Chapter Text
Kakashi always knew he was cursed, from the moment he was old enough to understand. Father never told him this, of course. But everyone told Kakashi was a clever child, and he saw more than a child of three winters should.
They’d been born too early. They weren’t supposed to come until winter had settled in, but the leaves were just beginning to fall when Hatake Mari’s water broke. A distant cousin once told him while drunk how Mari had screamed and bled for twenty hours before she delivered a stillborn son. It had taken another nine before her runt had finally slipped from between her legs, screaming and covered in blood.
His cord, his brother’s noose, was cut, and he was given to Mari to hold in her tired arms.
He didn’t talk to that cousin anymore.
Father told him in a light voice how difficult he’d been to feed the first four months of his life. Lucky , Father had called him. My lucky pup. Lucky for ‘only’ being born with a cleft lip, palate intact.
Mother never got to see him with a proper face. She had bled too much during birth, and the loss of her firstborn destroyed her spirit. Kakashi was five weeks old when Hatake Mari was buried.
Kakashi only met Mari’s father once. It was one of his earliest memories, the old man sternly telling him that he should make her proud from the Pure Land. “She was a perfect shinobi,” he’d said. “She gave her life to bring you into this world. Don’t disappoint her.”
Father had screamed at him for an hour when he heard about it. Kakashi never saw his grandfather again, nor was he taken to the funeral when his kidneys finally failed him.
It wasn’t too bad, growing up. Father was with him as much as he could, and the pack was with him when Father couldn’t be. Hachiko was as good a mother as he could want from a human, nevermind that she was four legged and furry. She made sure he got in the tub, minded him when he played in the yard, and was always there when he was tired and needed a nap.
He got sick frequently, fevers burning him from the inside and coughs wracking his too-small body. The doctors said it was because he was born too early, but maybe he would grow out of it. Not even pack could comfort him during his illnesses. Only Father, with his safe arms holding him and deep voice telling him it would be alright, could help.
Kakashi couldn’t love someone he never knew, but he did feel the hole Mari’s absence left in their family. Sometimes at night he’d pretend he had a brother sleeping in the next room, and that his mother was just a call away.
Father cried sometimes, when he thought Kakashi couldn’t hear.
He knew back then, during the first and only time he met his grandfather, that he wanted to be a shinobi. ‘A perfect shinobi’, just like Mother had been. Maybe if he was a perfect shinobi like her, he could love her. A strong shinobi like Father, so maybe she would love him too and forgive him for killing her and his brother.
So he would practice kata alongside Father, and buried his nose in books that he only sort of understood. Father encouraged it, and corrected his mistakes, explained the hard passages to him.
Kakashi started out wanting to make Mother proud of him, but quickly began to crave Father’s approval as well. It was freely given - You got it! That’s my boy! - but Kakashi was selfish and greedy. He wanted it all.
Maybe if he made Father proud, he wouldn’t cry at night so much. Did he resent Kakashi for taking Mari away? It didn’t seem like a fair trade to him. A dearly loved wife, a perfect shinobi, a partner in life and work, in exchange for a too small, too weak little boy with a messed up face.
Maybe if he made Father proud, he could make things better.
He didn’t love Mother, but he loved his sisters. They weren’t really his sisters, of course. Just Father’s genin. But they had been there almost as long as Kakashi could remember.
Kushina would always be there to play. She’d chase him around the yard, teach him some knife tricks she’d learned as a child, always had a joke and a smile at the tip of her tongue. She was wild like the ocean she grew up on. Sometimes she’d cuddle Kakashi in her arms, and tell him that the tides moved in place of her heart, and if he listened closely enough, he’d hear the waves. She wove stories for him at night, of home, of demons, and of the sea. She told him of ancient battles between mighty kings and terrible creatures of the depths below, of how the gods and demons came to be.
“The ocean is in my blood, dattebane,” she’d explained. “Salt water runs through my veins.”
Once, when he was very young, she promised him she’d take him to Uzushio and show him all of her favorite childhood hideouts, all of her favorite shops, and all of her favorite things to do. But Uzushio burned when he was four, and she never spoke of her promise again.
Tsuru was temperate. If Kushina was the ocean, she was the earth. Soft, but unrelentingly firm when need be. She was sturdy as a tree, and enduring as the mountain. She was the anchor of their team, and they all found comfort in her stability. She taught Kakashi about the shinobi rules, explaining each one in her calm, steady voice. She showed him why they were important for shinobi. She told him about the Will of Fire, and how it burned in him and her and every shinobi of Konoha. She would sing to him, about melting stars and heaven’s wings.
She knit a scarf for his fourth birthday, red as Kushina’s hair. “To remember us by, when you’re off on important missions for the Hokage.”
Tsuru always had a distant look in her eyes, like she knew something no one else did. Sometimes she just looked sad. “You will be a great man someday,” she once whispered into his hair as she cuddled him before bed. “Know that you are loved, even during your darkest hours. When the strings of fate fall apart, be strong. You are Hatake Kakashi, son of the White Fang.”
