Knock On Wood Konoha

***

Chapter 8: :Yowai Hikari 

Weak light

***

Sometimes, the hardest storms to get through are the ones your soul needs most. And once the storm is over, you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. But survive you did. And one thing is certain: when you come out of the storm, you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what the storms all about. 

Haruki Murakami

***

Present Day

: :Outside the Hyuga Compound, Konohagakure: :

The Root ANBU had been caught by surprise by none other than Neji. Returning from outside the village as Neji returned from an attempt to track down his cousin, both of them crossing in the trees outside the Hyuga Compound well after dark.

Neji had only been concerned with this apparent travel through the Clan Land without permission.

The Root operative had orders to leave no witness to his mission, no matter what stage it was at.

Unfortunately, he had not been strong enough to take down the Hyuga prodigy.

By the time Kakashi got there, Tsunade, Ibiki, Taka, Hiashi, Santa, and Shun were already there.

The original report had said Neji had killed an ANBU operative in self-defense, but one look at the body and the cracked mask told Kakashi otherwise.

"Root."

Tsunade nodded, expression tight.

"Traps?"

"None so far," Ibiki had murmured, carefully examining the body. Hiashi and Neji had both searched with the Byakugan. "On his way back from somewhere, probably thought he was safe once he crossed the wall."

"Seems lucky," Santa had murmured.

"Why attack then?" Shun wondered.

"How long will it take you to break these seals?" The bag he'd carried had been full of scrolls. The seals were a tangled mess of different styles, only a few of which Tsunade recognized.

"A few days," Ibiki guessed, and Taka nodded in agreement.

They were all thinking the same thing: what had Root been willing to kill so obviously to hide?

***

Friendship ... is born at the moment when one man says to another "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . ."

C.S. Lewis

***

Present Day

: :Umino Iruka's Apartment, Konohagakure: :

There were too many people in his apartment.

Not that he didn't love them all.

There were just a lot of them being very loud in his not-that-small apartment at the moment.

Kotetsu was slumped over a cup of coffee with Anko and Itachi at Iruka's rickety kitchen table. Izumo and Yajirobi were making enough breakfast to feed the army of young shinobi that had decided to use Iruka's apartment as their base of operations, even if they wouldn't tell him exactly what they were doing.

Iruka had made the mistake of not checking for evidence of his night with Kakashi before he walked in and even Itachi's look of warning wasn't fast enough to save him.

Kotetsu took one look at him, and a dangerous glint sparked in his eye.

Iruka took one brief, desperate glance at the doorway before deciding the effort wasn't worth it. He hadn't had coffee yet and he was still exhausted, and Kotetsu and Anko would chase him to the ends of the earth for the chance to tease him.

"I admit nothing," he sniffed and went straight to the pot of coffee.

"So…" Anko loved to play with her prey, and she tugged down the collar of his shirt, "Who's the biter, Ruka?"

"None of your business."

"Aw, come on, Ruru," Kotetsu's voice dripped like honey, "Confide in your friends. You know we won't tell."

Yajirobi snorted as he flipped a perfectly formed pancake.

"It's nothing."

"It's been a while since you've been with someone. We're just concerned." Izumo was the nicest out of all of them, really.

"What happened to respecting the word of your Taichou?" Iruka muttered into his coffee, going back for seconds.

"Don't think it counts if we all resigned," Kotetsu snorted. They'd all long since passed the point where they couldn't keep the bitterness and sadness out of their voices. And Iruka couldn't even argue that the spirit remained anymore because it was all gone now. Except the memories that kept them all up at night, the missing piece of the call that would never come again.

It burned quietly, an ember that never stopped glowing completely, but it had long since ceased to provide any warmth.

Iruka could still remember what it felt like, to be so fulfilled, his life purposeful. He loved teaching, loved helping his students learn and grow. He would never choose another path, but the instinct to protect, the urge to run and fight with abandon, still ran through his veins.

Always looking to the horizon.

"Do you think we're not going to approve?" Kotetsu asked, single-mindedly bringing them back to the original conversation. There was a reason he'd been Iruka's second.

"Ruka-kun," Anko purred, "You're starting to make me worry, and you don't like me when I worry. Remember what happened last time?"

