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Fandom [naruto] halfbreed || itliveswithin & arbus

Madara was aware how damn ironic it was to have the impertinent Hatake, that mongrel that had been the cause of many headaches, sit at his side now, and on his birthday no less, donned in the Uchiha colors. Looking past the man's halfbreed status -- something Madara still had to get used to, but which became easier with every day he spent with the ambassador -- he had grown to appreciate the other's presence, and if just for the put out frowns it elicited in the know-it-all elders, who had gotten on his nerves practically since he had been risen in the ranks of the clan. Yoshitaka looked especially constipated, and it brought forth a huff of amusement as he listened to the Hatake's muttered words.

"One can only hope", he replied, his gaze traveling to Izuna, who was engaged in what looked like an argument with Hikaku. "They are considered to be wise, but most of the time, they act like cobwebbed old fools."

Doing everything in their power, it appeared to Madara, to make his life harder. They had not yet started to trust his decisions as clan head, and after almost a year, their mistrust was starting to get old; and their veto started to seriously hinder Madara's attempts of exercising his power. It was an issue he used to discussed fervently, and not without ire, with Izuna in the long nights they spent in the study, or the engawa, sipping tea and drafting plans for the future of their clan together. Those nights had become a thing of the past, now that Izuna was running around with that perpetual scowl. Madara reached out, now, to pour his brother the first cup of warmed sake, which had Izuna roll his eyes in indignation that was more reminiscent of his teenage self.

"I am supposed to do this for you, aniki", he informed him.

"Then you should be more attentive next time", Madara replied airily, and as he served the Hatake next, the flow of the recommenced conversations stuttered -- did not grind to a halt, exactly, but faces turned in a way it was almost comical -- before the moment passed.

"This is going to be one awkward evening", Hikaku murmured, so only Izuna could hear.

"Before we eat", Madara said, his deep voice now raised and booming through the room, eliciting an immediate silence, "I want to thank Hatake-san for taking the time to teach our seal experts the storage seal that will allow the transport of our fallen. And I want to thank him", Madara's eyes found the mutt's, and there was no jest in them now, nothing but sincerity and an unnamed emotion buried underneath, "for going to considerable length, putting his own health and safety at risk, to bring us our fallen."

A stir went through the room at this words. Natsuki clapped a hand before her mouth. Hikaku raised both eyebrows in an expression of utter surprise, of shock, while Izuna curled his fingers into fists, staring.

"We will have a burial tomorrow afternoon, for the whole clan to attend. No longer will we have to leave our family and friends behind. They will rest amongst us, were they belong."

Hikaku swallowed. There was a moment of silence as Madara raised his cup, and then, around the table -- some, like Izuna and Yoshitaka, hesitant -- raised their cups to the Hatake, and bowed their heads before they drank.
 
”...for going to considerable length, putting his own health and safety at risk, to bring us our fallen.”

Charcoal met obsidian. He arched an eyebrow at the proclamation, but remained silent. Not a hint of mocking or condescension was evident in the elder Uchiha’s gaze. Genuine sincerity, and something undetermined, reflected the Clan Head’s eyes. The undeniable warmth left him at a momentary loss of words. Kakashi averted his gaze, surveying the long table. All eyes gravitated toward him, wearing a multitude of expressions; surprise, disbelief, and anger to name a few. One by one, the Uchiha — even the ankle-biter with his cup of juice — raised their cups at him in a toast. Kakashi blinked, but he regained his composure. The silver-haired halfbreed lowered his cup, donning his mask without exposing his face.

Once the meal commenced, Kakashi dished his plate with salt-broiled saury and rice. Unfortunately, there was no eggplant for his miso soup. As the former nomad tore a piece of saury and raised his chopsticks to his masked lips, he eyed a certain Uchiha teen gazing at his mask. Kakashi lifted his hand, curled his finger over the edge of his mask, and pulled it down. The moment he lowered his mask, a commotion at the end of the table diverted attention from his face. With a low-grade genjutsu distorting his features, Kakashi popped the piece of meat inside his mouth. By the time eyes returned to his face, Kakashi donned his mask once more.

“H-how—“ Hikaku glanced at the end of the table and back to the Hatake.

He tilted his head at the younger Uchiha’s questioning gaze. Every inch of his face reflected innocence. “Something wrong, Hikaku-san?” Kakashi inquired.

With a strategic combination of hand placement and cup placement, Kakashi sipped his sake. After he lowered it without exposing his face, the Hatake continued mind-fucking the curious Uchiha with his cunning techniques. From complicated hand placements to mysterious diversions, the silver-haired halfbreed consumed his meal and preserved his privacy. At one point — although, he only did it once — Kakashi lowered his mask, shoved food in his mouth, and donned it at a speed only a mature Sharingan can comprehend.

“I wonder what’s got everyone in such a tizzy,” Kakashi drawled, glimpsing at the grumbling Uchiha. His voice was low enough to reach Madara’s ears only. In spite of his languid expression, his charcoal eyes glimmered with mirth.

A few minutes later, Kakashi finished the last of his saury, rice, and miso soup. Instead of subjecting the inquisitive Uchiha to more of his tricks, the war veteran poured himself another cup of sake. He swished his cup, staring at the swirling liquid. For a moment, instead of a celebration with the Uchiha, Kakashi was surrounded by his beloved students and comrades. He rarely partook in celebrations, but his students — particularly a certain blonde and rosette — dragged him out of his apartment and forced him in the festivities. Half the time, it ended with exasperation and drunken shenanigans, but he couldn’t deny that he missed the chaos. Shaking his head, Kakashi lowered the cup on the table.
 
"I wonder what's got everyone in such a tizzy."

While the mutt's presence was undeniably pleasant -- for a multitude of reasons, and if people wanted to call Madara a vindictive bastard, then so be it, but Yoshitaka had it coming -- his stupid habit of reveling in the non-reveal of his face had Madara roll his eyes hard, and he replied in a sardonic huff that probably said more than a thousand words. There were his clansmen, every single one of them proud and strong and unrelenting on the battlefield, fucking mesmerized by the idea of finding out what was behind that stupid mask. Madara searched for his brother's gaze to share his ire, but Izuna kept avoiding his eyes, stirring his udon without much appetite and a scowl that spoke of a brooding argument.

The whole banquet was a pretty formal affair, up until the point the elders started to leave, one by one rising to their feet, bowing to their clan head and his brother and very pointedly ignoring the mutt. Once the last of them was gone, however, a bit of tension seemed to fall off of almost everyone's shoulders. The sake did have something to do with this, of course, but the remaining guests skidded closer, and the conversations grew livelier, louder, and brash in that way that speaks of familiarity. Hikaku had started taking Izuna into a headlock every time his frown got too deep, and Natsuki was patting Kagami's hair; the boy was sitting on his mother's lap, refusing to be carried off, his big eyes taking in everything with a fascination only a child can hold towards a glimpse into adult life.

"It seems he is adamant to stay awake", Madara provided. Elbow prodded on the table, he was sitting with his legs crossed, more relaxed than he had ever shown himself in front of the mutt. In contrast to most of the remaining Uchiha -- seven in total, not counting Kagami -- it was not an effect of the alcohol, as he had not been drinking more than that one cup of sake at the beginning of the feast.

Natsuki pouted. During the dinner, it had turned out she was the clan head's housekeeper, responsible for the main estate and adjourning gardens. She had lost her husband in one of the battles and been working here ever since, first as a maid under the prior clan head, and then with Madara and Izuna moving in, in the position of housekeeper and occasional cook. She was a bright young woman, in her late twenties at the most, and displayed no fear of Madara -- as some of the maids, serving them during dinner, had done. "I know", she said now, running her fingers through her son's unruly hair, "and I was stupid enough to agree to let him stay up as long as he wished." The glance she threw the Hatake was shy, but not apprehensive. "He is fascinated by your silver hair", she confessed with an embarrassed chuckle. Kagami was currently reaching out, trying to reach the Hatake's hair and wriggling in his mother's firm grip to do so.

It had Madara bark a laugh, that petered out in a suppressed cough. "Maybe you can sing him a lullaby, mutt."

"I might need to get some fresh air", Izuna was saying. He had used the opportunity of the elders leaving to retreat with Hikaku to the far end of the table, where they seemed to have enjoyed a highly inappropriate drinking contest for the last half hour.

"Don't barf all over me", Hikaku said, eyes wide, "again."

"That was one time", Izuna lamented, voice slurred. "And it was ages ago."
 
After an undetermined amount of time — honestly, Kakashi didn’t keep track — later, the Uchiha elders retired to their sleeping quarters. One by one, the elderly men arose from their seat, bowed at the Clan Head and his younger brother, and left. Not a single Uchiha elder spared the Hatake a glance or semblance of acknowledgement. Kakashi had the vindictive compulsion of waving at the prejudiced bastards, but he curbed the temptation. Once they left, the formal atmosphere surrounding the long table dissipated. Without the elders looming over them, combined with a round of expensive sake, the remaining Uchiha became livelier, more rowdy than Kakashi anticipated.

