someone broken, Kakashi recognized darkly. Someone who wasn’t quite right in the mind. She likely wouldn’t be easily threatened or intimidated but would have to be manipulated.

That was fine. Kakashi had dealt with worse—or at least that was what he thought until the girl bit him and drank his blood.

——

And then it got worse, because after Toga, came Kurogiri, and while Kurogiri was trying to convince Kakashi that the League of Villians was a worthwhile cause, came Shiragaki Tomura.

——

“I hear we have a baby soldier on our hands, one who’ll only say his name, rank, and number.”

The hair on the back of Kakashi’s neck stood up as the new villian who had dismembered hands all over his body approached. Kurogiri fell silent and stepped back. Clearly Shiragaki outranked him. 

Shiragaki crouched in front of Kakashi, tilting his head as if studying an interesting specimen. His fingers—the ones attached to his own wrists—twitched at his sides.

"You know, I always find it funny when tough guys try to play the soldier act." His grin widened, though it never quite reached his bloodshot eyes. "Do you think you’re brave?"

Kakashi didn’t blink. “Hatake Kakashi, jounin, 009720.”

Shiragaki’s grin widened. His fingers flexed again, dangerously close to Kakashi’s hands that were tied down to the arms of the chair.

"I do love a challenge," he mused, his voice like silk over steel. "Let’s see how long you can keep that up.”

——

Unlike the HPSC, who wanted information or Kurogiri, who wanted cooperation, or even Toga, who wanted entertainment, Shiragaki’s motivations were simpler. He inflicted pain because he enjoyed it. There were no questions, no demands—just the slow, methodical infliction of pain for the sake of it.

Kakashi gritted his teeth and silently counted to five as Shiragaki peeled another one of his fingernails off.

The villian twirled the bloody fingernail between his fingers, as if it were any more fascinating than the previous three he had pulled. “Still have nothing to say?”

Pain was like a lover, Morino Ibiki, the psychopath, often said during anti-interrogation trainings. You had to acknowledge it and accept it, but you couldn’t let it control you.

Kakashi’s answer to that had been ew, Morino-san, what the fuck, but Morino’s point had stuck with him because pain was the begrudging companion that found its way into the most unpredictable moments.

And ironically, in this strange, foreign world, where heros and villians were roles, not concepts, and the powers here had no rhyme or reason, this kind of violence was refreshingly familiar. Brutality was something Kakashi intimately understood, a language he had learned at a young age and had since become fluent in.

——

For the first time since he arrived in this world, Kakashi felt at home.

——

Shiragaki laughed as he pulled the last fingernail on Kakashi’s left hand.

Kakashi focused on his breathing, blocking out the dull ache that seemed to pulse with each heartbeat. The chains around him didn’t supress chakra—in theory, it would be child’s play to break out of them, reach out, and snap Shiragaki’s neck.

Still, every tactical instinct told Kakashi to endure and wait. Shiragaki’s quirk was unknown, and Kakashi wanted to learn more about Kurogiri’s quirk as a potential alternative to the hiraishin before he killed him. Outside, there was an unknown number of enemies in a building Kakashi had no familiarity with, in an unknown location and Kakashi had no idea how far Kurogiri’s quirk could travel. Trying to fight his way out alone when he still felt the effects of the drug coursing through his system was going to be a last resort.

Assuming Shiragaki didn’t escalate, Kakashi would hold out until he was left alone and then find a way out. No confrontation and therefore no unnecessary risk. The only price to pay was the pain.

Of course, if Shiragaki escalated and moved beyond surface-level cruelty, if he tried to break bones or anything else that could affect Kakashi’s ability to form hand seals…

His eyes flickered up, meeting Shiragaki’s gaze. The man was watching him closely, the corners of his lips twitching. Kakashi could see it—the gleam in his eye, the sick excitement bubbling just beneath the surface, his thrill at causing pain.

…it wouldn’t be Kakashi’s first time ripping someone’s throat out with his teeth. It wouldn’t even be his first time enjoying it.

——

After the eighth fingernail, it was Kurogiri who finally put an end to Shiragaki’s little game—or at least gave him a reason to pause.

"It’s time for the meeting, sir," the villain murmured, his tone as neutral as ever. Whether he was genuinely concerned about their schedule or simply ensuring that Shiragaki didn’t get too carried away, Kakashi couldn’t tell.

Either way, it worked because Shiragaki clicked his tongue in annoyance but turned on his heel to stride out, Kurogiri following close behind.

Finally, the opening Kakashi was waiting for.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Kakashi counted to fifteen, his chakra-enhanced hearing allowing him to follow their footsteps as they faded away down the hallway.

When the sound had disappeared entirely, he exhaled and made his move. In one smooth motion, he substituted himself with the picture frame on the wall, escaping his restraints with practiced ease, and vanished into the shadows. He moved silently, crouching on the ceiling as he quietly opened the door (unlocked and no guards—fucking amateurs) and slipped out into the hallway like a wraith. The corridor was empty though he could hear muffled voices from down the hall in a room where the light was still on.

It looked like he was held in an old hospital in, to his relief, the mountains. There would be plenty of cover outside and no civillian was going to find a Konoha nin who didn’t want to be found in a forest.

Kakashi slid the closest window open, and the cool night air rushed in, a welcome contrast against the pain that still pulsed through his hands. His first priority was to meet with Viper and Ox, who were no doubt looking for him.

He was halfway out and ready to jump four floors down—when his still enhanced hearing picked up a familiar name.

Kakashi stilled. Slowly, he turned around to stare at the light at the end of the hall. 

——

What did these blood thieves just say about Lion?

 

Notes:

Comments and kudos are ❤️

Next chapter is likely Viper’s POV.

Chapter 8

Lockdown told them everything.

Everything was: Drugged and injured, Kakashi came down on them like the wrath of god, mauling one villain and killing another before the League of Villains decided to run. Lockdown had been in the bathroom and returned just in time to see Kurogiri’s portal open but he had been too far to reach it before it closed. Lockdown tried to flee, but was hunted down by Kakashi and dragged up to the roof.

He really didn’t know where the rest of them had went, Lockdown sobbed, clutching his broken hands protectively against his chest. He was left behind.

Viper crouched down and grabbed Lockdown by the jaw, forcing the villain to meet his gaze.

“If you ever try to hurt him again,” The ANBU said calmly, “You will die.”

“Hey, knock it off,” Aizawa barked, but Viper had already released Lockdown and was rising to his feet. Aizawa’s eyes flickered to a familiar flash of red in that blur of movement, but it was just Viper who stared back at him from behind the bone-white mask streaked in blood-red paint.

Aizawa paused (he had thought...) before shaking his head. There would be time to deal with it later—he had to focus on the situation at hand. The hero glanced at his watch, “Backup is arriving in three minutes. Viper, take Kakashi.”

Viper took Kakashi as though he weighed nothing, pulling him protectively closer and stepping away from Lockdown as Aizawa hoped he would. With his hands full of Kakashi, figuratively and literally, the ANBU was less likely to do something brash that could endanger the unconscious teen, which freed Aizawa to secure Lockdown. The hero couldn’t afford any more chaos at this point.

“My name is Eraser Head, Lockdown-san. I’m a hero. The EMTs are on their way, so please hold on a little longer.”

Lockdown gave a faint, almost imperceptible nod, though it was possible he was just responding on reflex. His eyes were glazed over as if he were caught in a trance, clearly still in shock.

All for the better, Aizawa thought darkly, since the shock was probably keeping the pain at bay.

He glanced down to Lockdown’s broken fingers, twisted at unnatural angles, swollen and bruised beyond any first aid Aizawa could give. The sight made Aizawa's stomach twist.

Kakashi had done this. And if Lockdown was telling the truth, that wasn’t the worst thing Kakashi had done tonight.

——

Horrifyingly, terrifyingly, Kakashi crashed once in the ambulance. The image of him, pale and sweating, replayed in Aizawa’s mind—his shallow, erratic breaths in the dim light, the frantic shouts of the EMTs, and the heart monitor’s line flatlining as they frantically readied the defibrillator to shock Kakashi’s heart back into rhythm.

When they arrived at the emergency room bay, Turtle and Dr. Hayashi were already waiting for them, and wasted no time whisking the teen away. Aizawa and Viper were left in the sterile, cold waiting room which Aizawa paced, trying to burn off his nervous energy. Viper leaned against the wall, the picture of calm, but his stillness was brittle.

A few hours later, Dr. Hayashi reappeared.

“Turtle-san asked I update you both so he could monitor Kakashi-kun,” the doctor started. Out of the corner of his eye, Aizawa caught Viper tapping a finger against his thigh, a subtle but telling sign of his unease. The implication hung in the air: Kakashi’s condition was serious enough that Turtle didn’t want to leave his side, even briefly. “Kakashi-kun presented with a rapid heart rate, dangerously low blood pressure, and hypothermia. The cardiac arrest was likely due to hypovolemic shock which is caused by extreme blood loss. It was difficult to diagnose because there wasn’t an obvious wound, but Turtle-san was able to locate a puncture wound on his left arm from where the villians likely used a syringe to take Kakashi-kun’s blood,” The doctor looked grim. “The fact that he was even standing when you found him is a miracle—likely due to chakra acting as an alternative energy source. By our standards, anyone experiencing this level of blood loss would have been unconscious or dead long before."

Aizawa’s mind raced, a grim realization settling in at the new information. To take that much blood suggested there was more than one blood-based quirk user in the League.

“Kakashi-sama was unconscious when we found him.” 

Aizawa tore himself away from his thoughts and stared at Viper. “You mean when we found him breaking Lockdown’s fingers?”

The ANBU hesitated, clearly considering how much to share, before answering, “The protocol after being taken by an enemy is to issue an identity challenge once contact is reestablished. That should have been the first thing Kakashi-sama asked of me on the roof, but he didn’t. I thought it odd, but he was clearly busy and provided the correct passcode when I asked,” Viper had unconsciously straightened as if delivering a mission report. “But he continued to act strange—unlike himself. Talkative. Laughing."

Aizawa’s brow furrowed. Kakashi’s behavior on the roof had stood out as strange to Aizawa as well. He had seen Kakashi in various moods—pleased, satisfied, even affectionate with Sidekick—but never giddy.

“I became more certain when Kakashi-sama used the exact same identity challenge we just used when it should have been discarded after use,” Viper clearly didn’t believe Kakashi would make such a rookie mistake. “I suspect that was the moment he actually regained consciousness and he was trying to follow protocol.”

“You’re... suggesting Kakashi was unconscious and tortured someone on autopilot?”

The ANBU shrugged. “They took his blood. Wouldn’t you?”

——

In a hospital, no news was good news, but it didn’t make the wait any easier. Aizawa could barely stay still, even though he knew there was nothing more he could do.

At one point, Doctor Hayashi came back out with Turtle’s summoms for Viper who disappeared through the halls without a backwards glance. What surprised Aizawa was that the doctor stayed behind. He sensed something in Hayashi’s hesitation—a quiet, unspoken weight—and waited in silence, grabbing a few drinks from the vending machine as he did.

“I reviewed Lockdown-san’s X-rays,” The doctor started without ceremony, accepting the sports drink Aizawa passed him with a quick nod of thanks. “His fingers are broken but they are all clean breaks because the fractures were made by someone who knew exactly where to break, what to break, and how to do it. The injuries are extensive but there should be no complications. Lockdown-san will need physical therapy, but I expect him to regain full mobility in his hands."

"Kakashi-kun, on the other hand, had enough blood taken from him that he went into cardiac arrest and is suffering liver damage. There are new cuts on his face and the bruising patterns around his wrists and ankles suggest he was restrained. His stitches tore - no, to be accurate, someone tore them and while there are thankfully no signs of sexual trauma, he has a nasty bite on the side of his neck—clearly human and it will likely scar."

Aizawa’s stomach twisted at that but Hayashi wasn't finished. He had saved the worst for last. "They also removed eight of his fingernails. Messily. Probably slowly to make it as painful as possible.”

The world hadn’t gone silent. It was just that the ringing in Aizawa’s ears had grown so loud it drowned out everything else.

The doctor continued, “Kakashi-kun was likely awake for all of it since it wouldn’t have been enough pain to lose consciousness. They were just trying to make him suffer.”

Aizawa ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply.

He recalled the hollow look in Kakashi's eyes, the blood soaking his hospital gown, but Aizawa couldn’t recall what Kakashi’s hands had looked like. He had been too focused on the damage that was so painfully visible on Lockdown, too horrified at what Kakashi had done, that he had missed it.

They tortured me, Kakashi had told him, and Aizawa had missed it. Distantly, Aizawa realized that his hands were shaking.

"Aizawa-san, You said earlier that Kakashi-kun broke Lockdown-san’s hands… If that’s true, he’s done it before. I would even go as far to say that he's skilled enough to ensure there be minimal lasting damage. From a purely medical standpoint, Kakashi-kun was efficient for the lack of a better word. Clean." Hayashi met Aizawa’s gaze. The clinical detachment that Aizawa had come to expect from the doctor faltered for the first time and in its place was quiet sorrow. “What was done to Kakashi-kun, on the other hand, was cruel. Deliberately, mindlessly cruel.”

——

An eye for an eye, Aizawa thought bitterly, when Kakashi was finally moved out of ICU into a private room. Aizawa’s gaze drifted over to the sleeping teen, to Kakashi's bandaged hands. The stark white wrappings seemed like a disturbing, twisted mirror of Lockdown’s broken hands—torture for torture.

Was it self-defense? In Kakashi’s mind, maybe. The doctor seemed to think so and Viper clearly believed Lockdown got off easy. 

After all, in the heat of the moment, when driven to the edge, would anyone not resort to that kind of violence to defend themselves?

Aizawa buried his face in his hands, trying to clear his thoughts.

No. That line of thinking was a dangerous slippery slope. Being tortured didn’t justify Kakashi inflicting pain back, much less onto Lockdown who wasn’t even the person who hurt him.

Violence could never be the answer. That was what Aizawa had always believed and taught his students—no matter the provocation, no matter the cruelty, it didn’t justify becoming the same kind of monster. An eye for an eye only made the whole world blind. 

——

The next day gave Aizawa reason to rethink his stance.

“The HPSC is going to charge Kakashi with murder and torture. They want him in their custody, locked up under their security," Tsukauchi told Aizawa over the phone with the manic energy of someone who was surviving off caffiene and energy bars instead of sleep. "They're building their case as we speak--once they have Lockdown's statement, they're going to come for Kakashi."

Aizawa bit down the snarl that it was HPSC's own incompetence that got Kakashi kidnapped in the first place. Years of dealing with the HPSC had made Aizawa more politically savvy than he cared to be, and he saw through the move for what it was—a blatant attempt to deflect responsibility for the leak and shift the blame to Kakashi’s alleged violence. There was no point in arguing the fairness of it. He needed to focus on the immediate danger, the real threat at hand, which was—

"The ANBU won't stand for it ," Aizawa muttered grimly, glad he was out by the nurse’s station in the hall and away from ANBU hearing. Gone were the ANBU that had been willing to let Kakashi handle the politics and interactions with the HPSC. Now, they guarded Kakashi like wolves protecting their den—quiet, controlled, but clearly ready to strike. They were too disciplined to attack without provocation, but Aizawa remembered the calm with which Viper pulled out a knife to kill Lockdown for having been part of the League that took Kakashi. He could only imagine how that violence would sharpen towards someone who tried to take Kakashi before their eyes. "How strong is the HPSC’s case?"

"Weak, which is why you know they're desperate. There wasn’t an actual body found on the scene, and they only have conflicting secondhand statements from yourself and Viper on what happened. Their entire case hinges on Lockdown’s statement.”

"Hold on—conflicting statements from myself and Viper? On what?”

The sound of paper shuffling crackled through the line. “Viper’s official statement is that he never saw Kakashi break any fingers nor heard Lockdown say Kakashi killed someone. It was taken by Kawasaki Shogo who was at the hospital. I know Kawasaki; his quirk is  related to comtrolling electronics.”

Aizawa swore loudly. "Viper, that bastard, he’s lying; he was the one who scared it out of Lockdown in the first place!” 

“That’s his official statement I have and it was taken by one of HPSC’s own. I wasn’t there to verify it one way or another in the chaos that was last night, and the HPSC doesn’t want me to at this point,” Tsukauchi said, also clearly frustrated. “They know Kakashi can fool my quirk, so they’re not risking that Viper can actually do the same. They’d rather stick with his statement and discredit him entirely with your statement and Lockdown’s once we get it. I’ve been ordered to lead Lockdown’s interrogation,” Tsukauchi’s voice dropped, “And I’ve delayed it as long as I can but I can’t stop it now. Once I take Lockdown’s statement, they’re coming for Kakashi. Aizawa, don’t let the ANBU know and don’t leave Kakashi’s side.”

Aizawa gave his promise but with a heavy heart. Blood was on the horizon, and Aizawa had a sinking feeling that there would be no stopping the storm. He could only brace for impact.

——

To the hero’s surprise, barely an hour later, Tsukauchi himself barged into Kakashi's room, his expression dark and full of fury. "What have you done?"

The anger in Tsukauchi's voice was unmistakable, but it wasn't directed at Kakashi-who was still heavily drugged and sleeping, but at Viper, standing motionless by the window. Viper replied dryly. "You'll have to be more specific, detective-san."

"Lockdown is dead," Tsukauchi snarled, and Aizawa's breath hitched at the news. "He was responsive and cooperative when we started. But the moment he was asked about Kakashi, he started screaming, then bit his tongue and killed himself. What have you done?"

In the face of Tsukauchi's accusation, Viper remained calm. He'd gotten to his feet when Tsukauchi stormed in but now resumed his earlier position, leaning against the windowsill with his hands resting calmly in his lap. "Nothing. I’ve been here, watching over Kakashi-sama the entire time since we returned. Aizawa-san could vouch for it."

“And your team?”

"Turtle has been rotating between Lion and Kakashi-sama's care. Ox has been guarding Lion. Neither would have left their posts, but you are welcome to question them if you like. I have not ordered either of them to harm Lockdown in any way."

Tsukauchi studied Viper for a moment, his jaw clenched. Clearly Viper was telling the truth because he asked instead, “What about when you first found Kakashi?”

Viper rolled his shoulders, stretching his spine like a lazy cat. “I admit I threatened to cut Lockdown’s head off but I didn’t actually do it. I wasn’t going to kill him.”

“Lie,” Tsukauchi and Aizawa snapped at the same time. Aizawa didn’t need a truth detection quirk to see through that. 

Viper tilted his head to the side, somehow giving off the impression that he was amused despite the mask.

“Immediately,” he said, the word dragging out with mock emphasis. “I wasn’t going to kill him immediately. I may have threatened him a bit more afterwards but didn’t harm a hair on his head otherwise. Aizawa-san told me to knock it off so I did.”

Tsukauchi’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes flicking over to Aizawa, as if seeking confirmation. It was telling—Tsukauchi, despite being the experienced detective, was clearly rattled and even with his quirk, still didn’t fully trust the information he was getting.

Aizawa nodded, albeit reluctantly. It was true: Viper had been ordered to stop, and he had complied. The ANBU had put the fear of god into him, but that was all. There was no way Viper had somehow coerced Lockdown into committing suicide during an interrogation an entire day before it actually happened.

Still, unease or maybe suspicion stirred in the back of Aizawa’s mind. He understood why Tsukauchi’s thoughts had immediately turned to the ANBU, even if he would have known that Viper hadn’t left Kakashi’s side since their return.

The one person who could confess to Kakashi’s crimes had conveniently and mysteriously gone insane and committed suicide, and Viper didn’t seem at all surprised.

——

“You had told Lockdown that if he tried to hurt Kakashi, he’d die,” Aizawa remembered.

Viper sighed, “I also told Lion he needs to wake up yesterday but here we still are. I’m failing to see why you people are blaming me for Lockdown’s death while he was under your custody.”

It was a valid point but the memory had also brought back that brief, unsettling moment on the roof. Aizawa had dismissed it at the time, but now the feeling gnawed at him again.

Because after Viper had threatened Lockdown, Aizawa had thought...

“Viper, please unmask.”

If the ANBU was surprised at the suden request, he didn’t show it. Viper reached up, his movements smooth and practiced, to remove his mask.

Aizawa’s looked at the young man underneath. Mid to late twenties, maybe, but his features carried an air of maturity that made him seem older . He stood straight, his posture perfect to the point of being almost haughty in an aristocratic way, like someone who was used to being respected if not feared. He met Aizawa’s gaze with an unspoken challenge, cool and unreadable, without a word.

In that split second after Viper had let go of Lockdown and turned away on the roof, Aizawa had thought he saw a flash of red from behind the ANBU mask. A familiar crimson hue—like Kakashi’s own red eye.

But Viper’s eyes were jet black—deep, cold, like the dark blue of his hair—no trace of red. He didn’t have a sharingan.

And even if Viper did, Aizawa realized, it wasn’t like Viper could hypnotize someone into killing themselves with just a look. The hero already knew the sharingan’s ability: eidetic memory.

“…Never mind, thank you,” Aizawa said and waved the ANBU to put the mask back on, finally putting that stray thought to rest. It must have been the red paint on the ANBU mask he had seen instead.

——

With no body to examine, conflicting secondhand statements and nothing but the body of a man who had gone insane and killed himself, the investigation hit a dead end.

The HPSC had no choice but to drop the case, and the charges against Kakashi quietly went away.

Notes:

Viper murders via genjutsu but also blinks innocently at Tsukauchi and Aizawa like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth because he is a professional thank you very much. The ANBU commander would be so proud lol Poor Aizawa was so close to figuring out what happened but having only seen Kakashi’s sharingan, he doesn’t realize it’s something that can be deactivated and change color, and being so used to quirks, it doesn’t occur to him that the sharingan may have more than one ability.

I’ve now finally (sorta) revealed the identities of all the ANBU members (Ox- Nara; Turtle-Hyuuga; Viper-Uchiha)

Comments and kudos are ❤️

Chapter 9

Notes:

Warnings: murder, torture, and a long suffering Viper, the usual shinobi business.

Viper was going to kill his captain.

He would have to turn missing-nin afterwards—for the five seconds he’d last before the Hokage hunted him down. But his fellow ANBU would get it. Really, anyone who’d spent five minutes on a mission with Hatake fucking Kakashi would understand.

Case in point, Kakashi’s shadow clone glanced at Aizawa in suspicion before flickering through handsigns: willing hostage, leverage T&I, extraction requested, caution: field-based Nara jutsu, poison, space hiraishin.

Translation: I left with the unknowns on purpose so we have leverage to use against the HPSC. Come get me, but watch out for the enemy’s paralysis jutsu, their use of poison, oh, and their ability to move through space.

Maybe if Viper reminded explained to Minato-sama what an infuriating, self-sacrificing moron his student was, the man would have mercy and at least make Viper’s death quick.

——

For ANBU, death was the inevitable shadow you learned to live with as faceless, nameless soldiers who were sent into the darkest corners of the world to keep Konoha safe. You didn't take the tattoo without knowing that any mission might be your last.

The captain took that resolve to an extreme — he was a death wish wrapped in self-punishment, someone who genuinely didn’t believe he deserved to live. He thought he hid it well but it was obvious in the way he fought, furious lethal grace that danced a little too close to recklessness. Viper saw it every time Kakashi woke up in the hospital, bruised and bloodied, the same disappointment flickering in his eyes before it vanished beneath layers of responsibility and duty: the captain was waiting for the day he wouldn’t make it back.

——

Four hours into their search, Viper felt it—the unmistakable flare of Kakashi’s bright white chakra, faint but distinct, brushing against the edge of his senses as they neared the hospital. The surge of relief threatened to overwhelm him, but he ruthlessly reined it in. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down yet.

When they found Kakashi on the roof, it was second nature to block Aizawa from interfering with the captain’s interrogation. Blood theft was a threat of the highest order. The ANBU was about to offer his own knife hidden in his sleeve—when Kakashi laughed at Aizawa and said, “An eye for an eye. Don’t let an Uchiha hear you say that. That sounds like the worst deal ever.”

Something was wrong, Viper thought, eyes narrowing. ANBU never discussed clan names in front of enemies. Konoha had too many bloodline limits to risk it.

“Kakashi-sama,” Viper reminded the captain of their mission. “I’m your guard dog. If it must be done, let me.”

Viper was right: something was wrong and when Kakashi finally lost conscious, he was ready, closing the distance in a flash and catching the captain with practiced ease.

With Kakashi’s weight in his arms, Viper stilled for a moment, crouched protectively over his teammate. Let the relief he had been keeping at bay sink in a little, finally let himself breathe.

The captain was alive. Lion was safe. The team was okay.

And Viper was going to keep it that way.

The Uchiha’s eyes flashed red as he glanced over at Lockdown.

——

Konoha didn’t forgive blood thieves, and ANBU left no survivors anyway.

——

“How dare they,” Turtle hissed when he heard the news of the blood thieves, a spike of killing intent cutting through the air. “No wonder the captain lost his shit.”

Shinobi paranoia was a breed unto itself. In a world where knowing your enemy was half the battle, information was guarded like clan jutsu—jealously, obsessively. It was why clan names were forbidden on the battlefield, why the Sharingan was revered. The ability to instantly copy an enemy's skill with a single glance meant the wielder could learn to counter it, which made it a constant threat. And just as instinctively, blood was treated with the same obsessive caution. Every trace of it was to be burned and never to be left behind.

The ANBU may have ended up in a completely foreign dimension, but the rules of battle remained the same. For an enemy to want your blood was a threat of a far darker nature.

“The captain is trained in seals,” Ox pointed out. “He probably knows more messed up ways his blood can get used than all of us combined. He won’t stop until it’s destroyed… It’ll be like that time in Rain.”

“We are not having a repeat of fucking Rain,” Viper snapped. “We take care of this mess before he’s back on his feet. How long until then, Turtle?”

The medic glanced over at the currently drugged captain. “His injuries need at least a week to heal properly and I’ll tell him he needs at least three days of rest so… forty eight hours max.”

Forty eight hours to track down the villains in this foreign city, destroy the blood they’d taken from Kakashi, all before he woke up and without Aizawa finding out.

Viper caught Ox’s eye and nodded. Mission accepted.

——

Like most Uchiha, Viper knew Hatake Kakashi long before Hatake Kakashi ever knew him: when Viper returned from a six month long ANBU mission, he was greeted with the news that Uchiha Obito was dead, and the White Fang’s son had returned with a stolen sharingan in his head.

Viper had been ready to rip the dojutsu out of Hatake himself—except three separate Yamanaka interrogations concluded that Hatake and Nohara were telling the truth: Uchiha Obito had given the eye willingly.

The truth did little to quell the clan’s fury. The Uchiha still called Hatake a thief, Obito a traitor and it was impossible to tell who they hated more—Kakashi, for living with the sharingan or Obito, for refusing to die with it.

——

Forty-eight hours was both enough time and not enough time.

It was enough time for Viper to put the leverage Kakashi kindly got them to use, and Viper hated how effective it was (because the only thing more annoying than a self-sacrificing captain was a self-sacrificing captain who was right). The HPSC backed down without a fight but Viper still warned HPSC: if they approached Kakashi again, there would be murder on their doorstep.

There would still be some who refused to listen, of course; ambitious fools who thought this was their chance at glory and a quick promotion by fixing HPSC’s most recent fuckup.

Those fools would be found dead in their homes, having killed themselves by biting their tongues with no sign of struggle or foul play—just like Lockdown, and after that, the visits from HPSC would really stop.

But that was later.

Now, the real work began. The clock was ticking, and finding the League of Villains was the top priority.

Typically, ANBU operations were a study in subtlety, slipping through the shadows, unseen and unheard. The best of them could enter a room, eliminate a target, and disappear. No bloodshed, no chaos—just a clean, well-executed strike that left their enemies none the wiser until the ANBU was across the border. ANBU usually operated with the same finesse for intelligence. There was no need for brute force when a carefully planted lie, a whispered threat, or a well-timed bribe would get what they needed.

But now, they only had forty eight hours before Kakashi woke up. Viper and Ox didn’t have the time or patience to chase down every lead—so they were going to make the League of Villians come to them instead.

——

The most interesting fact about Viper, or Uchiha Kaito, was probably the fact that he didn’t hate and never hated Hatake Kakashi. It angered some and confused most of his clansmen, because Viper was a true Uchiha who had awakened his sharingan—surely he saw Obito’s betrayal and Kakashi’s life as the violation to the clan that it was?

But Viper didn’t. And he wouldn’t. Because his first ANBU team had taught him the most important lesson of his life: he was Konoha first and Uchiha second. And the day his team was slaughtered in Mist to let their rookie live, Viper learned the harsh truth of the sharingan that the clan elders never bothered to share: the price of its power was excrutiating pain.

Viper knew it must have been the same for Uchiha Obito as well, and if the clan had no claim to his pain, what claim did they have to his power?

——

Within twenty-four hours, the city’s underworld was buzzing with talk of the new villain in town, one who was eager to join the League of Villains. She had left a trail of bodies in her wake and wouldn’t stop until the League met her demands.

If the leader of the League wasn’t a fool, he would find the timing suspicious. But Viper knew it would be too tempting to resist. Kakashi had taken out at least two of their members, and knowing Kakashi, he would have targeted the biggest threats. The prospect of a powerful new ally would be too alluring to ignore.

The trap was set. When the League finally crawled out of whatever hole they’d been hiding in to meet with Ox, the ANBU would do what they did best.

——

The resulting fight was quick and brutal in its one-sidedness. The League, at its core, were still civillians. The following interrogation to learn where the rest of the League was and where they put the blood was distasteful but necessary.

And a mercy, Viper thought dryly as he burned the bodies. This was far kinder than what Kakashi would have done.

——

Kakashi was having a nightmare.

Viper watched from the shadows as Aizawa stirred.  The room was dark, the only light filtering in from the moon outside, casting long shadows across the walls and Aizawa’s gaze unknowingly slid past Viper to land on Kakashi’s bed. Aizawa blinked into the murk, trying to make sense of the sounds— desperate, instinctual noise of some unseen terror.

With a sigh, the hero rubbed his face and pulled himself from the couch to approach the bed cautiously.

"Kakashi," Aizawa murmured, his voice soft but firm. "Wake up. You’re safe. It’s just a dream."

It was clear from the way he leaned over that he was going to try to wake him, gently, trying to pull him from whatever hell Kakashi was reliving. The effort was commendable—if naive.

Viper could let it play out. He doubted the captain would actually kill Aizawa even in his panic—the hero would probably walk away with a broken arm or crushed windpipe at most and that would be a small price to pay for someone dumb enough to approach an injured, and recently tortured shinobi without thinking.

Just as Aizawa’s hand hovered above Kakashi, ready to shake him awake, Kakashi’s hand shot out, aiming straight for Aizawa’s throat. There was no hesitation, no moment of thought.

I could let it happen, Viper thought, half-amused. The situation seemed ripe for a lesson in restraint.

But he didn’t. The captain was mystifyingly fond of the hero and would likely mope if he realized what he did. 

So right before Kakashi’s blow could land, Viper moved from the shadows, his hand seizing the teen’s wrist. The older ANBU’s grip was unyielding, like iron, and for a moment, Kakashi’s fingers twitched, instinctively trying to break free.

Viper flared his chakra and waited. It only took a few seconds before Kakashi seemed to recognize the presence, and the fight drained from him.

Aizawa’s breath came out in a strangled gasp as he took a belated step back. The man wasn’t stupid—he realized how close to danger he had been.

"Don’t approach him when he’s like this," Viper warned needlessly. His hand remained tight on Kakashi’s wrist, the hold firm as he waited for the younger shinobi to settle. "Kakashi-sama, the team is safe. Stand down."

Kakashi’s breathing, rapid and shallow, began to slow. His grip on reality, it seemed, was slowly returning. He blinked several times, as if waking from a trance.

And then, was that flicker of disappointment before the drugs pulled him back under.

Viper sighed. So obvious. 

——

With Viper and Ox rotating guards between the Fourth and Kakashi, the Uchiha ended up spending more time with Aizawa than before. The underground hero was an interesting man; clearly well-respected and well-liked based on his interactions with the hospital staff. There was a quiet authority about Aizawa, a sense of calm strength that made civillians gravitate toward him.

Yet it was his sharp intuition that kept Viper on edge. The man had an uncanny ability to make connections, even with little information, often getting dangerously close to the truth without realizing it.

Aizawa clearly suspected the ANBU were hiding something about Lion, and watched whenever Kakashi interacted with the ANBU a little too carefully. It was the look of a man who was waiting for a mistake.