He did. It still gave him nightmares.

She'd followed him around for days, never more than a few inches away, refusing to let anyone she thought might hurt him get close.

Iruka had appreciated the thought, but he couldn't stand the action.

"You've been spending too much time with Ibiki," Iruka glared.

Anko's grin had a lot of teeth, "He's got his uses. And his talents." She stuck her tongue out at their disgusted expressions.

Itachi remained silent. Amused as always to watch and laugh at them all for being fools.

"It's no one. It was just a one-night thing." Iruka poured himself another cup despite Yajirobi's disapproving look. For some reason, the other man was concerned over Iruka's caffeine intake.

He worried too much, Iruka thought.

"Since when do you do one-night stands?" Kotetsu was starting to sound suspicious.

Easily the most laid-back of their lot, so hard to rile that Iruka could count on one hand how many times he'd seen him truly angry.

He was also much, much smarter than people gave him credit for, and in his role as Iruka's second, he knew him inside and out.

"What about Hatake's investigation?"

Bless no-nonsense Yajirobi. Iruka and Kotetsu were best friends, had been since they'd bonded over pranks in the early days of their training, but Yajirobi was Iruka's shadow. A bond born out of their shared experience of betrayal and struggle for survival. He never pulled his punches, put the mission above anything personal, and Iruka trusted his judgment without question.

"I haven't heard anything in the Tower," Izumo muttered. "The Hokage is keeping things locked down."

"Hakate was questioning some of the older ANBU and Jōnin," Anko added, looking surprisingly nervous.

Iruka hesitated. Kakashi was driven, brilliant, and usually a few dozen steps ahead of everyone else. It had been a ridiculous stroke of luck for the Council that Tsunade had put him on the investigation into the Hanta.

And Iruka really wanted to sleep with him again, too.

Something must have shown on his face because Itachi looked sympathetic; he'd had his own awkward relationship that still didn't have a resolution, and Anko suddenly hugged him so tightly Iruka felt his ribs creak.

"It's alright, Ruka. You can bang whoever you want to bang." Leave it to Anko to make a lovely sentiment sound dirty. "You probably get it from your dad anyway."

"Gets a lot from his old man," Kotetsu muttered, annoyed.

He definitely suspected where Iruka had spent the night. Kakashi was near the top of the short list of shinobi that actually worried Kotetsu.

"The investigation?" Yajirobi prodded and then held the plate of pancakes hostage until they got on board.

"The Council cornered me yesterday," Iruka said instead. "They want Hatake's investigation to succeed."

"Why? Do they think we're going to keep our mouths shut about what happened if we get arrested?"

"Or they figure they can kill us during the arrest." Kotetsu tried to pry Anko off Iruka, the three of them stumbling around the kitchen as the others watched.

"There's no way they can't guarantee that something would come out. Mutually assured destruction." Anko went limp suddenly, dragging a surprised Kotetsu to the floor with her, and Iruka lunged for the table and safety.

"What investigation?"

They froze.

Naruto still looked half-asleep.

Sasuke did not.

***

Fugaku's youngest son bore a striking resemblance to his mother. Kotetsu had never been able to look at him without seeing her. She'd been the closest thing Kotetsu had to a mother, and she'd been happy to go along with a sad orphan's attachment.

It had surprised them all how much Sasuke took after her when the ones that came before had all been so clearly their father's sons. Sasuke, despite everything he had done, had never developed Fugaku's ruthlessness, what had let Itachi wipe out their clan and stay sane. What had let Obito go so far in his dream for the world.

What let Iruka remain alone in Konohagakure, walking on his family's grave to protect the people that had killed them.

Sasuke's gentle heart had been the reason for his fall into the Curse.

And the reason he'd been able to pull himself out.

He still had some work to do in that regard, but when he looked closely, Kotetsu could see the miasma infecting him lessening every day. As long as the village didn't do anything stupid, Sasuke would be fine.

It was still a little early to drag them into this, though. Even Naruto was still recovering from their fight, and really, they needed to look into their arms and figure out if they were something they needed to be worried about.

A door slammed deeper in the apartment. They'd all be up in a moment, and it would be significantly harder to get out without answering.

Sasuke already didn't look like he was going to let it go.