Ocean and earth, with fire rounding them out. Mikoto had fire in her heart and soul, vibrant and glowing. It was easy to forget sometimes, given her outwardly calm nature. But the flames of her anger were easily stoked, and her love of justice was second to none. She taught him the difference between revenge and justice, good and good enough. Sometimes she’d babysit him and tell him about the clans, how they came to be Konoha, and the relationships between them. She showed him how to sit in seiza properly, and how to participate in a tea ceremony. She was never bothered by his endless questions, and would always have an answer for him.
“Fire is in the hearts of every Uchiha,” she told him. “But we must be careful, because fire destroys as easily as it brings warmth and life. Our emotions must not control us. A wildfire left unchecked is deadly to all.”
He tried to make her promise to be his sensei when he was old enough. She’d just laughed and tweaked his nose, telling him that she would be married by then and would have to be the mother of the clan. She assured him that he would always be welcome in her home, regardless of who his sensei was, and that placated him.
Kakashi loved his sisters dearly, almost as much as he loved Father. In his opinion, they were pack, and pack was family. That’s what Hachiko had taught him. As long as the pack was together, nothing could hurt them.
Kakashi qualified for early acceptance at the Academy. Father was reluctant to agree at first - I don’t know; you’re still young - but Kakashi begged and pleaded until he relented. September first, Kakashi was there with all of the other children, a full head shorter and just two weeks away from being five like the rest of them.
He knew he drew eyes. Father had given his approval on the condition that Kakashi wear a mask to school.
Children carry and spread sickness much more easily than adults do , he’d explained. Let’s not take the risk, hm?
So he sat with the rest of the children, mask firmly in place, Mother’s favorite scarf snuggly wrapped around his neck, silver hair wild and unbrushed, and dark eyes that saw too much taking in everything in silence.
He didn’t make any friends.
If anything, he just made enemies.
Kakashi was five, and just shy of two months into Year One when Father was told to come into the office. He’s the last one to arrive, the other parents having the chance to rush in once the message was given to them.
He sat in a chair far too big for him, head hanging in embarrassment and residual anger, feeling the glares of the older boy and his parents.
He felt very small.
Once Father finally arrived, citing an issue with his genin team for why he was late, the principal explained why they’d all been called here.
The other boy had been ‘harmlessly teasing’ Kakashi, who snapped and started attacking him, even pulling a blunt training kunai on him. The boy needed five stitches in the arm.
What the story didn’t include was how he’d stolen Kakashi’s scarf, tried to throw it in a puddle of mud, called him a baby, and ripped off his mask to mock the surgical scar from his infancy.
After had been a bit of a blur for him. He’d screamed and attacked, punching him as hard as he could. He didn’t exactly remember pulling the kunai on him, but once the red haze vanished, he’d been left standing with a bloody kunai in hand.
The boy was suspended for a week. Kakashi was suspended for a month.
Once they had gotten home, Father said the most crushing words in all of his life. I’m disappointed in you, Kakashi . He looked so sad when he said it, as he brought Kakashi’s world crashing down. The rest of Father’s words were just noise in his ears. The only thing he could hear were those horrible words, over and over again.
He’d run away to Kushina in despair. She always told him that family was important, and to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves. Surely she could help him understand why he had been bad, help him earn Father’s approval again.
Her boyfriend was there, unfortunately. Kakashi didn’t like him. He didn’t like anyone that tried to take his sisters away from him. He didn’t like Mikoto’s suitor, he didn’t like any of Tsuru’s boyfriends, and he especially didn’t like this boyfriend. He kept staring at Kushina with googly eyes. He never got angry either, which Kakashi found suspicious. He didn’t even get angry when Kakashi kicked him in the shin! Just laughed and called him tenacious.
Kushina made him promise not to kick him anymore, because she liked him a lot. Now all he could do was glare at him.
She let him stay the night, and the stupid boyfriend promised to tell Father where he was so he wouldn’t worry.
She cuddled with him on the futon and let him spill out the story, listening gravely. Then she explained how he couldn’t attack everyone who made him angry, and she couldn’t either, even though a lot of people made her angry. She told him how it was mean to pull a blade, even a dull training one, on a schoolmate outside of a spar. Lastly, she explained how Father had meant that he was disappointed in his actions , not Kakashi himself.
He felt relieved at that. He didn’t think he could bear it if Father had been genuinely disappointed in him.
Kushina took him home the next morning. Kakashi apologized for attacking the other student, and for running away, and Father apologized for not being clear with his words. Then they hugged, and Father told him that he loved him and he was proud of his maturity.
Things were right again.
Kakashi spent the month training with Father and his sisters, determined to get better. He had to be a perfect shinobi, to make Mother proud and make Father proud.
Tsuru gave him her old bokken to practice with, even though it was still too big for him. She taught him the first kata of kenjutsu, gently correcting his form where it was needed.
Kushina taught him how to make a simple smoke tag, repeating the strokes with him until they were both covered in ink and she was satisfied with the marks. She made him do each one perfectly a hundred times before she finally let him make his own tag.
Mikoto pulled him aside with a saucy wink and told him not to tell Father before she taught him how to do a bunshin. Father found out anyway, of course, but he’d just shaken his head in fond exasperation before giving him more chakra control exercises.