The hero was dangerous—the kind of threat Viper would have suggested eliminating. But the hero had a soft spot for Kakashi, and that, Viper believed, could be used to their advantage.

Any goodwill Aizawa had for the rest of the ANBU, however, evaporated when the deaths of the two HPSC agents became public. He was smart enough not to show fear, but his wariness was evident in every encounter. There was a distinct challenge in his eyes now, a subtle but undeniable tension .

It was with that same wary challenge that Aizawa spoke one afternoon. “Word on the street is that the League of Villains disappeared.”

Viper shrugged a shoulder as he continued to read the book Ox recommended, The Art of Strategic Napping: Mastering the Power of Rest for Maximum Efficiency. He should have known better than to listen to a Nara’s idea of entertainment.  “Maybe they went on vacation. I certainly want to.”

The hero continued to stare at him, the unamused look sharp as ever.

Viper sighed, snapping the book shut. “I don’t understand why you people care so much about the wellbeing of these villains. They’re effectively missing-nin—people who betrayed your laws, hurt or killed your people. They’re threats and a quick death would be a mercy.”

“We have laws here because we seek justice, not personal retribution.”

Viper scoffed. “You let these villians walk free in your city. Your laws are weak.”

To the ANBU’s surprise, Aizawa agreed. “That’s probably true compared to what you’re used to. From what I understand, you’re under martial law, which is something we only have during war time. But we’re in peace now and that’s something you want too, right? Surely, that’s what you fight for? A world that’s better?”

Viper paused, his mind drifting back to the Second Shinobi War. He thought of the times he had kidnapped high-value assets, taken their children as leverage, and done the unthinkable to ensure compliance. He remembered burying civilians to erase any trace of Konoha's involvement. The unspeakable things he did for the Will of Fire.

And he would do it all again if he had to, a thousand times over. But now, under Minato-sama, he didn’t have to.

Konoha was powerful and thriving, untouchable. The trade was flourishing, the borders were secure. Her enemies dared not challenge her, not with the Yellow Flash at the helm—the man who could strike deep into their borders and obliterate their defenses in the blink of an eye.

It had been months since Viper had been ordered to kill a child.

"We are in peace," Viper responded honestly.

——

Once Kakashi was awake, and Aizawa was trapped under the sharingan, Viper and Ox presented Kakashi with the heads of their enemies and the bag of Kakashi’s blood—their spoils of war. 

Notes:

Nope, Viper does not recognize the irony. None of the ANBU would.

This chapter took a while. I was going to have Kakashi handle the LoV but realized there’s no way the rest of his team is just sitting on their hands. I also played around with Viper’s backstory, but ultimately decided Viper cares for Kakashi not because of some special backstory, but because Kakashi is Konoha too, and that’s enough for Viper.

Comments and kudos are ❤️ (apologies I’m behind on replies but the comments genuinely help me write so much ❤️)

Chapter 10

“Did the ANBU do it?”

Aizawa wasted no time as he took a seat beside Tsukauchi. The detective was in a bar tucked away behind the city hall, a dimly lit spot owned by an ex-cop who had a soft spot for law enforcement. Aizawa had come here more times than he cared to admit, though tonight he wasn’t here for the quiet atmosphere or the drinks.

The events of the last few days had left more questions than before, and Aizawa was tired of pretending he had any answers left. Kakashi was still out cold, being watched over by Best Jeanist, and Aizawa needed to know.

Tsukauchi didn’t look at him immediately, his eyes still locked on the half-finished beer in his hand. He took a slow sip, then let out a long breath before answering.

“Are you asking if they killed Agent Satou and Yoshida? If they killed the six villians we found behind 7th street with their throats slit? Or if they killed the League of Villians who have somehow completely disappeared in thin air?” Tsukauchi laughed, a bitter sound. “The answer is yes. Not that we can prove a damn thing.“

While it didn’t make it any easier to swallow, it was the answer Aizawa expected: The villain underground had gone quiet—too quiet. The usual noise of power struggles, petty crimes, and the hum of underground activities had died down. Villains were in hiding, like they were being hunted, like they were trying to avoid attracting the attention of something more dangerous.

Aizawa had never seen anything like it.

“When are the agents’ funerals?” He asked quietly, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

“This Saturday for Yoshida. She didn’t have any living relatives, so the HPSC is going to handle the proceedings.” Tsukauchi ran a hand through his hair. “There won’t be anything for Satou. His sister was notified, and she would like to keep it private given the nature of his death.”

Aizawa nodded once, before tossing back his own cup of sake, and felt the alcohol burn.

——

The days slipped back into an unsettling semblance of normalcy, a kind of quiet that made Aizawa’s skin crawl.

With the HPSC no longer threatening to withhold treatment or resources for either Kakashi or Lion, the ANBU had slipped back into their usual game of pretending at deference and maintaining the façade of cooperation.

Aizawa found it difficult to return to the same detached nonchalance, knowing the truth of what they had done.

The underground hero hadn’t personally known Satou Takashi or Yoshida An who had been from the newest batch of HPSC recruits. He had seen their files though, and knew they were good agents, hungry to prove themselves in the harsh world of law enforcement. They had just been too new to read between the lines of what it meant for the HPSC to back down. Too green to recognize the danger that implied and realize the weight of their own decisions.

It didn’t make their deaths any less senseless, Aizawa thought angrily. It didn’t make ANBU killing them any less unforgivable.

——

The reason why the HPSC was so quick to back down became obvious later that week.

“You’re saying this is about me?” Kakashi skimmed through the morning newspaper. Dr. Hayashi had brought it by along with the assurance that the hospital staff had been informed of the matter and journalists weren’t allowed in the hospital.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Aizawa sighed. “This has gone viral and you’ve become something of an internet celebrity.”

The media, which had been sniffing around since the attack on the hospital, had finally caught wind of Kakashi. The article, titled Crown or combat? Mystery Teen Sparks Chaos Between Heros and Villians, painted the teen as royalty from another world, with powers so intriguing that both the HPSC and the League of Villians were willing to resort to violence to control him. It was a sensational, almost absurd narrative but one that mixed enough truth to make it hard to dispute.

The story had all the makings of a headline-grabber: a child of importance, mysterious abilities from another world, and power struggles surrounding him. The media frenzy grew, and the public couldn’t get enough. The hospital, overwhelmed by the attention, had been forced to double its security and station guards in the hallways to prevent journalists from sneaking inside.

"They don’t mention ANBU," Kakashi observed.

Aizawa had noticed that too especially because the author knew details that shouldn’t have been public knowledge like the number of villains who had attacked the hospital, the fact that the HPSC had withheld medical care from Kakashi, even the deaths of two HPSC agents—despite the deaths being ruled as suicides. The glaring absence of ANBU, whose actions were far darker than the public could ever accept, ironically stood out like a sore thumb.

“It’s likely a good will gesture.” At Kakashi’s questioning glance, the hero clarified, “This article is too carefully written for it to have been a mistake. Whoever wrote this intentionally wrote around the ANBU.”

Kakashi didn’t respond, but Aizawa could tell where the teen’s mind was going. The ANBU were obsessive about their masks and identities.

Aizawa leaned forward, his expression hardening.

“Kakashi, even if they were to publish something about the ANBU in the future, you cannot retaliate. These people—they’re civilians. Regular citizens. They have a right to free speech, and you can’t hurt them for it,” Aizawa thought of Satou, who had applied to HPSC twice before finally being accepted. Of Yoshida whose brother was now effectively orphaned. Aizawa wasn’t going to let it happen again. “If you try, I can’t, and I won’t protect you.”

Kakashi’s face betrayed nothing but Aizawa could sense the flicker of irritation beneath the surface. The teen had already shown disdain for the idea of freedom of speech, a foreign notion to someone from a world where knowledge was tightly controlled as a tool of power.

Still, Kakashi finally nodded and said, “We follow my rules for my people, but we’ll follow your rules for yours.”

it wasn’t a promise but it was close enough.

——

Ever since he got kidnapped, Kakashi started having nightmares, which then developed to sleep walking during which he kept trying to wash his hands despite his hands being completely bandaged.  Aizawa learned better than to try to wake him up after the first time when Kakashi responded with reflexive violence; instead, Viper and Ox, whoever was guarding Kakashi for the night, took turns herding him back into bed.

“What’s the significance of hand washin?” Aizawa asked Turtle one day when Kakashi had stepped out to walk Sidekick with Viper. Aizawa stood by the window, watching as Kakashi lazily tossed a ball to the golden retriever in the hospital atrium.

“Probably to wash off the blood he thinks he sees,” Turtle answered like it was obvious. “That would make the most sense given Kakashi-sama’s… history.”

That was a statement to unpack, but Aizawa wasn’t going to ask about someone’s trauma behind their back.

Sidekick jumped up to knock Kakashi to the ground, happily licking his face. Kakashi didn’t resist, allowing the dog to shower him with slobber, his one visible eye crinkling into a genuine smile. From this distance, where the scars, bruises, and bandages weren’t visible, Kakashi looked like a regular teen.

"Why doesn’t anyone help him?" Aizawa asked quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

The medic let out a hollow laugh, "Why do you assume no one has tried?"

——

While there was little that could be done for Kakashi, they had a breakthrough for Lion a few days later.

“Kakashi-sama, I need a seal for Lion.”

Aizawa looked up from the case file to see the medic standing in the doorway, his bone-white mask obscuring his expression but the excitement in his voice unmistakable. “I was finally able to source the chakra leak. It’s the tenketsu behind his spleen.”

Kakashi made a soft noise of understanding. “Of course. His injury from the Kyuubi.”

Aizawa put the report down at that, interest piqued. The kyuuubi was sealed away - one of the greatest, if not the greatest accomplishment of the Fourth, who already possessed an impressively long list of accomplishments— yet the kyuubi seemed to be a wound they still all carried with them. There was an underlying tension whenever the shinobi spoke of the nine tailed fox, the chakra creature that nearly destroyed their village.

Viper had declined cosmetic surgery for his burns, shrugging that it wasn’t worse than anything the fox had given him. Turtle’s training as a medic apparently had been trial by fire, having started the year that the kyuubi attacked. It was Kakashi’s first time mentioning the fox at all.

“If we can isolate and seal that specific tenketsu off, it’ll let the rest of the body recover. Once the rest of the system is closer to baseline, we can focus back on that tenketsu. This could speed up Lion's healing by weeks.”

Kakashi’s eye widened ever so slightly, an expression that Aizawa now understood was the equivalent of Kakashi jumping up and down in joy.

It was why Aizawa protested very little at Kakashi's request for materials: ten pages of bamboo paper, an ink stick, an ink stone, and two brushes.

“You’re in for a treat,” Viper said when Aizawa returned. “I know multiple people who would pay good money for a chance to get to see this. Ox tried to bribe me with her grandmother’s plum wine so I would switch shifts with her and she could watch but not a chance.”

Kakashi and Turtle, who had been discussing what exactly Lion needed when Aizawa left, must have ironed out the specifics. Now, Kakashi started laying out the materials on the floor, each item placed with a precision that made it clear this was a ritual to him. With practiced ease, he grated the ink stick against the ink stone, added a small amount of water, and then, without hesitation, bit his finger to mix in a drop of blood.

“Turtle,” Kakashi broke the silence, his voice steady as he began dipping the brush in the mixture of ink and blood, “What are the components of a good seal, in order of importance?”

“Ingredients, penmanship, chakra control, and the seal structure itself,” Turtle replied without hesitation.

Kakashi nodded once. “That’s what they teach you in the academy, but it’s actually the reverse. What’s important is the seal structure itself, chakra control and calligraphy of the seal maker and the ingredients. A well-structured seal and good chakra control can elevate a seal made with poor ingredients to a higher quality, but the reverse isn’t true. No matter how great the ingredients, if your chakra control and structure are lacking, your seal will likely fail.”

Viper and Turtle were still, ANBU still, hanging on to every word.

“Mass-produced seals, like exploding tags,” Kakashi continued, “Are different. They’re created in a way that minimizes the need for delicate control, and the structure is standardized so it becomes a contest of who can use the best ingredients or write the cleanest strokes. But quality seals require more—Viper, what are the characteristics of high-quality seals?”

“Fresh, dark ink, and clear, clean characters, sir.”

“Good. Anything else?” After a beat of silence, Kakashi prompted, “What qualities of the paper should you look for?”

“The stiffer, the better. But,” Viper hesitated. “I’ve seen you write seals in dirt. Does the paper really matter?”

Kakashi was good at this, Aizawa realized as he listened to Kakashi answer Viper’s question. The teen explained concepts with patience and clarity—but most striking thing was the gentleness in his tone. There was no rush in his words and movements as he shared the intricacies of seal-making with his team. It was a stark contrast to Kakashi’s usual aloofness.

And as a teacher, Aizawa knew that people taught the way they had learned. Whoever taught Kakashi must have been patient. Gentle. Maybe even kind.

——

A small voice whispered from the darkest corners of Aizawa's mind—a voice that had begun since the night Kakashi‘s nightmares turned into sleep walking and grew louder the longer he spent watching Kakashi stiffen whenever his hands were jostled.

That voice wondered what Aizawa would have done if the roles were reversed.

If he found himself trapped in a strange world, isolated and powerless, while his students were taken and tortured because of someone else’s arrogance and carelessness—could he stay calm? Could he uphold his ideals of justice, demand procedures be followed, and rely on foreign law to set things right? Or would Aizawa, like the ANBU were, be consumed by the need to act?  To protect his students, potentially proactively, no matter the cost?

If there was a possibility, a silver of a chance that his students could be taken from him, was there anything Aizawa wouldn’t do to protect them?

——

The voice whispered, no.

 

Notes:

My least favorite chapter I wrote yet but I’m posting anyways because it’s a necessary chapter for Aizawa to come to terms with what happened and so I can write the actual fun stuff which is the build up to the next arc: UA!

Also it’s my personal opinion that in a Minato Lives AU Kakashi obviously learns sealing from Minato and I WILL die on this hill.

Comments and kudos are ❤️

Chapter 11

Notes:

Warning: inappropriate coping mechanisms in the form of self harm

Aizawa frowned. Kakashi had been clear that sealing was a lost art but the Fourth was known for sealing the Fox…

“Did you learn sealing from the Hokage?”

The hair on the back of Aziawa’s neck rose at how quickly Viper whipped around to look at him.

“Yes, a little bit. It’s not my specialty though,“ Kakashi answered mildly. His calm seemed to settle the ANBU down.

“Kakashi-sama is being modest,” Turtle offered. “Lord Fourth tried to teach others the art of seals, including medics at the hospital. Some of us have practiced enough that we can replicate already designed seals, but Kakashi-sama is the only one who can create new seals from scratch.”

Aizawa watched Kakashi reach for another piece of paper. Without an ability to sense chakra, it seemed that Kakashi was just writing letters on paper, “What makes sealing so difficult to learn?”

“There’s an immense amount of theory behind seal writing,” Turtle explained. “You need to understand the principles behind how characters interact with each other, and understand and calculate the flow of chakra and its interaction with the seal itself. Even if you master the theory, to actually create the seal, you need to control the chakra with precision—how much you put into each stroke, the flow, the pressure. The balance has to be exact, or the seal won’t hold. It’s a lot to keep in mind all at once. Not the mention that Kakashi-sama is not replicating an already standardized seal-he’s creating a new one for the,” Viper sneezed violently, causing Turtle to flinch, “For the patient, Lion.”

Essentially seal making seemed to be a blend of math and coding, an art that required both intellectual understanding and precise execution. And it was clear from the way his team watched him, how they hung on every word and stroke, that Kakashi’s mastery of it commanded respect.

“The secret is a lot of seals can be simplified if you can use different chakra natures together to help maintain the balance,” Kakashi said. “Fire and wind, for example, can amplify each other, maximizing the power of the seal without additional letters needed. Earth and water together can stabilize a seal’s durability. It’s about finding the right combination to smooth out the complexity. If you can’t use those combinations, you’re left designing every single seal from scratch with pure chakra control and theory, which is... far more difficult,” For the first time, Kakashi’s brush paused for the briefest moment between strokes. He sounded wry. “While I believe that anyone who can use the five chakra natures has a natural aptitude for sealing, Hokage-sama liked to call it cheating.”

——

Watching Kakashi teach his team turned out to be surprisingly good motivation for Aizawa, who still had to submit his class plans for the fall semester. He had actually been planning the classes at school when he had gotten the request to respond to the strange explosion in the Beast’s Forest: Kakashi and the team landing in their world. It had been nothing but chaos since.

Now, with just over a month left before the semester, Aizawa couldn’t afford to put it off any longer.

The next morning, he spread his notes across the coffee table. His focus eventually caught Kakashi’s attention, who was, against medical advice, doing push ups.

“I’m finalizing lesson plans for next semester,” Aizawa said when he saw Kakashi’s shadow approach out of the corner of his eyes, “They’re not due for a few more weeks, but it’s best to get it done while I have the chance.”

The teen shifted closer, perching at the edge of the coffee table with one leg tucked beneath him as he scanned the scattered pages. “Shouldn’t that be standardized?“

“The basic content to cover is the same but teachers are encouraged to customize it when possible. Every year it’s a little different since the students are different, whether it’s their personality, learning style or quirks. It’s worth spending time to see if there’s anything you can do to make the lessons more effective.”

“So you do this every year?”

Aizawa hid a small smile, quietly pleased by Kakashi’s interest. “Every semester, actually, but when you’re a teacher for as long as I am, it gets easier. I’m sure your teachers did something similar for you when you graduated the Academy early—at five, right?”

To Aizawa’s surprise, it was Ox who reacted to that. The ANBU, who was half asleep on the couch by the window, lifted her head. “Excuse me?”

Kakashi glanced at her, “You didn’t know?”

Ox had begun rolling over to her side, but clearly thought better of it when she realized the pressure it put on her shoulder. She sat up instead and cracked her neck with a sigh, “Of course I know. Everyone and their grandmother knows, but I thought it was an exaggeration. To be honest, Kakashi-sama, I think most people do,” She paused. “How long were you actually in the Academy then?"

"Five months maybe,” Kakashi considered it. “Give or take a month. Dad and sensei wanted me to stay for at least a full year, but I could chakra walk since I was two. It was a waste of everyone’s time.”

Kakashi’s tone made it clear that when he said everyone’s time, he actually meant his own.

“What.” Ox said. It wasn’t a question and Aizawa started to feel like he was missing something.

If their education system was flexible enough to let Kakashi skip grades rather than be forced to sit through material he already knew, that was a positive thing. Bored children led to problem children.

Ox’s surprise still rang omnious.

“What age do students normally graduate from the Academy?” Aizawa asked.

“Graduation’s merit-based, so it depends,” Ox answered distractedly. “Technically, you just have to demonstrate genin-level skills. Even for clan kids, though, it usually takes a few years. I was about nine when I graduated, and I was solidly average… Is that when you were assigned your jounin sensei? I remember it was a big deal when he made jounin—he was the youngest of his time. I mean, until…”

Kakashi snorted, “Yes. They don’t usually let newly minted jounin be responsible for genin but he insisted and no one else wanted me. I was also an off-season graduate so there weren’t any other genin to team me up with anyways. It was just me and sensei for a few years, until…”

This time, Kakashi trailed off. Sensing a darkening mood and trying to steer it off, Aizawa pivoted, “So did you accelerate through the rest of your schooling after that?”

“What?” The question seemed to jostle Kakashi out of his thoughts. “No, you become a genin once you graduate the Academy and that’s it. I started going out to missions with my sensei, though he never took me along anything above a C-rank, until I was a chuunin. That was painful.”

Ox asked, “Didn’t you turn chuunin at six?”

Kakashi shrugged, the universal gesture for whatever.

Aizawa stared, turning this new relevation in his head. Six months of school, then straight to missions that could kill. A promotion to chuunin at six.

Kakashi hadn’t received an education—he’d been molded, trained for deployment from the start. And the teen didn’t seem seem bitter that his childhood—if you could even call it that—was a sham. That he never had a chance to just be a kid, and have fun. No play with other children his age, no lazy afternoons, no scraped knees from climbing trees, no time to figure out what kind of person he wanted to be.

The worst part, Aizawa realized, was that Kakashi had lost out on the most crucial part of growing up—social development. At a time when he should’ve been forming friendships and learning how to navigate relationships, he was thrust into a world where survival was everything. He’d never had the chance to develop the emotional connections others took for granted. It had likely stunted Kakashi’s ability to relate to others, or worse, damaged it permanently.

His extreme maturity for his age and aloofness made sense now. He’d spent his whole life surrounded by people older than him, and that was who he’d modeled himself after, who he would have taken his emotional cues from—those who were already hardened  by the brutal realities of their world.

Kakashi continued, “I obviously still trained but it just wasn’t in a classroom setting anymore. Sensei taught me the basics, like field medical skills, weapons, tactics, interrogation, anti-interrogation, evasion, torture resilliance—“

“What,” Aizawa said. Everything Kakashi was listing was straight out of a military textbook, and each one was somehow worse than the last.

“Once I made chuunin, Sensei insisted I go through the poison tolerance program, so that was about a year of getting poisoned every week,” He was ticking items off on his fingers now, like he was listing groceries. “Then you have strategy, logistics, counterintelligence, honey pot training—“

”Please stop,” Aizawa said as his hand shot up to cover his face. He buried his head in his palms, struggling to breathe through the rush of horror and shock that was hammering in his chest.

It was probably for the best he didn’t see Kakashi and Ox glance at each other and shrug, clearly unsure why this was surprising at all.

——

Kakashi’s healing was slow. It would take months for his nails to grow back but the teenager refused Turtle’s administrations, quoting that the chakra should be saved for emergencies and the lack of nails didn’t stop him from forming handseals.

“Lion is going to get his seal removed soon, so we all need to save our chakra in case of an emergency. My hands are functional; therefore, I’m fine,” Kakashi had shrugged, and it took all of Aizawa’s willpower not to shout at the teen that nothing about that was fine.

Kakashi’s stoic indifference at his own injuries and well-being made Aizawa’s stomach churn. He needed to do something. He tried to approach Turtle, hoping the medic might have some suggestions. “Is there anything we can do for him?”

The medic tilted his head. Despite the mask, Aizawa could sense Turtle’s confusion. “For what? Kakashi-sama is right. His nails will grow back eventually.”

“The kid needs therapy or something to help him process whatever the kidnapping triggered. He’s still having nightmares every night.”

”Oh, that,” Turtle said, like the constant night terrors and sleep walking didn’t register to the medic as a problem. Or, Aizawa had a grim, dawning realization that it didn’t register to the medic as his problem. “Aizawa-san, Kakashi-sama is not a civillian. He doesn’t need coddling, and if he wanted help, he’d ask for it. Viper and Ox are ensuring he doesn’t hurt anyone and the nightmares will eventually pass. If anything, you should take it as a compliment—he’s relaxed enough in your presence that he’s actually sleeping to have nightmares.”

That was really not the compliment Turtle thought it was.

Aizawa exhaled sharply, trying to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he was angry, frustrated, or just... exhausted.

He’s just a kid, the hero thought but didn’t say. He knew the shinobi didn’t think of age the same way.  “He’s your client. Surely you owe him better treatment? If nothing else, he’s a valuable asset to the village.”

“Kakashi-sama has never failed a psych evaluation in his career, not even after he lost his eye. There’s no psychological assessment I can do that an, no, a jounin like Kakashi-sama can’t fool,” Turtle said flatly. “Not to mention I’m not even authorized to try.”

“You’re a medic,” Aizawa clenched his fists, his patience fraying. “You’re supposed to help him. Help all of him.”

“No, Aizawa-san,” Turtle said, and Aizawa hated how gentle Turtle’s tone had turned. As if the hero was being the unreasonable one and Turtle was trying to help Aizawa understand. “My job is to ensure full capabilities, and Kakashi’s mental state does not compromise his effectiveness in the field. There is nothing more I can do.”

——

“Kakashi, do you ever think you want an out?” Aizawa asked Kakashi one evening. He had taken Kakashi up to the hospital roof, hoping the fresh air might help ease the restlessness that had been gnawing at the teen for the past few days.

Kakashi stood at the edge of the roof, his eyes closed, allowing the wind to ruffle his hair. “And do what?”

“Live your life.”

“Doing what?”

“Whatever you want.”

Kakashi finally turned around to look at him, “Like what?”

Aizawa shrugged helplessly. “You’d get to figure that out… But you wouldn’t just have to be a shinobi anymore.”

The air around them seemed to still, and for a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the wind. Aizawa waited, but Kakashi didn’t respond right away. For a moment, he thought Kakashi was ignoring him entirely, his thoughts somewhere else, unreachable.

But then, quietly, almost as if he was speaking to himself, Kakashi said, “I don’t know what that means.”

It was probably the most honest thing he’d said.

——

The problem was: Kakashi didn’t know what he didn’t know, wouldn’t regret what he never cared for, and couldn’t mourn what he never had.

——

It was finally the day to remove Lion’s seal.

His chakra system had healed significantly since it didn’t have to deal with a leaky tenketsu, and now Turtle determined it was time to focus treatment on the one that Kakashi had sealed. Apparently, removing a seal that had been applied for this long required care as the sudden influx of chakra could destabilize the chakra system, potentially causing severe shock to his body.

Turtle was discussing the plan with Ox, Viper and Kakashi who stood loosely around Lion’s bed. It was a rare sight to see the entire team together; Kakashi, still in his hospital gown, even had his left eye open. His gaze was fixed on Lion, and his posture, though relaxed, betrayed a tension that hung thick in the air.

Turtle asked, “Ready?”

All three shinobi nodded.

Turtle took a deep breath, his fingers poised over Lion’s chest. His hands began to glow—a concentrated chakra at a high enough density that even Aizawa could see— and the glowing chakra moved to wrap around the seal.

Turtle glanced up at the others, the only warning, before he muttered, “Kai.”

Aizawa instantly knew something went wrong: Kakashi, Viper and Ox all flinched forward towards Lion at the same time. A split second later, the machines monitoring Lion’s vitals screamed to life in a blaring alarm. The steady rhythm of his heart rate went haywire—erratic, unstable—his vitals spiking and plummeting in rapid succession.

"Chakra infusions, now!" Turtle snapped.

In stark contrast to the frantic beeping of the monitors, Ox, Viper, and Kakashi moved with eerie synchronization. They were silent, each of them focused intently on Lion, their open hands hovering just above him as they began sharing their chakra. Aizawa couldn’t help but notice the distinct colors of their chakra—Turtle’s was a warm green, Kakashi’s a brilliant snow white, Viper’s a deep red, and Ox’s was a soft, almost ethereal sky blue.

The rest of the room stood completely still. The ICU medical staff, as well as Aizawa, remained pressed against the walls, as motionless as statues, holding their breath. They knew the best way they could help was to stay out of the way.

Time seemed to slow down. Seconds dragged into what felt like minutes, stretching endlessly. The sound of the monitors, once erratic and frantic, began to gradually settle. The wild spikes of Lion’s vitals began to stabilize, the beeping becoming more rhythmic, less urgent.

Aizawa’s eyes flicked between the team, watching their every move. He was aware of the weight in the room—the pressure of the moment. No one dared speak. No one dared move.

After what felt like an eternity, but was likely only a few minutes, Turtle finally let out a breath and nodded. “That’s enough,” he said, his voice a mixture of exhaustion and careful relief. “He’s stable. I’ll want to keep a close eye on him for the next twenty-four hours, in case he needs another infusion, but his chakra flow is back to normal now.”

Kakashi stepped back stiffly, accepting the dismissal from Turtle. He ordered, “Viper, Ox, stay here and support Turtle.”

Viper turned, “But-“

”That’s an order,” Kakashi snapped harshly. The words were laced with such venom that it felt like the temperature in the room dropped, a wave of cold settling over everyone.

Viper’s shoulders straightened instinctively, like a soldier responding to the weight of a command, and without another word, he took a step back, his posture rigid. It was a small movement, but it carried the unmistakable weight of submission.

Aizawa, standing off to the side, watched the exchange with narrowed eyes. He hadn't expected such vehemence from Kakashi. It was a side of him he hadn’t seen before—sharp, unyielding, and a little terrifying.

It was also the first real disagreement he had witnessed between Kakashi and his team. And the cause of it, Aizawa couldn’t help notice, was Lion.

——

With the order to keep him updated, Kakashi left and the atmosphere in the ICU room seemed to ease, as Turtle began barking out orders to the medical staff. After a brief hesitation, Aizawa followed Kakashi down the hall, quickening his pace to match Kakashi’s and fall into step beside him. He didn’t offer any empty words of comfort—he knew better than that—but he murmured softly, "Turtle said Lion is stable."

Kakashi didn’t break his stride. "I know."

The dim lights flickered faintly above them as they walked in silence, their footsteps the only sound between them. Still, Aizawa watched Kakashi closely. Like static building in the air before a storm, Aizawa felt that something had changed.

"Hanging in there?" He asked, careful to keep his tone light.

Kakashi didn’t answer right away. His focus remained fixed ahead, but there was a slight tremor in his hand as it brushed against the wall for balance, something Aizawa didn’t miss.

Then came the quiet exhale, sharp and shallow, as if Kakashi was holding his breath for just a moment too long.

"You’re not alright," Aizawa realized, stopping in his tracks. He wasn’t sure what it was but the way Kakashi’s body had tightened, the way he suddenly seemed brittle, was unmistakable. “Slow down. Take a deep breath, Kakashi."

"I'm fine," Kakashi muttered, the words barely audible, strained in a way that made them sound like a lie.

"You don't need to be fine," Aizawa said, soft but firm, stepping a little closer.

Kakashi's head snapped back to him at that, his eyes wide for a split second, a flicker of panic crossing his face before he quickly regained control. But it was there, just beneath the surface-a brief vulnerability Aizawa didn't often see. Kakashi's jaw clenched tight, his body freezing as if bracing against something that was trying to break through.

Aizawa took a step closer, watching carefully as Kakashi's breath caught in his chest, shallow and rapid. Then, without warning, Kakashi's breathing grew more erratic, faster, as if he couldn't catch his breath no matter how hard he tried. His chest rose and fell in sharp, desperate gasps. Kakashi stumbled, slamming his back against the nearest wall with a dull thud.

Aizawa's heart leapt in his throat. The sudden shift was so stark, so unexpected, that it took him a beat to react.

Kakashi was fully hyperventilating now, his breath coming in jagged bursts. Both eyes were wide open, in a rare look of panic. Open, vulnerable. Afraid.

It made Kakashi look so young.

Aizawa knew better than to try to physically reach out to the teen. Kakashi was not someone who was reassured by touch. 

“Three breaths in, five breaths out,” Aizawa exaggerated his breathing. “Listen to my breathing and follow.”

Kakashi’s hands shot to his chest, his fingers digging into his shirt, as if he could physically contain his panic with sheer force. His gaze flickered up to Aizawa’s, wide-eyed and frantic, before dropping to the floor again. His chest heaved in erratic rhythms, his breath growing more and more panicked by the second.

Aizawa resisted the urge to shout for Turtle-evey fiber in his body told him that Kakashi’s panic would get worse if his team was pulled away from Lion and while panic attacks made you feel like you were dying, they rarely actually killed you.

Aizawa regreted that decision the next moment.

A glint of metal caught the light, and Aizawa's heart skipped a beat as he recognized it—a scalpel.

Before Aizawa could react, Kakashi slashed it across his palm, the blade cutting deep enough to draw blood.

Aizawa shouted out in alarm, but it was too late. Bright red blood started blooming from the cut. 

Kakashi jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth ground together audibly, and he just seemed to... freeze. His whole body went still, and then, with a deep, almost imperceptible exhale, Kakashi's tense shoulders loosened, his breathing slowing, though still ragged.

The panic was replaced by a hollow calm.

“Need help here!” Aizawa hollered down the hall. He reached out, grabbing Kakashi's wrist before he could move it, holding it firmly to prevent him from doing further damage to himself. Kakashi made no effort to resist, letting the hero position it above Kakashi's heart to slow the bleeding. “What the hell was that?”

Kakashi slumped against the wall now, the picture of detached calm. He had closed his red eye and the single grey eye was distant, focused on nothing at all.

“Pain short circuits the panic," he answered quietly. "It lets me focus again."

Aizawa went still, kneeling by Kakashi, in stunned silence.

"You're not fine," Aizawa finally muttered, his grip tightening on Kakashi's wrist, trying to keep his voice steady despite the anger churning in his chest. "You're bleeding because you choose pain over facing your own emotions. Nothing about this is fine. "

Kakashi's eyes were closed halfway as if he were too exhausted to even care about the blood now soaking his palm and the hem of his sleeve.