"Kakashi's investigating something for the Hokage."

Kotetsu flashed a startled look at Iruka. He couldn't want them knowing yet. Iruka still held out a sliver of hope that they could get through this without the kids having to know.

"Huh?" Things were clearly not computing for Naruto yet, and it made Iruka smile.

"We don't know much yet, but once we do, we'll tell you. We need to figure out a plan then anyway."

Sasuke didn't look like he was buying it, but Naruto yawned and nodded and started swaying towards the pancakes.

Kotetsu snatched a couple before he was left to starve.

***

But there's a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes, the stories are simple, and sometimes, they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story because hers is where yours begin. 

Mitch Albom

***

The Day Before

: :Yuuhi Kurenai's Apartment, Konohagakure: :

She was beautiful. Perfect even. Cherub cheeks and the softest hair Asuma had ever felt.

He was afraid to pick her up without Kurenai there to steady him. She'd been terribly patient.

So had Mirai. She'd been scared at first and that had hurt, even though he knew it was natural, but she'd opened up quickly. Showed him all her favorite toys before she'd finally exhausted herself.

Kurenai had left him to make tea for Shikimaru, Ino, and Choji.

Shikimaru had looked pensive once they'd gotten past the happy your alive moments.

Asuma was already pretty sure he knew what was bothering him.

He closed the door quietly and paused in the hallway to check Kurenai's wards. There were silencing wards layered in, no doubt for Mirai when she'd been younger or Kurenai. She'd never liked people to know she cried.

Asuma had nearly had a heart attack the first time she'd let him see, crying softly after she'd had to comfort Hinata again because of her own family.

He'd decided to marry her then and there, but she hadn't let him propose until she was ready.

Now, he had a second chance to spend his life with her.

But first, there was a lot to do to make sure she and Mirai, and all the others, were safe.

He found them all waiting in the living room. waiting. They must have been spending time together while he'd been…gone.

"So, how are Naruto and Sasuke?"

Ha, that look of surprise was always worth it.

***

The history of the Hanta, as Asuma explains it, is inexplicably tied to clans that formed the Hidden Villages.

Inspired by a time when Clan Leaders were protectors of their people instead of figureheads concerned more with accounts and reputations.

Kikyo had returned from the mountain not long after Hashirama and Madara had their great battle. She came to bury her descendant, and then she'd stayed to help Tobirama bury Hashirama.

Hasirama, for all that he was the God of Shinobi, had had a soft heart. So had Madara, the Great Wildfire.

Tobirama did not.

He'd been smart enough to realize something was wrong with Madara and his brother, and when he'd confronted Kikyo, the word of the Uchiha was enough to convince her to tell him about Kaguya, the God Tree, and the miasma.

Tobirama had been infected by then, too. Too far gone for Kikyo to undo, but his ironclad control had prevented him from acting out the way his brother and Madara had.

It had bought him time.

Instead, they had turned their attention to putting protections in place, and one of those was the Hanta.

Hunter-nin. Whose mission would be to protect the shinobi who protected the village. Based on the old role of the Clan Heads before the foundations of the villages and the creations of the Kages. Their scope was wide and completely independent from the other duties of Konoha shinobi, and they were made up, at the beginning, of the three clans that still followed the old way.

Uchiha. Inuzuka. Aburame.

Tobirama had lived long enough to see Kikyo bear his son before he'd realized the miasma had spread too far.

He was dead a week later.

The Hanta made it three generations before coming to an end.

The first, Raijingusan, led by Kikyo herself.

The second, Akarui Hikari, led by her grandson Uchiha Fugaku.

The third, Shinshin or, more properly, Shizukesa o motarasu yuki, led by Umino Iruka.

And Iruka had been the one who had lost his faith, broken his sword, and left the pieces at the Sandaime's feet.

***

It's no small thing for a shinobi to lose faith in the village they serve. Betrayal in a world where you pledge your life to something is a break that is almost impossible to heal.

Still, it's something Asuma thinks they all willfully ignore.

They say traitor and sentence them to death, and that's that.

Sometimes, they looked for a motive. Sometimes, they looked deeper, but more often than not, they accepted the simple answer and left it there.

It should have caused an uproar when the Hanta laid down their swords.