”It seems he is adamant to stay awake,”

While the majority of the Uchiha indulged on the sake, Kakashi was currently nursing his second cup. If the Clan Head’s informal position surprised him, his expression didn’t reflect it. The silver-haired halfbreed shifted into a lazier seiza position, shoulders slumped and back curved. He raised the cup to his masked lips, but paused. Kakashi eyed the Uchiha munchkin perched on his mother’s lap. The aforementioned toddler was currently gazing at him, doe-like eyes gleaming with curiosity. His eyebrow twitched in response. Perhaps, if he ignored the ankle-biter, something else would capture his attention? Small children had a short attention span, correct?

At the end of the table, Hikaku and Izuna — based from his observations — were partaking in a drinking contest. His lips twitched at the sight, reminded of the moment Gai challenged him to a drinking contest. Due to his stint in ANBU, where he gained a high tolerance, Kakashi won. The type of challenges Gai subjected him were outrageous and spontaneous, to the point Kakashi avoided the exuberant jōnin. However, unbeknownst to his supposed rival — Kakashi never referred him as such — the former nomad kept score. His lackadaisical demeanor suggested otherwise, but deep down, Kakashi was a lot more competitive than his taijutsu-wielding friend.

”Maybe you can sing him a lullaby, mutt.”

Said Hatake blinked, barely registering the conversation. He glanced at the Uchiha munchkin, who was making grabby hands at him. Once the toddler raised his arms, Kakashi twitched at the universal sign of up. He glimpsed at the brat’s mother and back to the ankle-biter. After detecting the slight plea in the mother’s embarrassed expression, Kakashi heaved a sigh. Defeated, he lowered his cup of sake, leaned to his right, and hauled the munchkin on his lap. When the remaining Uchiha skidded closer, Natsuki and her son claimed the seat adjacent to his. The Hatake stared at the boy currently petting his silver hair, utter fascination evident on the baby Uchiha’s face.

“So pretty,” breathed Kagami.

He didn’t stop the boy’s petting. To be frank, letting the boy indulge on his fascination was easier than stopping him. As a prodigy, Kakashi had zero experience with how normal children behaved. When he was the boy’s age, he cared more about expanding his knowledge and training than trivial frivolities. Due to his intellect, Kakashi rarely interacted with children his age until he attended the Academy. Even then, he never interacted with his peers unless he was forced to. Without a basis to rely on, the Hatake was at a loss on what to do. In spite of his very much obvious discomfort, the silver-haired halfbreed held the boy securely. His instincts deemed the pup must be protected.

“Why do you hide your face, Kaka-nii?” Kagami inquired.

“Kagami, what did we talk about?” Natsuki interjected, eyes stern.

The boy flinched. “N-not to ask in-in-“ he struggled to enunciate the word.

“Intrusive,” Natsuki corrected.

“-questions,” Kagami finished.

He waved his hand. “Maa, maa, I don’t mind, Natsuki-san,” Kakashi assured. He lifted his palm, tapping the boy on the nose. Once Kagami wrinkled his nose in response, the former nomad didn’t bother suppressing his chuckle. “I have a strong sense of smell, pup. Stronger than my clansmen, so I wear a mask because of it,” he elaborated. Kakashi doubted the munchkin understood the terms, overactive olfactory receptors, and therefore, simplified the answer.

“Like a dog?” Kagami questioned innocently.

Before the horrified mother could reprimand her outspoken child, Kakashi barked a laugh. Perhaps, it was the boy’s resemblance to his future descendant that prompted him to laugh, but he didn’t stop it. “I guess that’s an accurate description, yes,” he chuckled. The Hatake ruffled the baby Uchiha’s unruly curls, eyes curved upward into a genuine eye-smile. “Maa, Kagami-kun, I believe it’s way past your bedtime,” he announced.

Said boy pouted. “I’m not tired!” Kagami denied. He drooping eyes suggested otherwise.

Kakashi glanced at the Clan Head, recalling the earlier comment. “Maa, maa, would you feel better if I and your esteemed Clan Head sang you a lullaby?” he suggested. His charcoal hues gleamed with unbidden mischief.

His doe-like eyes widened. “Really?” Kagami breathed.

The fabric of his mask stretched upward, indicating a grin. “Unless your Clan Head is a terrible singer. I wouldn’t want to subject your poor ears to that,” Kakashi replied blithely.
 
"Like a dog?"

Madara did not bother to hide the grin spreading on his face, nor the huff of amusement that was almost a laugh, which was cut short at the mutt's next words:

"Maa, maa, would you feel better if I and your esteemed Clan Head sang you a lullaby?"

„Tell you what“, Madara said after an astonished pause, „if you agree to go with your mother quietly, now, the mutt and I will join you in five minutes for a duett.“

„The ... the mutt?“

„Don‘t listen to Madara-sama, Kagami. He means Hatake-san“, Natsuki was quick to provide, which prompted Kagami‘s eyes to lighten up. He raised his face towards the Hatake, and gave him a big, happy smile.

“Is it a deal, Kagami-kun?“

Without taking his eyes from his new silver-haired friend, Kagami nodded.

„Well, then you have to go with your mother now, don‘t you?“, Madara asked.

For a moment, Kagami looked confused; an expression thwarted by a frown of concentration, as he very obviously put two and two together, before it was replaced by bright agreement. Hastily, he climbed from the Hatake‘s lap and stumbled into his mother‘s arms, who lifted his little body with effortless routine. She leaned her chin ontop of the toddler‘s head as she whispered to both of them, „You know you now have to go through with this, right?“, before she carried the waving child out of the room.

Madara poured himself a cup of tea and took a sip, eyening the mutt with a raised eyebrow.

„Don‘t think I don‘t know what you did there, mutt. For your information, I have an excellent voice —"

„You are a terrible singer“, Izuna chimed in, suddenly at Madara‘s right and slumping down beside him, an arm wrapped around his older brother‘s shoulder. „The worst. As someone subjected to that terrible singing voice for most of his life, I say it might count as torture.“ His eyes narrowed, and there was unmistakable meanness in them as he eyed the mutt.

„Lies“, Madara huffed, somewhere between amusement at the comment and indignation at his brother‘s disheveled state. „You loved it when I sang for you.“

„Please, aniki, that was because I knew your howling would scare off any enemy.“ Another one of those pointed glances at the Hatake. „One can only hope it works again.“

„Cousin, how about that fresh air we‘ve been talking about?“, Hikaku said, flustered.

„That is a good idea“, Madara said, wrapping an arm around his brother to steady him as they stood, and providing assistance as he handed him over to Hikaku.

„Hatake-san and I have somewhere to be“, he informed the rest of the circle. Izuna looked very much like he was not done talking, glaring over his shoulder even as Hikaku dragged him towards the sliding doors leading to the engawa, while Madara walked into the opposite direction, and both of the brother's had that same mulish air about them, much like they were not twenty-one and sixteen, but twelve and eight, just about ready for an all-out fight that would likely end with one of them (Izuna) landing head over heels in the Naka.
 
His heart lurched at the wide, innocent grin directed at him of all people. Must not get attached. The moment the doe-eyed ankle-biter returned to his mother, Kakashi sagged in visible relief. Unfortunately, due to a certain Clan Head’s meddling, his moment of reprieve was temporary. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he couldn’t deny the vindictive pleasure of dragging the said bastard with him.

”Don’t think I don’t know what you did there, mutt. For your information, I have an excellent voice—“

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh? I have no idea what you’re implying,” Kakashi replied with an unabashed smile. The silver-haired Hatake tilted his head, charcoal hues curving into an infuriating eye-smile; the gesture a lot less genuine compared to the soft look he bestowed on the Uchiha munchkin. All of the sudden, the appearance of a certain sixteen year old uncovered the Clan Head’s deception. His eyes glinted with unbidden amusement. “Is that so?” The fabric of his mask stretched higher, indicating a devious grin; a smile full of teeth. As the younger brother of the Clan Head gazed at him with thinly-veiled hatred, Kakashi returned the look with a mask of indifference.

Once the younger Uchiha made another snide remark, something sparked inside his chest. A tendril of defiance coiled around his heart, rising to the unspoken challenge. Kakashi flashed the younger teen a signature eye-smile, every inch of his frame misleading and unassuming. “Maa, maa, it’s a shame that there’s no enemies around us at the moment. It would of been an interesting sight to see,” he drawled. His comment garnered a dark glare from the younger Uchiha, but he maintained his unabashed eye-smile.