“I’m functional, Aizawa-san,” The teen sighed. “I’m fine.”

——

Aizawa cornered Viper, who was heading to the convenience store on the first floor, later that evening. It was the ANBU’s turn to pick up snacks and drinks for the team—potato chips for Turtle, pocky for Ox, dried octopus for Kakashi, and green tea for everyone.

“Who is Lion?” Aizawa demanded.

“Revealing the identity of ANBU is tantamount to treason and punished by execution. You surely know this by now, Aizawa-san,” Viper drawled.

The hero waved the response away. “I don’t care about his name. I mean who is Lion to Kakashi? Don’t think I haven’t noticed that he makes sure Lion is better protected than himself. I thought it was because Lion is your way back home but,” Aizawa thought of the look on Kakashi’s face when he walked away from Lion’s room. The worry and the fear that had been bad enough to set off a panic attack, “There’s clearly something more.”

Viper had paused by the door to the emergency stairs and was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He tilted his head, and despite the mask, Aizawa could feel him weighing his worth. Measuring his intentions.

The ANBU finally answered, "Their relationship is complicated. Lion cares, but Kakashi-sama doesn’t understand why."

Aizawa frowned, thinking of the few fragmented pieces of information he had about Lion. Kakashi seemed to avoid talking about him.

“Are they on bad terms?” Aizawa asked, “Kakashi had said his father knew Lion’s teacher.”

"I mean in a more general sense," The ANBU said. "Kakashi-sama doesn’t understand, or perhaps doesn’t believe, that anyone would care about him. That’s why you confuse him too, by the way—though he does seem to like you."

Aizawa eyed Viper warily, noting that the ANBU said it like he wished Kakashi didn’t. This time, Viper waved Aizawa’s concern away and continued, “Lion cares about Kakashi-sama. He always has, and he’s never hidden it. But Kakashi-sama... he believes his association only causes harm to Lion and actively tries to distance himself. This causes tension between the two."

“His association harms Lion—that’s ridiculous.”

To Aizawa’s shock, Viper shook his head, “No, Kakashi-sama’s judgement is sound. His presence is highly contentious. Divisive, even, in the village. His past has a way of overshadowing everything he does and just spending time with him in the village can attract negative attention. I’ve been refused service from civillian establishments when we’re together. There are factions that would be happy to see him dead, though for different reasons.”

Aizawa stared, trying to understand the picture Viper was painting. “I thought he’s part of your military as a jounin. How can he be treated that way?”

“Anger towards his father’s actions, rumors about his own missions, envy for his skill and high profile connections; many people are also either suspicious, jealous, or critical of his relationship with his teacher,” The ANBU shrugged. “Take your pick.”

But Aizawa still didn’t understand: “Why does Lion care despite all that then?”

Viper started opening the door, signaling the conversation was over, “That’s a question you’ll have to ask Kakashi-sama, but be warned: if he asks, I will help him bury your body.”

——

“You need vacation,” Aizawa declared.

Kakashi, who had been hanging from the doorway to do single handed pull ups, dropped to the ground without making a sound. He smirked. “Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself, old man?”

Aizawa had been thinking about this for a few days now, and dismissed out of hand the things he doubted the teen would like: going to a mall (too many unknowns and way too many people who'd crowd into Kakashi's space—a disaster waiting to happen), a zoo (outdoors, but the same issue), or an amusement park (Aizawa doubted any thrill would be had by someone who could walk on walls).

But there was one thing he knew would get Kakashi's attention.

With a wry grin, Aizawa challenged the brat, “You up for a spar?”

Kakashi's expression shifted almost instantly, his usual relaxed demeanor snapping into focus, a flicker of interest in his eyes.

U.A. it was then.

 

Notes:

Fun fact: Turtle is not a full ANBU, he’s actually a full time medic who was part of the group because they were escorting the Hokage. That’s why he never gets guard duty, and why he keeps almost slipping up and breaking their cover in this chapter 😂

Work has been so rough - I’ve been working two weekends in a row now 🥲 apologies I haven:t gotten a chance to reply to comments butI figured you all would prefer a new chapter instead. This chapter was possible thanks to the lovely comments though so thank you❤️

Chapter 12

Notes:

Warning: Handwaving away of MHA timelines and canon.

Seeing Kakashi in jeans and a hoodie was nothing short of surreal. Between the slanted headband and a surgical mask, most of his face was covered but Aizawa had never seen a teenager look so profoundly uncomfortable in clothes that actually fit.

“These pants only has four pockets, and they’re tiny,” Kakashi said flatly as he pulled his front pockets inside out. “Where am I supposed to carry my weapons?”

“You’re not,” Aizawa replied, resisting the urge to look at the sky. “We’re going to a school, Kakashi. No weapons on the premise. Actually, no weapons in public, period.

Kakashi looked wholly unconvinced by that statement but gave a curt nod anyway.

(In retrospect, that should have made Aizawa pause.)

——

Contrary to Aizawa’s initial concerns that the city might overwhelm Kakashi, the teen seemed to handle the change in scenery surprisingly well. Kakashi stared a bit at the towering buildings but was overall indifferent to the honking traffic and foot traffic. His tolerance ended with vehicles though: he refused to set foot in a subway, rejected every offer for a taxi, and took one look at a city bus before giving Aizawa a firm, silent no.

So they walked.

It wasn’t a short trek to the restaurant Aizawa had in mind, which was halfway between the hospital and UA but Kakashi didn’t complain. If anything, once they were a few blocks away from the hospital, Kakashi started to loosen up.

The stiffness in his shoulders relaxed and he began to slouch as he walked, shoulders rounding forward, hands stuffed into the pockets of his too-large black hoodie. His stride slowed, and he adopted a half-lidded stare that looked equal parts lazy and calculating. With the hood pulled low over his face, he looked like any other lethargic teenager forced to be in public against their will.

Well—almost.

Aizawa saw how Kakashi subtly checked reflective surfaces as they passed, that he shifted his body just enough to ensure no one walked directly behind him. In the restaurant, he claimed the seat in the corner, back to the wall, eyes scanning every entrance, exit and patron.

It clearly wasn’t even a stress reponse, just habit, which made Aizawa sigh. This was probably as relaxed as Kakashi got.

The restaurant was a grilled fish shop tucked into a side street, already filledwith other locals grabbing a quick bite during their lunch hours. Aizawa ordered for both of them and leaned back in his chair, watching Kakashi covertly as the teen leaned forward, elbows on the table, flipping over a salad dressing bottle and reading the label like it might contain state secrets.

“How did the team take the news that you were going to UA?” Aizawa asked. Viper and Ox had become a rare sight in Kakashi’s room again. They took turns dropping by to give status updates but otherwise kept to their orders and guarded Lion.

Kakashi paused for a moment. Aizawa suspected it didn’t occur to the teen to consider how the team felt about him leaving their sight, “They’re fine with it. Viper’s biggest gripe was that I’d get to eat something that wasn’t hospital food.”

“We can pick something up for them on our way back in,” Aizawa offered. “I know the hospital has a cafeteria but anyone would get sick of it after a few weeks.”

Kakashi shrugged as he placed the dressing bottle down. “The hospital food is fine. Viper is just very picky, having grown up with money. He’s always the first to get crabby if we have to have rations for more than three weeks.”

"I don’t blame him. That sounds terrible,” Aizawa pointed out. Kakashi shrugged again, clearly unimpressed by the idea that three weeks of ration bars could drive a man crazy. With a sneaking suspicion, Aizawa asked, “What's the longest you've survived off rations?"

And his suspicion was confirmed when Kakashi glanced at him with a split second look that Aizawa, a high school teacher of overly enthusiastic to-be-heros, was intimately familiar with.

Guilt.

"You live off that don't you," Aizawa asked, feeling a headache building, "When’s the last time you had an actual warm meal?"

”Now you're sounding like sensei," Kakashi muttered under his breath. He continued loudly, "Warmth doesn’t actually add any nutritional value to a meal, Aizawa-san. Ration bars have all the nutrients you need. The canteen carries five different flavors, and I can get them for free."

“You can get it for free? Why does that even matter—are you poor?" Aizawa demanded. "Does that child laborer of a Hokage not even pay you?"

He hadn’t expected an answer. It was a rhetorical jab, a way to express the sheer absurdity of Kakashi’s justification. But to his surprise, Kakashi laughed—a short, sharp sound that seemed to catch even him off guard. The teen leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a casual ease, as if the laugh had slipped out before he could stop it.

“You should call him that to his face,” Kakashi said, his voice carrying a faint edge of amusement.

Kakashi’s blasé response surprised Aizawa though it wasn’t the hero’s first time noticing Kakashi’s marked casualness towards the Hokage that almost bordered disrespect. It was a sharp contrast to the ANBU who were fanatically protective of their leader, all turning varying degrees of murderous whenever Aizawa even mentioned the Fourth.

“The ANBU might actually kill me if I do,” Aizawa said dryly. “I suspect Viper would happily volunteer."

Kakashi’s smirk faded into something quieter. “It's not just the ANBU. We’d all die for him.”

Aizawa studied him, searching for bravado but finding none—only a quiet certainty, despite Kakashi’s earlier lack of reverence.

Kakashi met his gaze, young but carrying an older weight. Not lifted by awe, but burdened by duty. It was so different to how his students talked about All Might—eyes wide with admiration and hope.

“You’re so young,” Aizawa finally said. “Surely he doesn’t expect that from you as well.”

“No,” The teen exhaled a dry laugh, resigned, brittle, like the distant look in his single eye, “Lord Fourth knows me better than that. He instead ordered that I live for him.”

——

Aizawa didn’t know what to make of the Fourth—this paradox of a man, revered by those who waded through blood and shadow.

The very foundation of the Fourth’s existence was rooted in violence. A force of nature that reshaped battlefields such that his enemies were given only one order if they met him in battle: to flee.

And yet, despite this, he was also a teacher.

Aizawa struggled to reconcile the contradiction.

The Fourth was spoken of with unwavering devotion, not as a distant figurehead, but as someone deeply trusted. He shared his knowledge freely, guided his subordinates with patience, as if war had not carved the gentleness from his bones. He nurtured potential, fostered loyalty so absolute that men didn’t hesitate to lay down their lives for him.

Aizawa had met men shaped by war, by necessity. But they were rarely kind. They were rarely patient. And they did not inspire the kind of unwavering devotion Kakashi spoke of—not like this.

After all, war did not breed saints.

Aizawa couldn’t help but wonder: Was the Fourth truly capable of compassion beyond the battlefield, or was he simply skilled in a different kind of control—a hand with a more delicate touch wrapped around the same blade?

——

After lunch, the walk over to UA passed without incident—except when Kakashi suddenly tensed, halting mid-step and snapping his head around. His abrupt stop caused a toddler to crash into the back of his legs.

“Ah. Sorry, sorry,” Kakashi said, swiftly crouching down to catch the child before he could fall. With a practiced ease, he set the boy upright and gently brushed off his knees, his voice lighter than usual. “No ouchies, right?”

The child blinked up at him, wide-eyed but unhurt, just as a breathless mother appeared a moment later, her relief quickly overtaken by embarrassment.

“Tokito! I told you not to run off like that!” She bowed repeatedly to Kakashi, apologizing profusely, but Kakashi waved it off.

“It’s no problem,” he said simply, his tone easy, despite the lingering tension that hadn’t quite left his shoulders.

As they resumed their walk, Aizawa cast the teen a sidelong glance. The ease with which Kakashi had handled the child did not go unnoticed—the gentle administrations, the friendly reassurance. Kakashi was used to children.

But Aizawa didn’t ask about it. If Kakashi had family, Aizawa doubted the teen would respond well to any inquiries about them. So instead, he said, “You froze up back there. Everything okay?”

“I thought someone was watching me,” Kakashi said, pulling the rim of his hood further down. “But it was probably just the kid. Civillian children are harder to sense because they have no chakra signature and no killing intent.“

Aizawa frowned, his gaze sharpening as he studied the teen. He hadn’t sensed anything unusual, but that didn’t mean Kakashi was wrong. The teen’s instincts were sharp—razor-edged from years of experience that no teenager should have. If he thought something was off, Aizawa had no reason to doubt him.

It was probably the HPSC, Aizawa realized angrily as he sent a text to Detective Tsukauchi with a request to look into it. The HPSC clearly didn’t care if they got more agents killed but Aizawa wasn’t going to let it happen on his watch.

As they rounded the corner and UA came into view, Kakashi stopped mid-step, his gaze lifting slightly as he took in the sight of the massive school gates and the buildings past it.

“Is it similar to the Academy?” Aizawa asked as they stepped through the steel gates.

Kakashi frowned slightly, brows furrowing in thought. “The Academy is probably smaller,” he said after a beat, though his tone held little certainty. “I don’t really remember. My time there was mind-numbingly boring and mostly a blur.”

Aizawa hummed, guiding Kakashi toward the back eastern training field. It wasn’t the closest, but it was the least often used—smaller, quieter, out of the way.

To his surprise, it was already occupied.

“Aizawa-sensei!” Iida was the first to notice him. At Iida‘s greeting, the rest of them looked up. Midoriya, Todoroki, Bakugou, and Uraraka.

Aizawa winced. He wasn’t expecting his kids here, but in retrospect, he should have. He motioned to Kakashi to back away. “Hi kids, don’t mind us. We’ll use a different field.”

It was, of course, Midoriya who took one look at Kakashi’s retreating figure, at Aizawa, and connected the dots uncomfortably quickly. “Sensei, is that the dimension traveler?”

Like sharks sensing blood in the water, the teenagers swiveled again to look at Kakashi. Kakashi, moving with the practiced subtlety of someone used to disappearing, had already sidestepped into a perfect blind spot behind Aizawa, just out of immediate sight.

Midoriya, undeterred, pressed forward. “Nezu-sensei said you’ve been out this summer for over a month now. According to the latest Juko Newspaper article, the dimension traveler is a young teen who arrived roughly five weeks ago.” His voice was measured, steady, as he laid out his reasoning. “Someone from UA. must have been assigned to watch over the traveler—since minors must have an advocate if a legal guardian can’t be located. Given your skills and experience, it makes sense if you were chosen.”

Aizawa exhaled slowly, feeling the collective attention settle on him like a weight. His students stared at him with wide anticipation, while Kakashi’s gaze drilled into the back of his head.

He sighed. There was no point in dancing around the truth now.

“I trust you all to keep this a secret,” He said, leveling his students with a serious look. “For the safety of everyone involved.”

He waited for all the students to nod, even Bakugou, before continuing.

“Yes, Kakashi-kun is from another dimension. He’s been cared for at the hospital for a while, so I brought him out today to stretch his muscles a bit.”

”So he’s a prince?” Ishida asked with a frown. “Of where?”

“I’m not,” Kakashi answered flatly, stepping out from behind Aizawa. He tapped his headband that had a leaf insigna carved into it. “I’m Hatake Kakashi, a jounin of Konoha,” He surveyed the teenagers briefly before turning a deadpan look to Aizawa, one that barely masked his disdain. “You didn’t say they were children.”

If there was anything Kakashi could say to rile up the kids, that was it.

“The fuck—you’re the same age as us!”

Kakashi ignored Bakugou’s retort and continued, “They’re barely genin level. These kids are supposed to be ready for field work? You’ll get them killed.”

“How did you-“ Aizawa started, before realization hit. Kakashi had read his class notes. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That was supposed to be kept under the wraps.”

Class 1-A visibly warred between being outraged at Kakashi’s calling them children and excited at the prospect of more fieldwork. The latter quickly won.

“How will it get structured?”

“I think I heard from my brother when he was in school-it’s like an internship, right?”

“Will we get to choose who we go to?”

”I don’t want to get stuck with some weak dumbass. We better get to choose. Tell us Aizawa! It’s not like you have anything better to do.”

The last was Bakugou of course. Aizawa didn’t react, used to Bakugou’s rudeness by now. But Kakashi, watching the growing chaos with vague interest, did. His single visible eyebrow had been rising steadily as the teenagers crowded around Aizawa. By the time Bakugou finished, it reached its peak.

“Children and they completely lack discipline,” Kakashi noted calmly. He glanced at Aizawa, “Are you going to let them disrespect you like that?”

Aizawa rolled his eyes, “No-wait, Kakashi-STOP!”

But Kakashi was already moving.

——

Without warning, Kakashi blurred away to appear directly in front of Bakugou, slapping a hand over the teen’s mouth before slamming him into the ground in one smooth motion. Explosions erupted from Bakugou’s palms, wild and uncontrolled, sending bursts of heat and smoke into the air but Kakashi had already slipped away.

This time, he materialized behind Todoroki, who already began retreating. The teen twisted around, trying to react, but a quick tap to the back of Todoroki’s knees from Kakashi sent him off balance. Kakashi used the moment to strike Todoroki sharply across the back of the neck. The shinobi caught him by the collar of his shirt, lowering the now unconscious teen gently onto the grass, before he was gone again.

“Uraraka!” Midoriya shouted out in alarm but it was too late. Kakashi appeared beside her, and three precise jabs followed in rapid succession. Uraraka’s limbs stiffened instantly, her body locking up as the paralysis took hold. She collapsed to the ground, unable to move, her wide eyes the only sign of her shock.

Iida, now getting a sense of the speed of Kakashi’s attacks, rushed forward with his fist pulled back, aiming to land a punch.

It was a mistake.

Kakashi dodged easily, his foot snapping out to kick Iida‘s legs out from under him. The force of the strike sent the teen tumbling to the ground, his face smacking into the grass.

Midoriya, using that moment to take advantage of Kakashi’s blind spot, jumped in from the shinobi’s left and threw a punch—but Kakashi was already turning to face Midoriya’s arm mid-swing. He caught the hero-to-be by the sleeve hem and the collar of his shirt. Using the teen’s own momentum against him, Kakashi pivoted and launched Midoriya directly into Iida, the two of them tumbling into a heap.

The entire exchange lasted no more than six or seven seconds.

The students lay sprawled across the grass, disoriented and stunned, their breaths coming in uneven gasps.

“What the hell was that?” Bakugou shouted, his voice raw with anger and disbelief as he staggered to his feet. His hands were still crackling with barely-contained explosions, his face flushed with fury.

Kakashi, now back at Aizawa’s side, looked entirely unbothered. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his posture slouched, the perfect image of boredom.

“That,” Kakashi drawled, his tone dry and unimpressed, “Is why you aren’t ready for the field.” He glanced at the group, his single visible eye narrowing slightly. “You all completely lack situation awareness.”

Midoriya groaned as he slowly climbed off Iida, rubbing his neck where he’d collided with the ground. He was clearly frustrated with himself, but also trying to process what just occured. “I don’t think that’s how you use that word. I was aware of what you were doing, but you were just too fast.”

“If you can’t react to it, you aren’t aware of it,” Kakashi answered flatly. “Do you think—“

Aizawa felt it before he saw it—the faint displacement of air, subtle but unmistakable. It was his only warning.

On pure instinct, his hand shot out, the familiar weight of his capture weapon whistling through the air. The impact came a split second later, sharp and metallic, as his weapom collided with something flying at him with blinding speed.

A kunai.

Which Kakashi had complained didn’t fit in his pocket. Where the hell had he been hiding it?

"That your enemies will warn you before they attack?" Kakashi mocked Class 1-A. “I don’t see Aizawa-san making that excuse.”

As one, the students turned at Aizawa with obvious, newfound respect in their eyes.

“Watch it,” Aizawa warned, giving Kakashi a sharp look before jogging over to check on Todoroki, who was beginning to stir. 

Kakashi tilted his head slightly, surveying the aftermath of his own handiwork. “Why did I knock out Scarface over there?”

The teenagers exchanged glances, mulling over the question.

“Because you thought he was the biggest threat?” Iida guessed.

“Yes, obviously,” Kakashi said, unimpressed. “But why did I think he was the biggest threat?”

“You’ve heard of Todoroki because of his father before,” Uraraka guessed.

“Your quirk lets you sense danger?” Midoriya tried.

Kakashi sighed, “When I moved toward Loudmouth,” He gestured at Bakugou. “Scarface was the only one who backed off. The rest of you tried to get closer to me. That suggested the rest of you were short ranged attackers whereas Scarface preferred long-range attacks. It's hard to focus on hand-to-hand if you’ve got someone who can take shots at you from a distance. In a real fight, he would’ve become the biggest threat, so I took him out.”

The students mulled over this, trying to wrap their heads around the logic.

“But why did you start your attack with Kacchan first?”

“Because I figured out what his quirk was and taking him out first bought myself time to figure out the rest,” Kakashi paused. “Also he was insubordinate.”

”How the fuck would you know what my quirk is?” Bakugou demanded, apparently deciding to completely ignore the second half of Kakashi’s statement. “I don’t know you.”

Kakashi’s gaze flicked downward, settling on the grenade-shaped gauntlets strapped to Bakugou’s wrists. He raised an unimpressed brow, giving the blonde a long, slow once-over, “Putting aside that ridiculous outfit, you smell of burnt powder and smoke.”

“You were able to use our hero outfits to guess what our quirks were,” Midoriya realized. The teenager muttered, half to himself. “Our hero suits are designed to maximize our effectiveness on the field—but they can also work against us if they reveal what our abilities are.”

Kakashi turned to Midoriya, who froze when he felt Kakashi’s scrutiny. After a beat, the silver haired teen said, “Good instinct for going for my blind spot, but unless it’s a fresh wound, you should assume your enemy is accustomed to the blind spot—or that it’s a trap to lure you to attack from a predictable direction.”

Midoroya face flushed at the realization that he missed an obvious possibility.

Kakashi turned to Iida, “You aren’t fast or strong enough to rush an enemy without more information, so don’t. Stay back, get intel, and think before you get into the enemy’s reach like that. Floater, get yourself a long-range weapon so you can stay away and support your teammates if you can’t recover in the air faster. You’re only a hostage the enemy can use if you don’t.”

Kakashi considered Bakugou with cold eyes, “Good reflex on setting off an explosion—in a real fight, it might buy you a second or two, but in a real fight, I’d likely just have killed you with my first blow to prevent exactly that.”

”And me?” The challenge came from Todoroki. He stood, wiping the dirt from his clothes. There was a growing grimness in his expression, the realization sinking in of how easily Kakashi had taken him down.

Kakashi tilted his head, taking in Todoroki for a moment, before answering. “Considering how fast you were ready to fight, your reaction time to actually use your abilities is long. I’ve seen people fight like you before—people who have something to hide and can’t use what comes most naturally to them for one reason or another.” The shinobi’s voice grew more detached, almost clinical in its assessment. “I don’t know what that means for you, and frankly, I don’t care. Neither will your enemy, when it makes it that much easier to kill you.”

The group stood in stunned silence, processing the weight of the words. They had sparred countless times before, tested their limits, strategized, adapted. They had trained under heroes, had even faced villains in battles, had pushed themselves beyond breaking points. But never had someone dissected them so effortlessly, so ruthlessly, in mere seconds.

Kakashi had torn through their defenses with precise, calculated ease. He had analyzed their movements, their flaws and every mistake and hesitation had been exploited without mercy.

This was how their enemies—the villians who would never hesitate, who would never hold back—would come for them.

Kakashi continued, cold, “The moment I started attacking, none of you realized you had absolutely no chance against me, and that the correct answer was to run. This makes you unfit for the field.”

“…Then why don’t you teach us?” It was Bakugou who was the first to break the silence that followed, his challenge loud and clear, as he finally found his voice again. The raw edge of his usual arrogance was replaced with something more purposeful now. He took a step forward, locking eyes with Kakashi. “If we’re not ready, then show us how to be.”

Kakashi’s gaze flicked to Aizawa at that. An obvious gesture of deference, a quiet acknowledgment that the decision was not his to make.

Aizawa exhaled, surprised by the show of respect. He had expected the shinobi to simply decide for himself and expect the rest to fall in order like he often did with his ANBU team. That alone made Aizawa pause and consider the offer seriously.

Letting Kakashi teach his students—even under careful supervision—wasn’t a decision he could afford to make lightly.

There were so many ways this could go wrong because Kakashi was different. Not just experienced or talented—he was lethal. Raised in war and bloodshed, honed into something sharp and final. The way he fought was not calculated for restraint or structured for heroism. It was efficient. It was absolute, framed in terms of death and survival, as Class 1-A had already gotten a glimpse of.

Aizawa didn’t doubt that Kakashi would approach teaching with the same clarity and precision that guided every other aspect of his life—but would that translate? Would his lessons be too brutal, too direct, too steeped in the kind of experience his students would never need to understand?

And yet.

The teacher in Aizawa recognized that Class 1-A needed this.

They had skill, talent and ambition but they lacked temperance. An understanding that a fight wasn’t always about winning—that sometimes, it was simply about surviving. They needed to really understand the threat of death, and the neccessity of retreat. And, ironically, it seemed that hearing it from Kakashi—someone barely older than them—was making them finally pay attention.

Aizawa weighed it all—the risks, the possibilities, the rare opportunity for Kakashi to be around kids his own age, even in this unconventional way.

Also, the hero couldn’t deny he was interested in seeing what else Kakashi was capable of.

Finally, he nodded.

Kakashi tilted his head, “In that case, I’m going to need a bell.”

 

Notes:

Look at how far Kakashi and Aizawa’s relationship came. It’d be a shame if something happened to it… Also, Class 1-A seem so squishy and cute compared to Kakashi 😂

A friendly notification that Souta’s POV for my drowning, dreaming series is up: here

Commemts and kudos are ❤️

Chapter 13

Notes:

Kakashi’s POV.

Kakashi sighed as he watched the group of wide-eyed teenagers before him, their faces flushed with excitement and expectation. They practically vibrated with energy as they whispered to each other. He recognized the spark in their eyes—the thrill of a challenge, the eagerness to prove themselves.

Aizawa’s kids reminded him far too much of Obito and Rin. Too bright, too hopeful, too unscarred by the realities waiting for them just beyond the next mission. Looking at them, Kakashi felt a strange wave of nausea rise in his gut and a burning desire to leave. 

But Kakashi didn’t. He owed Aizawa, who had looked out for Kakashi and helped his team since the day they arrived, so he would return the favor and try to prepare these starry-eyed kids for the reality beyond their textbooks. Sure, they were probably talented but talent without perspective just got teammates killed.

He had briefly considered ANBU onboarding methods. As its youngest captain, Kakashi had led more than a few initiation sessions—hazing rituals designed to break recruits and force them to face their weaknesses. But the look on Aizawa’s face when Kakashi had knocked out Todoroki had been hint enough. No dislocated joints or sensory deprivation for the kids.

So the genin bell test it was.

——

Iida volunteered to grab the bells that were in the storage room behind the gym. While they waited, Midoriya used the opportunity to approach Kakashi with a notebook and pen.

To Kakashi’s surprise, it wasn’t a cute but obvious attempt at reconnaissance before the bell test. Midoriya was curious about Kakashi’s observations of them, eager to know how he assessed the group. It was clear that Midoriya was a talented strategist, requiring very little explanation to follow Kakashi’s thoughts.

Midoriya scribbled furiously, before pausing and looking up at Kakashi to ask, “What do you do in your world if you’re already this advanced? What’s next for you?"

Kakashi raised a brow. It wasn’t flattery but genuine curiosity. It was also the first question asked about him, rather than to him, "I’m a jounin. I don’t really become anything."

"But what do you want to be? What’s your goal or dream?"

Kakashi tilted his head as he considered the familiar question. It was a favorite of Minato-sensei’s, asking what Kakashi wanted to do in ten years, in five years, next month or even next week—as if any of that mattered when there was always the possibility Kakashi may not survive the next mission. He shrugged and said what he always said, “I haven’t really thought about it. It’s not like I’ll live that long."

Aizawa, standing nearby, stiffened at the words, his expression briefly twisting into something that reminded Kakashi of Minato.

With his usual tact of a sludgehammer, Bakugou asked, “Are you sick? You do look pale and pasty.”

“No. I just have a high hazard job,” Kakashi said dryly.

Iida, now back with the bells in hand, slowed to a stop as he registered that he had walked into something, though he wasn’t sure what.

Aizawa took the bells, but his gaze lingered on Kakashi.

“Kakashi,” He began.

“Looks like we’re ready to begin," Kakashi interrupted with an eye smile. He wasn’t having this coversation with Aizawa much less with a peanut gallery of five. “Training’s not going to finish itself."

——

The rules were simple, Kakashi told the children. He had three bells attached to his waist and the goal was to take the bells from him. Whoever managed to take a bell off him would win a prize of Aizawa’s choosing and they were allowed to try anything to get the bell off him.

“Anything?” Bakugou asked with a gleam in his eye.

“Anything. Killing me to get it is also an option.”

The kids all recoiled at that, visibly unsettled.

“No injuries,” Aizawa called sharply from the sidelines.

“You heard the man. No lasting injuries.”

“I said no injuries, lasting or otherwise. No blood or broken bones.”

At that, the ANBU turned to face him, genuinely perplexed. “How is it training if you baby them? They’ll have to learn to fight through the pain eventually.”

Aizawa stared at Kakashi as if he was being the unreasonable one. “We’re not intentionally hurting them so they learn to push themselves.”

Kakashi frowned. The rush of adrenaline was useful in the field and the threat of death did heighten your senses, allowing you to move faster or hit harder than you normally could. But it surprised Kakashi that Aizawa was willing to risk his students have such an experience for the first time in the field where it could mean life or death. He expected Aizawa to be more meticulous than that.

“It can be useful to experience the shock of an injury and pushing through anyway in a controlled setting,” Kakashi pointed out. “My sensei broke both of my hands during training to make sure I could write seals with a handicap. It saved my life once.”

To Kakashi’s surprise, everyone stared at him in silence, shock clear on their faces.

“What the fuck, dude,” Bakugou muttered.

Aizawa’s jaw clenched, the vein in his forehead visibly twitching. “What kind of teacher —” he began, but Kakashi was quick to cut him off, sensing the anger rising.

“He was careful about it, and Ri—a medic was on stand by to heal it afterwards. There was no lasting damage.”

Minato, the sealmaster, unsurprisingly always said the first thing to do was neutralize an enemy’s ability to form seals and knew how to break hands to cause minimal or maximal damage—but Kakashi, even with his limited social skills sensed that detail would not be appreciated.

A dark flicker passed through Aizawa’s eyes, and Kakashi could tell this line of conversation was about to turn ugly. Time to change the subject. He raised both hands in surrender, “Fine. No intentional blood or broken bones. I promise I won’t try to hurt them, but if one of your tadpoles twists an ankle because they trip and fall on their own, that’s not on me.”

“…Fine,” Aizawa finally accepted over the dark muttering from Class 1-A being called tadpoles.

——

“That fucker can make the ground move!”

Kakashi smirked at Bakugou’s furious roar as he struggled to claw his way out of the dirt. The boy was stuck neck-deep in the center of the field. It was no doubt a frivolous use of chakra, Kakashi couldn’t help smirk.

Kakashi had always thought he and Obito had set the bar for reckless hotheadedness—but Bakugou made them look downright composed. The kid had a temper that could level buildings, with anger issues so severe they’d make a Sarutobi seem zen by comparison— explosive, combustible fury packed into a teenage body that hadn’t yet learned the value of restraint.

Kakashi’s instincts leaned toward the old-fashioned approach—beat discipline into him by reminding him who was stronger, faster, smarter. Bakugou was the sort who only respected strength. He wouldn’t listen to lectures, but he’d eventually shut up and listen if you planted his face in the dirt hard enough, multiple times.

Still, Kakashi wasn’t a fool to try with Aizawa watching from the sidelines like a hawk after their earlier conversation. He had a jounin sensei too; he knew how protective a jounin got over their team and Aizawa gave off that same quietly dangerous intensity when it came to his students.

So instead, Kakashi did the mature thing and stuck Bakugou in the ground to let the kid rage it out.

Still, Kakashi sighed over the sound of Bakugou’s swearing. The bell test wasn’t really about getting the bells. It was about teamwork and whether you could think creatively under pressure, a lesson Bakugou obviously wasn’t ready for. The kid was completely incapable of swallowing his pride to ask his classmates for help, and instead was fighting the earth beneath him, digging himself in deeper both literally and figuratively.

“You can scream all you want, but if you set off an explosion when you’re trapped under ground like that, you’re only going to blow your own hands up,” Kakashi told Bakugou before turning around to watch the remaining four circle him warily, their eyes flicking between him and the trapped Bakugou.

Kakashi raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Ice exploded out from Todoroki’s hands, sweeping across the training ground. It shot forward, jagged and fast and straight to where Kakashi and Bakugou were. The ANBU leaped back, jumping through the peaks and through the air and landed lightly on the highest peak of ice.