Instead, there'd been nothing but silence.

That had been the moment Asuma had realized he'd never be able to return to his father's side.

"How did you know?" Shikimaru's mind was already leaping ahead.

"I know Iruka, and I know his faith in those boys."

Kurenai was still, silent, and Asuma turned to her, "I'm sorry to involve you, love."

She took a moment, but Kurenai was no fool. "What else?"

"The Council. They were working with Danzo and Root. And Orochimaru."

"Oh my god."

"I don't know how much power they've got since…I need to talk to Iruka. There were…things in play to finally bring them down. Unless?"

"I have heard nothing about anything like that." She looked honestly disappointed, too.

"Neither have we," Ino muttered. "My Uncle would have told me." Choji and Shikamaru nodded. They were all fully committed to training as Clan Heads now, and while their older relatives would maintain control until they were ready, it wouldn't be long.

"The village is weak now." Shikimaru murmured, "We need to start planning."

"Are Naruto and Sasuke healed?"

"They need more time," Ino shook her head, "They'd say yes, but no one can figure out where their arms came from, and both their chakra reserves are damaged."

"Shit. Okay. Intelligence first."

"Is the Council aware of your relationship with Iruka?" Choji looked thoughtful. Sometimes, he struggled to keep up with his teammates, but he was also, Asuma was proud to say, the one most skilled at seeing straight to the heart of the matter.

"Yes."

"There's no way they won't be watching, then."

"We have meeting places, wards-"

"It's too dangerous."

"Kurenai-"

"I will meet with Iruka."

***

Present Day

: :The Wall, Konohagakure: :

Neko had thought he could make it to the Hokage's Tower before they intercepted him, but Root must have learned he was on his way back.

They caught him just outside the wall, deep enough in the trees to be out of sight of the patrol on the wall.

The tingle of the ward on his tongue only gave him a moment of warning before his body moved of its own accord, and the sickening twist of panic made his stomach cramp.

He turned, headed deeper into the trees, and found the Root ANBU waiting for him.

Neither spoke. Neko couldn't, and well, for all he knew, the operative couldn't either. Or it just wasn't necessary.

It only took him a few minutes to find the scroll, and then he was gone, and Neko was alone.

The tingle remained on his tongue, mind racing as he tried to guess what the Council was so desperate to have as his body turned and made its way back to the gate.

They had not interfered with Neko since before the war, approving his request to leave Root to help Kakashi train Team 7. Staying far enough away that Neko had not been tempted to try and break the seal that ensured his silence.

He had no idea how many of them there were. Root had been careful to keep everyone in masks and silenced, and once the ward was tattooed on their tongue, there was no removing it.

No matter what Danzo had promised.

No one left Root unless they'd stopped breathing.

A childish part of him had hoped they'd determined he was of no more use. That they'd chosen to live their last years in peace after that horrible war.

Apparently not.

And Neko was bound to them until the day they decided he would die.

***

Present Day

: :Inuzuka Hana's Home, Inuzuka Compound, Konohagakure: :

Shisui studied the picture of Fugaku and his brothers. It had sat in a place of honor in the main house, in the sitting room next to the garden, until Tsume had taken it as a small reminder before helping seal the compound.

Uchiha Fugaku was the youngest of four sons.

He hadn't wanted to be a shinobi. He'd wanted to be a teacher. And not at the Academy, at one of the civilian schools with the small children. Teaching them to read and write and showing them the world beyond their front door for the first time.

He was the one who helped his boys with their homework. Who got up early to pack their lunches. Who made sure there was enough time for fun between homework, chores, and training.

He taught them, and Shisui by extension, more about life than anyone else, and very little of it had anything to do with the shinobi way.

Fugaku's Will of Fire was raising his children to be strong. To understand the value of life and death, of service and support, of love and duty.

Raising children who understood that war was not the only way, the only truth.

There was something bigger than all of them. Bigger than the individual, bigger than the family, bigger than the clan, bigger even than the village.

The world is nothing more than a series of small houses with loose threads connecting them all in increasingly complicated patterns. And inside each of those houses is a family connected by the same kind of threads. We are all of us a part of this world. Whether you choose to only protect your house or just one room or just one person or the entire world is up to you, but regardless, you are a part of all of them, and you do not get to dictate the role you play in another's house.