”Hatake-san and I have somewhere to be,”

Instead of subjecting the younger teen to another jab, Kakashi followed the Clan Head. He folded his arms, concealing his forearms underneath his billowing sleeves. “Do you even know any lullabies?” he inquired, eyeing the elder Uchiha. The tension between the two brothers didn’t escape him, but the former nomad opted against interfering with it. Some things, especially quarreling brothers, are best left alone. Kakashi catalogued the route to the baby Uchiha and his mother’s quarters to memory; one left, two rights, and down the hallway. The main estate reminded him of an endless labyrinth. Had Kakashi been anyone else, he would of gotten lost in the prestigious establishment.
 
„Do you even know any lullabies?“

For a moment, a rueful smile flitted over the clan head's features, but it was hidden from the Hatake as they were currently turning a corner. "Please. I grew up with three younger brothers." The main estate was expansive, but it housed not only Madara and his brother, but the five elders and their remaining families, as well as the dozen maids, including Natsuki and her son. The place, so formal from the outside, was lively on a day-to-day basis, in a way Madara enjoyed. The busy clatter and chattering in the kitchen, the ever-burning hearth, the silence during tea and the hasty, uncouth pads of baby feet on the immaculate floor -- it was the sort of liveliness Madara cherished, even though he appreciated the early mornings in his garden, when he had his thoughts to himself and some fish to share with his feline visitors.

"Natsuki." They had stopped in front of a room in the less prestigious part of the complex; it was dark inside, the only source of light a dimmed gas lamp at the head of the boy's bedroll. Natsuki, her long black hair glimmering in the faint light, looked up, quick to hide the look of surprise on her face. It was once thing to jest in an informal setting with her clan head and his guest of honor, another to have both of them standing their, both imposing in their own ways, about to sing her son to sleep?

"I ah ... Please, come in. He's half asleep already." She sat a little straighter, but to her credit, she showed no other signs of embarrassment or shock, as she bend to kiss her son's forehead, before she stood to take a step back. Kagami's drooping eyes shimmered, albeit sleepily -- the boy was long past his bedtime, and it showed in the way he could not quite get as excited as he had been before. Madara stepped into the room, flashed Natsuki a glance which she replied with a small, somewhat doubtful smile, and then proceeded to kneel before the bedroll.

"You came", Kagami said, blinking hard to keep himself awake. His little hands gripped the rim of his blanket, which was drawn up to his chin, and he was so small he seemed almost lost in that bedroll. "Both Madara-sama and Kaka-nii."

"A deal is a deal", Madara said, and the boy did not even flinch when he moved his hand to brush the curls out of his face. He seemed familiar with the gesture, and replied with a lazy smile. His eyes fell shut under the gentle ministrations of the calloused hand, and he sighed, long and world-weary, which had Madara hum a soundless laugh. When he glanced up at the Hatake, his eyes were devoid of mistrust, devoid of pain; in fact, they were so painfully open it made him look much younger than his years, and would he have been aware, he would have scowled at the idea.

"Chicken", he said to the mutt, his lips pulling into a mischievous smile, but when he turned his head to regard the toddler once more, that smile turned into something soft. Kagami did not particularly look like any of his brothers; he had that Uchiha look the core family shared, black hair, pale skin, dark eyes, but his hair was unruly, his nose a button, his lips like a baby ducks. Madara found it did not make any difference.

Natsuki looked on, as her clan head started to hum a tune; it was a slow, melancholy, familiar song, and he sang it in a hushed, sometimes raspy baritone, but with a voice so deep it reverberated in his chest, went under the skin. A song that told of a reunion of loved ones, of a beating heart amidst the flames, of the gentle hands of nature sweeping up its children to take care of them, and of the moon, looking down upon them, looking over them, with the promise of a mother's love and a father's protection.

When the song was over, the sudden silence was deafening; and Kagami's breaths were loud and long and deep, his head rolled to the side, a little fist curled next to his face.

Madara rose to his feet.

"Guess you need to come back next time", he said with a shrug, avoiding both the Hatake's and Natsuki's gaze as he swept out of the room.
 
”Please. I grew up with three younger brothers.”

Somberness penetrated his lackadaisical gaze. Grew up. The deliberate use of past tense didn’t escape him. History involving the elder Uchiha was, more than often, painted in a violent, bloodthirsty bias. It focused on the man’s descent to madness, emphasizing on the crimes against not only his village, but his own clan. It briefly mentioned Izuna, but Kakashi wasn’t aware the Clan Head had more than one sibling. No snippets of history mentioned the man’s previous life before his pathway to darkness. Perhaps, had Kakashi been a trueborn Uchiha, he would of learned more within the clan. However, the Clan Head — based from what history depicted — was ostracized by his own clan. Nowadays, the signs are exceptionally subtle, almost nonexistent to the naked eye. On the other hand, Kakashi noticed how the Uchiha interact with their Clan Head. He pinpointed the fear, wariness, and mistrust taking root inside the clansmens’ hearts. Should it continue to fester, it could potentially drive Madara to the road of madness.

Almost a century and a half later, it became the downfall of the Uchiha clan. Contrary to what most individuals believed, Kakashi uncovered the truth behind the Uchiha massacre. He pieced it together, bit by bit, until a horrifically disturbing image came to light. The war veteran had his suspicions for years, but it wasn’t confirmed until the Fourth Shinobi World War. Learning that his dead teammate was alive and responsible for the downfall of his own clan was the bitterest pill to swallow, but now, Obito gave him strength. Not only him, but Rin, Minato-sensei, Kushina-nee, Naruto — all of them gave him the courage to change history for the better. Kakashi never asked for his own identity to be altered, but whether he acknowledged it or not, he was as much of a Uchiha as he were a Hatake. Minus the warmongering geezers stuck in ancient times — they could die for all he cared — the Uchiha are pack.

Kakashi protected his pack.

”Both Madara-sama and Kaka-nii.”

A few minutes later, the elder Uchiha and younger Hatake stepped inside the room belonging to Natsuki and her son. Kakashi, albeit reluctantly, followed the Clan Head and stopped in front of the munchkin’s bedroll. A part of him was tempted to turn around and run, but in spite of his discomfort, the silver-haired halfbreed remained in his spot. Slowly, Kakashi lowered himself in front of the boy’s bedroll. He tapped the baby Uchiha on the nose. “Maa, I keep my promises, pup,” he mused. A pessimistic voice, in the darkest corner of his mind, hissed otherwise. You filthy liar, it sneered. Kakashi chose to ignore it.

He huffed at the Clan Head’s offhand jab. “Maa—“ Once his eyes landed on the elder Uchiha, Kakashi paused. The pure and unadulterated emotion in the older man’s eyes cut him off. Not a hint of distrust, pain, or grimness was evident on the Uchiha’s expression. The undeniable candidness reflecting the Clan Head’s obsidian eyes left him momentarily speechless. Kakashi blinked in response, but the man’s expression didn’t change. Before he could react, the elder Uchiha opened his mouth and sang.

The song itself was unfamiliar. Although, it wasn’t surprising. Kakashi didn’t know a lot of lullabies. His father once mentioned his mother use to sing to him, but since she died at a painfully young age, he couldn’t remember them. A part of him, long before the harshest of reality took away the last of his kin, wanted to ask his father about the lullabies, but he never gathered the courage. His father never liked talking about his mother and honestly, neither did Kakashi. After the Clan Head completed the melody, the baby Uchiha was fast asleep. The former nomad raised his hand, about to tuck a flyaway curl behind the boy’s ear, but stopped himself. Uncertain, Kakashi lowered his palm.

”Guess you need to come back next time,”

He technically promised the ankle-biter a duet, but it seemed the Clan Head decided to outshine him. “Maa, maa, it seems so,” Kakashi drawled.
 
Madara exited to the inner garden two minutes and a hacking coughing fit later, and sure enough, the silhouette of his brother was an outline in the pale moonlight and against the flickering light of gas lamps and candles inside the house. He sat on his favorite spot under the willow tree, its long branches brushing the surface of the water, and Izuna's head was bend and propped up in both his hands.

Madara cleared his throat, not so much as to alert his brother of his presence but to get rid of the uncomfortable roughness that seemed to radiate all the way up from his lungs. Izuna did not raise his head, but he groaned, so wretchedly Madara almost felt inclined to pity him. Almost.

"If you came to lecture me", Izuna mumbled, voice subtly slurred still, "don't. I'm nauseous and my head is spinning. I will never drink again."

Madara huffed, and Izuna knew him well enough to recognize it as a sound of fond amusement (probably smug amusement, but it came down to the same thing, basically) and walked over to the brim of the pond, taking a seat next to his brother. Looking at him up close, he looked positively sick, his skin sporting a faint, sickly greenish hue, mouth pulled downward. He was rubbing both his temples, and Madara suppressed a grim smile. This was all the lecture his brother would need as not to indulge in so much sake anymore; especially not in front of the elders (who tended to never forget these kinds of indiscretions and to keep bringing them up at the most inopportune moments).