When he looked down, Kakashi spotted Midoriya and Uraraka at the base of the ice, working together to free Bakugou. Todoroki had created an ice barrier around the teen, offering cover so the two could dig him out—despite Bakugou’s own insistence that he could handle it himself

"They’re not even supposed to be a team, yet they make a better one than us, don’t you think, Obito?" Kakashi muttered to himself. With a sigh, he reached out, snapping off the tip of an ice peak. He weighed it in his hand before hurling it at Todoroki.

Todoroki ducked the projectile, Kakashi noted, rather than using his quirk to redirect it. It seemed once Todoroki created the ice, he lost control over it.

That was something Kakashi could use.

Without warning, the teen dashed forward, jumping off the ice and deliberately placing himself in Todoroki’s direct line of sight. The instant Todoroki saw him, he shifted his weight, and unleashed a wave of ice to freeze the ground beneath Kakashi as he landed.

A split second before Kakashi made contact with the ground, he flared his chakra and sensed Iida crouched hidden behind one of Todoroki’s ice towers. In a flash, he substituted with Iida, throwing him directly into the path of the incoming ice instead.

“Iida!” Todoroki shouted in alarm, but it was too late.

A sharp snap rang through the air as Todoroki’s ice shot forward, encasing Iida’s legs up to the knees. Iida twisted and struggled, trying to activate his Engine quirk, but the ice had already rendered it useless, trapping him completely.

“Iida is out!” Aizawa called from the sidelines.

——

While Todoroki apologized to his classmate, Kakashi shifted his attention to Midoriya and the others. The kid appeared to be the natural leader of the team—constantly analyzing the battle and strategizing on the fly. Kakashi overheard him muttering to himself at an impressive speed, running through different scenarios to figure out how to best get the bell.

Midoriya’s quirk—some kind of super strength—was less interesting, though the sheer power behind his punches was impressive. One solid hit from Midoriya could easily shatter bone, which was why Kakashi had opted to redirect his strikes earlier, rather than simply block it.

But for all the raw power, Midoriya’s movements were clumsy, lacking the kind of fluidity and precision that came with a controlled fighting style. Gai would have been perfect to whip the kid into shape but Kakashi would have to do. He had sparred often enough with Gai to give a few pointers, like—

“You’re focusing too much on putting power in your attacks, that it messes with your stance,” Kakashi said, materializing beside Midoriya, substituting with the broken piece of ice lying near the kid’s feet. Midoriya whipped around in surprise, his fist already drawn back in reflex. “It lets me do this.”

Kakashi kicked Midoriya’s feet from under him. The young hero crumpled and hit the ground with a thud.

Uraraka shot forward, grabbing Kakashi’s shoulder as she pushed him away from Midoriya. Kakashi jerked out of her grip but it was too late and Uraraka’s quirk took hold.

He felt the peculiar sensation of gravity shifting around him. Slowly, his feet lifted off the ground as he began to float. Kakashi tried to twist midair, but found that it was impossible to change direction at all.

“I got him, now!” Uraraka shouted, and with that, both Midoriya and a newly freed Bakugou lunged toward him, hands outstretched and reaching for the bells.

Kakashi’s eyes narrowed. He flicked his wrist, sending a kunai skidding toward the ground. The moment it hit, Kakashi substituted with it, landing in a low crouch as Midoriya and Bakugou collided with each other in midair and crashed to the ground.

Pushing off the dirt, Kakashi sprang back toward Uraraka. Before he could close the distance, Midoriya grabbed her by the ankle and tossed her to the ground. Kakashi’s outstretched hand missed her by a hair’s breadth.

Kakashi twisted mid-air, landing gracefully on the side of one of Todoroki’s ice towers.

"A quirk that extends past the point of contact," he hummed under his breath, his gaze flicking toward the three students below. Chakra walking was second nature, anchoring him to the ice pillar, but he could feel Uraraka’s quirk trying to lift him, as though he were floating in water, rising to the surface. The complete lack of gravity was a strange, almost disorienting sensation.

He flared his chakra instinctively, attempting to counteract the effect but it didn’t work. Quirks weren’t genjutsu after all.

He would have to move carefully, using surfaces to propel himself forward, or he’d lose control and be stuck mid-air.

A grin tugged at the edge of his mask. Finally, an interesting quirk.

——

Unlike Todoroki, it took effort for Uraraka to maintain her quirk, and eventually, she clapped her hands together instantly releasing her hold on Kakashi, sending him crashing to the ground mid-leap.

Like a cat, he readjusted mid-air, tucking into a tight roll before slamming into the dirt. He hit the ground hard but fluid, using the momentum to spring back up, landing in a low crouch with one hand pressed to the earth.

Uraraka staggered to the side and vomited.

“Uraraka is out!” Aizawa said, motioning her to join where Iida was sitting with him.

On the field, Todoroki narrowed his eyes, steam rising from his left side as he paced in a wide circle. Kakashi remained still at the center, relaxed, watching them both with a bored, half-lidded gaze.

“I can’t believe we still haven’t gotten even close,” Todoroki muttered under his breath, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

Kakashi stretched lazily, his arms reaching overhead until his back gave a few audible pops. His mask didn’t show it, but the casual roll of his shoulders said everything.

They were two hours in and Kakashi was finally feeling like he warmed up. The kids were noticably worn down.

“You all are really going to have to build some stamina,” Kakashi drawled. “Not all battles are going to be flashy one hitters. Sometimes you’re dragging it out to wait for backup or to let your teammates escape. Sometimes, you're trying to bait the enemy into exhausting their own stamina first.”

The three students bristled but none of them spoke up. Seeing Kakashi not even out of breath, they recognized the truth in his criticism.

“You all have an over dependency on your quirk, which will only get you killed the moment you meet someone who can counter it,” Kakashi continued. “Loudmouth, you were trapped in a situation where using your own quirk could kill you. Either get so fast and so strong that it never happens again or shut the hell up and work with your teammates. Scarface, you could have killed your own side with your quirk. Get better control over it and stop spamming attacks. Midoriya, you fare the worst in drawn out fights. Unless you’re aiming to fight at full power and kill your oponents every time you fight, figure out an alternative fighting style.”

Kakashi ran a head through his hair, “You all get one last chance, starting now.”

——

After some furious whispered discussion, the three turned to him with matching looks of determination and finally, began movimg like an actual team.

Todoroki, who had best control over the field with his long range attacks, used them more sparingly and intentionally, herding Kakashi into the edge of the field. It gave his teammates the perfect opportunity to close in.

Kakashi skidded back, the heels digging him to a stop. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Midoriya to his left, Bakugou to his right. He had to deal with the wall of ice closing in on him in front of him first. His hands blurred through a series of seals, and he raised two fingers to his mouth to blow out a massive jet of fire.

His katon collided with Todoroki’s ice wall in a loud burst, sending thick steam billowing into the air. The sheer pressure of the clash sent Kakashi skidding further back.

Bakugou, never one to waste an opportunity, unleashed a massive explosion, sending it toward Kakashi’s feet. The blast forced Kakashi to jump out of the way, twisting in midair to avoid the brunt of the impact—but straight into Midoriya’s path.

Midoriya lunged, his fingers reaching for one of the bells at Kakashi’s waist. The tip of his fingers brushed against a bell.

For a moment, Kakashi considered letting them have it. It wasn’t a bad move—well-executed, if a little predictable.

But then again, he wasn’t here today to give them validation. He was here to teach them some humilty.

In a flash, Kakashi twisted midair, his legs snaking around Midoriya’s neck with fluid precision. As soon as his hands hit the floor, he directed the momentum to hurl Midoriya through the air into Bakugou, who was already preparing another attack. They both tumbled on the ground in a tangle of limbs.

“This is the third time your momentum was used against you, Midoriya. You really need to work on your footwork,” Kakashi tsked. That particular move stopped working on Gai when they were twelve and now, Gai would have instantly trapped Kakashi and punished him for coming into such close range with a taijutsu user.

The steam from Kakashi’s katon and Todoroki’s ice continued to thicken, swirling around the battlefield and settling in an eerie, hazy blanket. It clung to the air, almost too thick to see through.

Interesting, Kakashi thought, noticing the change in visibility. He hadn’t thought any of the kids had this kind of quirk, and was about to say so when Aizawa’s voice cut through the field.  

“Kakashi, I need visual. Please remove the mist.” 

Kakashi froze at the request clearly directed at him and the subsequent realization: This wasn’t someone’s quirk. This wasn’t even steam.

It was mist.

It was chakra, the same faint flicker Kakashi thought he imagined on their walk over.

Kakashi whipped around to the direction where he last saw the kids, voice turning hard with command. “GET OUT OF HERE!”

But that order cost him.

A sword materialized behind Kakashi from within the mist, its blade flashing cold and sharp out of the corner of his eye. Before he could react, it drove through his back with brutal precision, its tip emerging from his shoulder, stained red. Kakashi cursed under his breath, his teeth grinding against the pain as he forced himself to leap forward, his feet skidding across the ground. He created just enough distance to face the new threat now standing in the field.

“You,” Kakashi snarled.

Out of the mist stepped three Mist nins. Kakashi recognized them—they were part of the larger group that had ambushed his team in Lightning, forcing Minato to use the hiraishin and end up in this dimension in the first place.

The leader—the tall, heavy set Mist-nin who had wrecked Ox’s shoulder—laughed as he stepped forward, swinging the bloodied blade in his grip. “Well, well, well. Look what we have here.”

Notes:

The reveal no one cared about on why Minato had such severe chakra exhaustion! Three of the Mist managed to latch on, and travel over together, so Minato did some advanced and dangerous in-the-moment sealwork to land them elsewhere. It just turned out to not be very far.

Also if Viper were on the field, he would be giving judgemental side eyes to his chakra-exhaustion-is-my-best-friend captain on lecturing the kids about stamina. Kakashi is very aware of this and will never let his team know.

Comments and kudos are ❤️

Chapter 14

Notes:

Warning: lots of violence and murder

"A baby tree-hugger, all alone?" A Mist-nin sneered, his voice curling out of the fog like poison. His silhouette moved slowly through the mist, distorted and wavering. "Konoha must be scraping the bottom of the barrel to have children in ANBU. Where’s your team, little leaf?"

Kakashi didn’t answer. He stood still, one eye trained on the shifting fog as he slid a kunai from his sleeve into his palm.

Three chakra signatures. And they were too close.

He recognized all three from the fight before the hiraishin jump: the shortest of them favored a flail; the woman, brown hair tied back, held a katana low at her side in a samurai stance. But it was the third signature—muted blue-grey and closing in fast—that made Kakashi wary.

Hebiura Ryuuji.

According to the bingo book, Hebiura declined a spot in the Seven Swordsman of Mist due to his attachment to his own weapon: a naginata, a long, curved blade on an even longer handle. Its reach was absurd and, paired with Hebiura’s speed which matched Kakashi’s step for step, was how Hebiura nearly wrecked Ox’s shoulder with one brutal swing. Minato had called the retreat immediately after.

Minato, Kakashi’s stomach clenched at the thought of his teacher, lying defenseless in the hospital. Kakashi had to warn his team.

Hebiura stepped into view, his wide frame emerging from the mist. Kakashi’s gaze caught on the diagonal dent at the top of Hebiura’s chestplane, between the collarbones from when Kakashi tried to rip his throat out during their previous fight. “No mask this time, ANBU? I’ll enjoy seeing the fear in your eyes as you die then."

Off to the side, the flail-wielder chuckled. “Ah, there they are. The rest of the brave little squad.”

Without warning, he and the woman split, vanishing in a blur of motion. Kakashi twisted around in surprise before he realized the Mist nin were heading towards Midoriya, Bakugou and Todoroki.

The three kids stood frozen, paralyzed by the sudden shift from training exercise to life-or-death. Wide eyes. Shallow breaths. Not fear of failure but real fear. The kind that made time stutter and limbs lock.

“RUN!” Kakashi roared and the kids finally began to move, stumbling back, but Kakashi could see it: The kids were too slow.

They were going to die.

——

The Mist nin were baiting Kakashi, going after the easier targets. They were assuming Kakashi would chase them, that he would protect the kids.

But this was Kakashi’s chance to escape.

Protocol demanded it: if outmatched, retreat and get backup. He could vanish into the mist now, slip away while Mist’s attention was split. He should vanish now. What other choice did he have?

Summoning his dogs was out of the question. The strain of dimensional travel had nearly drained Minato dry—something Kakashi genuinely hadn’t believed was possible. Summoning across dimensions might have a similar backlash, in which case, instant death was a very real possibility for Kakashi.

A compromise would be to create a clone to warn the team while Kakashi stayed behind to protect the kids. It would ensure his team wasn’t caught unaware assuming Kakashi didn't die in the ten minutes it would take for his clone to reach the hospital. A single clone would cost almost a third of his chakra though, and that would only worsen his odds against the three Mist nin who he had to assume were fully rested. That wasn’t strategy, it was a slow, stupid way to die.

The correct thing to do was to leave the kids and run. Let the kids, who were barely chuunin level, die.

Aizawa would no doubt try to protect them. He was experienced and decently skilled but his quirk and fighting style depended on neutralizing his enemy’s quirks—something that wouldn’t work on the Mist-nin. Kakashi couldn’t cancel Uraraka’s power any more than Aizawa could shut down a ninjutsu.

Aizawa would die.

——

Midoriya stumbled and hit the ground hard, knees scraping against the dirt. Without hesitation, Bakugou and Todoroki skidded to a stop and doubled back, each grabbing one of his arms and hauling Midoriya to his feet. They didn’t speak, didn’t argue—but Kakashi saw it in their faces. They knew those few seconds doubling back were going to cost them everything.

——

Unbidden, a memory surged to the surface—Kannabi Bridge, broken stone and pain that burned. Obito’s outstretched hand, Rin’s quiet determination, his own cold detachment masking fear.

Here Kakashi was, in a different battlefield, in a different world but here three kids still were, outmatched, desperate, and somehow still reaching for each other when they should have kept running.

——

Kakashi’s grip on the kunai tightened.

Trying to face three fully-rested Mist nin alone was suicidal, the voice in Kakashi’s head pointed out disapprovingly. It sounded suspiciously like Minato.

Except Kakashi didn’t really need to live, did he? He just needed to win.

——

Something was wrong.

Aizawa had felt it the moment the mist began to roll in, unnaturally fast and dense. The sense of unease crystallized into full alert when he heard Kakashi shout to run. He had heard that voice from Kakashi only once before—when he was ordering Viper to guard Lion in the ICU. The snarl that expected absolute obedience. 

“Iida, Uraraka, go inside and let the teachers know there is an emergency going on. Don’t come back out.”

He didn’t wait to see if they obeyed, only ensuring they were far enough before turning back to the mist. He was going to have to enter it.

To his shock, Midoriya, Bakugou, and Todoroki stumbled out the next moment, panting and wide-eyed. Kakashi emerged behind them.

“I’m a clone,” The clone said without preamble, glancing back over its shoulder. “Kakashi stayed behind with the Mist-nin. Same ones who nearly killed him before he landed in this world. They’re not here to play.”

Aizawa stepped forward. “What does he need?”

“For you to run,” The clone growled. “And stay out of his way. He already took a hit getting those three out. I’m going to go ahead and warn the team.”

“But the mist,” Aizawa pressed. “This mist isn’t something he created?”

“No,” Was the clone's parting shot. “That’s their specialty. The Hidden Mist have their name for a reason.”

“Todoroki,” Aizawa looked at the teen, who already seemed to know what the hero was going to ask. “Burn it away.”

——

When the mist cleared, it revealed Kakashi locked in a furious hand-to-hand clash. The speed was staggering—Aizawa couldn’t track it with his eyes, only the sharp bursts of impact reaching his ears like distant thunder. Blows landed faster than thought, faster than instinct.

“I thought we almost had him at the end. But ,” Midorya trailed off in awe.

Aizawa didn’t respond. He’d suspected Kakashi had been holding back during their training, deliberately moving at speeds the students could almost match—giving them the illusion of keeping up. But seeing him now, a blur of ruthless precision and unrelenting speed, Aizawa realized just how wide the gulf truly was.

“Can we help somehow?” Todoroki asked.

“No,” Aizawa said sharply. “You help by getting inside, now.”

The memory of when Aizawa first encountered the injured ANBU team surged up, bitter and sharp. Bloodied, broken, and eyes still sharp with adrenaline and pain. The ANBU were of a world where every battle was to the death, where survival came not through hope or heroism, but sheer, ruthless will. Injuries that would cripple a civilian were accepted with grim relief because at the end of the day, you survived.

Kakashi and the Mist nin were the same. There was no honor or noble ideals in the way they moved. It wasn't a fight for justice. It was war distilled to its most brutal form. Just raw killing intent and the desperate drive to outlast whoever stood in front of you. To kill first before you were killed.

There was no place for children in this fight.

Watching Kakashi, barely older than his students, as he ordered his students inside to safety, Aizawa recognized the irony of that thought.

The samurai Mist-nin lunged, a blade slicing through the air. Kakashi ducked low, the rush of air above his head rustling his hair as the sword missed its mark by mere inches. Without hesitation, he swept the Mist-nin's legs out from under her, sending her crashing to the ground but before he could follow through, the mace user moved in, swinging the chain.

Kakashi flipped backward, just barely avoiding the spiked end of the mace.

The swordsman, having already recovered, darted in aiming low while the mace wielder pressed forward with wide, heavy strikes.

Kakashi met them both with nothing but a kunai and sheer skill.

He twisted his body, parrying the sword with a flick of his blade. In the same breath, he pivoted into the mace wielder’s blind spot and slammed an elbow into the swordswoman’s throat as she rose. She gagged, staggering back, while the mace user faltered under the redirection of his own swing. But neither fell.

The red headed leader barked a laugh, clearly amused.

——

Aizawa recognized what was happening, why the leader hadn’t joined the fight: Kakashi was being worn down. He was being toyed with. 

And the hero knew with every fiber of his being that he couldn’t help—if he tried and stepped onto the battlefield, he would only distract Kakashi. The shinobi moved with such chakra enhanced speed that Aizawa would likely just end up as a hostage.  

But neither could Aizawa bring himself to leave Kakashi behind to die fight alone.

——

On the battlefield, Kakashi was hunched over, one hand braced on his knee as he fought to catch his breath. His chest heaved, every inhale sharp and raw. That split-second of slowed reaction was all it took.

The mace's chain snapped out and tight around Kakashi's ankle with a sharp clink, yanking his legs out from under him. His body slammed into the ground with a brutal thud, the breath torn from his lungs in a choking gasp.

There was no time to recover.

The Mist-nin was on him. A heavy boot crashed down on Kakashi's right hand, pinning it into the dirt. The injured shoulder— already torn from earlier damage-took the full brunt of the Mist-nin's weight as he drove his knee down into the joint. A ragged sound tore from Kakashi's throat, half a snarl, half a strangled cry.

Across the field, Aizawa's heart lurched. He saw the blood now, dark and pooling beneath Kakashi’s side, leaking steadily into the earth. The teen’s left hand shook as it reached up—not to strike, not to block—but to grasp weakly at the knee crushing his shoulder, grip tightening briefly before going slack. When he pulled his hand back, it was slick with blood.

The Mist-nin towering over Kakashi grinned. He reached down and grabbed Kakashi by the hair, jerking his head back to expose his throat. In his other hand, a kunai caught the dim light of the mist, gleaming inches from Kakashi's skin.

"This is the part," The Mist-nin hissed, "Where you die, Konoha scum."

Kakashi writhed beneath him, movements erratic, as his free hand clawed at the Mist-nin’s face. His fingers, slick with blood, left streaks across the man’s cheek.

At first, it looked like simple desperation.

Then Aizawa’s eyes widened.

The blood-streaked marks weren’t random. They spelled a word.

爆—Explosion?

Under the Mist nin, Kakashi suddenly stilled. He formed a single hand seal and snarled, “Kai.”

His voice was hoarse, but the order came out like a curse, as he set off the exploding seal he just wrote onto his enemy’s face.

——

The two remaining Mist-nin froze, their smug laughter dying in their throats. Their eyes locked on their fallen comrade—then shifted to Kakashi, who was already pushing the corpse off his chest and rising to his feet.

Smoke curled from his scorched clothing. His face was smeared with sweat, blood, dirt, and bits of bone and matter. But the trembling in his hands was gone. As was the panic, the breathlessness, and the desperation. What remained was something cold and calm.

Aizawa’s breath hitched.

The moments Kakashi had seemed a step too slow, how quickly he tired, the wide-eyed panic when he was pinned down. Kakashi had warned Midoriya of exactly that earlier, hadn’t he? Traps to lure your enemy to attack from a predictable direction. Kakashi had gotten one of Mist nin exactly where he wanted them to be, drawing him in closer and closer, until the man was close enough for Kakashi to scrawl a seal across his face.

“I’ll kill you for that,” The swordswoman snarled as she drew her sword in a low pose.

In response, Kakashi pushed his headband up in one smooth movement and his hands began blurring through seals, a clear precursor to an attack.

Aizawa frowned, confused at Kakashi choosing now of all times to reveal the sharingan. How would eidetic memory help in a fight?

But the two Mist-nin clearly thought differently. They stiffened, their gazes not falling on Kakashi's hands, but on his face—and the look on their faces was enough to send a cold shiver down Aizawa's spine.

The leader who had been watching until now, stepped forward all trace of amusement gone. He snarled, “It’s Kakashi of the fucking Sharingan—kill him!”

Kakashi finished his last hand seal and the air cracked, a piercing screech filled the field, sharp and electric as lightning exploded in his hand, casting sharp shadows across the bloodied grass.

It sounded like a thousand birds screaming at once.

——

Aizawa paused, registering what the Mist nin just said.

Who did the Mist nin think they were fighting until now? 

——

Kakashi was fast—blindingly fast. One moment he stood at the edge of the clearing, lightning crackling in his hand, and the next, he was inside the swordswoman’s guard. Her eyes widened, barely enough time for it to register before the chidori ripped through her chest with a flash of light and a sickening crunch of bone, killing her instantly.

It happened in less than a second.

Somehow, the red-haired leader didn’t even flinch. He met Kakashi's next attack head-on, intercepting the strike with the shaft of his naginata. Sparks flew. Kakashi’s speed hadn’t slowed, his Sharingan still spinning, but the Mist nin was able to kept up. He wasn’t fast enough to retaliate, but he was fast enough to endure.

After a second failed attempt, Kakashi stepped back, breathing hard now, blood trailing down his side in steady drips. The chidori fizzled and snapped before vanishing completely, the attack too chakra-intensive to maintain any longer.

Without a word, he stooped and picked up the katana from where it had landed in the dirt beside the dead Mist nin. He tested the weight in his hand, adjusted his grip, and slowly straightened. Gone was the feigned exhaustion from earlier.

The red-haired Mist nin tightened his own grip on the naginata, jaw clenched.

The two stood still for a moment, their weapons low, watching each other in silence. Then, at the same time, they lunged.

Steel collided with a shriek, sparks bursting as Kakashi deflected the wide arc of the naginata. He closed the distance, sword aimed for his opponent’s ribs, but the Mist-nin twisted, using the reach of his weapon to force Kakashi back. The naginata spun in deadly, sweeping circles, its wielder moving with practiced fluidity—but Kakashi’s Sharingan tracked each motion, calculating. Then he was in motion again, a blur of  speed.

His blade flashed—a high feint, followed by a sudden, low slash targeting the hamstring. The Mist nin blocked just in time, driving power into his counter, nearly knocking the katana from Kakashi’s grasp. Kakashi twisted, narrowly retaining hold of the weapon, then ducked and rolled, rising from a crouch a breath away.

The Sharingan whirled like a storm.

Kakashi struck again, faster this time—three quick slashes, each more precise than the last. The final one grazed across the Mist nin’s side and drew blood.

The redhead grunted and retaliated, swinging a horizontal blow aimed to decapitate—but Kakashi bent backward with preternatural grace, the blade whistling past his face. He pushed back up, using the momentum to carry him into a tight spin, and drove his elbow into the Mist-nin’s face, followed with an upward slash.

The Mist-nin moved with the confidence of long-honed skill, his naginata an extension of his will. But Kakashi danced between styles, shifting fluidly from one technique to another, as though channeling the ghosts of a dozen sword masters through his hands. Watching Kakashi wield the katana was like watching water flow—graceful, seamless, unrelenting.

The clang of metal rang through the clearing again, echoing like thunder through the mist curling around their ankles. Kakashi pressed in, his katana carving tight, efficient arcs. The Mist-nin met them all, the long reach of the naginata keeping Kakashi just far enough away, blade whistling in sweeping crescents.

Kakashi ducked under another wide sweep, sliding low and pivoting, foot skimming the dirt as he came up on the Mist-nin’s flank. The katana flashed again—this time a thrust aimed at the lower ribs. The Mist-nin parried with the shaft of the naginata, and with a growl, he twisted his grip and drove the butt of his weapon toward Kakashi’s temple.

Kakashi caught it with the flat of his blade, deflecting the strike, but the force rattled down his arm. He staggered back half a step and the Mist-nin surged forward, the naginata carving great, arcing sweeps that tore up the earth with their force. Kakashi barely weaved between them, his Sharingan flaring bright, reading each strike a heartbeat before it came.

This was a fight where even the smallest mistake was going to cost them their life.

Then Kakashi suddenly hurled his katana straight at the Mist-nin's face. Instinct kicked in—the Mist nin brought his naginata up to deflect it.

Kakashi seemed to have expected it.

He exploded forward, a blur of motion, slipping inside his opponent's reach—far too close for a naginata to be useful. 

Desperate to create distance, the Mist-nin slammed the shaft of his weapon toward Kakashi's chest. But Kakashi caught the shove with his left forearm-and then there was a flash of silver.

A kunai slid cleanly into his hand from his sleeve, and with surgical precision, Kakashi slashed it across the Mist-nin's wrists.

Blood sprayed.

The Mist-nin howled in pain but he was a master of his art. He didn’t let go of his weapon.

Again, Kakashi seemed to have expected it. His follow-up was immediate and merciless. He pivoted and drove his heel into the man’s chest with the full weight of his body behind it. There was a sickening crunch of ribs giving way as the force of the blow sent the Mist nin hurtling backward. He crashed into the ground and skidded across the mud-slick field, his weapon spinning off to the side from his weakened grip.

Before the Mist nin could rise, Kakashi was on him. With disturbing calm, he brought his heel down-once, then again. Bones snapped beneath the strikes. The Mist nin's scream this time was no longer defiant, but raw and instinctive, torn from somewhere deeper. A sound of helpless, animal pain.

Kakashi didn't flinch.

“Konoha has some questions for Mist on the timing of your ambush,” Kakashi said, voice low and composed, almost soft. “I suggest you stay conscious long enough to answer them.”

——

Across the battlefield, Aizawa stared, rooted in place.

The fight, as suddenly as it started, was over. One split second of distraction had been enough for Kakashi to capitalize and once the Mist nin was down, Kakashi showed unflinching brutality, breaking both of the Mist nin’s legs to prevent escape. 

Kakashi now knelt beside the broken shinobi, breath ragged behind his mask. Blood dripped steadily from the wound at his side, soaking into the mud beneath him. He was trembling, the toll of chakra and blood loss finally catching up.

Still, he moved with mechanical purpose.

One hand braced against the ground, the other rolled the Mist-nin onto his stomach with a grunt and began tying his hands behind his back—rough, swift, but practiced. The Mist-nin groaned beneath him, blood mixing with the grime around him.

Aizawa finally approached.

“Kakashi—” he began, but the Mist-nin interrupted, mumbling something inaudible.

It made Kakashi stiffen instantly, his grip tightening. He gave the man a hard shake, a silent warning.

For some reason, that made the prisoner laugh—a raw, cracked sound laced with blood and something more bitter. 

”If you’re still stuck here,” he rasped louder, voice hitching in pain, “I take it he’s dead. The Hidden Mist will rejoice that fucking Yellow—”

Kakashi reached out and snapped the Mist nin’s neck.

——

Aizawa didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe.

——

Kakashi remained crouched beside the corpse, one hand still pressed to the Mist-nin’s back as if ensuring he stayed down, though there was no need. The body was slack, limbs askew, blood pooling beneath it.

The silence that followed was heavy as if in deference to the finality in the way Kakashi had ended the Mist nin’s life. No ceremony. No cruelty. Just clean, practiced execution.

Aizawa finally stepped closer, boots crunching through overturned ground and bloodied grass. The words came out before he could stop them.

“You didn’t have to kill him.”

Kakashi straightened slowly, the motion stiff with fatigue. His head turned slightly toward Aizawa, his headband slanted back down and the single visible eye shadowed, unreadable.

“I did.”

Aizawa stared at him, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. His heart hammered in his chest, but the ache swelling inside him felt too vast, too heavy. Whatever he’d expected from Kakashi—regret, an explanation, maybe even defensive fury—this cold, hollow certainty was the last thing he wanted to see.

His gaze dropped to Kakashi’s hands. There was blood on the teen’s gloves.

——

Aizawa’s chest tightened with rising grief, the weight of the truth crashing down on him like a physical blow as the hero had to finally accept what he had refused to see: Kakashi wasn’t a child. He was a killer, bred for the battlefield and taught little else.

And with that harsh truth came an anger that was as bitter as it was unfair—anger not just for Kakashi who didn't know what he lost but at Kakashi, who Aizawa knew wouldn’t care.

——

Miles away, a clone dispelled.

——

Kakashi flinched, his gaze snapping up and going distant. 

He breathed, “Lion woke up.”

 

Notes:

Aizawa just watched a sixteen year old kill three people in cold blood and was unable to stop him. Please note he is in shock and his feelings are Very Complicated right now. Doesn’t that sound like a grand time to meet Minato? 👀

Comments and kudos are ❤️

Chapter 15

“He was restrained and couldn’t fight back. Why did you kill him?”

Kakashi pushed himself to his feet at Aizawa’s question. He seemed to consider his response. “Have you ever been tortured, Aizawa-san? Or trained for it, on how to endure it, or how to inflict it?”

When Aizawa said nothing, the teen gave a small nod.

“The first lesson is simple: everyone breaks. No exceptions,” he said quietly. “The point isn’t to learn some magic trick that’s going to prevent it from happening to you. It’s accepting it and delaying it for as long as you can so your team can find you.

“Hebiura was the last of his squad, trapped in a dimension without exit. No one was coming for him,” Kakashi continued, his voice heavy. “He knew he’d break eventually. That he had information we wanted, and we’d get it out of him. So he made a choice— death over betraying his village.”

Aizawa felt cold. “He didn’t just die. You killed him.”

“I warned him.” Kakashi said simply. “He knew I would kill him if he didn’t comply. He was asking for it."

The hero’s breath caught at Kakashi’s careless justification of violence. The teen genuinely believed Hebiura’s death was a result of the Mist-nin’s own actions, and was completely blind to his own role in it—as if Kakashi were just a means to an end. 

There was a long pause. Aizawa’s eyes searched his face.

“What was so important to hide,” he finally asked, “That you’d kill a prisoner you wanted information from?”

Kakashi looked down at Hebiura. His voice was quiet, “Clearly something worth killing for. Most would say worth dying for,” Kakashi gave a small, tired smile—the kind that didn’t reach his eye, “Maybe something even worth living for.”

——

“Kakashi, your nose is bleeding,” Aizawa realized.

Kakashi furrowed his brow and touched his face, blinking at the smear of fresh blood on his hand. He swayed a little on his feet.

“You’re bleeding from your ears too,” The hero added, stepping closer.

Kakashi opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, as if the words were struggling to line up.

“Ah… I think I’m—” He faltered. “Crashing.” His voice sounded far away, even to himself. “Didn’t have enough chakra for the chidori… had to push through with pills.”

His words slurred at the edges, like he was fighting to keep hold of them. Aizawa was at his side in an instant, reaching out to catch his elbow as Kakashi’s knees threatened to buckle.

He was cold to the touch. Too cold. 

Aizawa’s heart pounded. The strength Kakashi had shown only moments ago was gone—his presence, once razor-sharp, now felt like a dying ember.

“Kakashi,” Aizawa said, more forcefully, snapping his fingers in front of the boy’s face. “Stay with me. What kind of pills? What do I need to tell Turtle?”

Kakashi’s head turned toward him, but his eye was glassy and unfocused. It was like he was looking through Aizawa rather than at him. His breathing had grown shallow.

“Tell… them…” Kakashi murmured, each word slow . “I’m sorry.”