Fugaku had a poet's heart, Shisui thinks. He'd collected an extensive library of texts about philosophy, psychology, the arts, and history that filled the library in the main house.

Mikoto used to tell stories about when he was young and how he would sneak out of the compound, down to the banks of the Naka River near their ancient shrine, and read for hours.

It would send the clan into a panic when they couldn't find him and drove his father mad that his son would be so disobedient. That his clan would worry so much over a member he saw as useless.

Fugaku had entered the Academy late and unwillingly and, according to family lore, became friends with Namikaze Minato over that fact.

He'd been the only one in their class who could keep up with the blond genius, and they had found a mutual disgust with certain parts of the exalted Shinobi Way.

We are samurai at heart, Minato had slurred one night, exhaustion and stolen beer between them.

Shinobi protect the village, we protect the shinobi, Fugaku had agreed as they'd stumbled through the Uchiha Compound, drunk out of their minds and a few years underage.

Izuna, Fugaku's youngest older brother named for their legendary ancestor, had found them and quickly stuffed them in an Aunt's house before their father found them.

Izuna had been the only family member Fugaku had cried for when it was all over a few years later.

Fugaku and Minato had been brothers of the soul, so confident and comfortable in their bond that they had gone months without speaking without breaking stride. They agreed on some things, disagreed on a great many more, and had such wildly different personalities that most people couldn't comprehend a friendship between them.

It had made it very easy to hide in plain sight.

Hana shifted in her sleep, rolled over, and tucked her face into Shisui's neck, and for a moment, his thoughts were silenced.

For a very long time, longer than he'd been alive before his "death", Shisui had thought he'd never get to have this again. The sensation of her skin against his, her warmth pressed against his own, the press of her fingers tangled with his.

There had been moments when the temptation to return to her was so strong that he'd seriously considered throwing everything away to do so. To forsake the village, the clan, the people he loved, the world itself for just one more day with her.

She would have killed him on sight if he'd ever been that selfish, but ripping out his eyes had been less painful than leaving her behind.

Fugaku had never spoken about the pain of losing his family, though Shisui imagined it was along the same vein.

Some pain never faded. You just became desensitized, but you could never become desensitized to just one thing. The pain dulled you over time, and everything else became just as flat and unmoving.

It wasn't much of an existence.

Wicked Eye Fugaku, they'd called him. Mikoto had been nicknamed the Glass Demon after a battle in Suna where she'd cast flames so hot she'd turned the desert sand to glass. Uncle Izuna had been called the Black Eye. Aunt Mai, the Crimson Swan. Cousin Aki was the Red Crane, and her brother Taji, the Red Cloud.

People weren't very creative when they came up with nicknames for the Uchiha.

They'd called Uchiha Madara the Crimson Scourge and his younger brother, the first Izuna, the Crimson Flash. Kikyo-mejin was the Red Storm, Uzumaki of the Hanta.

And they'd called Shisui, Red Flicker. He'd been proud of it when he was younger, but now, he was just tired.

Only tired shinobi had nicknames, he mused, because they were the only ones that had lasted long enough to earn them.

The wards around the Inuzuka compound hummed. Something had tested the western border and been repelled.

Root.

The wards only repelled things with chakra, and the minute amounts in animals and civilians weren't enough to trigger them. Tsume had shinobi guards and ninkin to defend against those. 

The wards were for uninvited shinobi and the Inuzuka's were some of the oldest in Konohagakure, second only to the Uchiha. The Senju and many of the other founding clans had forsaken the practice well before the founding of the village. Only the clans that followed the Old Ways bothered to maintain them, and newer, less costly wards had been developed. Though they weren't nearly as powerful.

Clan Wards like the Inuzuka's needed to be fed every time a new member of the clan was born. So each birth was accompanied by the oldest elder pouring their lifeblood into the wards. Soaking the earth underneath their feet with blood was more than most could stand these days because they didn't understand that a willing sacrifice made the wards more powerful.

When the Inuzuka had moved to the village, they'd dug up the ground underneath their ancestral compound and brought it with them. Dozens of generations of blood and five feet of dirt had been laid before they'd started building in Konoha.