"I'm not here to lecture you", Madara said, voice thick and husky from the coughing and the phlegm that covered his lungs, that made it hard to breath. What a foolish thing, getting sentimental like that, singing to Natsuki's boy. In front of the mutt, no less! He did not even know what he was thinking, but that moment, that day had him overwhelmed. The soft flicker of the light on the boy's features, that smell of fresh linen and smoldering wicks of blown out candles; it had brought forth an onslaught of memories, none as defined and clear as thoughts but penetrating to the senses. Of childhood, and the cool hands of his mother, and of warm bodies pressed close to his own as all the Uchiha brothers were huddled close under the blanket in the cold, fire-less room they had used for sleeping in those early days when everyone had been alive, when his father and eldest brother had been faint ideas rather than actual people, when his world had consisted of the warmth of his mother's love and scraped knees and long days in the woods.

It evoked not only warmth in him, but something more fierce, ravaging, burning white-hot and merciless; edging in its intensity on the rage he sometimes felt, but it was different, more profound, rooted so deep he knew he would die if he ever tried to rip it out of himself; it was love, and he felt it looking at his brother now, felt it with all the force of a blazing fire.

"Then what do you want?", Izuna asked, irritated.

"I know you don't understand what I am doing", Madara began, and for once, the words came easily enough. "Inviting the Hatake into our lives like that."

"The halfbreed", Izuna spat, his voice suddenly sharp.

"I am doing this for the clan's future. For you."

Izuna turned his head, without taking his hands off his face. He looked comically miserable, but the frown was too serious, and the look in his eyes unyielding.

"We don't have to agree on everything", Madara continued, "but if push comes to shove, I will always pick your side, brother. I will always have your back. I will always choose you." Because you are the only family I have left, went unspoken, but hung crystal clear between them.

That had Izuna blinking; Madara never spoke words like that carelessly, and in that moment, a bit of the betrayal Izuna had felt was crumbling away, softening his gaze a little. His shoulders hunched.

"That's what I'm supposed to say, aniki."

"Shoulder by shoulder, then", Madara replied with a smirk, tapping his own shoulder against Izuna's and having him sway a bit, which made Izuna scowl and Madara snort. "Maybe a dunk in the pond will sober you up."

"Aniki", Izuna said, slowly, warningly, "don't you dare."

"It's my birthday, after all."

"Aniki."

*
​
"Huh", Natsuki said into the ensuing silence. Her clan head had left the room much like wild hounds were after him, and she looked at the empty doorway before she settled her eyes on the Hatake. "He has never done that before." The smile on her face was genuine and bright, even though she clearly attempted to dim it down. As if showing her delight was somehow wrong, or disrespectful. "Ah, Hatake-san. May I accompany you back to the dinner?", she offered, suddenly realizing she was potentially being rude.

"And thank you for humoring my son like that", she continued, "he really seems to have taken a liking to you."
 
”He has never done that before.”

He arched an eyebrow in response. “Oh?” Charcoal eyes zeroed in on the spot previously occupied by the Clan Head. “Is that so?” To be honest, the concept didn’t surprise him. On the other hand, Kakashi never anticipated Uchiha Madara singing in front of him of all people. What surprised him the most, however, was the pure and unadulterated emotion evident in the elder Uchiha’s obsidian gaze. No anger, indignation, and mistrust; pure and undeniable openness. It caught him off guard and — Kakashi would deny it until the day he died — siphoned all the air in his lungs, leaving him breathless.

The war veteran didn’t understand why and he preferred not dwelling on the subject.

Snapping out of his musings, Kakashi glanced at the baby Uchiha slumbering on the bedroll. Before the uncertainty consumed him completely, the silver-haired halfbreed carded his fingers through the ankle-biter’s curly tresses, tucking a stray curl behind the boy’s ear. A hint of softness was evident in his charcoal gaze.

”...he really seems to have taken a liking to you.”

A huff escaped his lips. “I don’t understand why to be completely honest,” Kakashi muttered. The younger Hatake retracted his palm, rose into a standing position, and bowed at the baby Uchiha’s mother. “Maa, I think I’ll retire for the night, Natsuki-san, but thank you,” he announced. Without another word, the former nomad slipped out of the room, pivoted, and headed toward the direction of his sleeping quarters. As the Hatake maneuvered through the dimly-lit hallways, not a single sound emitted from his feet. He resembled a blip of silver encompassed in a sea of navy, black, and red.

A few minutes later, Kakashi entered his room and closed the sliding door behind him. Instead of retiring for the night, the silver-haired man retrieved a quilt from his designated bedroll and approached the engawa. He wrapped the quilt around his shoulders and plopped on the polished wood overlooking a peaceful section of the estate’s gardens. Ignoring the chill in the air, Kakashi lifted his gaze. “Another year gone by and soon, it’ll be four years,” he murmured. Four years since he landed in the past; four years since he planned on changing the world. In spite of the bumps and twists in the last three-to-four years, Kakashi congratulated himself on not screwing it up thoroughly and irrevocably.
 
The next morning

While the Uchiha were a clan of notorious earlier risers, Madara put them all to shame; usually up with the first light to perform his katas, and to be sometimes joined by his brother half an hour later, the household worked around the clan head's schedule like a tightly set array of gearing wheels, slowly churning into motion to run at full speed around the time his naked feet padded onto the engawa to take his breakfast. So when this morning, the clan head's chambers remained silent and the inner garden empty, there was a hitch in the routine; unperceptible to an outsider, but clear to those intimately familiar with the clan head's household. Maids served breakfast to the elder's ten minutes delayed; miso had gone cold and tea a bit stale. Even the cats (there were remarkably many of them, one might notice on closer inspection, roaming around the estate on silent paws) seemed irked by that tiny shift, ranging around still empty plates in search for some food to steal.

The Hatake's breakfast, a light miso, rice, tamagoyaki and a bowl of natto, came on time, however; Natsuki served it in his chambers, Kagami at her side. The boy was carrying the steaming bowl of rice in both hands, a frown of concentration on his face and his tongue between his lips, obviously eager not to drop it. When he served it, he bowed (a bit belatedly after his mother), and his face erupted into a beaming smile.

"Good morning, Kaka-nii!"

"He was really excited that you truly came by", Natsuki explained with a small smile of her own. "Please let me know if you require anything else. Izuna-san asks me to tell you that the lessons will commence after the funeral, as there is much seal-work to do in order to ensure our procession's safety. Also, you are allowed to attend, if you wish so." The smile fringed a bit at the seams, and she cast down her eyes. "Hatake-san. What you did for us ... The whole clan is grateful to you. Please know that. I understand things must be difficult for you, but you have friends here now." She looked up at him, genuinely touched. "Two at least", she explained, brushing over her boy's head.

"I am your friend alright!", Kagami agreed cheerfully. "You can go with me to class if you like!"

"That is not for Hatake-san, Kagami. He has already learned his to read and write."

Kagami pouted.

*
​
Early afternoon

The funeral was a silent affair, held in the overcast hours of midday, with a light drizzle slowly soaking the mourners black mofuku. It was a small procession that exited the compound, only those next to kin allowed to attend, heavily guarded by squads of ninja invisible in the trees, lead by Hikaku. The funeral was held a quarter of an hour's walk away from the compound, in a small clearing that, in time, would grow to become a cemetery. There were no memorials, no stones or other signs to mark the graves; the ceremony was short, and it was Izuna who spoke to the attendees. He had recovered from last night's bout with the resilience of a sixteen-year-old, and ironically, it was his brother who stood with dark rings under his eyes, pale as a ghost and silent through the ceremony. When the funeral was over and the clan head had not spoken a word, a murmur went throught the crowd, but overall people were somber, downcast but thankful in a way that showed on their faces, in their eyes as they fell on the Hatake, and some of those faces were not so full of hate anymore, had softened and opened to a possibility.

While Izuna lead the group of mourners back into the compound, leaving a dozen graves in their wake, the fresh mounts of earth growing dark and heavy in the light rain, Madara slowed to find himself next to the mutt. His breath came now in audible wheezes, and he radiated heat even from a distance.

"This is your doing", he said hoarsely, "those people could say goodbye to their loved ones because of you. Neither of them will forget this." He looked the Hatake over. "You may find them more open to your presence now." The corner of his mouth twitched. "Less chance of poison in your food."
 
Next Morning

It was early morning — not quite the hour when a certain Clan Head awakened, but early, nonetheless — when Natsuki and her son approached the Hatake’s sleeping quarters. By the time the baby Uchiha and his mother arrived, Kakashi erased all traces of his modified privacy seal off the traditional tatami mats. Instead of entering his personal dimension and recording the recent events the night before, the silver-haired halfbreed delayed it until the first signs of daylight seeped inside his designated room. In spite of residing in a pit filled with warmongering snakes and bloodthirsty dragons — or in layman’s terms, the Uchiha elders and other unsavory individuals out for his blood — Kakashi slept decently; as decently as a war veteran can in potential hostile territory. All of the sudden, a knocking sound reverberated inside the guest quarters. The former nomad approached the door, sliding it open. His stomach lurched at the sight of a certain ankle-biter holding a bowl of steaming rice.