His hand drifted to the back of his waistband, fingers trembling slightly as they fumbled with something out of sight. Aizawa watched in confusion as the boy pulled free a kunai—only it wasn’t the type Aizawa had seen until now. The handle bore a seal, the metal shaped into three distinct prongs.

Kakashi weakly flicked the kunai to the ground. That seemed to drain what little strngth he had left and his knees buckled, his body starting to fold in on itself.

Aizawa surged forward to catch him—but before he could make contact, the air around them warped. The space rippled as if reality itself had blinked. In an instant, masked figures cloaked in ANBU black flickered into existence around them, summoned from nothing.

One moved faster than the rest.

Lion.

The man was taller and more imposing than expected. Despite the fact he was in the ICU this morning, the ANBU was there to catch Kakashi mid-fall, pulling the teen close with practiced ease.

“I got you,” he murmured, lowering Kakashi gently, carefully, like setting down something fragile. Kakashi was completely limp in his arms, head lolling against his shoulder. Without turning, Lion shouted,“Turtle!”

Viper and Ox strode onto the battlefield, weapons still drawn, scanning for threats. Viper held the short sword Aizawa had seen him use on Lockdown before. His gaze swept across the field, sharp and calculating, before freezing on the three bodies sprawled in the clearing.

He halted mid-step. “He got them?”

Aizawa nodded once.

Viper's gaze caught on the still form of Hebiura. “He got all of them?” he repeated. “Including Heibura? Alone?”

“That’s Hatake fucking Kakashi for you,” Ox muttered beside him, voice low with disbelief. She didn’t even try to hide her awe.

Aizawa didn’t respond. He didn’t have the luxury of being impressed at the apparent skill of Kakashi to take down the Mist leader alone right now. He turned toward Turtle, who was already crouched beside Kakashi and Lion.

“Before he passed out,” Aizawa said, “He told me he didn’t have enough chakra and he pushed through with pills.”

Turtle seemed to know what that meant. He immediately peeled back the edge of Kakashi’s hoodie to reveal a small, custom-fitted gear pack strapped tightly to his side. His fingers found a narrow, hidden zipper beneath one of the seams.

“Viper,” Turtle said without looking up, “How many chakra pills are supposed to be in your gear?”

“Three,” The ANBU answered immediately. “Standard issue is four and I used one before the jump.”

Turtle unzipped the pocket and looked inside.

It was empty.

The medic didn’t say anything, but the tension in his shoulders told Aizawa everything. Lion leaned over to get a look, going still as realization set in.

“Three pills in less than twenty minutes?” Lion said, his voice quiet and grim. “He was desperate. That kind of strain...”

Turtle gave a sharp nod. “His physical body is already folding under the strain which is why he's bleeding everywhere. His chakra levels are artificially stabilized right now because the pills still in effect but once they wear off, his body’s going to hit full chakra shock.”

He looked over at Lion. “If we don’t minimize the chakra crash, he won’t make it.”

Lion nodded, “Back to the hospital we go. Ox, stay back and clean up. It's Aizawa-san, right? Please grab onto Viper. We’re going to jump back.”

——

The sensation of dimension-jumping was like being caught in Uraraka’s quirk and then yanked through a straw—disorienting, nauseating, and deeply unpleasant. Aizawa braced himself with a hand against the wall after they materialized in Lion’s hospital room, more than ten miles away in the span of a second.

In a grim twist of fate, it was now Kakashi lying in Lion’s hospital bed.

“Lion,” Turtle glanced up at the ANBU as if in question.

“Whatever you need, Turtle,” Lion replied, stepping back from Kakashi’s motionless form. “Just say the word.”

Without hesitation, Turtle launched into a flurry of orders directed at both Lion and Viper. The nurses quickly began stripping away Kakashi’s gear under Turtle’s brisk instructions.

Aizawa took that as his cue to step away—he couldn’t offer medical help or chakra. He was just in the way now.

——

The time spent waiting outside was somehow worse, because it gave Aizawa time to simmer in his thoughts.

Aizawa had taken lives before. As an underground hero, he often faced more dangerous and ruthless opponents than the typical hero, which made encounters turn into deadly confrontations. His quirk and capture weapon were both ideal to neutralize enemies, but in his earlier, less experienced years, that didn’t always go as planned. A blow intended to incapacitate could land wrong, or a villain might refuse to yield, pushing their body beyond the point of recovery.

It was three lives—two men, one woman. Aizawa remembered them all. Their faces, their quirks, even their names.

The first was Murakami Touma. His quirk allowed him to generate shockwaves with his fists. Aizawa had just started his career when they crossed paths in the alleyways of Yokohama during a sting operation gone wrong. Murakami had already left two civilians critically injured and showed no sign of stopping. In their struggle, Aizawa delivered a takedown that snapped the man's head back against a concrete wall. He was unconscious when the medics arrived—and never woke up. It was ruled an accident, but it never felt like one to Aizawa.

The second was Shirogane Hana. She manipulated metal fragments, effectively turning urban spaces into her personal arsenal. When Aizawa tracked her down, the battle was chaotic—debris flying, lights flickering. Aizawa managed to disarm her and disable her quirk, but not before a shard of rebar she'd flung returned mid-fall and struck her through the side. It wasn’t immediate—she was arrested, treated on scene, but bled out en route to the hospital. Aizawa filed the death certificate himself.

The third was Sato Renji. He was the one Aizawa remembered most clearly—not because the circumstances were the most violent, but because they weren’t. Renji’s quirk was minor: a heat pulse he could emit from his palms, enough to melt plastic or blister skin, but not much else. He wasn’t a powerhouse. He wasn’t even a major player. He was desperate.

Renji had taken hostages in a small convenience store, cornered by debt and bad luck. Aizawa had been called in as backup, expecting another quick takedown. But when he entered the store and locked eyes with Renji, panic flared in the man’s eyes—Aizawa at that point in his career was often recognized by sight by local criminals.

Aizawa disabled his quirk instantly, the heat flickering out like a dying flame. But Renji panicked. He lunged anyway, a broken bottle in hand, and in its trajectory was a crying child in the arms of his mother. Aizawa reacted on instinct. His scarf snapped tight around Renji’s neck, pulling him off his feet. He struggled, thrashed.

And then stopped.

By the time Aizawa loosened the binding, it was too late. CPR failed. The paramedics said he’d suffered a seizure—maybe from adrenaline, maybe from the sudden chokehold, maybe both.

The hero carried those three deaths like invisible scars—he didn’t speak of them, but they were there, heavy and unhealed. He had learned to live with the weight, but never to justify it or use it as a lesson for others.  He had been young, and though others called it necessary, he still saw it as failure—of judgment, of control, of responsibility.

That was why Kakashi's choice chilled him to the core.

Hebiura had already been neutralized—his wrists mangled, unable to grip a weapon, his legs broken beyond use. Kakashi had even taken the time to tie his hands, confirming the man was no longer a threat. 

Aizawa didn’t know what truth had died with Hebiura but he had to wonder: what secret was worth a man’s life?

——

"Kakashi is alive,“ Was Lion's greeting when the ANBU finally stepped out of the ICU, joining Aizawa and Ox in the waiting room. “We got there in time to prevent the chakra crahsh before the pills wore off. He’s still suffering internal bleeding, his left arm is broken and Hebiura shredded his shoulder pretty bad—fractures, possible nerve damage but Kakashi avoided the worst of it."

"Of course he did," Ox muttered, absently rubbing her own injured shoulder, but with no real heat.

“He’ll be okay?” Aizawa asked, his voice low, nearly hoarse.

Lion turned to him, eyes unreadable behind his bone white mask. “Turtle is optimistic.”

Aizawa let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The tension slipped from his spine, and he dropped his face into his hands. The relief hit hard—and with it, the anger.

Kakashi had survived but Hebiura hadn’t and Aizawa hadn’t been able to stop any of it.

"Aizawa-san," Lion said after a beat, still watching him, "You look upset. Is this not the news you wanted?"

Aizawa lifted his head, blinking, caught off guard by the softness of the question. Lion’s voice was light like he was asking about the weather.

“No, it is,” Aizawa said quickly. “I mean—it’s just…” He faltered. “Nothing.”

Lion exchanged a brief glance with Ox. Then, gently, “A penny for your thoughts?”

It caught Aizawa off guard, not because of the question, but because of the tone. There was no edge to it, no judgment lurking behind the words. Just quiet, genuine curiosity. And something in Aizawa, already fraying at the edges, gave way.

“Kakashi shouldn’t have killed Hebiura,” he said suddenly, the words spilling out before he could reel them back. The weight that had been pressing on his chest since the field now surged to the surface, too loud to ignore. He began to pace, hands clenched at his sides.

A part of him knew how absurd it was—to say this here, to them. Two ANBU. Two operatives who’d seen more blood and death than most could imagine. One of whom, Ox, whose arm would never be the same because of Hebiura. It should’ve stopped him.

But it didn’t.

“The other two—those deaths were in the middle of chaos. Reflexes and self-defense with split-second judgments,” His voice was tight, each word coming faster. “But Hebiura? He was done. Restrained. There was no threat left in him. Kakashi still chose to kill him.”

To Aizawa’s shock, Lion agreed, “You’re right, Aizawa-san. Kakashi shouldn’t have killed any of them.”

The ANBU continued in the same soft tone, “He should have left you all to die instead.”

——

Aizawa stared. “What?”

“Kakashi broke protocol to stay behind,” Lion said, his tone as steady as ever, but the weight behind his words was undeniable. “He should’ve kept his clone behind as a distraction and returned to the hospital to the team. Instead, he chose to stay, to fight—because he was worried about you and your students.”

Aizawa stood frozen, his breath caught in his throat. His mouth opened, but no words came out. His mind was reeling, trying to process what Lion was saying, what this meant.

“You said the first two were self-defense, and the last wasn’t,” Lion continued, unfazed. “But none of them were self-defense, Aizawa-san. Because Kakashi shouldn’t have been in that position in the first place. He went in knowing it would be a fight to the death to protect you and your students.”

The floor beneath Aizawa seemed to give way. His legs felt unsteady as the shock of it all hit him. Slowly, he sank back into his seat, his thoughts tangled in a blur of disbelief and confusion.

The possibility that Kakashi could have left—foolishly—hadn’t occured to him.

“ANBU get four chakra pills in a single kit,” Lion said, his voice turning quieter, softer—almost distant. “The maximum is four because more than four in a 24-hour period is a death sentence. Kakashi took three in less than an hour.”

Aizawa’s heart stuttered in his chest.

“Kakashi fought to win, not live. And he did it for you.”

The words hit Aizawa with the force of a physical blow. He froze, the weight of what Lion had just said pressing down on him, suffocating him. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in as his mind scrambled to process.

“I need air,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

He shot to his feet and made for the door, the need for space overwhelming. As he moved, he felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck—the heavy weight of Lion’s gaze.

——

“It’s my fault,” Aizawa muttered into his sake glass, the words rough and heavy, as if he could drown in them.

Tsukauchi, ever the steady presence, poured him another drink without a word.

“It’s not your fault, Aizawa-san,” he finally said, the calm in his voice barely breaking through the tension hanging around the hero. “I met the kid. You can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to. He chose to stay.”

Aizawa’s fingers clenched around the glass as he stared into the clear liquid, but the weight of it all wouldn’t let him look away. “He stayed to protect me,” Aizawa said, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “To protect the kids.”

He buried his face in his hands, the rawness of it all cutting through him like a blade. Tsukauchi didn’t press him for more, but the silence was louder than any words could be.

The worst part was that Aizawa saw the truth in what Lion said. The Mist nin were fast and brutal and had caught them unaware. The kids, already tired out by their training with Kakashi wouldn’t have been able to run fast enough.

Aizawa’s hands gripped his face harder, the heat of shame and guilt flooding through him. His anger, his moral righteousness—that Kakashi had no right to kill the Mist nin— it was all his fault. Kakashi was only there because of him, because Aizawa had made the decision to bring him to UA.

If Kakashi had died...

If the kids had been left to fend for themselves...

It was all too much. Aizawa could feel the self-hatred creeping in, gnawing at him, burrowing deep where the doubt and guilt had settled. Kakashi hadn’t made a cruel choice—he had sacrificed himself. And Aizawa, the one who was supposed to be the adult, the protector, had been weak and only forced Kakashi to make an impossible decision.

Tsukauchi flipped his phone closed, breaking Aizawa’s spiraling thoughts.

“Not to add to your stress, Aizawa-san, but local PD says there weren’t any bodies on the scene,” Tsukauchi said, his voice calm but carrying a hint of concern. “It seems like our ANBU friends took care of the crime scene. Again.”

Aizawa’s head snapped up in shock, the sudden shift in topic pulling him from his internal turmoil.

“Lion,” Aizawa muttered, his thoughts momentarily sharp. “Lion ordered Ox to stay behind and clean up. Start with Ox. She’ll know.”

Tsukauchi’s eyes narrowed, his fingers already busy typing another message on his phone. He glanced up at Aizawa. “Based on the amount of blood left behind, it seems like it was a brutal fight.”

Aizawa closed his eyes.

“The Mist-nin were ready for us,” he murmured. “They must’ve been following us from even before we arrived on school grounds. There was a point when Kakashi seemed to sense something. I thought it was the HPSC...”

“I checked when you texted,” Tsukauchi nodded. “They denied everything. Even seemed genuine.” He looked at Aizawa with a sharper edge in his gaze. “If I had to guess, the Mist-nin probably realized Kakashi was alive when he made the news. It was everywhere—on every news platform, in the streets, on the radio. You couldn’t avoid it if you tried.”

Aizawa shook his head, the detective’s words reminding him: “No, they didn’t recognize him. Why didn’t they recognize him? He’s who they were going after in the first place.”

Tsukauchu leaned back in his chair as he ate a chicken skewer. “Kakashi-kun likes wearing a mask—maybe the mask made it difficult to recognize him?”

Aizawa stopped mid-sip. 

——

“Of course,” He breathed. “He was wearing a mask.”

——

Aizawa grabbed a cab back to the hospital, his mind racing a mile a minute.

It all made sense now. It was really the only answer that made sense, once Aizawa accepted the truth he hadn’t been willing to see: Kakashi wasn’t a child who needed protection. 

This was what Kakashi was desperate to hide. Why he was so willing to part with his guards.

Something, no—someone so important that even people from a different dimension couldn’t know.

The cab pulled to a halt in front of the hospital, and Aizawa stormed out, his footsteps echoing through the sterile halls. He didn’t bother to look around, didn’t need to; he knew exactly where he was headed.

He burst into the ICU and found the ANBU team huddled to the side of Kakashi’s room in quiet conversation. In the center of the group, standing like he belonged there, was Lion.

Lion, who had done the dimension jump. And when the hero first met the team, Viper had said it was a faulty seal that brought them there, hadn’t he?

The answer had been in front of Aizawa all along.

Aizawa met Lion’s gaze.

He said coldly, “I don’t believe we've properly met, Hokage-sama.”

——

The room fell silent. The other ANBU went still, but Lion didn’t flinch. He simply tilted his head slightly, his eyes glinting beneath the mask with something Aizawa couldn’t quite place.

“I see what Viper means,” Finally came the amused reponse.

In one smooth movement, Lion pulled off his ANBU mask to reveal a man with bright yellow hair and even brighter blue eyes.

Aizawa felt the hair on the back of his neck stand.

“Nice to meet you, Aizawa-san. I heard a lot about you.”

Namikaze Minato smiled. It was the smile of a killer who wore the mask of a saint—patient, gentle, maybe even kind.

 

Notes:

Aizawa finally figured it out! No need to be mean to Aizawa for his inner turmoil since Minato is already doing it plenty 😂 A Minato and Aizawa, being protective in their different ways, this is going to be fuuuuuuun.

Thanks so much for all the great comments y’all ❤️❤️ they inspire me to write ❤️

Comments and kudos are ❤️

Chapter 16

Notes:

Warning: Namikaze Minato and general shinobi tendency to consider murder as the solution to their problems

Most shinobi could snap awake in an instant and flee-on-sight Namikaze Minato, the youngest Hokage of Konoha, was no exception. But even for him, emerging from a month-long coma came in phases. He drifted in and out of consciousness, barely enough for his mind to register it, let alone remember. But there was always something familiar—an ever-present hum of his ANBU team's chakra, the soft pulse of a medic's chakra—assuring him that he was safe, and each time, he sank back into the quiet embrace of nothingness.

Still, something was missing. He couldn't place it at first, but the absence grew, gnawing at him and pulling harder each time, until one day, it was enough to break through the haze and wake up.

He rasped, "Fox?"

Minato distantly felt a minor commotion above him as all three chakras flared—not in surprise but in the quick controlled movement to dispell possible genjutsu.

Then, a familiar deep red chakra pulsed in distinct Konoha code, before a hand lightly touched his forearm. Viper.

"Welcome back, sir. Operation Guard Dog is underway. Kakashi-sama has stepped out. Orders?”

Operation Guard Dog. ANBU had swapped identities to disguise Minato’s presence. Kakashi-sama meant Kakashi took on Minato’s place and for Viper to still speak so plainly suggested the room was secure.

"Sitrep," Minato ordered, his voice rough as Turtle helped him sit up. He glanced around, recognizing the sterile environment of a hospital but noticing strange, unfamiliar equipment attached beeping around him. The rest of the team appeared too well-healed to be in enemy territory but the absence of Kakashi was jarring.

Minato needed information.

——

According to ANBU, they landed in a universe that hadn’t known war for generations. Strangers were met with curiosity instead of suspicion and the people here, despite having no idea who ANBU were but understanding what ANBU was, still provided food, shelter, and medical care freely.

This world could be different, Minato thought, listening to the ANBU describe their interactions with and impressions of this new world. People traveled freely across borders, and countries exchanged goods instead of blood. Information was meticulously recorded and then shared, even to ANBU. Children were forbidden from the battlefield until they chose to become something called Heros at the age of majority or even later.

A strange lightness bloomed in his chest—it felt like hope.

Of course, nothing was perfect. For some people here, your fate was decided the moment your quirk manifested as heroes and villains which were rigid roles carved in black and white. Villains, in many ways, were like missing-nin: outcasts who had turned against their own, who stole, killed, and destroyed. But the price of peace here, it seemed, was stagnation because these villains weren’t hunted down and driven away. They lived within the same borders, skulking in shadows and alleys coexisting with the rest of the city. The idea of a missing-nin roaming freely through the streets of Konoha made Minato’s blood run cold.

Still, the practical shinobi in Minato looked past the imperfections to  see what mattered: progress. And that thought stirred something deep within him—a hunger to understand this world more, to see if it could truly be the peace he had longed for.

——

“Hokage-sama, far be it from me to tell you what to do,” Turtle said in a tone that suggested he was going to do exactly that. “But maybe you shouldn’t be moving so quickly after having woken up from a coma mere hours ago. As we’ve emphasized multiple times, the chakra use is incredibly inefficient in this world. Expect any ninjutsu or any use of chakra to take up to twice as much it’d normally take.”

“I’m not planning on jumping dimensions yet,”Minato replied cheerfully, as he shrugged into the ANBU blacks that Ox handed him. “But I could use some fresh air. We’ll surprise Kakashi, and I’m curious to see this world’s tech. You mentioned it’s advanced, right?”

Overruled, Turtle sighed and began joining the prepaarations to head out. Viper was explaining Kakashi was likely at this world’s version of the Academy when Minato felt something familiar flare at the edge of his senses.

“Ah, speak of the devil,” he muttered, glancing toward the open window just in time to see Kakashi crawl through it. “What the hell are you wearing? You look—report.”

At Minato’s sudden shift in tone, both Viper and Ox stiffened.

Clones typically took the appearance of the castor, unless conscious effort was put in to change the appearance. Kakashi’s clothes were clearly torn and he was bleeding, as if he was coming from a fight.

“Lion,”Kakashi’s clone looked shocked, frozen halfway through the window. “You’re awake.”

“Focus, Kakashi,” Minato said tersely.

The clone straightened at the order. “Kakashi engaged Hebiura and two other Mist-nin at UA High School which is located twelve miles south west of here. There are four hostages and his orders are that this is a Fire 1 threat and to maintain sentinal formation,” The clone faltered. “But he  obviously didn’t realize you’re awake.”

Minato's heart skipped a beat, his brow furrowing. The worst fights were the ones where you were outnumbered and Hebiura was dangerous to face alone.

“Kakashi stayed behind?” he asked in disbelief. Why would the teen stay when the situation was clearly escalating and the team was here? When Minato was here?

The clone hesitated. “Three of the hostages are children.”

“Tell him to throw the hiraishin kunai,” Minato ordered. That would trigger the chakra flare for Minato to locate it even at a distance. “And tell him my order is to run.”

——

Kakashi didn’t run. Minato hadn’t truly expected him to.

What he had expected was that Kakashi would have more sense than to burn through three chakra pills in under thirty minutes.

When Minato saw the empty gear pouch, a cold knot of fear tightened in his chest. Every shinobi knew the rule—one chakra pill every six hours and no more than four in one day. It was drilled into you from day 1 in the academy, despite the fact that the typical shinobi didn’t even see chakra pills unless you reached jounin. Even then, it was only provided to jounin on a mission-by-mission basis. ANBU were the only group to have it as part of their basic kit but squad leaders were responsible for tracking how many were used each mission to prevent ANBU from hoarding them.

The pills could mean the difference between life and death in a fight, a quick burst of chakra and adrenaline to push past exhaustion and injuries. But the effects were far from benign. That surge of energy came with a high—a euphoric numbness that dulled pain and fatigue, making it dangerously addictive. Even without the potential addiction, the aftermath could be deadly. The pills overloaded the chakra coils, forcing the body to expend far more energy than it could handle. The result was internal bleeding, slow and silent, a ticking time bomb that could tear you apart from the inside.

And Kakashi had taken three in thirty minutes.

It was reckless. It was dangerous. And it meant Kakashi had been stupidly desperate.

Minato didn’t need to ask why. He could still smell the familiar acrid scent of burnt ozone from Kakashi’s chidori. Hebiura was one of the faster shinobi Minato had encountered. Combined with Kakashi’s naturally limited chakra reserves—crippled further by the constant drain of Obito’s sharingan—and the inefficiency of chakra control in this foreign world, it would have forced Kakashi to end the fight fast, or die trying.

Minato’s arms tightened around Kakashi’s still form. Kakashi’s heart was beating too weakly, in contrast to the unusually bright burn of his chakra.

According to Turtle, it was the pills that were artifically stabilizing his chakra levels but once they wore off, Kakashi was going to go into chakra shock. The medic looked at Lion. “If we don’t minimize the chakra crash, he won’t make it.”

The world seemed to go quiet. 

The calmness in the medic’s voice didn’t hide the urgency behind it. Turtle was a skilled medic, experienced enough to be the tagalong for the Hokage. He didn’t scare easily but now, Minato could see the warning in his eyes.

Kakashi’s sluggish pulse beneath his fingers was the only thing that kept Mimato tethered to reality.

“Back to the hospital we go,” Minato said tightly. “Ox, stay back and clean up. It's Aizawa-san, right? Please grab onto Viper. We’re going to jump back.”

——

Minato had long made peace with the reality that Kakashi would likely die for him. It was an unspoken truth, a quiet understanding between them that neither had ever needed to voice aloud. Kakashi, as ANBU, lived in a world of shadows, where death was never far behind. Minato, as Hokage, held the power to send him on missions where the stakes were high and the odds low.

One of these days, Minato would assign the mission Kakashi wouldn’t come back from. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but one Minato had learned to accept. After all, he would, without hesitation, lay down his life for Kakashi too.

But this was different.

Kakashi wasn’t facing death on a mission that Minato had sanctioned. He wasn’t protecting his village, fighting Minato’s enemies.

Kakashi was risking life and limb for people Minato had never met, in a world that was supposed to be more peaceful than their own.

——

This, Minato had not made his peace with. This, he refused to accept.

——

Aizawa Shota was an impressive and well-respected man by his world’s standards. He was an Academy teacher but worked as an underground hero. He seemed to avoid the public spotlight and the public was not aware of his identity as Eraserhead but he had a reputation from within the underground world. His quirk, an ability that could neutralize any abilities, was no doubt a reason to be wary.

“The other two—those deaths were in the middle of chaos. Reflexes and self-defense with split-second judgments,” Aizawa said tightly. “But Hebiura? He was done. Restrained. There was no threat left in him. Kakashi still chose  to kill him.”

This man was a naive civilian, posturing as a soldier. A man who understood battles but knew no war. He had no idea what Kakashi risked to protect him and his students, and now, standing in the safety bought by that sacrifice, Aizawa dared to condemn him.

Minato was going to rip him apart.

“You’re right, Aizawa-san. Kakashi shouldn’t have killed any of them.” Minato continued softly, meaning every word, “He should have left you all to die instead.”

——

Namikaze Minato carried an emptiness inside him, a quiet void that had been there for as long as he could remember. It wasn’t something he dwelled on—it was just part of who he was.

He only really recognized its presence once he became Kakashi’s teacher. After he barged into the Third’s office to argue that it was unfair for Kakashi to be punted team to team, to waste that talent and have him hated for his father. When Minato held the assignment scroll in his hand that formalized his claim over Kakashi.

Something clicked inside him in understanding as the void eased back.

For Minato, who had grown up without parents or siblings, a child of war with no true sense of home, it was a first. He had friends—Jiraiya-sensei, his teammates, colleagues—but this was different.

Kakashi was his student now, his responsibility, his.

Minato finally understood the depth of the void inside him when he fell in love with Kushina. It wasn’t a sudden thing, not a grand realization in an instant. It grew, slow and steady, like the quiet rise of a tide. It started in small moments—her laughter, the way she challenged him with that fiery spirit of hers, and how, despite it all, she made him feel seen. There was a fierce warmth to her that melted the cold parts of him he hadn’t even realized were there.

Then, the day she pressed herself against him, crossing that invisible line between friendship and something more, Minato knew something was different. She didn’t just meet him halfway—she took that step with a quiet certainty that made his heart race. And when she said yes, when she stood with him, her words clear and unwavering, the abyss was silenced, the void filled.

When Minato lost Kushina, the void came back.

It was a darkness that he didn’t let himself look at too closely anymore—look too long into the abyss and the abyss looks back at you and all that. A vast emptiness that seemed to stretch endlessly, consuming all light and warmth in its wake. It wasn’t something he could easily push away, no matter how hard he tried. The pain of her absence lingered in the quiet spaces between his thoughts, a constant reminder of the life they should have had, the family they were supposed to build together. He always felt that sharp edge of destruction gnawing at his thoughts, urging him to give in, to let the world burn in retribution for the pain it had caused him.

The abyss was held back by Naruto, his ball of sunshine and last connection to Kushina, by Kakashi, his first and last student.

In the midst of grief, rage, and the overwhelming emptiness that seemed to swallow him whole, they were the only things that made the world still worth existing in. What made the world worth existing.

——

“Tonight will be critical. If Kakashi can survive the first twenty four hours, his odds will be much better,” Turtle said quietly as he turned to leave. “I’ll give you two privacy.”

Minato barely heard the door close behind him. His gaze remained fixed on Kakashi, who lay unmoving in the sterile bed. His student was barely visible beneath the tangle of medical equipment and an oxygen mask.

“Oh Kasshi,” Mimato murmured.

Minato closed his eyes, fighting the wave of unease that suddenly rose up. He thought of Naruto, of the chances that a different dimension meant a different flow of time. He wondered how long it has been for Naruto, if Konoha was okay, if the village thought him and the team dead. Souta would hold forte down with a steel fist, but the issue was time.

Konoha was on the brink of peace with the Hidden Cloud, a fragile agreement that required trust from all sides. But if word reached the Hidden Cloud that Minato had disappeared on the eve of crossing their border—if they suspected it had been an ambush—it would shatter everything.

The treaty would fall apart. Konoha would blame Lightning. War would ignite, exactly as the Hidden Mist intended.

Minato forced the thoughts back—folded them up and set them aside like a scroll too dangerous to read just yet. He couldn’t change that now from here. He had to focus on one thing at a time.

He leaned forward, brushing the sweat-dampened bangs from Kakashi’s forehead with a gentleness few ever saw from the Yellow Flash.

“You gotta wake up, Kasshi. That’s an order,” Minato said softly, but that wasn’t what he wanted to say. “You gave me an oath,” he tried quietly but that wasn’t right either.

Finally, even quieter: “Please.”

——

Minato thought it would be he last he saw of Aizawa for a while so it surprised him when the man burst back in.

“I don’t believe we've properly met, Hokage-sama.”

To his left, Viper flared his chakra in question: kill?

“I see what Viper means,” Minato mused. With his hand behind his back, he signed hold which wasn’t a no.  “Nice to meet you, Aizawa-san. I heard a lot about you.”

Aizawa stared at Minato, searching his face, as if he were surprised at the lack of resistance. Minato readied himself for the questions, the suspicion, the demands.

But what he got was something entirely different.

“So Kakashi is really ANBU?”

Grief.

“Yes,” Minato answered after a pause. “He’s the captain, and was first in command while I was out.”

Captain, Aizawa seemed to mouth to himself. He swayed, as if the weight of the realization was finally hitting him but when he spoke, it was only to say, “If you want to keep the cover, you should probably call him Kakashi-sama like the rest of the team.”

Minato blinked. The man was full of surprises.

“Aizawa-san, are you saying you’ll keep my identity a secret?” Minato tilted his head. “You’ll betray your own people?”

The hero frowned at that, “I don’t even know who I would be supposedly betraying in this situation. I don’t serve the HPSC. I’m a teacher, and a Hero. My job is to keep Kakashi safe and his interests protected. I have no interest in revealing what Kakashi worked so hard to keep secret, especially when the current circumstances afford him more resources and protection.”

Aizawa paused, and then continued, more quietly, “You clearly matter to Kakashi. Then, you matter to me.”

Well, that took the wind out of from under Minato’s wings.

The Fourth asked, “Has it occured to you that I may not let you walk out of here alive?”

A brief frown appeared across Aizawa’s face at the question. It seeemed that the thought hadn’t occured to him. Minato internally sighed, understanding what Viper’s continued emphasis that everyone were civillians meant.

“You could kill me, I’ve certainly seen the lengths you’ll go to protect your identities,” Aizawa said slowly, “But you could also use me. You’re already aware that I’m fond of Kakashi, and now I owe a life debt to him, for my own life and my students. You seem like a pragmatic bunch to not at least use it first,” The hero stared at Minato. “Will you kill me?”

It wasn’t a challenge or a dare. The question still seemed to come from confidence that Minato wouldn’t. Like Viper reported, the man was sharp and read situations with a rare and dangerous combination of intuition and logic. 

“No,” Minato finally smiled. “That would be a poor way to repay someone who’s been looking after my people.”

If Aizawa genuinely cared for Kakashi, that changed things for Minato—he could respect the man for that, for his concern for his student, and would certainly use that.

The fact that Kakashi also cared about Aizawa was a different kind of problem that Minato would deal with later.

——

After the hero bid them goodnight and left, Viper didn’t waste any time. His voice was low, but clear, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

“Sir, do you want his death to be an accident or a warning?”

Minato didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the door Aizawa had just exited, as if the man might reappear at any moment. But the only sound in the room was the soft hum of the machinery around them, a stark contrast to the weight of the decision hanging in the air.

"Neither," Minato finally said. "Change of plans. We keep him alive... for now."

Viper was too good a shinobi to question orders, but Minato read the curiosity from the tilt of his head.

“He matters to Kakashi,” Minato echoed, “So he matters to me.”

——

Except the abyss inside him laughed at that because it knew the truth: if Kakashi didn’t make it, no one in this world mattered—if Kakashi didn’t make it, Minato would make sure this world burned.

 

Notes:

Last line is a play on Aizawa’s line in an early chapter about a world that deserves to burn, in a two sides of the coin kinda way except Aizawa is normal and responsible and Minato is Minato.

I was surprised/impressed how many people picked up that Minato was Pissed in the last chapter, considering I intentionally wrote him as mildly as possible. I hope this chapter satisfied your Murderous Minato needs.

Comments and kudos are ❤️

Chapter 17

Aizawa stood frozen at the threshold of Kakashi’s room, the darkness swallowing the edges of his vision. He didn’t realize he reached out to brace against the doorframe because his gaze was locked on the scene inside, the room heavy with the weight of what he feared but couldn’t yet comprehend.

The ANBU agents stood as silent sentinels around Kakashi’s bed. But it was the figure hunched over a still form on the bed that caught the hero’s attention. Namikaze curled protectively over Kakashi.