The Aburame had brought four feet, the Uchiha ten, and when they'd been forced to move compounds, they'd stubbornly dug it all up again and taken it with them.

It had infuriated the Council and stalled traffic in the village for weeks.

Even now, the wards of the Uchiha Compound were as powerful as they'd ever been; generations reaching all the way back to Indra had bled into that dirt, and the wards would likely continue to stand long after the last of them died out.

Hundreds of years of love and devotion didn't disappear overnight.

When he reached out with his chakra, the Inuzuka wards howled. Beyond them, the Aburame wards buzzed like a flock of their insects in flight, and further beyond them, next to the wall of Konohagakure herself, the Uchiha wards blazed, bright and burning.

Even when the village eventually fell, these three compounds would remain untouched amid the ruins.

Both Danzo and Orochimaru had attempted to recreate the wards with little success. The secret behind them was jealously guarded by the three clans, just as closely as they guarded their Kekkei Genkai.

He stuck his nose in Hana's hair and inhaled the smell of forest and dog that always followed her as first light broke above the trees.

***

That was when the world wasn't so big, and I could see everywhere. It was when my father was a hero and not a human. 

Markus Zusak

***

Present Day

: :ANBU Briefing Room, ANBU Headquarters, Konohagakure: :

It had been well past midnight and well before first light when they'd all gathered.

Neko's report had been concise and cold, harkening back to the days he'd reported to Kakashi in ANBU.

The Sharingan throbbed. Kakashi had even had to resort to a minor healing jutsu to keep himself from passing out from the pain.

Yamato was still now, face blank as he assured Tsunade again that he'd found no sign of Naruto and Sasuke in the Valley. The handful assembled to hear the report, Tsunade, the Council, Shizune, Ibiki, Taka, Shun, Shin, Gai, Genma, Raido, and a handful of other high-ranking Jōnin and ANBU officers listened silently when he spoke and shared worried looks when he fell quiet.

"How can there be no sign of them?" Shizune wasn't the first to ask. It was virtually impossible to imagine a battle on that scale had not left any trace, but Yamato was firm and unyielding with his assurances that there was nothing and he wasn't lying as far as Kakashi could tell.

"That's it then," Koharu murmured, her voice low and soothing.

"We should send out scouts and see if they made it to any of the nearby settlements." Shun suggested.

"What's the point? There's no way they would have survived on their own." Homura shook his head.

An ugly twist of rage erupted in Kakashi's chest.

"We cannot continue to waste resources needed for the village on two foolish boys."

"Those foolish boys saved everyone in this village, or have you already forgotten that?" The sharpness in Tsunade's voice cut through the night. She didn't generally sound that angry unless Shizune had succeeded in keeping the sake away for a few days and Kakashi had seen her drinking yesterday morning.

She'd loved Naruto too. It was oddly thrilling to see just how much the boy had inspired in such a short time.

Kakashi had never dreamed that anyone but Minato would be capable of inspiring something like that, but well, like father like son.

Naruto had even followed in Minato's footsteps and died young.

The rage in his chest gave way to something much worse.

Grief.

Cloying and heavy and Kakashi's throat closed up.

A pool of blood spread across the floor in front of him.

"I don't think it would be wise to give up the search just yet. Both those boys proved to be capable of more than expected many, many times." Shin mused.

"The village is deeply invested in their well-being," Shizune added. 

People were constantly stopping by asking for news, and articles ran every day speculating on what had happened.

Sai had painted portraits of both that had run alongside several of the articles, and though he spent more time with Yamato than the rest of the Rookies, he still tried to keep up the friendships he'd made.

The war was only a few months over, but it had already taken on epic proportions every time someone told a story about it.

The blood spread, pooling around his sandals, and started to make its way across the floor, glistening in the light.

"I am not ready to give up on them," Tsunade's declaration did little to quell the grief. There was so little chance that they were alive.

Even if they had managed to beat the odds again, where were they? Who had won? Because if only one of them had survived, then the other wouldn't live long, of that Kakashi was certain. Sasuke would die of guilt, Naruto of heartbreak.

How were they even supposed to help the survivor if there was one?

Sasuke would never return to the village without Naruto and Naruto…well, everything was easier to heal than a broken heart.