”Good morning, Kaka-nii!”

Despite the very much obvious discomfort encompassing his frame, Kakashi mustered a weak grin. “Maa, good morning to you, pup,” he greeted. The sight of his defeated frame was almost comical, and based on the quirk in the older woman’s lips, Natsuki found his awkwardness amusing. The Hatake accepted the bowl of rice, poking the boy on his button nose. When the aforementioned boy’s nose crinkled in response, a huff of amusement escaped the wolfman’s lips. He glanced at the older woman, humming at her announcement. “Thank you, Natsuki-san,” Kakashi murmured. And he meant it. While his lackadaisical disposition said otherwise, Kakashi was grateful for the mother’s — even her son’s, but he wouldn’t admit it — camaraderie. The silver-haired man lowered his gaze, assessing the innocent doe-like eyes filled with exuberance. His charcoal eyes crinkled, upturning into a genuine eye-smile. “Maa, maa, if your mother is okay with it, I can show you the basics of the sealing arts when your calligraphy improves to a certain point,” he offered.

Perhaps, offering to teach a four year old the beginnings of fūinjutsu wasn’t age appropriate or normal, but again, Kakashi had zero experience with children under the age of ten.

*​

Early Afternoon

Let it be known that Hatake Kakashi loathed funerals; he loathed them more than the Rabbit Goddess bitch that took everything from him. He hated the beginning, the end, and everything in-between. After his father’s, teammates’, mentor’s, Hokage’s — bottom line, Kakashi hated funerals. When he lost Minato-sensei and Kushina-nee, Kakashi stopped attending funerals. The Sandaime’s funeral was a formality, something he couldn’t avoid even if he wanted to. The only reason he attended Jiraiya-sama’s funeral in the first place was because of his sensei’s son. He would of avoided Asuma’s entirely if the same student didn’t find his hiding spot. He was many despicable things, but not once will Kakashi abandon his students in a time of need. Those who abandon their friends are worse than scum, and while Kakashi was the lowest scum of them all, he refused to leave his precious students during the aftermath.

In spite of his unquestionable, irrefutable, undeniable hatred, Kakashi was currently standing in a sea of black. His moonlight hair and Hatake grey clothing was a stark contrast compared to the crowd of obsidian, but not a single Uchiha spared him a glance. For the first time, none of them regarded his presence with pure wariness or unadulterated fury. Once the funeral came to a bittersweet end, Kakashi remained silent. All traces of his signature laziness vanished, replaced by a somber war veteran.

”Less chance of poison in your food.”

A huff escaped his lips, a twist of amusement evident in his charcoal hues. “Lucky me, I have upgraded from tenuous subterfuge to direct assaults,” Kakashi drawled, tone drier than the Land of Wind. He glanced at the Clan Head. “You look like you’re about to keel over,” he added. Despite his wry tone, a seed of concern planted inside his voice and took root. It was subtle, almost nonexistent to the naked eye. The silver-haired halfbreed might not be aware of it himself.
 
Madara scoffed. It had him wheezing out a breath, his chest heaving in that way that spoke of suppressed coughs.

"It's the fucking inflammation", he replied bluntly, "keeps acting up."

There was no way of hiding it, and even if he would have had the energy to bother, he was painfully aware his pitiful state gave him away. Little use in ignoring it, either, as he had kept doing over the last couple of weeks; there had been no time for weakness, no time to breathe with the pending famine and the Senju and the loss, but now Madara's limbs felt so wobbly and weak he did not even care; his need to bury the dead was all that had kept him on his feet, and now that burden had fallen off his shoulders, it was like his resilience was draining out of him too. But he would rather eat his sandal than to admit that out loud, to anyone but his brother, and --

Well, the Hatake had bled out under his hands. Madara was not ashamed to be a bit pale around the nose in front of him.

(Trust, a funny thing.)

"Our sealing experts, Hayato and Shizuka, will be waiting for you after you ate. That is Shizuka over there", he said, tone low, eyes on the man walking three rows in front of them. "He buried his sister today."

The large, fortified doors of the eastern gate swung shut behind them with a creak, and slowly, the procession dispersed into the depths of the compound. Izuna lingered, Hikaku suddenly at his side (inseparable as always). They shared a word, in that familiar way Izuna had while leaning in as Hikaku whispered something to him, and his brother frowned, but his expression became determined. A moment later he joined his brother and the mutt, and while he did not directly look at the Hatake, he did not say anything offensive, either.

Madara chalked that up as a victory.

"You did good", he said, and watched the frown flicker back onto his brother's young features at being praised like that.

"You should have stayed in bed", he scolded, "you look like living death."

"Mmh, I've been called worse", Madara mused, and when he stepped onto the engawa, the child prodigy, the one that could form a basic Susanoo at the age of twelve, stumbled and would have fallen, if not for his brother's firm grip around his upper arm. There was a tiny moment in which Izuna's eyes shifted around nervously, as if to check if anyone had seen.

"Careful", he hissed, superfluously but like a release of tension.
 
”It’s the fucking inflammation...”

The silver-haired halfbreed hummed at the blunt statement. “Maa, maa, a normal person would find the word, ‘inflammation’ a tad concerning and desist from strenuous activity,” Kakashi pointed out. He tilted his head, strands of silver sweeping across his forehead. A sliver of his former impishness penetrated the shroud of somberness clinging to his lanky frame. “Perhaps, you should focus on recovering or else, you might keel from your sheer stubbornness,” he added unabashedly. In spite of the current atmosphere, a crinkle in his charcoal gaze betrayed his wry amusement.

He glanced at the older-looking Uchiha three rows ahead. “Understood,” Kakashi murmured, all traces of his previous impishness void. As the fortified doors of the grand eastern gate opened, the Hatake followed the elder Uchiha. A few minutes later, the silver-haired man and his companion are joined by the Clan Head’s younger brother. While the younger Uchiha ignored his presence, it was a surprising improvement compared to his prior treatment. His lips twitched at the sixteen year old’s comment, but instead of adding another jibe, Kakashi remained silent. Before he could react, Uchiha Madara — a legend in the future and still a legend in his current time period — stumbled. Had the older man’s brother not stabilize him, Madara would of collapsed on the engawa, face first.

Kakashi didn’t know if he wanted to gape at the rare sight or snort at the sheer absurdity. He chose the latter. “Maa, you might be the first Uchiha that’ll die from sheer stubbornness if you keep this up,” he mused.

Unsurprisingly, a certain ravenette bristled at the comment. “How dare you—“ Izuna hissed, a rant on the tip of his tongue.

Akin to a shark attracted to blood, Hikaku swooped in at the first sign of his best friend’s foul temper. “Not now, Izuna,” he interjected.

A scowl carved on his expression. “Hikaku—“

Said teen gave the taller boy a look.

“Fine,” Izuna huffed. After flashing the halfbreed a vicious glare — so much for his previous indifference — the ravenette directed his attention to his older brother. The mutt, not that he would admit it ever, had a point. “You need to rest, aniki,” he announced.

“Your brother has a point,” Kakashi drawled. He pivoted, facing the direction of his sleeping quarters. He intended to eat in his room before the scheduled meeting. “My mother told me you wanted to spar. We won’t be able to if you keel over, ne?” With a lazy flick of his wrist, the silver-haired halfbreed bid the Uchiha brothers goodbye and sauntered toward the route leading to his designated room.
 
“Maa, you might be the first Uchiha that’ll die from sheer stubbornness if you keep this up.”

"You never met my grandmother", Hikaku provided to further dispel the tension. Unconsciously or not, he had stepped in front of the both his cousin's, his clan head being supported by his younger brother with an arm wrapped around his shoulders, and the small smile on his usually earnest face was there and gone in a flicker, before it was replaced by worry.

“My mother told me you wanted to spar."

She did?, Madara wanted to say, but his breath came in labored wheezes, and he did not muster enough of it for words. The wolfwoman must have listened in on him when he had said his farewells to the mutt. Madara felt a heat rise in his cheeks that had more to do with embarrassement than with fever, though his skin was covered in angry red spots. He very much did not dwell on why the hell he would feel embarrased about this of all things, like being caught out on something, and was glad when the Hatake turned his back to them to leave. The moment he was around the corner, the last of Madara's facade crumbled, and he sagged against his brother's strong grip, legs giving out on him.

"That impudent little --", Izuna was saying, but interrupted himself when he felt Madara's body become heavy as a stone. "Aniki!"

"Bring him to his chambers", Hikaku said, voice an urgent, low whisper. He had blanched, but his was a spine of steel, and briefly Izuna thought what an outstanding team leader Hikaku would make one day, before he commenced his way to Madara's rooms.