The steady beep of the heart monitor—so familiar, so grounding—was gone. In its place, a single, unbroken tone pierced the room.

A flatline.

Aizawa’s chest tightened. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, a desperate counterpoint to that awful sound. The noise cut into him like a blade. He barely realized he was choking on his words until they left his mouth, cracked and disbelieving.

“No. Kakashi, no.”

Namikaze’s head snapped up. His eyes—wide, disbelieving—were clouded with a grief so fierce it bordered on something else. Something dangerous.

“You,” He snarled.

——

Aizawa jolted awake with a choke.

“Water, Aizawa-san?” Ox asked calmly, holding out a bottle. “You were having a nightmare.”

Still breathing hard, Aizawa blinked twice, instinctively turning his head toward Kakashi. The teen was still there—still unconscious, still unmoving—but alive. The monitors behind him beeped steadily, a quiet confirmation of life. The tension in Aizawa’s shoulders gave way to a wave of relief as he sagged back into the sofa, accepting the water with a grateful nod.

“Where is everyone?” he asked hoarsely.

“Turtle is participating in a ‘workshop,’” Ox pronounced the unfamiliar word carefully, “With the other medics. Lion and Viper are out exploring while they have the chance.”

After being briefed on the interactions with the HPSC, Namikaze decided he would keep status quo at least until Kakashi woke up and was further along in his recovery. This meant that Aizawa continued to watch over Kakashi, which also gave the newly awakened Lion time and opportunity to explore the world.

It was unclear how much longer the shinobi had before the HPSC started circling again. According to Tsukauchi, word of Lion’s recovery had reignited their interest, considering his ability to travel through dimensions, but Viper’s previous threats kept them wary.

“Let them approach if they try again. I’d like to meet them,” Namikaze had ordered ANBU when he heard. There had been no venom in his voice and that, Aizawa had thought at the time, was far more foreboding than any threat. There was something deeply unsettling about the way Namikaze didn’t posture, like he was accustomed to going straight for the kill.

Now, sitting in the quiet lull of late afternoon, the monitors beeping softly around him, Aizawa exhaled and rubbed his face in an attempt to shake off the heaviness settling into his bones. The fatigue wasn’t just physical; it lived in his chest, in the quiet panic that lingered between heartbeats.

But worse than the sleeplessness, worse than the growing pressure from the Commission, was the fact that Kakashi still hadn’t woken up.

Turtle had said he was more confident in Kakashi’s recovery than he’d ever been about Lion waking up—but that did little to ease the sting of watching the teen lie there, pale and bandaged, tethered to life by machines and IV lines.

Aizawa sighed again.

Maybe once Kakashi woke up, Aizawa’s nightmares would finally stop. Until then, the hero resigned himself to being haunted by that phantom high-pitched flatline—sharp, relentless, echoing like an accusation he couldn’t outrun.

——

“Here.” One afternoon, Viper tossed something at him. “Ox said the detective was asking about the Mist-nin. We’re keeping their bodies, but Lion said we should share this.”

Aizawa snatched it out of the air, eyes narrowing as he turned it over. It was a book, small enough to fit in his palm, the leather cover worn to a dull sheen.

A bingo book, Viper explained as if that meant anything to Aizawa, containing information to compensate for the refusal to return the bodies of the Mist nin which the shinobi claimed they needed to prove the ambush, despite Tsukauchi’s protests about jurisdiction and evidence. “Consider it a peace offering from Lion.”

Aizawa sat with it open across his lap, the cracked leather spine creaking under its own age. The pages were thin, worn at the edges from use, stained faintly at the corners by blood, or time, or both.

The book was a brutal artifact—an unflinching ledger of death and value, where shinobi were reduced to bounties, names traded for numbers, lives summarized in a paragraph or two and ended in a line of red ink when the kill was confirmed. Each entry was clinical, containing assessments, threat levels and kill orders compiled from fragmented intelligence, rumors filtered through survivors, battlefield observations recorded by those who survived.

It was the kind of document the HPSC would have salivated over and Aizawa couldn’t care less about—until he found a page he hadn’t been looking for it but now that he was here, he couldn’t look away.

Name: Hatake Kakashi (aka The Copy Ninja; Kakashi of the Sharingan)

Affiliation: Konohagakure

Classification: A Rank

Rank: Jounin

Age: 13-15

Chakra nature: Earth, Lightning or Water (Unconfirmed)

Skillset: Sharingan; ninjutsu, kenjutsu, canine summons

Confirmed or estimated kills above B-rank: 15 Mist-nin; 50+ non-Mist nin

Notes : Demonstrates notable mastery of the Sharingan despite non-Uchiha heritage.

Order: Engage with caution. Eliminate on sight.

A tiny black-and-white sketch accompanied the entry, a rough likeness. Spiky hair, a black mask and a single visible eye. It was chilling how easily they’d reduced Kakashi to lines and data.

Aizawa dragged a hand through his hair, jaw clenched. The ache in his chest wasn’t sharp, but deep and steady—the kind of pain that came with clarity, the kind that settled in when there was nothing left to deny.

Now, Aizawa understood the look on the Mist nins’ faces when they realized who Kakashi was. And this book—as well as the actual fight itself—proved that they had been right to be afraid.

Kakashi was fifteen, a teenager who should be in school, complaining about cafeteria lunches, falling asleep in class, making stupid bets with friends. But in his world, he was already listed in an international kill-on-sight directory, burdened with a body count, and a whispered warning among enemy ranks. 

Aizawa stared down at the worn book in his lap. There was no future or hope in it. Only tallies and crossed out red lines.

And the hero sensed that Kakashi’s entry would end no different.

——

Unsuprisingly, most of the bingo book was full of names Aizawa didn’t recognize, but there was an entry that made him pause.

Name: Unknown (Suspected ANBU Operative)

Affiliation: Unknown

Classification: A~S Rank (Unconfirmed)

Rank: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Chakra nature: Lightning (Unconfirmed)

Skillset: High velocity lightning strikes (Unconfirmed)

Aizawa narrowed his eyes, the words suddenly making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. What unsettled him wasn’t what the entry said—but the absence of information. Where all the other entries were packed with details—history, abilities, affiliations, even psychological profiles for some—this one almost read like a rumor than information, an entry for a ghost dangerous enough to warrant a page in a book built for killers.

Confirmed kills: None

Suspected kills: Jiro of the Iron Claw (S-rank, earth nature, Fire nature); Kuroda Hiroshi (A rank, Water nature), Sato Nobu (A-rank, Wind nature)

Order: Engage with extreme caution. Prioritize intelligence collection over direct confrontation.

There was no sketch or name provided. Instead, there was a clinical but unmistakenly grim description of the destruction this shinobi left behind: “Bodies recovered show severe, localized trauma consistent with high-velocity strikes concentrated in close quarters. The technique appears to involve concentrated lightning chakra channeled into a singular, piercing blow to the chest or head. No known survivors.”

Aizawa frowned, his thumb pausing on the edge of the page. The speed, the power, the lightning… 

There was no confirmation in the book, no photograph, no name to tie this entry to the teen lying unconscious a few feet away from him but Aizawa had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly who this unnamed ANBU operative was.

——

The hero turned the next page of the worn bingo book, half-distracted, his thoughts still on the nameless ANBU with lightning in his hands and death in his wake. But what stopped him cold was a name he actually knew. The entire page was crossed out in red, with the single phrase Konogakure’s Fourth penned in at the top, but Aizawa could still read the text underneath.

Name: Namikaze Minato (AKA Yellow Flash of Konoha)

Classification: S-Rank

Affiliation: Konohagakure

Rank: Jounin

Age: 20-30

Order: Flee on sight.

Aizawa stared, jaw tightening. It was the briefest entry he’d seen in the entire book. No long list of techniques, no breakdown of weaknesses or counterstrategies. No engage with extreme caution or neutralize if possible. Just an order to run.

Above the text, a grainy black-and-white photo sat clipped to the page. A younger Namikaze, calm-faced, composed and in that stillness, Aizawa could almost see the man he had seen the previous day: Namikaze flashing easy smiles as he sipped tea beside Kakashi’s hospital bed. Gentle, attentive. Steady.

But here, printed in the official hand of a hostile nation, that same face was framed by cold warnings and blood-soaked history.

“Confirmed user of the Flying Thunder God Technique. Capable of near-instantaneous movement via marked seals. No reliable countermeasures exist. Confrontation is forbidden. Flee on sight.”

Aizawa exhaled slowly, his grip tightening around the edge of the book.

He’d known Namikaze was powerful in his world but this was something else entirely.

It was the brevity of the entry that struck Aizawa. The lack of information wasn’t due to a lack of intelligence, like the half-formed entry on the unnamed ANBU littered with unconfirmed information.

Namikaze’s entry was by design. It meant there was no need for a list of jutsu, no breakdown of tactics or contingency plans. You didn’t survive an encounter with Namikaze long enough to use that information. If you saw him, you ran. That was the extent of your options.

Aizawa’s eyes lingered on the line again. Confrontation is forbidden. Flee on sight.

His mouth twisted into a dry smile, humorless and brittle, “Some peace offering.”

The bingo book was closer to a polite warning, an invitation to see what his enemies had written about him—to see what fear looked like in black ink. The Fourth Hokage of Konoha was telling them that his reputation was not one originally drawn by diplomacy or restraint, but carved out with blood. 

——

Kakashi had healed enough that he no longer required medical sedation to keep him from worsening his injuries. He had woken a few times, disoriented, but never long enough to be coherent, nor did he remember any of the conversations they had. Still, he was healing—that was all Aizawa could ask for.

But healing came with its own complications—namely, the return of Kakashi’s nightmares.

Aizawa was roused from a light, uneasy sleep by the now-familiar sound of restless movement. Sheets rustling, a muffled gasp, the sharp hitch of breath that always came before the real panic set in.

By the time Aizawa swung to his feet, Namikaze was already at Kakashi’s side. One hand reached out to gently ruffle through the teen’s unruly hair. There was no hurry in his motions, no panic in his demeanor. Minato wasn’t trying to force Kakashi awake or shock him into consciousness. Instead, his touch was slow, calming, like he’d done this before.

“Kai,” Minato said quietly, before continuing, “Go to sleep. It’s just me.”

Kakashi, who had reacted violently to Aizawa’s presence that first night and needed a moment to recognize even Viper or Ox, seemed to settle almost immediately. His shoulders slackened, the harsh rise and fall of his chest slowing into something close to normal. The tight lines of pain around his eyes eased. His frown softened, the lines between his brows smoothed out, and his breathing steadied.

——

Kakashi didn’t have any more nightmares after that night.

——

“What makes nightmares go away?” Aizawa wondered outloud.

“Someone safe,” Tsukauchi glanced at him. “Or something scarier.”

Aizawa sighed. “That’s what I thought too.”

 

Notes:

I had possibly the worst week of my life so this was written as a distraction from that. Please be kind. I hope you enjoy ❤️

Chapter 18

“He’s too perfect," Aizawa complained. "He's too nice.”

Tsukauchi peered at Aizawa over the newspaper he was reading. "Do you hear yourself right now?"

Aizawa waved the comment away in irritation. "You met the man when you dropped by with the fruit basket. Do you not agree?“

“Sure, Lion was charismatic. Genuine. He didn’t lie as far as I could tell, and he felt so sincere, I think I’d believe it was my quirk that was wrong if it said otherwise—okay I see what you mean,” The detective leaned back in his chair, eyes thoughtful. “I mean, in the end, ANBU are people too. It makes sense that if there are agents like Viper—tightly wound, always a half-second from violence—and Ox, who’s so laid-back you’d think she was retired, there are agents like Lion who are friendly and blend right in.”

Aizawa held his tongue. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t sound insane to Tsukauchi didn’t know the truth of who Lion was. How could Aizawa explain the strangeness of Namikaze, that it didn’t make sense that someone so dangerous could be so open, so pleasant, so normal?

When they first met, Namikaze had been controlled, watchful, with a hint of quiet hostility and Aizawa hadn’t taken it personally. The man had just woken up in an alien world, and learned his captain had been abducted and tortured, and then nearly killed trying to protect strangers. A little bit of tension was more than understandable.

Aizawa had expected the quiet fury beneath the surface to linger—but it didn’t. Namikaze’s anger faded, the edge softened.

And Aizawa didn’t understand how.

ANBU wore their violence plainly. It radiated off them—sharp, raw, honest. Even Kakashi, for all his dry humor, slouched posture and obvious youth, had an edge like live wire humming out of sight. You could still feel if you stood close for too long.

Aizawa knew that Namikaze was like the rest of the ANBU, a killer at his core who wouldn’t blink while he slipped a knife between your ribs and caught your coffee before it spilled. 

What was different was how annoyingly likeable he was.

Watching Namikaze the past week, Aizawa saw how Namikaze learned about people but not in a clinical, detached way. He immersed himself in the little things. The mundane gestures. The small details.

People began to wave at him in the hallways, or nod when he passed. In the cafeteria, he was somehow approachable despite the ANBU mask because he was who remembered their names, who greeted them by it like it meant something. He saw when they were having a bad day and took the time to ask how they were doing.

Namikaze didn’t just make acquaintances but connections, deep and genuine because he listened when people talked and it wasn’t the empty kind of listening that passed for manners. He remembered details—birthdays, preferred coffee orders, offhand comments from days prior. He laughed at the right moments, expressed concern with perfect sincerity, and always left people feeling seen, feeling heard.

He was a true politician, in the most weaponized sense of the word. Smooth without being slippery, warm without being invasive, confident without a trace of arrogance. He said all the right things, in all the right ways, and you walked away with a smile.

Aizawa had spent his whole life reading people—spotting tells, hesitations, the tiniest cracks in a person’s mask. But with Namikaze, there was nothing to read. He was either actually genuine or the best liar Aizawa had ever seen.

Aizawa didn’t know which was worse.

Tsukauchi was studying him now, newspaper folded and off to the side. “He’s smooth, sure, but that doesn't mean he’s hiding something or he’s dangerous—at least, any more than the other ANBU are. I hate to say it Aizawa-san, but I think you’re getting paranoid.”

“You have no idea,” Aizawa muttered.

——

The brief moments Namikaze felt more human, more like a man and less like an idea of perfection, were when he was with Kakashi.

Despite his natural charisma, his easygoing demeanor, and the friendly camaraderie he shared with his subordinates, Namikaze was clearly always, first and foremost, the Hokage. The man didn’t stand on formalities, but there was an unspoken reverence from the ANBU, an understanding of his position that kept a respectful distance between them. Even in the rare moments when he dropped his mask of leadership, and joked around with the ANBU team, that distance remained—understood and expected.

With Kakashi, Namikaze was the one who closed the gap, stepping into the space of his subordinate without hesitation. In the way he’d brush Kakashi’s bangs away or tap Kakashi’s brow when the teen started to tense in his sleep, grounding him with that quiet touch, there was a well worn familiarity, one that felt far removed from the professional distance between a Hokage and his ANBU.

——

Namikaze and Turtle were hunched over the edge of the bed, studying the seal Kakashi had created for the Hokage. The ink had faded but it was still barely legible, and apparently the residual chakra clung to the paper in a mimicry of a scar.

Aizawa was completing paperwork, only half paying attention to Turtle who traced characters as he explained what he knew. Minato listened with rapt attention that reminded Aizawa uncannily of Kakashi, present and patient with a focused intensity like the world outside the seal didn’t exist.

“For this part here,” Turtle pointed. “He used water-natured chakra to anchor the cell regeneration pathways. Here, he built upon it with this wind-based character to mimic your collapsed network. I didn’t know that was something possible.”

Minato smiled faintly, the expression more thoughtful than amused. He leaned in, brushing his fingers lightly over the faint, lingering trace of the seal like a craftsman examining the work of another.

“Water to heal,” He murmured. “Wind to maintain. But the balance—look at the layering. He timed the elemental transitions mid character. That’s nearly impossible without destabilizing the seal.”

He paused, then pointed to the inner rim of the lightning pattern. “But here—see the earth-based characters? He embedded them beneath the lightning chakra to stabilize it. That kind of micro-layering… most people wouldn’t even attempt it.”

Turtle frowned. “Why not just remove the earth layer? Wouldn’t your chakra have responded better to the lightning without that buffering?”

“Wind chakra does react more naturally to lightning—it amplifies it. But wind is also volatile, and my chakra tends to fracture under stress. He remembered the reflexive surges I have when I’m pulled from unconsciousness and accounted for the fact that I wouldn’t be able to modulate it when I woke. If he’d pushed elemental synergy over control, this seal would’ve ruptured and killed me the moment I stirred.” Namikaze huffed a laugh. “He’s making it hard to stay mad at him.”

The room briefly fell quiet as the two shinobi appreciated the level of detail and care that was in the seal before them. Finally, Namikaze broke the silence, “Do you know what this means, Turtle?”

“He’s a genius who doesn’t know how good he has it?”

“We already knew that,” Namikaze snorted, “No, the art of sealing might not end with me after all.”

As the two continued to discuss the seal, Aizawa listened more carefully now—not just to their words, but to the pauses between them, the cadence of Namikaze’s voice as he spoke. There was pride there, unmistakable and deep. But beneath it, something else stirred.

It sat just behind his eyes, like a shadow beneath sunlight, warm and bright on the surface but casting something cooler underneath. As if Kakashi’s brilliance was not just a marvel, but something Namikaze had quietly claimed.

His pride wasn’t the kind that said look at what he’s become. It was the fiercer kind that said he’s mine. Mine to teach, to guide, to shape.

Almost childish in its certainty: He’s mine, mine, mine.

——

Aizawa knew that look from his time in the field, in heros who’d lost too many colleagues and clung too tightly to the ones who remained. He’d seen it in certain teachers too—those who poured everything into one student, for better or worse.

Sealing was a lost art and Kakashi was clearly a genius in it. Of course the Fourth was proud. Of course he was thrilled by the chance to pass on a lost art, to see something ancient and intricate survive through someone like Kakashi.

But there was a line between teaching and keeping. Pride could curdle into control, legacy into possession.

Aizawa watched the way Namikaze’s fingers curled around the edges of Kakashi’s seal.

----

Kakashi had been in and out for days—slipping in and out of conscious like the tide. At first, it had only been flickers: a twitch of the fingers, a flutter of eyelashes. Then a few slurred words here and there, barely coherent. But now, for the first time, he stayed awake.

Aizawa jumped to his feet despite himself, like the rest of ANBU, as Kakashi blinked blearily at the ceiling. The kid looked like hell, pale, bruised, bandaged head to toe but he was awake.

"Lion," Kakashi murmured, voice rough and hoarse as he tried to sit up.

Before he could manage more than a shift of his shoulders, the Fourth was already there, a hand gently but firmly on Kakashi's chest, keeping him from rising, “Stay down.”

“Lion,” Kakashi repeated, as he tried to brush the Fourth’s hand away. “You’re awake. How long have I been out?”

“Of course, you don’t listen,” Namikaze muttered, almost to himself.

For a brief moment, he tilted his head, as if mulling over something, then without warning, he reached up and pulled his bone-white mask off in one smooth motion. In a completely different voice, Namikaze said, “ANBU, heel.”

The command was quiet, but it might as well have been thunder.

Immediately, the three uninjured ANBU in the room saluted, left hand closing into a fist over the heart.

Kakashi was the only one who didn’t immediately respond. He froze, blinking in shock, before, to Aizawa’s surprise, his gaze snapped to Aizawa. It wasn’t the confusion the hero had expected but grief—a deep, aching regret that twisted something tight in Aizawa’s chest.

And beneath that, something darker that caused a chill to crawl up his spine.

He thinks he has to kill me, Aizawa realized.

Namikaze clearly came to the same conclusion. He gently tapped Kakashi’s chest once with the mask in his hand.

“Aizawa-san already knows my identity, Kakashi,” Minato said lightly. “He’s been kind enough to play along.”

The teen’s gaze flicked between Aizawa and Namikaze, his breathing shallow, too fast. His sense were still dulled and mind clouded by the sedation, as he struggled to process what was happening.

The Fourth was awake. Aizawa knew. And nothing was falling apart. That last part, especially, didn’t make sense to him.

His eyes locked onto Aizawa again with that steady, devastating assessment of threat. Cold calculation. The consideration.

“Fox, heel,” Namikaze repeated, the hint of steel back.

Kakashi immediately broke his gaze with Aizawa to stare at the Fourth. This time, he seemed to find what he needed to see—something that calmed whatever restless, confused edge remained in him. He slowly reached out to take the mask from Minato’s hand, turning it once in his palm, the white surface catching the light, red markings stark against it. Then he raised it and slipped it over his face in a single, smooth motion.

With a tight heart, Aizawa didn’t miss that how practiced the motion was, how familiar the weight of the mask seemed to be to Kakashi.

Baby killers, was what Kakashi had called ANBU. Now here Kakashi was, wearing the bone white blood red mask, becoming a baby killer. He saluted with the kind of crispness that only years of practice could produce.

“Hokage-sama, welcome back.”

Aizawa’s heart ached at the sight.

But across from him, Namikaze smiled, bright and easy.

——

Heel was apparently the designated code word to mark the end of their cover story. Namikaze took back the mantle of command, and with it, the attention of HPSC. No more pretense. No more protective silence.

With that change came a few others. Now that Namikaze was Hokage, what he said, went. That meant when Namikaze told Kakashi to stay in bed, the teen actually listened, however begrudgingly. And when Namikaze took back Kakashi’s ANBU mask, it wasn’t just a symbolic gesture—it was a command. Kakashi was on medical leave until cleared by Turtle.

Aizawa was quietly relieved for that decision—knowing Kakashi was ANBU and seeing Kakashi don that white and red mask were two completely different matters. It turned out that the unnatural stillness from Kakashi Aizawa had hated, was ANBU stillness and it pained the hero to see it.  

The team dynamics also shifted. Turtle was positively gleeful with the newfound authority to force treatment on Kakashi, while Viper dropped thinly veiled threats any time Kakashi even so much as adjusted his blanket too aggressively. Ox looked downright entertained by the entire ordeal, lounging at Kakashi’s bedside like she was watching the world's slowest, quietest comedy unfold.

It said a lot about Namikaze’s presence that the team—seasoned killers, hardened operatives—relaxed almost instantly after he took command. It wasn’t just respect but relief.  A quiet settling of the room, like the balance in the world was restored.

Well, everyone except Kakashi.

The teen didn’t say anything, but Aizawa could read him well enough by now. Kakashi clearly hated seeing Namikaze this exposed, hated that Namikaze was now walking around without a mask, without an alias, wide open to every political snake and bureaucratic hawk in the HPSC.

Still, he balked at Aizawa’s suggestion to persuade the Fourth.

“You can’t talk him out of anything when he has that face,” he muttered.

Viper made a sound that might’ve been a laugh.

Aizawa followed Kakashi’s gaze. All he saw was Namikaze nodding at something the HPSC agent had said, head tilted slightly, expression open and curious.

Then, after a beat—too quick to be unrelated, too sharp to be accidental—Kakashi added, “Also, that’s insubordination, which you should beat out of your own soldiers by the way. I noticed they make excuses.”

“They’re kids. That’s basically their job,” Aizawa replied sharply. He saw the deflection for what it was but he was unable to not rise to the bait—at the absurdity of what Kakashi was saying. “Also they’re my students, not my soldiers.”

Kakashi shrugged, “Same difference.”

——

“Aizawa-san,” The following evening, Namikaze approached Aizawa who was standing in front of a vending machine. He held up a bag of drinks and snacks. “Would you like to share a drink? My treat. Viper and Ox are standing guard over Kakashi.”

Aizawa started, caught off guard despite himself. It was the first time the Fourth personally sought Aizawa out. “…Sure. We certainly have a cause for celebration.”

Kakashi was fully lucid, coherent and aware enough to argue about protocol and glance sideways at everything. According to Ox, that was practically a full recovery by ANBU standards.

Minato led the way up to the rooftop where Aizawa had taken Kakashi up there a few weeks earlier, when the boy had started getting restless. Aizawa was a firm believer that fresh air helped, and the open sky helped even more.

Now it was just the two adults. The wind was cool and lazy. They settled side-by-side on the raised edge of the rooftop, the city spread low beneath them, humming with late-evening lights. Namikaze passed Aizawa a canned beer and a small pack of dried squid. It wasn’t much, but it was familiar enough to feel grounding.

They ate and drank in companionable silence for a few minutes, letting the hum of the world fill the space between them.

“How are you liking this world?” Aizawa asked eventually, cracking open his second can.

The Fourth gave a soft hum of thought. “It’s impressive,” he said after a moment. “Peace achieved through economic dependency. Infrastructure, international trade, soft power. It’s… an interesting thought.”

Aizawa made a low sound in his throat. "You don’t sound convinced."

"In my time, peace was something we held with both hands and a kunai tucked up each sleeve. Alliances were temporary. Trust was provisional and peace meant a ceasefire,” Namikaze exhaled. "Here, peace means systems. Infrastructure. Regulation. You disarm by creating mutual need instead of mutual destruction. It's... elegant."

"But?"

“Peace can’t last unless you also remember that war was the cost,” Namikaze looked out to the city below. “You’ve come so far from war and death, from blood on the walls, from giving orders that kill children to save villages that you’ve started to forget peace needs to be kept, not given. You live free from danger from outside your borders, but your danger now grows from within, from your own people. Beneath the polished surfaces and polites smiles, people are still afraid, and worse, they fear in the place they should feel safe: home.”

Aizawa said nothing. The warmth in Namikaze’s voice had cooled, not unkindly, but with the measured cadence of someone used to leading nations, not classrooms. The politician surfaced. The Hokage spoke.

“For now, peace is kept with the steel fist of a single Hero, but he can’t protect your people forever. No single person can.”

Namikaze was staring out at the streets below, his expression distant, eyes tracking the movement of the city. There was something in the way his gaze lingered on the lights, the crowds, the rhythms of life—something almost wistful, as if he was seeing more than just the present.

With an inexplicable certainty, Aizawa realized Namikaze wasn’t just speaking of All Might or their world—he was speaking of himself. Feeling the weight of bingo book in his pocket burn, Aizawa offered to the fourth Hokage of Konoha, “I’m glad I don’t have your job.”

Namikaze grinned though his eyes were far from light. “I have my work cut out for me, for sure. But I owe it to my kids to try to make the world a better place for them.”

Aizawa blinked, the words out before he could stop himself. “You look too young to have children.”

The shinobi’s smile seemed to turn more genuine. He reached into the snack bag and pulled out another piece of dried squid, chewing slowly as he shifted gears. "Speaking of kids... Your schools are structured but with so many rules. You can’t use your quirks, you have to wear uniforms. You’re evaluated against metrics. It feels like you're trying to program mediocrity into children."

"I would call it providing stability," Aizawa said. "You get one shot at shaping a generation and we have no need for child soldiers."

If Namikaze took offense, he didn’t show it. Instead he pointed out, "Systems eventually collapse. Peace always leads to war. When the kids raised on standardized testing and structured schedules are suddenly dropped into chaos, do they know what to do then? Are they prepared for a world that doesn’t follow their rules?”

Aizawa was quiet for a moment, feeling the heavy certainty of Minato’s worldview, the belief that peace was an illusion—that it always eventually gave way to violence. "They will because we teach them to think for themselves. I trust they’ll figure it out."

“In my world, obedience is survival,” The Fourth nodded thoughtfully. “In yours, autonomy is strength.”

“Whichever world it is... they’re still kids. They should be allowed to be kids. Even the gifted ones. Especially the gifted ones.”

This time, Namikaze’s gaze sharpened, clearly understanding what Aizawa wasn’t saying. But one and a half beer in, Aizawa didn’t push and Namikaze didn’t make excuses.

"How are your students?" Was the question that returned instead.

The hero accepted the change of subject. "They're not hurt, thanks to Kakashi. They’re constantly asking if they can visit to thank him."

"Well, now that Kakashi is awake, maybe they can."

"I didn't think you'd want them to visit, given the circumstances,” Aizawa glanced over in surprise. “That they’re part of the reason why Kakashi got hurt in the first place."

"Kakashi makes his decisions,” Namikaze sighed. “I can't stop him from that and he could always use being around more kids his age…. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"That’s… surprisingly normal of you to say."

Namikaze barked a laugh as he opened another can. "I guess I’ve been called worse things.”

Suddenly reminded, Aizawa admitted in embarrassment, "Kakashi laughed when I called you a child laborer."

At Namikaze’s chuckle, the hero couldn't help but smile too, though his thoughts lingered on the conversation he had with Kakashi that day. Aizawa asked, quieter this time. "You ordered him to live for you?"

Namikaze tossed a bag of chocolate chips to Aizawa.

“I don't know if you've noticed,” The shinobi said dryly,  “But Kakashi isn't very attached to life. What he is attached to, are people, and Kakashi has trouble letting people go," He paused, his eyes momentarily distant, before his focus returned, locking onto Aizawa’s. "I’m one of those people and I’m not above using that to keep him alive. In fact, there really isn’t anything I wouldn’t do."

There was a cold edge to Namikaze’s words, an almost clinical detachment as he spoke of something so deeply personal yet Aizawa could still sense the depth of care beneath it—bitter, perhaps, but real.

It still didn’t change the fact that Namikaze was willing to manipulate Kakashi’s emotions, keeping Kakashi tethered to a world that had lost much of its meaning to him. Namikaze was both the anchor and the chain, a razor-thin edge where love and control blurred. 

And then there was Kakashi—who clearly placed not just his life but his own death in Namikaze’s hands. It wasn’t just duty, or even loyalty. It was devotion.

Aizawa wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He couldn’t imagine ordering anyone to live for him, to have to handle the weight of that decision. It was a burden Aizawa couldn’t fathom.

——

“You clearly care for him a lot, and he cares about you too,” Aizawa asked finally, "Why does he hates your student so much?"

Namikaze paused mid-sip, his gaze flickering to the hero with a strange, unreadable look.

”Does he now,” He said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

 

Notes:

This chapter: Aizawa, a normal adult with boundaries, sees the codependency between Minato and Kakashi a mile away. Minato has to pull rank immediately to save Kakashi from his own tendency to make Bad Decisions and the two adults make subtle jabs at each other over beer and try to hate each other less. I’m not sure they’re successful.

Thank you for all the supporting comments and care ❤️ they’ve been so lovely to read and helped a lot.

Chapter 19: Interlude

Notes:

Viper's POV, set before Kakashi wakes up.

The first time Viper met Kakashi in ANBU, Viper was Ram at that point and Kakashi was still a newly inducted rookie.

Viper was at the rendevouz point for their mission, a clearing marked only by an unassuming cluster of three moss-choked stones and a half-rotted red bark tree leaning east.

A polite flicker of chakra came from above. Then, a figure dropped soundlessly, landing in a crouch. It was someone small framed, bird-boned, wearing a toad mask.

"Reporting, sir," Toad said—voice clear, even, and so high-pitched it caught Viper off guard.

The rookie was young. He was also tiny, not just in stature, though he barely came up to Viper’s shoulder, but in the way his armor hung just a little loose on his limbs. His hands looked too small for the blade sheathed across his back. This was a kid who hadn’t had their growth spurt yet.

Thirteen was technically the minimum age for ANBU, but Viper had never actually believed ANBU would accept someone that young. He couldn’t imagine the ANBU Commander letting a child take the oath. You’d have to be either incredibly well connected and some kind of genius—

Ah. Of course.

Viper gave the rookie another long look. The rookie must be the Fourth’s kid, friend killer Hatake Kakashi.

The kid didn’t have the Hatake silver hair, but Viper wouldn’t have expected him to. Disguise was protocol when being recognized could get you killed or worse, Konoha implicated.

Still, Viper came to realize that even with the most non descript pepper black hair, the kid stood out. Because  it turned out all the rumours that Hatake was a genius were an understatement.

Having a secondary nature was standard in ANBU. A third was rare. Four was unheard of. Even for secondary natures, most operatives only ever mastered a small set of jutsu within their affinities—tools sharpened by repetition, the ones that came easiest under pressure when you had one hand, half a lung, and a crushed kneecap. That’s what kept you alive.

Hatake didn’t seem to have such comfort zone. He flitted between doton, suiton and katon, using jutsu the way people went through kunai. Viper had seen him switch elements mid-hand seal, rerouting attacks in real time, like he wasn’t following a plan so much as building one second by second.

And when chakra wasn’t the solution, there was the sword he had on his back and seals he could write on the spot. Viper watched Hatake write a suppression seal on the back of his own hand in the middle of a fight to counteract a cut to his palm from a poisoned blade.