At night, Father would pull him into his lap, and they’d go over his lessons. History, and math, and kanji, until numbers and kana swirled in his dreams.
By the time he was allowed to return to the Academy, he was far ahead of his class. His teacher thought it best he moved up to the next class, and that teacher thought he’d be better off in the class after that.
Father left on missions more frequently now, often with his sisters, so he would have the large house to himself, more or less. It wasn’t lonely in there, with the ghosts of family that he’d never met. He was on a mission of his own, after all. He had to mind the house, and keep up with his lessons, and once a week take care of Mother’s grave. On the first of every month, he opened up the family shrine - built to hold nearly a hundred, and now only two visited it - and swept it out, lit some incense, and prayed to Okami for Father’s continued safety.
It wasn’t lonely.
Kakashi read scrolls and books, and practiced his kata every day, and he read some more. He practiced his chakra control exercises until he could do them without thinking. His teachers praised his work ethic, and most of his classmates resented him.
‘Teachers pet’, they called him. ‘Stuck up clan brat,’ some of the others called him.
The others just ignored him. They thought he was annoying, but ultimately harmless. He didn’t pay attention. He just focused on his studies.
Kakashi spent eight months in the Academy, nine including the suspension, before he was standing in the graduating class.
The adults were calling him a prodigy. His new teammates just saw him as a burden. His sensei had high expectations of him.
It wasn’t lonely.
Kakashi was a genin for two months when they went on their first C-rank with three genin and a jōnin.
He was a genin for three months when they returned with two genin, a corpse scroll, and a jōnin. The team was disbanded shortly after the funeral.
He trained with Mikoto most days - Father, Tsuru, and Kushina were out in the field more often than not, due to rising political tensions. It’s nicer to be in the house with her and her parents than in the Hatake compound, with silence around every corner. He reluctantly gets to know her suitor - a solemn teenager a couple years older - in the process. By the time Father comes home again, he’s deemed Fugaku good enough for his sister.
He also ended up meeting Mikoto’s ‘favorite cousin’: a snot-nosed boy his own age who was still in Year One. Kakashi didn’t like him very much. He’d spent so long around children twice as old as him, trying to prove that he was just as good, that interacting with his peers in age was… disconcerting. Kakashi pretended to be napping whenever he came over.
Father seemed to realize that Kakashi was spending more time in the Uchiha compound than the Hatake compound. Said that he needed ‘friends’. Kakashi didn’t want friends. His teammates had been friends, and look where that got them. He didn’t need friends.
But Father pulled out the family summoning scroll, and all misgivings were forgotten. We are descendents of Okami , Father told him as Kakashi carefully signed his name on the contract. We are wolves, my son, and we run with the pack.
It took a while to get it right. By the end of the day, he’s exhausted, but holding a small puppy in his arms.
He names him Pakkun.
Pakkun was still too young to be away from his mother permanently, but she trusts Kakashi to take care of him the rest of the time. “You’re Hisoka’s pup,” she told him warmly, cleaning his face and hair. “Pack cares for pack.”
Kakashi was always very careful with Pakkun. He quickly loved the puppy like family. Father would laugh whenever he saw how seriously he was taking his duties as summoner, but Kakashi didn’t pay attention. He insisted that Pakkun needed good quality food in order to grow big and strong, and he needed a comfy dog bed next to Kakashi’s bed to rest after training.
He was sitting in the overgrown courtyard, gently rubbing Pakkun’s soft paws when Father called him inside. Pakkun grumbled at being disturbed, but allowed Kakashi to put him on the ground before rolling in order to sun his belly. He took a moment to indulge in some belly rubs before running inside.
Father was in the kitchen, making tea, and sitting at the table was none other than Kushina’s boyfriend. Kakashi instantly bristled. If he was going to say that he wanted to marry her or something, he was going to stab him, promise or not.
No stabbing ended up happening. The boyfriend was offering to take him as an apprentice, of all things. He’d just been made jōnin recently and wanted to eventually get a genin team, and Kushina had recommended he make the offer.
Kakashi felt somewhat betrayed at that, but, well… he trusted his sister. But he had to pass a test first.
The boyfriend goodnaturedly agreed and followed him out to the courtyard where Pakkun was still sunbathing. Kakashi quietly whispered his request in the puppy’s ear. Pakkun yawned deeply, but rolled back onto his paws.
He watched as Pakkun approached the boyfriend, who crouched down and extended his hand for him to sniff.
Kakashi held his breath, not daring to even blink.
Pakkun sniffed, sat down, and scratched his ear.
“Bark,” he said.
The boyfriend blinked. “Bark?”
Pakkun came back over to Kakashi, pawing to be let in his lap. “He’s ok,” he said, making himself comfortable.
Kakashi huffed a bit. “I guess.”
“Do I pass?” the boyfriend asked in an amused tone.
He glared. “You’re not allowed to take Nee-san away.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. She likes you too much to let me.”
Kakashi extended a hand expectantly, and the boyfriend - Minato-sensei now, he supposed - shook it.
Father beamed.