*
​
A light lunch had already been served for the guest of honor; smelt, rice and fried tofu, and, next to a steaming cup of green tea lay a thin, leaderbound book. It was a collection of short children's tales, lavishly illustrated and based on yokai mythology. The shoji were open, a ray of sunlight slanting onto the engawa through thick grey clouds, and while it was a chilly day, the air was fresh and purified by the subsiding drizzle.

"Oh, excuse me", Natsuki said as she slid the door to guest chambers open, a tray holding a bowl of miso balancing on one hand. "I did not know you were back already, Hatake-san." She bowed her head. "I did not mean to interupt you, I was just about to bring the rest of your meal. I'll close the doors for you, before you start freezing."
 
Once the Hatake ambassador maneuvered through the intricate labyrinth that resided within the prestigious estate, he entered his designated quarters through the sliding door leading to the engawa. After he closed the door behind him, Kakashi heaved a sigh. Attending a funeral was the last thing he wanted to do before his scheduled departure, but something about the circumstances compelled him to accept the offer. Perhaps, when he witnessed the aftermath and picked up the pieces, Kakashi felt an overwhelming obligation? He didn’t know what — it was undecipherable — and to be frank, the silver-haired halfbreed didn’t contemplate it further.

About ten or so minutes later, Natsuki arrived with a tray filled with a light lunch and a surprisingly intriguing piece of literature. It was a testament to his ability of blending in the background when the older Uchiha woman didn’t notice him until she returned with a bowl of miso soup. On the other hand, the Hatake may of may not of layered his frame with a mild disillusioning genjutsu. The moment she stepped inside, Kakashi removed the genjutsu. He waved his hand at the comment. “Maa, maa, no need to worry, Natsuki-san,” he assured. He inclined his head respectively, silently thanking her for the meal.

Fortunately, it seemed a certain ankle-biter wasn’t helping his mother. Kakashi recalled something about lessons, but instead of dwelling on the subject, the former nomad focused on his meal.

*​

“The base matrix is the same as an ordinary storage scroll,” drawled the silver-haired man. With deft fingers, Kakashi applied the foundation on the blank storage scroll designated for the demonstration. Not a hint of sloppiness was evident in the base seal, demonstrating his impeccable control. “We all know what storage scrolls are capable of and a minor adjustment to the size matrix...” He flicked his wrist, incorporating an additional stroke. “...can increase the mass. Thus, expanding the scroll and extending the storage capabilities.” The extension stroke was common knowledge and used for long-term traveling scrolls.

The war veteran lowered his brush, hovering it above a sequence representing the mass component. “You technically could store a corpse in an ordinary storage scroll...” With a elegant swish and flick, Kakashi applied a long strip of code to the sealing matrix. “Ordinary scrolls are capable of holding corpses, but...” He connected the intricate sequence to three components; size, weight, and organic. “They cannot preserve the corpse. Should you attempt to do so, I can guarantee the results are horrifically gruesome.” The image of a decaying corpse was implicated in his blunt statement.

A few minutes later, the Hatake connected the combined sequence to the foundation of the matrix. “I increased the mass, size, and weight to support the varying densities of corpses, but the organic sequence is the most critical part of the modified matrix,” Kakashi declared. Once he connected the components to the foundation, it stabilized and finalized the storage seal. “The modification here—“ A slim finger hovered above the new sequence branching from the original organic component. “—will preserve the corpses until they’re ready to be unsealed.” Before the silver-haired man completed the seal, he incorporated a name in archaic kanji in the center; Uchiha. “I don’t incorporate this component in my storage seals, but—“ All of the sudden, his charcoal eyes bled a brilliant crimson. With a single pulse of his Sharingan, the storage seal flashed a luminous crimson and vanished completely, the ink melting into the paper. “Now, only a Sharingan can unlock the sealing matrix. No one will be able to view the seal and replicate it.”

Moments later, his crimson hues dimmed, reverting back to his signature charcoal. Kakashi closed the scroll and handed it to the sealing master on his right. Shizuka, the aforementioned master, accepted it. “A final warning, nothing can be stored inside the scroll with a corpse inside. The modifications are geared toward the complexities of a human body. Anything else may destabilize the sealing matrix and believe me, its not pleasant,” he murmured.
 
Hayato and Shizuka exchanged a glance. The adjustments the Hatake was making to the basic storage seal were minor, but nevertheless a work of genius -- not only was his technique formidable, his hand guiding the brush swiftly and secure, but put together the signs made an intricate, complicated pattern not easily replicable to the naked eye.

"How old are you, child?", Hayato asked. He was the older of the two sealing experts, a man in his sixties that did not look his age; he had the kind of smooth skin and neat hands that spoke of a lifetime spent in archives and between scrolls and parchment instead of kunai and weapon's oil, was of small stature, his bald head polished and shining in the bright light of the afternoon sun. They were sitting in a room attached to the archives and subsequent library. It had many windows, and the ceiling-high bookcases were stuffed with rows and rows of scrolls. It smelled of parchment, ink and caraway. Hayato's eyes gleamed with the interest of a true scholar, and nothing in his unusually smooth face spoke of distrust or even hatred; instead, there was interest, and quite a bit of awe.

That awe deepened, but was also clouded in shock the moment the Hatake's eyes turned crimson; Shizuka even took a sharp inhale of breath. He was in his early forties, hair a pale brown and deep lines around his mouth, edged deeper into the skin by recent grief. When the Hatake had entered the room, guided by Natsuki, he had bowed deeply before him, and had thanked him for bringing his sister's body back home. So the rigidness of his spine could have been much more pronounced, the frown filled with more than surprise, when the ambassador so freely displayed his halfbreed status.

"By kami", Hayato said, his clear voice a notch higher than usual, "I knew what you were, but to get to see it ... Hatake-kun, I know we are taking up enough of your time, so I will not ask you to do this now, but one day I hope you will do me the honor to sit down over a nice bowl of ramen and tell me about those eyes. You look just like an ordinary Hatake. And yet you carry the Uchiha's prowess." There was no malice in his voice, just scientific curiosity. When the Hatake handed over the scroll, Shizuka turned it in his hand, studying the intrinsic seal.

"Brilliant", Hayato muttered, glimpsing over the other's shoulder. "Absolutely brilliant. To incorporate the family name as an encryption mechanism ..."

In this moment, the shoji slid open. Natsuki stood in the doorway, and Hayato, who had been in deep contemplation, frowned at the expression on the young woman's face. "Natsuki-chan, is everything alright?"

"Ah, excuse the interruption", Natsuki started.

"Not at all", Hayato replied. Shizuka was getting to his feet, the storage scroll still in his hands. He bowed to the Hatake again, and retreated wordlessly deeper into the archive to store this precious piece of knowledge for safekeeping. "I think class is over, isn't it, Hatake-kun? Well, well, Natsuki, don't just stand there. Tell me what's on your mind."

Natsuki's eyes flitted to the Hatake, for the briefest of moments, before she said: "Izuna-san wishes to speak to you in the study. Also, I am supposed to accompany Hatake-san back to his quarters."

Hayato's eyes gleamed with curiosity, but he did not say a word as he got up -- the joints of his knees popping -- shuffling towards the door. "Thank you, Hatake-kun, for that insightful lecture. Have a safe trip home, and please, consider my offer."

Once Hayato left the room, Natsuki turned her gaze onto the Hatake. Her lips were a thin line before she opened her mouth to speak. "Please follow me, Hatake-san."
 
”How old are you, child?”

Immediately, his true age came to mind; thirty-four. During the Fourth Shinobi World War, Kakashi barely exceeded the age of thirty-one before he sacrificed his life for his students. Thirty-one when a meddling sage manipulated him — even if he was the most unqualified candidate, he understood the severity of the circumstances and didn’t hesitate to accept. Yet, manipulation was manipulation — and transported him to the past. Thirty-one turned sixteen, but the unexpected dose of youth didn’t conceal his true age. Thirty-one became thirty-four after three years of gallivanting in the past. Thirty-four in the body of a nineteen year old, but somehow, his true age didn’t matter. He became an adult in the eyes of his village at the age of six. Even before it became official, Kakashi never behaved like a true child. Since he was born, he was too perceptive, too aware.

Once upon a time, his father referred him as an old soul.

“Nineteen,” answered the halfbreed. In spite of his true age, Kakashi felt a lot older. Old soul, indeed.

”...nice bowl of ramen and tell me about those eyes.”

For a moment, a part of Kakashi wondered — call it morbid curiosity — how the elder Uchiha would react if he heard the true origin of his eyes. How, in spite of acclimating to his new bloodline, Kakashi loathed utilizing his Sharingan. How, no matter how hard he tried not to, felt like a no-good, back-stabbing thief for stealing his best friend’s legacy. How, regardless of his lackadaisical façade, couldn’t help but feel he deserved the treatment the Uchiha subjected him to. Kakashi wasn’t ashamed of the Uchiha blood coursing through his veins or the bloodline limit a certain sage bestowed him. On the contrary, he felt closer to his knuckleheaded oaf of a best friend. While the harsh reality of the world transformed his first friend into a monster, Kakashi loved Obito. His teammate was his brother in all, but blood. On the other hand, once Kakashi realized the origin of his bloodline, familiar self-loathing and guilt perforated his heart.