One issue—minor, as things went in ANBU—was that Hatake was clearly suicidal. He never seemed to really care about his long term survival, as long as it bought him another ten seconds of operational functionality or could protect his teammates. It was training layered on trauma layered on something Viper didn’t even have words for.

——

The first mission Viper had with Hatake was an assassination of a well-connected merchant family in Taki.

The family was insulated by wealth, guarded by shinobi with bloodline limits, and entrenched behind layers of political protection. Their estate was a fortress with sensor wards buried beneath rock gardens, pressure seals woven into decorative tilework, and patrols trained to spot chakra shifts in fog.

The head of the family had quietly built his empire on laundering both ryo and secrets. He moved illicit information under the cover of legitimate trade. Silk and grain crossed borders under watchful eyes, but war intelligence rode along with them, hidden behind falsified export codes and buried in ledgers. It was a slow-moving infection that was beginning to fester at Fire’s borders.

Problem was, the man’s sister sat on one of Taki’s highest government councils. His brother-in-law served as a senior adviser to the Earth Daimyo.

It meant Konoha couldn’t leave any fingerprints.

Hence, ANBU were called in.

By Viper’s standards, it was a fairly typical ANBU mission that was politically messy but logistically simple.

The team moved in just before midnight under the cover of a cold drizzle that dulled the air and masked their chakra signatures.

Viper handled the outer patrols—taking down guards with silent strikes or drowning them in genjutsu so subtle they didn’t even know they’d been compromised. Meanwhile, Hatake moved like smoke through the grounds, identifying and disabling seals at a frightning pace. It only took one glance, a flick of chakra or the brush of an inked fingertip, and the seal would fizzle out or collapse in on itself. He never stopped to double-check his work.

Rabbit and Horse were equally efficient with their work. By the time Viper found them in the den, Rabbit was already confirming the primary kill, crouched over the patriarch’s corpse with practiced calm, blood drying across her gloves as she pried a ring off his finger for proof of death.

Horse was moving through the side rooms, staging the fire and the illusion of a robbery—pouring accelerant along the baseboards, tipping over oil lamps, yanking jewelry and ledgers off shelves and into a scorched sack. Everything messy, everything loud, everything meant to bury the truth under smoldering chaos.

In the flicker of shadows, something shifted.

Rabbit, still deep in post-execution protocol, didn’t notice the blur that moved along the wall behind her.

Hatake did.

One moment, he was posted by the far window, eyes scanning the tree line. The next, he was moving—a blur of motion that cut across the room faster than a warning could form.

He tackled Rabbit low, just as a kunai tore through the air where her throat had been a heartbeat before. They hit the ground hard, Hatake's body curling over hers protectively. One arm braced her head. The other reached back blindly for the hilt of his sword.

But the angle was wrong and he couldn’t draw fast enough.

The Taki shinobi behind him didn’t pause. She just switched hands and the kunai, raised high, gleamed.

Cursing, Viper intercepted the enemy mid-strike, blade clashing hard enough to spark.

When the fight was over, Kakashi turned to Viper.

“You saved me,” he said, and it wasn’t gratitude in his voice—just uncertainty, like he wasn’t sure why Viper bothered.

“You saved Rabbit,” Viper said, equally confused.

“No one will save you two from me if you don’t get moving,” Rabbit snapped as she shoved Hatake’s arm off her. “Let’s finish this.”

They cleared the rest of the compound without another word and by sunrise, there was nothing left but smoldering ash. A mission success.

Eventually, Hatake was reassigned like all other rookies were. It was standard ANBU protocol: rotate rookies early, rotate them often. Test for adaptability and keep the grief manageable if they didn’t survive the probation period.

Viper sighed quietly to himself. He knew better than to get attached to someone like Kakashi. The kid was a walking death wish, always on the edge of something he couldn’t quite pull back from.

When—not if but when—friend killer Hatake was finally killed in action, Viper wasn’t sure if anyone besides the Hokage would mourn.

——

To Viper’s surprise, Hatake survived his first year in ANBU. Not by luck, and not because he got any less reckless but through sheer, brutal talent.

His reputation within the forces grew  as someone who had a way of keeping his teammates alive and his enemies very, very dead. By the end of his second year, he was promoted to captain and no one turned down the chance to be on his team.

So it was almost ironic that Hatake nearly died not in the field on a mission, but in the Hokage’s office.

It was a quiet afternoon. Viper was on Hokage guard detail, settled in the rafters of the office as the ANBU Commander and Minato-sama discussed security for an upcoming diplomatic visit from Sand.

Kakashi was off duty that day, out of uniform and dressed down to jounin blues. He was perched on the corner of Minato’s desk, face buried in a book and half-listening while the Fourth occasionally nudged food and tea in his direction.

“Two ANBU teams will be assigned to guarding and supervising the convoy, and I expect at least one additional team within village walls at all times—Kakashi?”

All the ANBU in the room stiffened. Hatake was perfectly still, clutching the cup in his hand but Viper had felt what had alarmed the Fourth too: Hatake’s chakra signature, usually bright white and under impeccable control, lurched.

“Sensei,” Hatake gritted out. “Don’t drink the tea.”

The cup fell first, shattering across the polished wood floor in a spray of ceramic shards and dark liquid. Hatake followed it down, knees buckling as his breath hitched and a wet, racking cough tore out of him. The sounds were buried under Minato’s shout of alarm as the Fourth knocked his chair down to catch his student.

Hatake was coughing enough blood that it was dripping from his hands, Viper saw with a start. Poison.

Viper flashed into movement as he and Crow both reached for the Fourth.

Poisoned tea straight from the Hokage’s own cup. The fact that Hatake had drunk it first was likely incidental. In the face of a clear assassination attempt from an unknown source, they needed to secure the Fourth and separate him from Hatake.

Their efforts were for moot. Minato’s chakra snapped like wildfire and his grip on Hatake was steel.

“Hospital, west wing,” was the only warning the ANBU got before Minato blinked out of the office.

T&I traced the source of the poison and assassination plot to Rain. It was an odorless, quick acting neurotoxin that Hatake only survived because he apparently spent an entire year as a chuunin building up a childhood resistance against poison but if anyone else, including the Fourth had drank it, they might not have survived the trip to the hospital even with hiraishin to close the gap.

Mere hours after his discharge from the hospital, Hatake was standing in the Hokage’s office, snarling and spitting to demand that he lead the infilitration to Rain to find the traitor.

It was the Hokage himself, jaw tight, who wanted Kakashi kept in the village. But sentiment was rarely tactical, and this wasn’t the time for caution. Hatake was their best tracker, and Ame was a place where leads drowned in the downpour. They needed someone who could sift blood from rain.

Between the ANBU Commander and Hatake, they wore the Hokage down into agreeing. The mission was classified to the highest degree and given top priority. Hatake turned around and grabbed Viper and Ox on his way out.

The Rain mission, Viper thought at the time, was his first time seeing what Hatake Kakashi looked like without the mask of apathy. The indifference, the silence, the bone-dry sarcasm—it had all been stripped away.

What was left was lean and hungry and sharp.

This was a Kakashi who didn’t want to die. Instead, he was ready to kill.

Throughout the mission, Kakashi’s chakra was taut as a wire, vibrating constantly under his skin. His dogs spread out like scouts, fanning across villages and outposts, as they collected intel. His clones were the same, stalking the alleys and rooftops, eavesdropping, interrogating, disappearing before they could be traced. The teen coordinated the network of reconnaissance with clinical brutality, fingers flying across maps and decoded scrolls with obsessive calm. His orders were clipped and quiet, but the steel in them made even Ox glance sideways once or twice.

There was a feral edge to the captain—barely leashed violence simmering under a surface that never cracked, cleaner than fury, colder than vengeance.

Someone had tried to kill his sensei and he wasn’t going to let that go unanswered.

“When’s the last time the captain slept?” Ox muttered under her breath to Viper at one point.

“Too long ago,” Viper muttered back. “When did he last eat?”

“Liquids? About twenty hours back. Chakra pill five hours ago. Solid food? Not since we crossed the border.” Ox exhaled, barely a breath. “He’s running on fumes.”

Viper agreed, “Fumes and fury.”

“Surely we can’t let this continue.”

“We’re not letting anything happen,” Viper said. “The captain calls the shots and slowing down isn’t an option—not now.”

"I’m not saying we stop," Ox snapped, her jaw clenching. "I’m saying someone needs to keep him alive through this. The Hokage won’t thank us if we take out the target but lose his student."

Outside, the rain fell in a steady curtain, endless and muffling. Their shelter—a decaying storehouse sunk half into the mud—reeked of mildew and damp rot. Inside, it was dead quiet.

Kakashi sat near the far wall, bent over a pile of smudged receipts and transport manifests pulled from a burned supply tent outside a border village. He hadn’t moved in hours.

Ox glanced at him once, then looked away.

“We’re his team,” she said, quieter now. “We need to watch out for him.”

“And if that means carrying him back after this is over, then so be it. But right now, he’s still leading. We follow.”

Ox gritted her teeth but nodded, accepting the logic, however cold. She was ANBU too.

In the end, Kakashi found the traitor, the payer, and everyone in between.

The following day, the Amekage would find bodies lined up at the door of his office. All of these bodies would have their throats slit, mouths full of the same poison that was meant for Minato and, burned onto each forehead, the insignia of Konohagakure.

It was a message that Konoha knew what Rain had done. A dare to try again.

Rain didn’t.

——

Rain was, Viper realized in retrospect, the one and only time he had seen Kakashi genuinely angry.

——

“There were blood thieves who kidnapped Fox and took his blood?"

The Fourth asked with dangerous calm. His chakra flared outward, brilliant and fierce, swirling protectively around them all but its sheer volume held a sharp, oppressive edge that made the air feel heavy.

Viper didn’t let himself flinch, “Yes, sir. Ox and I eliminated the threat and retrieved the blood within forty eight hours of recovering Fox. Turtle confirmed that the amount of blood we recovered was consistent with what Fox had lost, and Fox destroyed the blood himself."

Minato glanced down at Kakashi, who had yet to regain conscious after the fight with the three mist nin.

"Fox was satisfied?"

"Yes, sir. He even stayed in bed for another day."

Minato seemed to consider this, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at his student. His chakra still flickered around them, but there was something contemplative in his silence.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, he exhaled and nodded once. He was apparently willing to let the matter go if Kakashi, with all his obsessive paranoia, had been satisified.

The room seemed to exhale along with him, the pressure from Minato’s chakra lifting. When Minato spoke again, his tone was lighter, warmer, and carrying the unmistakable weight of approval.

“Well done, Viper. Ox. Turtle.” He met each of their gazes in turn with a smile. “You were faced with unprecedented circumstances and adapted quickly. Both Kakashi and my well-being are solely thanks to your efforts.”

The ANBU saluted in silence but Viper felt something stir within him—a warmth, a quiet swell of pride. A strange feeling because he was veteran ANBU, not a fresh-faced genin, looking for approval or affirmation. And yet, this the Yellow Flash acknowledging their work.

It was hard not to feel star struck.

——

Unlike Kakashi, who wore his devotion on his sleeve, Minato-sama was more subtle.

The Fourth extended the same soft-spoken kindness to everyone, from high-ranking jonin to the most nervous Academy genin. There was no one he wouldn't listen to, no one he wouldn’t encourage, no one he wouldn’t believe in.

With Kakashi, he was strangely a little stricter. It was perhaps due to the fear of being perceived as showing favoritism but the Fourth never gave his own student the same leeway he gave others. Failures that would have earned a gentle rebuke, or even a second chance, from Minato to any other shinobi were met with disappointment when it involved Kakashi.

But as ANBU, guarding the Hokage from the shadows, Viper had the privilege of seeing Minato in private, away from the prying eyes of the village.

He learned that the Fourth’s affection for his student lived in quiet moments, in the space of things not said and things not done.

Viper saw how Minato didn’t tense when Kakashi stood in his blind spot. How the Hokage closed his eyes and relaxed when Kakashi’s gloved fingers worked the knots from his neck. That once, when Kakashi’s insomnia was at its peak, Minato cancelled his entire afternoon after he saw that Kakashi had fallen asleep on the couch in the Hokage’s office—without a word of mention to Kakashi when the teen finally woke up.

Kakashi, for all his genius, for all the perfect sight his teammate had granted him with the sharingan, didn’t really seem to see.

——

“Aizawa-san read through the bingo book,” Viper’s voice was steady, even as the wind rushed past him and Minato, the two of them bounding from rooftop to rooftop. The Fourth had seen the city in all its chaotic glory since he first woke up, but now his attention seemed drawn to the people.

Minato’s figure was a blur of golden light as he leaped effortlessly across the buildings. He came to a sudden stop, pausing to peer down at a busy intersection below, where masses of people flowed like a tide, crossing from every direction. “Has he shared it with the HPSC yet?”

“Negative, sir,” Viper replied, standing a few paces behind him, his eyes scanning their surroundings while the Fourth was clearly distracted. “He seems to be keeping his word that he won’t reveal your identity.”

Minato hmmed, “I see why Kakashi got attached. He always had a good eye for people.”

The Uchiha said nothing to that. Viper couldn’t help but disapprove of Kakashi’s clear fondness for the hero—not because he thought for a second the captain would have conflicting loyalties, but because he knew Kakashi wouldn’t and that would only hurt the captain in the end. This was a world they ended up in by some freak accident, a world completely different from theirs and one they were always going to leave. Any kind of emotional investment was only going to end poorly.

“Continue to keep an eye out,” The Fourth finally ordered. “If Aizawa-san tries to give the bingo book to the HPSC, eliminate him, but until then, we keep him alive.”

“Yessir.” Viper replied reflexively. Then he paused. Was that disappointment he just heard?

Shrugging the thought aside, the ANBU asked, “Any thoughts on lunch, sir? I have recommendations.” 

——

Viper was ANBU and he trusted his Hokage. If the Fourth ordered Aizawa’s death, Viper would see it done—it didn’t really matter why.

 

Notes:

Viper figures out Minato’s murderous feelings towards Aizawa are over Kakashi, and is like yeah, that’s reasonable, because the Uchiha are their own brand of unhinged.

Here is an excerpt I couldn’t write in:

Viper met Ox during his first mission with Kakashi as a captain.
“I’m Rara,” Ox had offered.
Viper stared, “So you’re… Nara Rara?”
Ox sighed, “Is it any wonder I ended up in ANBU?”

Comments and kudos are ❤️

Chapter 20

Notes:

Warning: Minato’s POV and some backtracking to see what our favorite shinobi were doing.

Out of all of them, Aizawa was easily the one who looked most relieved that Kakashi was awake. The tension he had been carrying with him all week finally seemed to ease from his shoulders and his usual tired expression softened as he watched Kakashi get a situation report from the ANBU. 

When Kakashi gave Viper a curt nod and Viper stepped back, Aizawa spoke up.

“Kakashi, I’m glad you’re awake. I don’t know what I would have done if…” Aizawa trailed off, the words catching in his throat for just a second. With a deep breath, he bowed his head. “Thank you. Class A and I are both safe thanks to you risking your life.”

The teen clearly wasn’t expecting it. Kakashi shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the heartfelt gratitude.

“It was a fight I had to fight anyway,” Kakashi muttered, his voice quieter than usual. “You being there just changed the timing of it.” His gaze dropped to his hands. “Besides, I owed you.”

Minato stilled.

Aizawa blinked, confused. “How do you owe me?”

The teen, in a rare show of discomfort, was fidgeting, “Ever since we got here, you looked after my team. I know you were making things easier for them when you didn’t have to,” Kakashi looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. “Or for me.”

Aizawa’s face crumpled at that, something raw flashing across his face.

“Kakashi,” he whispered. “That’s... that’s what I’m supposed to do. It’s what you deserve. You don’t owe me anything for that, much less you risking your life.”

Kakashi shrugged, clearly having nothing to say to that Aizawa stood rooted to the spot, his expression conflicted, like there was something else he wanted to say but couldn’t quite find the words.

Minato, who had been watching the exchange with a strange tightness in his chest, decided he had enough. He turned to the medic, “Turtle, is Kakashi’s concussion better?”

Turtle started. “Uh, yes? He never had a concussion, sir.”

Minato leaned over and cuffed the side of Kakashi’s head—softly, but with intent. Kakashi scowled immediately, though it was more out of habit than real pain.

”Three pills in less than thirty minutes. What were you thinking?” Minato chided. “An academy student knows better than that.”

“It got the job done, why are you mad,” The teen had the nerve to complain.

Minato had the strange experience of sharing a look of incredulence with Aizawa.

——

The first night after Minato had woken up, Viper had pulled him aside, voice low and careful: Fox has been having nightmares, sir. And he’s been exhibiting compulsive cleaning behaviors. He’s functional during the day, but...

And the Uchiha hadn’t needed finish the sentence because Minato knew exactly what Viper was referring to.

Minato still remembered the night after Sakumo’s death. He had finished the hospital paperwork, made the preliminary funeral arrangements, and returned to his apartment expecting silence. Instead, he found a six-year-old Kakashi perched at the sink in the kitchen, washing his hands in panic because—ni-san, they still smell like blood.

Minato had crossed the room in two strides and pulled him into a hug, which Kakashi had fought at first, rigid in his arms, too grown-up already for comfort. It’s not your fault, Minato had promised like a mantra, refusing to let go until Kakashi had held him back, dry-eyed and quiet, his forehead pressing into Minato’s shoulder like he wanted to disappear.

It was Minato who eased food and sleep into the cracks of Kakashi’s obsessive training that followed. He was the only one who witnessed the worst of Kakashi’s grief—the long nights of insomnia and muffled sobs, the way grief hollowed Kakashi out without ever breaking the surface.

Later, after Kannabi Bridge, it had been Minato again who kept Kakashi’s hands away from his own face as the boy thrashed in nightmares, trying to claw out the eye he had never wanted in the first place.

After Rin’s death, Kakashi’s compulsion to wash his hands returned with a vengence.

Most days, Kakashi would eventually stop on his own accord.

But on the others, Minato had to learn to recognize the quiet just before the spiral began. Kakashi would sleep less, skip meals more. He’d post himself on rooftops even off-duty, watchful and wired, avoiding people like his presence might hurt them. He’d wear gloves indoors, even in the heat of summer, to hide the bleeding. Minato learned to listen for the sound of a sliding door at midnight, the water running too long, for the subtle shift in sound between a faucet and blood dripping.

Keeping Kakashi busy with missions helped. Sparring with him until he nodded off on the couch, half-asleep before dinner was ready helped. Placing baby Naruto on Kakashi’s chest to fall asleep, trust making Naruto go boneless and slack, helped the most.

And slowly, the worst of it ebbed. The compulsion faded. The nightmares quieted and Kakashi began to sleep through the night. The bandages became less frequent. The water stopped running at 3 a.m. The weight he carried wasn’t one forgotten—but Kakashi began to carry it with steadier hands.

——

Now, more than an entire year later, the nightmares, the complusion and panic were all back. And HPSC were the reason why.

——

Suzuki Aiko, whose real name was not Suzuki Aiko, was a veteran of battles, politics, and everything in between. Her quirk, officially classified as a support-type, allowed her to manipulate emotions. For a time, she played the role expected of her: calming witnesses, coaxing confessions, de-escalating tense crowds.

It bored her senseless.

She craved adrenaline—chaos, sharp decisions, blood on her boots. Eventually, she made a deal with the Commission: she’d serve as a front-line negotiator, first responder in volatile zones, embedded diplomat for the worst-case scenarios. It suited her far better.

Suzuki had five years in the HPSC and twice that in the underworld. She’d long accepted the kind of life that left her with many enemies and fewer friends.

It was why, when she stepped out of the shower one evening and felt the hair on the back of her neck rise, she didn’t ignore it.

Instead, she quietly stepped back into the bathroom to crouch by the sink, feeling for the latch beneath it. The false panel clicked open under the pressure and she reached for the twin tonfas she kept there.

They were gone.

A single, deliberate tap echoed from the open bathroom door. Suzuki spun around.

"Suzuki-san," Ox said cheerfully, as if she wasn't standing uninvited in one of the most secure apartment buildings in the Kanto region at midnight. "Please take your time."

Then, the ANBU stepped back and melted into the shadows.

Suzuki’s blood went cold.

ANBU weren’t supposed to be here. They couldn’t be here. High-ranking HPSC agent residences were top secret information—buried under layers of clearance. The ANBU, outsiders in the most literal sense and under active suspicion for the deaths of two Commission agents, shouldn’t even know where to look.

She dressed quickly, dialing the emergency code into her phone as she moved. She just had to stall long enough until backup arrived.

When she stepped into the living room, Ox was beside a blond man in matching tactical gear, who was examining the art on the far wall with idle interest. His ANBU mask was clipped to his belt, like it was an afterthought.

He noticed her and smiled—pleasant, calm, as though they were old acquaintances catching up over tea. The face was one she knew.

“Lion-san,” she said. The ANBU had been meticulous about keeping their masks on. Lion unmasking now wasn’t a gesture of trust. "Given the recent events, my people have standing orders. If anything happens to me, all ANBU will be detained immediately. I’ve already triggered the emergency protocol.”

Lion tilted his head. The motion was almost boyish, absurdly casual. It made him look even younger than he already did.

“This is a humbling experience.” He said conversationally. “One person walks around completely oblivious to my attempts to kill him and now another sees intent where there’s none. I really must still be recovering.”

"It happens to the best of us, sir." Ox offered.

Suzuki used the exchange to let her quirk flow outward, pushing calm, to suggest a touch of curiosity, smoothing the emotional edges between them like a hand on silk. It was meant to tilt instincts away from violence, the kind of push most never noticed—just a soft shift in the air.

Lion's gaze flickered her again. There was no smile now. Just something quiet and unreadable settled there, like pressure building beneath still water.

“There’s no need for that,” Lion said. “I’m not here to kill you tonight. I’m here to thank you, Yunokawa-san. I’ve heard you’ve been looking after my people.”

“Your people,” Suzuki repeated—before she realized what Lion just said.

A breath caught in her throat. Before she could stop herself, she stepped back once, weight shifting toward the emergency blade hidden beneath the side table.

They knew her real name. The one she made sure there was no one left in the world alive that knew.

Lion didn’t move. He just looked at her with those bright, clear eyes—unnervingly calm. Not calculating, or even cruel, but just certain. As if he’d already peeled her back layer by layer and found nothing she could hide worth noting.

“My people,” He repeated gently. “You’ve taken good care of them, haven’t you?”

Suzuki couldn’t speak.

The man smiled this time.

Then, Lion dipped his head in a mockery of thanks, before they disappeared in a yellow flash right as a SWAT team burst into Suzuki’s apartment.

——

“Well, that was an overreaction,” Kakashi said flatly, tone full of judgment.

Minato resisted the urge to sigh. Or rub his temples. Or roll his eyes so hard they lodged in the back of his skull. Instead, he reminded himself that Kakashi’s definition of reasonable had always been selectively applied when it involved his own well being.

“You’re always preaching to me about the virtues of deescalation and patience. To show proportional responses and strategic restraint,” Kakashi frowned. “And then you go and break into the homes of HPSC. Is this what happens when the ANBU commander isn’t around to talk you out of bad ideas?”

This brat.

Outloud, Minato said, “That’s impressively hypocritical coming from someome who let himself be taken hostage.”

Kakashi threw a scalding glare at Ox—who shrugged—before turning it back on Minato with a scowl, “I’m not falling for your deflection. You know I’m right and you didn’t need to go scorching earth on them. Who cares if the HPSC turned out to be a bunch of scheming snakes? That’s half their job description. Getting mad at them for having an angle is like being shocked that T&I hires psychopaths.”

Minato didn’t respond immediately. As much as he hated to admit it, Kakashi was right. If the roles were reversed, and there were dimension travelers in Konoha, Minato would no doubt have the same motivations to guage their power, test their trustworthiness. They wouldn’t be able to so much as breathe hard without Minato knowing.

Still. Minato’s gaze drifted to the half-healed bite mark peeking from beneath Kakashi’s collar. The bandages on his fingertips were still being changed daily to keep infection at bay. The back of Kakashi’s hands were a familiar red, rubber raw and scabbed from too much washing.

“I care,” Minato shrugged.

——

Despite Kakashi’s disdain, Minato’s methods had results.

Kakashi was swiftly upgraded to the nicest room in the hospital that had an impressive view of the city, courtesy of the HPSC. An agent—clearly a seasoned operative— politely delivered the news that Suzuki Aiko had been pulled from the case and passed along to Minato a rather interesting invitation.

——

The tea room was quiet, deliberately serene—walls lacquered in muted earth tones, tadami floors clean, and the smell of matcha faint but fresh. A subtle performance of peace.

“Hokage-sama,” said the president of the HPSC, her sleeves rolled just slightly past her wrists. She had clearly been grinding tea leaves by hand. With practiced precision, she brushed the matcha powder into two white-glazed cups and added water with an elegant pour. “Please accept my sincerest apologies for any… prior misunderstandings.”

She waited until Minato took a seat across from her to push forward the cup of tea.

Without a word, Viper reached out for Minato’s cup and took the first sip to check for poison. 

Minato smiled. “It’s good to finally meet you, Madame President. I want to thank you for the care you’ve shown my team. Especially after they were put in harm’s way.”

She accepted the criticism, unoffended. “I assure you, Hatake-san’s condition was not the outcome we desired. We regret the pressure placed on him. Your men have shown exceptional discipline and restraint in a difficult situation. Please know that Agent Suzuki has been relieved of duty, pending reassessment.”

Minato smiled, “I’m sure Kakashi will appreciate the sentiment.”

The president didn’t rise to the barb. Instead, she folded her hands neatly and continued, “To that end, we’d like to offer the Hidden Leaf something further.

“We are happy to provide you full access to our medical technologies—any system of your choosing, with technical assistance included. I personally believe your hospitals could benefit greatly from our regenerative cellular treatments that don’t require chakra. It would dramatically reduce recovery time and improve prognosis for otherwise career ending injuries for shinobi.”

Minato blinked. The offer was generous. Too generous. His tone remained neutral, “And in return?”

“We’d like to learn more about the seal that brought you here.”

Minato raised an eyebrow. “What exactly are you asking for?”

“We’re not asking for the jutsu itself. We don’t have the chakra to use it regardless,” She said smoothly. “But we’re interested in the framework. The theory behind spatial and temporal seals. The design principles of a time-space technique.”

Feeling Viper grow dangerously still beside him, Minato tapped a finger against the tea cup in ANBU code: hold.

He didn’t blame the ANBU. For the first time since he’d arrived, the reality of his situation struck Minato with more weight. He truly was in a completely new world that didn’t follow the most basic, unspoken rules that governed the Hidden Nations.

A request like that—asking for a shinobi’s signature technique—would’ve been seen as a hostile act. To say that to a Hokage was probably a cause for war.

Their brazenness was staggering.

But their offer wasn’t an empty one.

If the HPSC’s tech was as good as it sounded—if it could rebuild nerves, reduce trauma, be used to support and stabilize damaged chakra networks like it did for Minato—it could change everything. There were so many shinobi who still lived with the aftermath of their war injuries. Shinobi who still risked life and limb for Konoha.

Minato was the Hokage. If it furthered Konoha’s interests, he’d give up his own technique without hesitation.

There were still real security concerns. Though the people here lacked chakra now, their scientific infrastructure was sophisticated, and the unpredictable nature of their quirks made the emergence of chakra—or something dangerously close—a very real possibility.

Minato took a slow sip of tea.

“I see,” he said quietly. “It’s quite the generous offer. I’ll take it under consideration.”

He stood to leave, signaling the end of their meeting. As Viper opened the door for him, Minato paused at the threshold and said lightly, “Kakashi lived—that’s what bought you this conversation. It won’t buy you another.”

The president inclined her head.

“Of course. When you're ready, don’t hesitate to reach out,” She smiled. “I trust you'll find us.”

——

It was an interesting offer. A dangerous one, too. Minato had been turning it over in his mind for the better part of an hour—the cost, the gain, the risks they hadn’t even begun to name when—

“Sensei.”

Minato looked up, startled. Not Hokage-sama, or Lion, but sensei. 

Kakashi was sitting at the edge of his bed. Surprised that Ox let him out from under the covers, Minato realized the privacy seals were activated and the room was conspicuously empty. It was just himself and Kakashi.

Kakashi met his gaze. “Why are you mad at me?”

Minato stared, taken aback by the question—not because it was unfair, but because Kakashi had asked. That wasn’t like him. Usually, when he thought Minato was angry—often mistakenly—he’d retreat into silence, waiting it out like punishment.

Of course, the one time he was right, he chose confrontation.

Minato didn’t insult Kakashi by feigning ignorance. 

“Three pills in less than thirty minutes,” He said. “What were you thinking?”

The words cut through the quiet with a bite that startled even him. He hadn’t planned to sound like that—sharp, accusatory.

The thing he felt watching Aizawa and Kakashi, something raw and rising in his chest, was cresting, tightening in his throat. Not just anger. Something messier. Something old. It spilled out before he could contain it.

“You could’ve died,” He continued, voice rising, “You almost did. If I hadn’t woken up, if there wasn’t the hiraishin, you would have been dead before we arrived. Cardiac arrest. Respiratory failure. Organ failure. Do you even understand how reckless that was? How close you came? And for what? Some strangers? In a world we barely know?”

Kakashi stood, abrupt and angry, his voice hard.

“You doubt my loyalty?” he snapped. “If you gave the order, I’d kill every single person in this hospital right now.”

Minato stilled.

“That’s not—” He started, but Kakashi didn’t let him finish.

“Yes, I didn’t retreat because I wanted to give those kids—and Aizawa-san—a chance. But I went into that fight to kill Hebiura because of you.”

Minato’s pulse slowed, and he felt the weight of those words settle over him.

“You were down and we had no idea if you’d ever wake up again.” Kakashi’s voice cracked just slightly, his hands clenched at his sides. “Viper and Ox might’ve been able to stop him— maybe —if they’d had time to prepare. But Hebiura was fast. You saw him yourself before we ended up here. Even here, he was able to block the chidori twice.”

Pride in his ANBU didn’t blind Minato to the cold truth that Hebiura had outclassed Viper and Ox in speed. And Minato, the fastest shinobi alive, was living proof that if you couldn’t keep up, reinforcements were just more names for the casualty list.

“I wasn’t going to take the chance. I had to take him out, no matter what it took,” Kakashi looked at him. “I did it for you, sensei. It’s always for you.”

Oh.

——

Minato probably owed Aizawa an apology—or at least a drink.

 

Notes:

And now we know why Minsto sought out Aizawa for a drink and we’re finally ready to continue off from the end of chapter 18. Hopefully you didn’t get whiplash from the tone difference of Minato depending on how he’s with.

Comments and kudos are ❤️ the comments are literally the lifeblood of this story

Chapter 21

"Why does he hate your student so much?"

"Does he now," Namikaze said quietly. He glanced down at the can of beer in his hand, then tipped his head back, finishing it in one go. The soft crunch of the aluminum echoed as he set it aside.

“My student…” He said, voice low and thoughtful, “Is truly brilliant. I’ve never considered myself particularly slow, but with him, I can feel like I’m ten steps behind. You can teach him something once, and he comes back with five ways to improve it. Even with wind jutsu—his weakest elemental affinity—he mastered it faster than I did when I first started. There’s no forcing that kind of growth. It’s instinct. Talent. Genius.”

“A living legend in the making,” Aizawa remembered what Tsukauchi had told him.

The Fourth chuckled. “Yes, his reputation precedes him. He’s been called many things—some flattering, some cruel. What’s undeniably true is he’s someone who can’t help stand out. You can’t hide that kind of brilliance.”

Something about the line of the jounin’s back softened as he talked about his student.

“But people only ever seem to notice the prodigy. They don’t see the rest of him, like kindness. His loyalty. The way he still hopes, still cares—despite everything that’s been taken from him. Despite everything he’s been blamed for. He’s still good.”

Aizawa watched the man closely, “He sounds… incredible.”

Namikaze smiled, “He is. I just wish he’d see it too, but Kakashi has always been stubborn that way.”

——

…What?

——

Aizawa stared at Namikaze, mind reeling with the implications of what the jounin just said.

“Your student…”

“They don’t tell you how much it stings when your students start getting embarrassed by you,” Namikaze said, voice tinged with an odd mix of humor and something else. “But yes, Kakashi is mine.”

——

Aizawa put his drink down in shock.