Kakashi was proof enough of that. Fighting to find a reason to wake up every time he was unlucky enough to fall asleep. Clinging to the barest hint of something good, like Iruka and the brief second of attention he'd given Kakashi.

The blood was just inches away from Koharu now. He watched as it reached her zabuton and began soaking the fabric.

He wanted a second night with Iruka. Couldn't forget how everything had fallen away in the other man's presence.

Kakashi had never felt peace like that before, and regardless of how not well they got along, he wanted it again.

Just for a moment.

Sakura wasn't here. Another student Kakashi had failed. She'd lost her two closest friends in one fell swoop and pulled away since the war, even from Tsunade. Most of the kids had.

He'd seen her talking to Iruka over ramen last week and didn't blame her for feeling more comfortable confiding in the academy sensei than him. He'd always been distracted by Naruto and then, briefly, Sasuke before he'd failed him miserably. It wasn't a surprise that she'd turned to others.

Kakashi wasn't even enough for himself anymore.

The blood began to soak the lining of Koharu's kimono. The Sharingan turned lazily.

Iruka was nothing like Rin. The one Kakashi was supposed to end up with. Who'd loved him so completely despite his inability to even notice her.

When the three of them had been alive, Obito had drowned them both out. So loud and impossible to ignore. Kakashi had been stubbornly silent, Rin desperately even-keeled, trying to stand out by being the normal one.

Iruka was a weird amalgamation of both. Emotional and angry like Obito, normal and motherly like Rin. Although he was likely to get hurt if he said that out loud.

Maybe that's why Kakashi was drawn to him, and wasn't that a terrifying thought? Twenty years and another war later and Kakashi still couldn't escape them.

Couldn't let go.

The blood had soaked Koharu's kimono to her thighs now, turning the respectful grey a dull brown.

It was spilling past her to where Taka stood quietly in a corner. Kakashi had never seen the other shinobi without his ANBU mask on. The ANBU commander had always been Taka, the watchful hawk, a code name inherited with the position since the organization's inception. There were so many rumors surrounding the man behind the mask that no one knew anything for sure. None of the former Commanders had ever been revealed. Even Kakashi didn't know who it had been when he'd first joined, though he knew there'd been a switch a few years later.

And only because the current Taka was a few inches shorter than the previous. They were a true enigma; even his chakra, with its odd pulse, didn't make sense.

There were long-running bets about him that had never been paid out. Few had ever even seen him fight since it took a hell of a battle to see the Commander of ANBU set foot on the field.

He'd even insisted, in a painfully even tone, that he had no idea who the Hanta were.

He'd been lying, but Kakashi didn't have an angle yet to make him admit it.

The man knew more about Root than he'd admitted to as well, which was concerning enough that he'd already passed that on to Tsunade.

Apparently, Root wasn't nearly as disbanded as they'd all believed.

The war against Kaguya and Black Zetsu was finished, but the battle for Konohagakure was far from over.

The blood had reached Sakumo's chest now, slowly crawling upward.

The hilt of the tanto blade was warm in Kakashi's hand.

The others started to give their opinions, even Hiashi, who, somewhat surprisingly, was for sending out search parties.

Kakashi, gi sweat-soaked from training and so very angry, weaved around everyone in the room on silent feet.

He always made sure to make no sound as he walked through the Hatake Compound. One of the first things Sakumo had ever taught him was how to move silently. He'd tested Kakashi by having him make his way from the front door to his room and making him start over whenever he'd stepped wrong.

Now, no one else paid him any attention as they argued over the village's limited resources.

Sakumo watched him approach without so much as a blink.

His father had always been capable of a great stillness that eluded Kakashi no matter how hard he trained. Even when he'd fought, there was a sureness to his movements, like a tree the wind could only bend, never uproot.

Konoha's White Fang had withstood so many terrible storms before the one that had finally brought him down.

But was the storm responsible the mission he'd failed?

The war?

Or the son standing before him?

Even at nine Kakashi had the strength to push the blade clean through.

***

In the end, what does in their secret, Naruto and Sasuke's, that is, isn't the machinations of the Council or even Kaguya.

It's the fact that despite everything, they are still children and afraid.

***

Holding a grudge is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. 

Unknown

***

~tbc~