The Sage of Six Paths didn’t create a new bloodline when he altered his genetic code; he inserted Obito’s genetic code inside him. In layman’s terms, Kakashi could technically be considered his best friend’s half-brother since they shared the same DNA. The concept appeared minor, even trivial, but truthfully, Kakashi never recovered from the childhood trauma surrounding his gifted eye. He shaped his entire ninja career around his friend’s legacy. Kakashi earned the monikers, Sharingan no Kakashi and Copycat Ninja for his mastery of the legendary dōjutsu. The silver-haired halfbreed barely recuperated from the revelation of Obito being alive — not dead, dead, dead, but alive — before he sacrificed his life and landed himself in the past.

Maa, had he bothered with therapy, Kakashi would of been a Yamanaka’s wet dream.

Regardless of his peculiar musings, Kakashi perfected his fabricated origin with every single, insignificant detail. “Maa, maa, maybe one day, Hayato-san,” he murmured. As he inclined his head respectably, the sliding door leading inside the demonstration room opened. The war veteran arched an eyebrow. Something about the older woman was off. “Alright.” With a respectable bow, Kakashi bid the last Uchiha sealing master goodbye and followed Natsuki.

“Is something wrong, Natsuki-san?” He eyed his raven-haired companion, pinpointing her tense shoulders, rigid backbone, and trembling fingers.
 
Though it was a beautiful afternoon, much more pleasant than the morning and midday, the sky began to darken as the pale winter sun vanished behind the horizon. The gas lamps in the estate where burning already, as Natsuki walked the ambassador down a path that must have become familiar by now. Natsuki was walking a pace before the silver-haired man, and when he spoke up, her shoulders tensed even more.

"N-no", she hastened to say. As they were turning the corner, though, a group of men and a single women were walking down the corridor in a fast pace, clad in the traditional, simplistic Uchiha robes that were a much paler purple than the usual colors, faces set as they vanished into the direction of the study. They did not pay the ambassador or Natsuki any mind, walking around them swiftly, but once they were gone, Natsuki's slim shoulders dropped.

"I am not supposed to say a thing", she whispered, voice so low it was hard to hear. "Especially not to an outsider, but you are his friend, and I think you might be able to help."

She looked at the Hatake pleadingly for a moment, her eyes as huge and dark; the similarities between mother and son were undeniable in this moment, and she turned, gesturing him to follow. Only when they had reached the guest chambers with the doors shut firmly behind them, did she face the visitor again. She made as if to grab his hands, but aborted the movement, her own hands hovering in the air for an undecided moment before she clasped her fingers together.

"Madara-sama's condition keeps worsening." When the words left her lips, she looked simultaneously shocked and relieved -- she had been forbidden to talk about his state, with anyone, by Izuna-san himself. There were not many people in the compound, even in the house who knew about it at all; the Uchiha were left in the believe that Madara had regained his full strength days ago, even if it was painfully obvious that he had not. "It's the infection of his lungs. The medics' treatment does not work. They keep treating the symptoms but are unable to treat the source. The elders are ... really worried."

Her gaze shifted in a way that said that she was worried herself, and she gnawed on her lower lip for a moment before the familiar look of an Uchiha's determination dawned on her features. She looked up at him. "Your clan lives near Shikkotsu Forest, doesn't it? Isn't it possible to go there for a cure? People say the slugs inhabiting the forest have healing properties beyond all measure."
 
”Especially not to an outsider, but you are his friend, and I think you might be able to help.”

Kakashi hummed at the comment. He wouldn’t call himself a friend — more likely a trusted acquaintance at best and even that’s stretching it a bit. Although, they have an unspoken respect for each other born out of fire and blood — but considering her current emotional state, the silver-haired halfbreed didn’t have the heart — he wasn’t comfortable with consoling emotional women; he was terrible at it, really — to correct her. A few minutes later, Kakashi entered his temporary quarters and closed the sliding door behind him. Once he faced the older woman, he suppressed a flinch. For a split second, her widened doe-like eyes reminded him of her son. It was a tad unnerving, but he regained his composure. As Natsuki mentioned a certain Clan Head, the fabric of his mask stretched downward, indicating a frown.

The expression on the maid’s face didn’t escape him. Considering the elder Uchiha’s position in his clan, Kakashi wasn’t surprised his true condition was classified. Had word reached the entirety of the clan, it would induce mass chaos. Worse, it would undermine the man’s authority and make him appear unfit to lead the clan. Additionally, if word reached the Senju, it would simultaneously endanger the man and his entire clan. Despite his minimum experience with Uchiha politics, Kakashi was familiar with the clan’s penchant for appearances. In spite of Natsuki breaking her oath — it further emphasized the severity of the situation — he looked underneath the underneath.

If Uchiha Madara wasn’t cured, he would die.

”People say the slugs inhabiting the forest have healing properties beyond all measure.”

The fact an Uchiha was reaching out to an outsider spoke volumes of their desperation. Undoubtedly, the Clan Head’s younger brother — perhaps, the brother would give up his pride, but the warmongering snakes are a different story — and the Uchiha elders would let Madara die than resort to asking for an outsider’s help, especially a halfbreed’s. “They do,” Kakashi murmured. For a moment, the silver-haired man recalled his female student and her legendary mentor. His heart constricted from the painful reminder of what he sacrificed and lost. “As far as I know, the healing properties of the slugs are unrivaled,” he admitted.

“Does—“ Natsuki wetted her lips, a twinge of uncertainty marring her determination. “Is your family aligned with the slugs?” she inquired.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “A few of my clan healers are contracted,” Kakashi revealed.

Her breath hitched. Summoning contracts, contrary to popular belief, are exceedingly rare and coveted; even something uninteresting and inane like worms was regarded with a semblance of respect. Because of it, all information pertaining to contracts and owners of said contracts are exceptionally scarce. No ninja clan — even the most incompetent of families — would dare admit to owning a contract, especially to an outsider.

“Y-you didn’t have to—“ Natsuki lowered her head respectably.

According to his father, the Hatake clan guarded the legendary contract for generations. The Hatake main bloodline was renowned for signing the Wolf summoning contract — no one in his clan recalled when the aforementioned contract fell in the hands of the Hatake, but they guarded it, nonetheless — but certain members of his clan are compatible with the slugs. His father found the Dog summoning contract in his youth, so unfortunately, its whereabouts remained a mystery. If everything went according to plan, the Hatake clan would gift the Senju clan the Slugs summoning contract as an official proclamation of joining Konohagakure. “Maa, Natsuki-san, you worry too much,” he dismissed. The silver-haired man placed a hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “It will take me two days, but I’ll return with a cure,” he announced.

Said woman lifted her head, eyes wide. Pure and unadulterated hope was evident in her obsidian gaze. “Y-you—“ Natsuki bit her lip and bowed. “Thank you, Hatake-san,” she murmured.

He tilted his head, eyes curving into a genuine eye-smile. “Tell Kagami-kun I said goodbye.” Kakashi twitched, realizing his slip of the tongue. He wasn’t attached, nope. The silver-haired man retracted his palm, pivoted, and gathered his traveling cloak. Before his scheduled meeting with the sealing masters, Kakashi stored the rest of his belongings inside the storage seal on his left inner wrist.

A fleeting chuckle escaped her lips. “I will,” Natsuki mused, eyes glinting with amusement.
 
"Hatake-san, wait!"

A moment before the eastern gate closed behind the ambassador, a figure slipped through. It was Hikaku, clad in a dark traveling cloak, donning the Uchiha crest on its back, its red-and-white colors clearly distinguishable even in the darkness. Nightfall had come swiftly and suddenly, like it did in the depth of winter. The snow under his thickly soled boots crunched as he approached, and he was carrying a pack on his back, held by cords strung around his shoulders.

"We don't send our guests away in the middle of the night", he began, but his tone suggested that he was not here to hold the ambassador back, nor to invite him back in. There was something in his eyes -- a much lighter brown than his cousins' -- that told about his true intentions, and although it was not the same desperate, silent plea Natsuki's eyes had held, it came close enough. Madara, the feared head of the Uchiha clan, did have a few friends, it seemed.

"But as you are on your way already", he hesitated, and dropped his eyes to his feet, "I was wondering if I may accompany you." He raised his head. "I need to cross official Hatake land, and in accordance of our treaty, I hoped you would do me the favor of accompanying me."

It was hard to shake the fever smell of the sick room; entering the darkened chamber, the air had been humid and thick with illness; breathing it in had felt infectious, and as Hikaku had stepped closer, he had seen the droplets of dried blood covering the starched pillow, the face of his cousin bone-white, his dark lashes streaked with blood.