It explained the strange casualness Kakashi talked about the Hokage, a tone that hovered just shy of insubordination, laced with clipped honesty and flat indifference. It hadn’t made sense juxtapositioned with his devotion to the Fourth but Aizawa had chalked up to the indoctrination of duty. Kakashi had been trained to serve and was a weapon that had outlived its war. Perhaps that cold, distant behavior was simply a part of the mask he wore, a defense mechanism of sorts to cope with his trained submission. After all, the Fourth had ordered Kakashi to live and Kakashi, who wanted nothing in life, was willing to try.

But more, Aizawa thought of that strange casualness Namikaze showed towards Kakashi. The soft note of exasperation in his voice whenever he spoke to the teen. The way he stood half a step closer to Kakashi than everyone else and stayed there without a second thought.

It wasn’t just duty between these two. There was history.

And all of it crystalized into the realization: Kakashi was the Hokage’s student.

There were a hundred things to unpack with this relevation, like the teen’s previous comments to Suzuki—the bitterness and hatred with which he called himself a friend killer—but Aizawa’s mind snagged on a different thread of thought.

If Kakashi was the Hokage’s student, it meant Namikaze was Kakashi’s teacher. And if that was true, it meant—

“You broke his hands?”

The jounin tilted his head, “He told you about a mission?”

“No,” Aizawa’s jaw tightened, “He said it was training.”

“Oh. You mean when he was younger.”

And Namikaze said it thoughtfully, but that couldn’t be right because he clearly didn’t hear what he was saying.

“It happened more than once?”

“It happened as many times as needed. It took a few times before Kakashi could work past the pain.”

Aizawa took a deep breath. And then another, “How old was he? The first time, I mean.”

Namikaze was watching him, unblinking, “He was nine.”

——

Unbidden, Aizawa remembered how Kakashi broke Lockdown’s fingers one by one without batting an eye. How the teen killed an unarmed man and said he was asking for it as if the death was not a tragedy or even a decision—just an inevitable consequence that was out of his hands. Both times, Aizawa had recoiled from it, disturbed by the guiltless ease with which Kakashi had carried them out.

But here, now, in the gravity of this conversation, something shifted into sharper focus. The truth bloomed like a bruise under pressure.

Behind all the pain that Kakashi inflicted was the pain that must have been inflicted on him. What had once seemed like a reflection of Kakashi’s own darkness, his capacity for cruelty, was really a reflection of something else.

Kakashi had been made to learn that you couldn’t avoid pain and to weaponize it instead. The way Kakashi shrugged off torture like an inconvenience. The way he used physical pain to drown emotional wounds. Even during his fight with the Mist nin, he had let himself be caught, let himself be hurt for the chance of an opportunity to hurt back, and hurt more.

Pain, the most primal of warnings, had become a hum in the distance, dulled from overexposure. It was instead a blade in Kakashi’s hands, as familiar as any kunai.

And the reason why, Namikaze Minato, was watching Aizawa.

——

Namikaze, who had a kind face, a soft voice, who laughed easily and loved his village without hesitation, may not have created his world but he did inherit it.

With that inheritance came power and responsibility. The Hokage was the face of a system that pushed children onto blood-soaked battlefields and taught them to kill without giving even a chance to wonder if life could he different. Namikaze was still the architect of that world, the quiet hand that shaped children like Kakashi into something sharp and efficient and terribly unrecognizable.

Viper had told Aizawa that they were in peace now under the Fourth. Namikaze had brought an end to the wars that had raged the continent and there was hope again, because their Hokage was powerful, just and kind.

But if that was true, why was Kakashi in ANBU?

——

“How old was he when you poisoned him?”

For the first time, something flickered across Namikaze’s face—gone as quickly as it came, but there nonetheless. A crease at the brow, a faint tightening around his eyes. On anyone else, Aizawa might have called it hurt.

“He said I poisoned him?” Namikaze asked quietly. He didn’t sound defensive, just surprised. “I wouldn’t have given him the tea if I’d known it had been tampered with.”

The sincerity of the denial caught Aizawa off guard, “He said it was training.”

“Oh,” Namikaze paused. “You mean when he was younger. I did poison him.”

The fucking hell.

“You’re serious?” Aizawa’s question came sharp, edged with disbelief. “What, was he nine?”

Namikaze didn’t so much as flinch. “We started when he was seven.”

For a moment, there was no sound between them. The sheer monstrosity of it all left Aizawa momentarily speechless. His hands clenched slowly, tight enough that his knuckles paled, the breath in his chest thick and heavy.

"Do you hear yourself?" The words slipped out before the hero could stop them, low and biting, a tremor of fury laced beneath the quiet. It wasn’t just anger—it was revulsion and heartbreak tangled into a knot too tight to pull apart. “Do you actually hear the things you’ve done to a child and called it training?”

Across from him, Namikaze leaned into the cradle of his hand, the picture of ease. His expression wasn’t guilty, or defensive. It was calm and thoughtful. Almost… curious, like he was observing Aizawa’s outrage the way one might watch a distant fire—bright, but too far to burn.

“Kakashi could kill a man with one hand since he was five. He began torture resistance training not long after that. Building a resistance to poison started younger than recommended but given who his father was, and later, his proximity to me, we couldn’t afford to wait. Sensory deprivation started when he was ten.

“All of it,” Namikaze continued, “Saved his life. More than once.”

The Fourth continued to describe when Kakashi was buried alive during the war by enemy shinobi who hoped to make him lose his mind so they could harvest his eye. Kakashi had bid his time, and when they dug him out, struck. 

“He’s been poisoned multiple times, even after the war ended. Sometimes by accident. Sometimes by design. But he’s survived those when it would have killed anyone else.

“I’ll admit the cost to Kakashi was high, but cost doesn’t negate necessity,” Namikaze continued. “You judge me with the luxury of hindsight but I made decisions during a war where living was a price not a promise. What I chose to hear then and now, Aizawa-san, is that Kakashi outlived his enemies. That he’ll make it home.”

——

There was no arrogance in Namikaze, no self-righteousness. Only the quiet resolve of a man who had chosen what he believed was the lesser evil.

——

Aizawa studied him for a moment longer, then asked, “Are you aware that Kakashi’s left eye still bothers him? That it constantly itches?”

“Yes.”

“If Kakashi told you he wanted it removed… would you let him?”

Namikaze didn’t answer immediately this time. His head tilted slightly to the side, thoughtful. Not indifferent—no, it was something stranger. He wasn’t dismissing the question, but weighing it. Like it was a philosophical dilemma rather than a personal one. Aizawa felt his stomach twist. The answer shouldn't be difficult. It should have come fast, fierce, certain.

But Namikaze’s silence stretched.

“I’d ask him to reconsider,” The Fourth said finally.

Aizawa stared at him, the answer lodging somewhere between bone and breath, where fury and grief coiled tightly together.

“Even knowing,” Aizawa said slowly, “That Kakashi would do whatever you asked him?”

There had to be limits, lines even Namikaze wouldn’t cross. Surely he wouldn’t-

“Yes,” Namikaze said, the moonlight casting shifting shadows across his face—gentle, open, and utterly unreadable.

——

Aizawa stared at the man beside him, a dull, simmering rage settling beneath his skin like a second heartbeat—quiet, steady, and impossible to ignore. He had faced monsters before. He had looked murderers and tyrants in the eye. But never—not once—had he felt so fundamentally disconnected from another human being. It was like they stood on opposite ends of a chasm, divided not only by ideology but by their very understanding of what life was meant to be.

Namikaze… just sat there, sipping his drink with a hateful calm. And something about that composure, that stillness, hit Aizawa square in the chest.

He’d seen that expression on Kakashi before.

That same eerie calm, stretched across the face like glass over a storm. Kakashi had worn it in the interrogation room. He’d worn it when he said he accepted his death if it meant his team was safe. He’d worn it after his panic attack, when his hands still trembled but his voice was steady. It was armor and habit, quiet endurance born of necessity.

But where Kakashi’s calm trembled with the faintest hints of fracture—of something brittle beneath—Namikaze’s calm was a stillness so complete, so polished, it ceased to feel human. A lake with no wind, a depthless quiet so perfectly serene you forgot how easily it could drown you.

“When I first learned of the difference between ANBU and jounin, I asked the ANBU why they joined,” Aizawa said, anger making him go quiet and cold, “Viper said gold and glory. Turtle said duty and Ox said to retire early. I didn’t ask Kakashi—I didn’t know he was ANBU after all—but I don’t really need to. I see the way he watches you. I’ve heard the way he talked about you.“

His hands clenched at his sides, fingertips curling inward like he was trying to hold something back—rage, grief, helplessness. Something vast.

“ANBU are supposed to be ghosts, taking the missions so terrible the rest of your village pretends they don’t exist. And he does it all, for you, Namikaze-san. Calling himself Fox, naming himself after the greatest disaster your village has known, but also the beast you sealed away,” Aizawa exhaled, “The monster you destroyed.

“Namikaze-san, when Kakashi goes back with you, will he live to see twenty? Thirty?” With Kakashi’s careless resignation at Midoriya’s question that it’s not like I’ll live that long ringing in his ears, Aizawa challenged, “Will he even live to see tomorrow?”

——

Namikaze turned away to look into the city at that. Seeing the wind blow through his hair, ruffling his bangs out of place, It struck Aizawa then—sudden and sharp, like stepping on glass—just how young Namikaze really was. All this authority, this gravitas, and yet he didn’t look a day over thirty. Late twenties, maybe. Twenty-five if Aizawa ignored the way the air changed when Namikaze entered a room.

Aizawa had been twenty-five too, not too long ago. He remembered the fire in his chest, the clarity with which he’d believed in his ideals. He remembered being just as certain, just as sure he was doing the right thing. But now… now he remembered the names, too. His mistakes, his failures, his losses. The people he killed. Murakami Touma. Shirogane Hana. Sato Renji. How it felt to be certain—until the moment you weren’t anymore.

Aizawa had justice in his heart then, burned bright and uncompromising. Namikaze, he realized, had affection in his. Fierce, absolute affection.

"Hatake Kakashi will outlive me," Namikaze said and it wasn’t wistful hope. It was the promise of a man who wasn’t going to settle for anything else. The declaration of a Hokage who had inherited a world carved by war and refused, with quiet violence, to let it swallow another generation whole.

“I understand, Aizawa-san,” He continued, “That I can’t make Kakashi want to live. I can, however, make him harder to kill. The sharingan makes him powerful, and it makes him useful—both on the battlefield and off. If he really wants it removed, I’d do everything to make it happen. But I would ask him to reconsider.”

The jounin leaned back on his palms, silhouetted against the glittering cityscape, as if the whole world was a battlefield he’d already mapped out.

“So Kakashi lives,” Aizawa couldn’t stay quiet anymore. The words came up bitter and raw, choking in his throat. “But to what end?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He couldn’t, because Namikaze needed to hear it—not just the words, but the ache behind them.

“He’s barely a teenager, and he already looks forward to his death. He speaks of it like it’s something to reach.

“I’ve seen how easily he detaches himself from pain, how indifferent he is to his own bleeding. You taught him to be hard to kill, but surviving isn’t the same as living. And right now, he doesn’t know the difference.”

Then, more softly, a plea that Namikaze had to do better: “He’s just a kid.”

Namikaze was quiet for a moment. Aizawa saw the faint tension in his jaw—the shift of weight, the internal calculation as the jounin decided how much to share.

“When Kakashi was younger, after his father,” Namikaze paused. “Died, he started breaking. The village hated his father and Kakashi internalized every word.”

A breath. A blink. It wasn’t quite emotion, but memory weighing heavy in his eyes.

“I saw two futures, one in which Kakashi inevitably followed his father’s footsteps, and another where he didn’t. I chose the one where he didn’t.”

“Excuses. You turned him into a weapon,” Aizawa snapped. “You made him expendable.”

“I trained him to be dangerous,” Namikaze replied evenly. “I made him indispensable.”

“And what about the things he had to give up for that? What’s the point if he never learned to live? If he still wants to die?”

Namikaze was quiet. Then, softly, “I need more time.”

It sounded like a non-sequitur. It wasn’t.

"I told you that Kakashi is attached to me. He's also grown attached to my kid. More recently, he’s gotten a... rival," Namikaze smiled ruefully at the word, "He's been making bonds in ANBU too. If I can keep him breathing long enough… maybe one day, it'll be enough. Maybe, even if he doesn’t want to live," Namikaze paused, gaze distant, "He’ll stop wanting to die."

But Aizawa knew the truth. You couldn’t manipulate someone into choosing life. It couldn’t be carved out of obligation or molded by someone else’s will. Life had to be chosen freely, with open hands and open wounds. Anything less was just survival. A quiet, cold, and cruel inprisonment by another name.

Kakashi needed to want to live. Needed to choose it. Needed to be given the freedom to do so.

Yet, Aizawa sat in silence with the new unbearable understanding that Namikaze loved Kakashi in the only way war had ever let him: by shaping a child with fire and steel, convinced it was going to keep him alive. And in the cruel math of their world, it had.

It meant that Namikaze, who feared he knew what Kakashi’s choice would be would never loosen his grip. He wouldn’t risk it. And Kakashi who was loyal to the bone, faithful even in his ruin, would allow it.

Namikaze met the hero’s gaze, and Aizawa—shaken and sorrow-struck—was the first to look away.

 

Notes:

Is there a tag for fucked up relationships? Because I should probably use it… also someone asked why Kakashi is Fox, and now you know!

Comments and kudos are ❤️

Chapter 22

When Kakashi heard about the HPSC offer, his first reaction was to demand permission to assassinate the HPSC president for her insolence.

His second was: “I don’t understand why you’re even considering sharing the hiraishin, Hokage-sama. You have myself and Viper, and they provide unlimited access to information. We can have it all memorized before we leave.”

Minato remained patient. “Putting aside how much we can trust the information that's publicly available, what we want isn’t just the information. It's their expertise. Y ou know how medicine works, Kakashi. Theory isn’t enough. You have to see the techniques in action, try them yourself, fail under supervision, and train under someone who’s done it a hundred times before. That’s why medics are trained as apprentices in Konoha and it’s the same here.”

The HPSC had been clever to offer medical technology. The hospital was a neutral party, and the staff were professionals uninvolved in political scheming. Turtle, who had become acquainted to the medical staff, was willing to vouch for them.

“The medics are willing and ready to train me,” Turtle had said. “And they are trustworthy, Lord Fourth. They’re not interested in politics. They are excited to share this knowledge so I can take it home.”

Minato propped his feet on the edge of Kakashi’s hospital bed, crossing his ankles. “Thought experiment, Kakashi. Argue for sharing the hiraishin.”

The teen stiffened at the order, frowning as he considered the issue.  

“This world doesn’t have chakra,” He said eventually. “Not in the people, not in the animals, not even in the plants. Just like how our chakra can’t replicate their quirks, it’s entirely possible their quirks can’t ever recreate chakra either. If true, the hiraishin is just ink on paper.”

“Fair, but their technology is advanced,” Minato said. “It’s possible they’ll develop a similar enough energy source to replace chakra.”

“Even then, chakra alone isn’t enough to use the hiraishin. Everyone in our world has chakra and you’re still the only person since the Second to have figured it out.” Kakashi frowned. “Which leads to another argument. You rewrote the seal to suit your own wind nature. It's fairly personalized and not a seal easily understood or mastered. Your guards who learned under your instruction and guidance struggled with it and can still only use it as a group."

"You can use it though," Minato pointed out.

“Yes but I’m a genius,” Kakashi said flatly, without a trace of modesty. “I know over five hundred jutsu, and I mean it when I say that the hiraishin is the most complex, unforgiving technique I’ve ever tried to replicate. The margin for error is microscopic."

Minato nodded slowly. “So for this world to replicate it, they’d need a quirk that mimics chakra—or they’d need to invent a substitute. Then it would need to be wind-natured. Then they’d need a genius capable of understanding the theory and executing it.”

“Yes,” Kakashi said. “The odds of that combination coming together is incredibly low for now. But time changes everything. You give them a century, a few generations of experimentation, and those odds start to shift. All it takes is one breakthrough. One genius born in the right place, at the right time.”

Minato leaned back in his chair, nodding thoughtfully, “Once knowledge is given, it can’t be taken back.”

Kakashi's next words came colder, more formal—the shift in tone unmistakable. This wasn’t his student talking anymore. This was Fox speaking, ANBU to Hokage.

“So you must ask yourself, sir: is it worth the risk? Is anything worth that risk?”

——

The evening Minato came back from drinking with Aizawa, Kakashi took one look at Minato splayed across the couch, and stopped at the entrance of the hospital suite, bringing Viper up short behind him. Then came the dry observation, flat and unimpressed:

“You smell like a sad, drunk old man.”

Minato let out a half sigh, half laugh but didn’t bother lifting his arm from over his eyes. He was too comfortable to care. The couch, soft and far too forgiving, cradled his spine in a way the one in the Hokage office never had. He really needed to replace that monstrosity. Pushing that thought aside, Minato responded, “Sorry, can you smell it from there? I’ll wash up in a sec.”

A beat of silence. Then, Kakashi must have signed something to Viper, because the older ANBU quietly pulled the door shut, stationing himself outside.

Minato exhaled as Kakashi’s bright white chakra signature approached. For all his piercing scrutiny, the teen had a surprisingly high tolerance for silence. He knew how to let it settle.

Something cold pressed against Minato's face.

His eyes snapped open, the reflex of too many missions where cold usually meant biting metal warring with the instinctual trust that it was Kakashi beside him.

It was a sports drink.

Minato blinked at the can, then up at his student who raised a judgemental eyebrow back. Once Minato took the drink, the teen perched himself on the backrest of the couch and, without a word, shoved his cold toes under Minato’s legs.

Minato stopped mid sip to give Kakashi a look.

The teen stared back.

“You look like when the ANBU Commander tells you something you really didn’t want to hear,” Kakashi added, a hint too casual to be natural, “Weren’t you drinking with Aizawa-san?”

Of course. Minato had stepped away when he thought Kakashi was asleep but the teen was clearly keeping tabs of Minato’s whereabouts. He had been on edge since Minato revealed his identity to the HPSC. Even now, though Ox was perched outside the window and Viper was outside the door, Kakashi’s chakra shadowed Minato’s movements.

“Yes. Aizawa-san and I had a couple of drinks,” Minato yawned, stretching as he settled deeper into the couch. “We had an illuminating conversation. I see why you like him. He knows how to look underneath the underneath.”

Kakashi’s eyes narrowed as he studied his teacher. "You don’t like him."

Damn it.

“That’s not true,” The older jounin said without missing a beat. He knew better than to show hesitation. “He’s interesting and clearly intelligent. He also isn’t a sloppy drunk which I can always appreciate.”

“You don’t like him,” Kakashi repeated, flat but oddly certain, “What did he say that got you so moody?”

Minato exhaled slowly, rubbing his eyes to hide the brief flash of frustration. He had one too many drinks if Kakashi was able to read him this easily. Tone perfectly even, Minato tried, “He didn’t say anything that upset me, Kakashi. He just made some interesting points that I want to think about a little longer.”

When the silence stretched, Minato glanced over at his student despite himself. He saw what he thought he heard. Buried under Kakashi’s flat stare, under the careful control: worry.

Minato exhaled again, softer this time. It looked like he was going to have to commit.

“Kakashi,” He promised softly, “I’m not going to kill Aizawa-san.”

The admission was simple, direct, and impossible to misunderstand. Minato held the silence long enough to give Kakashi the chance to answer but the teen didn’t. He looked at Minato, as if he hadn’t heard him at all, but the Fourth could feel the pause in him. Kakashi’s chakra stilled just slightly, like a held breath.

“I’m not going to hurt him either. I’m genuinely grateful he watched over you and the team. Also, he clearly cares for you.”

Kakashi turned away at that. A beat, then came the response so quiet, Minato almost missed it: "I don't know why."

The ache in Minato’s chest was familiar. It didn’t make it any easier.

"I do," He replied just as quietly.

It was a challenge of his own, a test that Kakashi answered by doing what he always did when faced with Minato's open affection.

He treated it as a mistake.

“That’s because you’ve known me forever,” Kakashi shrugged with a forced lightness that he only used in times like this. “It’s like if I hated your kid. I’ve changed his diapers too many times for that. You can’t hate something so tiny and pathetic.”

It was more than that, and Kakashi knew it even if he refused to accept it. Minato felt the familiar stir of reflexive denial rise in his chest, but he pushed it down.

Talking about Naruto was getting into dangerous waters when they were still in hostile territory. Minato had no intention of revealing any actual information about Naruto. Kakashi clearly agreed, based on his careful avoidance of mentioning Naruto outright.

"We'll talk about this when we get home,” Minato promised instead.

——

"His name is All Might?" The jounin skimmed through Viper's report. "Not very subtle, though I suppose that's the point here."

"Yessir. He's the top Pro Hero here, and indisputably the strongest hero in this country. He’s a public icon status, too. The symbol of hope and all that."

"His quirk is superhuman strength, resulting in extremely high enudrance and physical power. He’s surprisingly nimble, and can endure most hits,”Minato summarized, skimming through Viper's analyses of one of the most dangerous fighters this world had to offer. "He fought against thirteen villians with varying levels of quirks, and still managed to neutralize all of them without deaths. Fighting without killing is difficult. He was likely holding back." He paused, then turned a sharp eye to Viper. “Any weaknesses?”

“None we could confirm from the recorded battles. The data is extensive, but nothing stands out,” Viper admitted, though he didn’t sound pleased about it. “That said, there’s no evidence suggesting he’s anything other than human. Blood loss, spinal trauma, or brain damage would likely take him down.”

Minato gave a small nod, absorbing the information as he continued to sift through the report. “Your recommendation?”

“To avoid direct conflict in public. Putting aside his quirk, he has immense support from the society here. Any altercation with him would likely lead to extreme hostility—not just from the civilians, but from other heroes, too. If we do need to take him out, to do it discreetly.

”The age of majority here is eighteen and anyone under that is considered children who are not allowed in battle. Those above eighteen show a high level of protectiveness towards minors. The captain would be best positioned to get close and use the surprise his age will afford him to kill him in one blow—especially with Ox’s support.”

Minato gave a small, almost amused smile at the mention. "That’s a lot of faith in your captain. Based on this report, All Might is clearly an S rank threat.”

Viper straightened, looking straight ahead. “Of course, sir. He’s the captain.”

“Indeed,” Minato agreed, his gaze briefly catching on a list of dates. He paused, his expression turning shrewd, “All Might has become less and less visible in the past year. Is there anything known about his personal life?”

“Nothing at a cursory glance, and nothing when I dug deeper. I can keep looking, if you’d like, sir.”

Minato waved the offer off, thoughtful. It was unusual, in a world where heroes often flaunted their powers and identities, for the most visible and strongest hero to remain so elusive.

Outloud, he said, “Given that he’s meant to act as a deterrant to the villians, his less frequent public appearances are possibly indicative of some health issue. It’s better to not be seen than be seen as weak. All Might’s rise to fame was over ten years ago after all. That’s long enough for anyone to start showing signs of age.”

Minato passed the report back for Viper to burn the report with a katon, “Well done. Continue to monitor but avoid engagement.”

What Minato had suspected when he first arrived was becoming certainty. Peace had been instilled in this society by the steel fist of a single man, but cracks were beginning to show and resentment was festering through. As All Might’s public appearances dropped, violence was rising again, and with a vengence.

Unless this society found another All Might, war was on their horizon.

More likely, Minato mused, war would reveal who their next All Might would be.

——

“I thought you were better. Why are you still so pasty?”

“Kacchan! Don’t be rude,” Midoriya hissed at his classmate before waving to Kakashi, “Hi, Kakashi-san! We hope you’re feeling better!”

The answering look on Kakashi’s face was priceless: a comedic mixture of surprise, dismay, and instant mental exhaustion as five students spilled into the hospital room.

Behind the Lion mask, Minato took Aizawa’s students in. They looked young. Probably not much younger than Kakashi himself, but they had that unmistakable enthusiastic, genin energy, complete with the lack of awareness of how loud they were being in a quiet recovery ward.

Kakashi, for his part, was already slouched in bed, hospital blankets drawn up to his waist. At the sudden commotion, he shifted slightly, clearly contemplating the logistics of disappearing under the covers entirely.

“A gift from all of us,” Ida placed a fruit basked on Kakashi’s side table. He set a large fruit basket on the side table with great care. It was impressively full of apples, grapes, oranges, pears, and even a pineapple somehow crammed in. A cheerful card was taped to the handle and read Get Better Soon! in colorful marker, complete with crooked balloon doodles. “We didn’t want to come empty handed.”

“You didn’t have to come.” Kakashi said, meaning it literally. Minato watched with amusement as the kids, ever optimistic, took it as thanks and beamed even wider.

“We didn’t know what fruit you liked,” Uraraka added brightly, “So we just got them all.” She glanced sideways at Minato and Ox, both were standing in their respective corners of the hospital room. “There should be enough for your bodyguards, too.”

“Sick room,” Bakugou whistled as he pressed against the windows to see the view. The other students took it as a cue to do the same.

Aizawa who had been watching the interactions until then, cleared his throat. “Kids, don’t you have something else to say?”

The students froze, their attention snapping back to Kakashi. They quickly adjusted their posture, glancing at each other briefly before, in a perfect, well-practiced motion, they bowed low to Kakashi in unison.

“Thank you, Kakashi-san.”

It wasn’t the typical casual thanks they might give after a lesson or a training session. This was more, something heavier, imbued with genuine gratitude and concern.

Midoriya stepped forward, his tone more solemn now. “Aizawa-sensei told us how badly injured you were trying to protect us. We just... we wanted to say thank you in person.”

Kakashi blinked at them, seemingly caught off guard by the sudden shift from chaos to sincerity.

“We were too slow,” Todoroki said quietly. “You shouldn’t have had to pay the price for that.”

Kakashi didn’t fidget but it was a close thing. “It’s fine. You’re not even genin yet. Being weak is expected.”

The words weren’t meant to be cruel, but the students flinched, their expressions faltering. Midoriya’s shoulders hunched slightly. Even Bakugou went still, jaw clenched but silent. Guilt settled over the group so thick it seemed visible.

Minato felt the force of Viper rolling his eyes behind his mask.

“What he means is you’re welcome,” Minato spoke up. The kids swiveled their heads to look at him. They clearly weren’t expecting any of the masked figures in the room to speak. “Don’t you, Kakashi-sama?”

Kakashi shot him a look of betrayal.

——

“How’d you beat Hebiura?” Minato asked later that evening, once the kids had been herded out by Aizawa and he’d given Turtle, Ox, and Viper a couple of hours to get some real food outside the hospital. They all stationed clones around Kakashi’s room, but they’d taken the offer gratefully. Minato crouched over the coffee table as he had dinner, suddenly aware that in all the chaos, he hadn’t gotten a report.

Kakashi, who was sitting across from him picking at his own tray of food, grinned. “Guess.”

“You threw a sword at him didn’t you.”

“They never see it coming.”

Minato rolled his eyes with a sigh. “That’s because you fight like an actual swordsman. They expect you to respect the weapon, not to treat it like a kunai like some uncultured heathen.”

Kakashi shrugged, his tone light and a little amused. “What works, works.”

The evening wore on in quiet conversation, the mundane hum of hospital life around them. Minato couldn’t help but find the normalcy comforting, the banter with Kakashi easy despite everything that had happened. It felt like the weight of the world had been pushed to the edges of the room, and for just a little while, there was nothing but the two of them, sharing lukewarm, mediocre food.

It was that quiet warmth that made Minato do something he hadn’t planned on. A quiet voice in his head warned him not to ask, that some questions were better left unspoken. But Kakashi’s good mood made Minato forget the ghosts lurking in the calm in a moment of misplaced confidence.

Against that warning voice, he asked, his tone light, like he could pretend it was just a passing thought. “Have you thought about what your life would be like if you lived here?”

Kakashi stilled, his hand frozen mid-reach for his water. His visible eye flicked to Minato, expression unreadable.

“What do you mean?”

Minato leaned back against his own couch, exhaling slowly. “Aizawa-san’s students we saw earlier… they’re cute. Rough around the edges, sure, but—genuine. Bright. You saw them. Can you imagine living in a world like this?”

He gestured vaguely, indicating Kakashi’s cast that had get better signatures scrawled all over it, the colorful fruit basket, the absence of blood in the air.

Kakashi didn’t respond right away.

Then he said, “Lord Fourth.”

Minato’s heartbeat picked up at the call, an alarm blaring in his mind. They were alone. No one was listening. There was no need for formality.

“Kakashi,” He started, but it was too late.

“Are you leaving me here?” Kakashi cut in, his voice tight and frayed.

“What? No. Of course not—”

But Kakashi wasn’t looking at him anymore. His gaze had gone distant, past Minato, His chest rose in quick, shallow gasps, breaths slipping away before they could fill him.

Minato’s own breath caught in his throat, a cold pit forming in his stomach. He saw the shift, the panic, raw and insidious, beginning its slow crawl up through Kakashi’s nerves.

“Is it punishment?” Kakashi asked, too fast now. “Because I broke protocol? Because I engaged Hebiura instead of regrouping?”

“No—Kakashi, listen to me—” Minato tried to catch the spiraling fear.

It was too late.

“I can do better next time,” Kakashi said, voice rising. “I swear I’ll follow protocol, I’ll stay with the team, I’ll report injuries—I’ll do anything, just, just don’t leave me here—”

He choked on the last word. One hand went to clutch his chest, fingers digging into fabric. The other flailed blindly, gripping the edge of the couch for purchase.

And then—

He slipped.

“Kakashi!”

Minato lunged forward, catching Kakashi before he could crash face-first to the floor. Instead, they crashed on Minato’s shoulder as he braced around the teen to break his fall.

The ANBU clones shifted where they were stationed outside the room in clear worry, but Minato flared his chakra, warning them to stay put. Having his team see him would only make Kakashi’s panic worse.

The teen was beyond words, shaking so violently as he tried to breathe. Minato tightened his grip and hauled the teen up into a seating position on the floor, manhandling Kakashi until the teen was leaning against him. Kakashi resisted, tense and curled into himself as he tried and failed to breathe through the panic.

“Easy, easy,” Minato murmured softly, voice low and steady—a tether to pull the teen back from the edge. Minato inhaled deeply, slow and even, letting the calm fill his lungs and radiate outward. He felt Kakashi’s ragged breath hitch against his chest. “Three in, five out. You know the drill.”

Kakashi still struggled weakly against him, trying to move away. Minato didn’t let him, snaking an arm around to press his palm gently over Kakashi’s eyes. It pulled the teen closer and forced the sharingan to close. He knew that Kakashi opened the sharingan when the panic was bad but they really needed to avoid more chakra exhaustion. “We’re going to keep Obito closed for now. Listen to my breathing Kasshi. Just breathe with me.”

Bringing Kakashi down from a panic attack was something Minato hadn’t had to do in ages but the steps were ingrained, the memories bittersweet familiar. He had done this countless times before, in the wake of all the tragedy that was Kakashi’s life. First, after Sakumo’s death, then after Obito’s. Then, after Rin’s.

This time, Minato was the reason why.

——

What was ironic was that Minato would never leave Kakashi behind.

Aizawa Shota had asked Minato how long Kakashi would live when he went back to their world. If the man had said if instead of when, Minato would have killed him on the spot.

——

As Kakashi’s breathing slowly evened out, the teen became a limp weight in Minato’s arms, half asleep, half unconscious. Minato, with a sigh of relief, gently pulled Kakashi up from the floor, carrying him to bed. In doing so, he noticed with a frown how light Kakashi had become. At this rate, Kakashi was going to be outweighed by Naruto.

The thought of his son hit Minato unexpectedly, like a wave that crashed through his chest with such force it stole his breath for a moment. The fierce yearning that followed left an ache. He missed Naruto, whose bright, unguarded smiles that could light up the darkest moods.

——

Before they parted, Aizawa had asked with a weary calm, Hokage-sama, what kind of peace will you forge? What kind of world do you dream?

Thinking of Naruto and tucking his student into bed, Minato knew his answer: he dreamt of a world with a peace that wasn’t neubulous or precarious. A peace in which Naruto could grow up to be a shinobi because he wanted to, not because he had to and Kakashi couldn’t use ANBU to try to die, because ANBU wouldn’t be necessary.

It would be a world where Naruto could live freely and Kakashi could learn to try to. 

A world with second chances.

——

“Oh,” Minato exhaled, realizing what he needed to do.

——

“Viper,” The Fourth ordered the next morning, “Set up a meeting with the HPSC. Tell them I have an answer to their offer.”

 

Notes:

I might come back and rewrite this.

The panic attack scene with Minato is meant to be a compared against/parallel with how the panic attack in Chapter 11 with Aizawa goes.

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