"What happened to his eyes?" He had regretted the question the moment it was past his lips; Izuna had looked up at him fiercely, barely holding himself back from fletching his teeth.

And why not? The eyes, the Mangekyo, was what distinguished the brothers from everyone else in the clan; it was, above all, their insignia of power, of strength, and now it started to fade, like Madara himself, consumed by nothing more than bacteria nestled and spreading in his lungs.

Hikaku would never forget how small the man had looked. A man he respected, had sometimes feared, quivering in the shadow of his power that radiated from him like a firestorm.

Not anymore.

He searched the Hatake's gaze. "If you deny me, I will need to have to find another way."
 
”If you deny me, I will need to have to find another way.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh?” Charcoal resembling swirling shadows met onyx dipped in umber. “What sort of business do you have that requires to cross my clan’s territory in the middle of the night?” Kakashi tilted his head, every inch of his frame languid and unassuming; not a hint of his true emotions are evident in his frame. “A tad rude, don’t you think? I don’t think my mother would appreciate the late hour,” he pointed out. Kakashi rubbed the bottom of his chin, a noncommittal hum eliciting from the back of his throat. “Shinra will especially be aggravated. I hope she doesn’t bite you,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

From the corner of his eye, the silver-haired halfbreed noticed the younger Uchiha’s rigid stance. While his offhanded comments evoked a flinch, tempered determination sparked in the sixteen year old’s obsidian gaze. “Maa, maa...” Kakashi draped his hand over the shorter teen’s unruly locks. He ruffled the Uchiha’s hair, eliciting a squawk. The Hatake retracted his palm, evading the disgruntled swat. “It’s almost cute how you want to save Madara-san by your lonesome,” he added.

The younger Uchiha stiffened. “How—“

Kakashi waved his hand dismissively. “Maa, I guess I don’t have a choice, but to tag along. I would be a terrible ambassador if I let one of my clan’s allies traverse the terrain alone,” he announced blithely, as if he had no intention of returning to the Uchiha compound with a cure. Truthfully, the younger Uchiha’s presence was a perfect solution to thoroughly ensure that the Uchiha never learned about Natsuki’s broken oath. Kakashi wasn’t concerned about the lack of acknowledgement for his contribution. Better for Hikaku to be praised for securing a cure than someone like himself.

“I hope your better equipped than the last time I escorted you,” Kakashi mused, eyes curving upward. He pivoted, facing the direction of the forest. “The nights are a lot more frigid, but I don’t think we’ll encounter a storm.” With a lazy flick of his wrist, the silver-haired halfbreed gestured the Uchiha to follow him and disappeared in a thicket of trees. His grey coloring blended flawlessly in the shadows of the snow-covered trees.
 
“I hope your better equipped than the last time I escorted you.”

Hikaku rubbed the back of his head, even as he was following the Hatake up into the trees. "'Course I am", he mumbled, too low to hear. Keeping up with the Hatake's speed was no easy feat; the silver-haired man flitted across the snow-covered branches like a particularly dexterous monkey. Hikaku knew the Hatake were a clan of farm folk, and so it had him surprised at how good the ambassador was navigating the woods surrounding the Uchiha compound. It was as if he knew these parts by heart, but that was impossible, because they would have encountered him much sooner, if the Hatake had roamed these woods as much as he needed to know them like the back of his hand.

It was fortunate for Hikaku, still, that he was intimately familiar with the terrain; if he had not been, he would have had trouble maintaining the quick pace in which they were traversing. Only when they crossed the border of Uchiha territory did he have to activate his sharingan; the moon was hidden away behind thick clouds, the sky was accordingly starless, and more often than not, they crossed patches of wood dipped in almost pitch-black darkness.

"Why are you doing this?", Hikaku said, breathing heavily, as they came to a halt before a way marker. He was bending down, hands propped on his thighs, trying to catch his breath. "Why did you agree to help me?"

Because, for the both of them, it must be painfully obvious what an advantage the Hatake clan was currently in; with Madara ill (gone, but better not think about that), with the knowledge they had gained of the Uchiha clan during the time of their alliance, they could take over the land; could perhaps greatly diminish the Uchiha's numbers, if they so wished, even though Hikaku was sure Izuna would step up to prevent the annihilation of the clan.

Those thoughts made his blood freeze in his veins, his stomach roil with dread and unease. The sharingan that regarded the ambassador grew mistrustful, more guarded, as Hikaku waited for his answer.
 
”Why did you agree to help me?”

For a moment, the war veteran grew silent. As the Hatake ambassador and Uchiha crossed the border and traversed through a patch of neutral soil, Kakashi maneuvered through the darkness with ease. While the younger Uchiha relied on his Sharingan to navigate through the darkness, the silver-haired halfbreed trusted his superior senses and heightened instincts. Combined with his intimate knowledge of the terrain — it might be different, but Kakashi knew the Land of Fire like the back of his hand — he resembled a graceful blip of silver flitting across the trees; not a single misstep or blunder hindered his pathway. “Those who abandon the mission are scum,” he began. Kakashi tilted his head back, meeting the younger Uchiha’s crimson gaze directly. “But those who abandon their friends are worse than scum. We Hatake never abandon our allies,” he announced.

As the younger teen took a moment to regain his breath, Kakashi surveyed the clearing designated as the halfway marker. “It would be painfully easy to take advantage of your Clan Head’s condition,” he muttered. He lifted his head, staring at the starless sky. “Our clan might be small, but we’re cunning. We wouldn’t of survived this long without it.” A gentle breeze danced along his face, ruffling his unruly locks. After a moment of silence, the former nomad ruffled the younger Uchiha’s hair, evoking a disgruntled huff. Once he retracted his palm, Kakashi tilted his head. The fabric of his mask stretched upward, indicating at grin. “Maa, there’s a reason why the Hatake clan is prosperous. We take, but we do not forget to give.” A somber glint penetrated his lackadaisical gaze.

“My clan would gain nothing from taking advantage of the Madara-san’s plight, Hikaku-san. Instead, we gained more by giving our allegiance,” he pointed out. Kakashi glimpsed at the moon hidden behind thick clouds. “I don’t abandon my allies, Hikaku-san,” he murmured. A few seconds later, all traces of his somberness vanished. “Besides, I know for a fact that you have no intention of consulting with my clan’s healers. Shikkotsu Forest is exceptionally dangerous at night, especially to non-Hatake. I would be a terrible ambassador if I let you faced it alone,” he added. The silver-haired man pivoted, facing the direction of the western border of Hatake territory. “Fortunately for you, I have experience with the slugs of Shikkotsu. I even know where the great Katsuyu-sama resides,” he announced.

Technically, he never visited the location, but Kakashi heard enough about Shikkotsu Forest from his female student to get a general idea. Without a doubt, once they entered the forest, the slugs would notify Katsuyu and in return, confront them. Even if he didn’t know the location of the boss summon’s domain, the slugs would escort them to it. “We should get there before dawn. You good?” Kakashi eyed the ravenette, assessing his condition.
 
“Those who abandon the mission are scum. But those who abandon their friends are worse than scum. We Hatake never abandon our allies.”

It never ceased to amaze Hikaku, who had grown up with people‘s awe, people‘s fear of the sharingan so deeply embedded within himself, how devoid of those feelings the ambassador was. For all Hikaku knew the other was a halfbreed, he very much had the appearance of a Hatake, and his relaxed manner, the ease with which he encountered the gaze of the dojutsu, amazed Hikaku in return.

He was intimately familiar with Izuna‘s rage; that feeling was deep-seated, indignation of the apparent lack of fear as much as something else (darker, more urgent, insistently gnawing away at him in the darkest parts of his heart like poison — and Hikaku had been there, too, when the blinded traitor went up in flames, but his grandmother‘s hand, dry as parchment, had shifted over his eyes, had pressed his head into the soft folds of her cloak), something cancerous, but for all Hikaku understood his cousin, his best friend, he could not find it in himself to share the same vengeful hatred.

He smiled, just a little bit, solemn and worn.

"I don't abandon my allies, Hikaku-san."

"You remind me of my cousin", Hikaku replied, patting his straight, light-brown hair down and fixing his ponytail. "He used to talk like that, when we were younger." He saved my life twice, came back for me twice, even though it meant risking his standing, risking to loose a pivotal battle. "He will do anything for his clan, even though most of us are still weary of him. This, at least, I owe him." Hikaku frowned. "I need to safe Madara-sama, Hatake-san. I need to. For my sake. And for Izuna's."

"Besides, I know for a fact that you have no intention of consulting with my clan’s healers. Shikkotsu Forest is exceptionally dangerous at night, especially to non-Hatake."

He brushed some snow off his traveling cloak, trying to hide how startled the Hatake's next words made him. "So you know ...", he mumbled, then straightened his shoulders. "Please, lead me to Katsuyu-sama", he said, with more vigor and moved, signaling the Hatake that yes, he was good, that he had no intention of being outpaced by the other.
 
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