Chapter Text
Kakashi's father has been dead for a week when he finally steps foot back into the Hatake clan compound.
The gardens greet him with open arms, the carrots his father had been growing peeking out of the dirt where they'd broken ground in the week he'd been gone.
He stared at them for minutes too long, knowing he would have to start gathering them soon. Knowing he'd never harvested the garden before without his father guiding him.
He looked away and continued on towards the house.
His house was one of a few on the Hatake grounds. The one closest to the gates that surrounded the clan lands, with 4 other homes scattered nearby, stretches of gardens and grass separate each building. Growing wild with all sorts of wild berries and flowers, fruits and vegetables that overlapped and crept up old, unused dirt paths that had once connected the houses.
Father had once told him that he had done his best to tend to all of them once, to keep the gardens of Hatake's long dead blooming brightly, but it just wasn't doable for him alone.
Kakashi had offered to help, and Sakumo had laughed and ruffled his hair. Had said something about maybe giving it a shot together, some day when Kakashi was old enough.
There would be no someday now, would there?
Kakashi didn't spare the other houses a glance, only having eyes for his own home.
His and only his, now. The last Hatake standing.
There would be no one to even try and tend to his gardens, once he was dead too.
He cracked open the front door, slipping into the empty house on silent feet. Toeing off his sandals, Kakashi began the silent walk towards his room. Determined not to give his father's office a single glance as he went.
But as he passed by the dreaded door, his eyes frozen forward in his march, it was as if a physical hand reached out to stop him in his steps.
Even through his mask, he could still smell the sickening familiar scent of his father's dried blood where he knew it was splashed across the tatami mats. The stains no one had thought to clean, when they took his father's body.
He stood there, still facing away from the door, feeling trapped in his own body— like if he so much as moved, so much as breathed in this moment, he would shatter.
The coppery tang of his father's blood heavy in his mouth as he breathed it in. The slippery feel of it under his nails as he tried to shake his father awake impossible to ignore.
The cold beating of his heart so loud and so fast that his body seemed to shake in pain with every thump.
Kakashi thought he might have been shaking, but he couldn't feel his body well enough to really tell.
He couldn't —
He wasn't —
He—
—
—He was in the yard, bristles digging into his hands and knees where he was hunched over, dry heaving into the greenery.
He heaved again, spit dripping from his lips and eyes burning with tears that refused to fall.
His mask had come off at some point, and his scarf was no longer around his neck. Where had they . . . ?
One of his hands stung, and when he managed to get his eyes to cooperate long enough to work with him, he realized it was because the patch of grass he was gripping so tightly was in fact a mess of stinging nettles.
Huh.
For some reason, he couldn't manage to let go. His fingers locked up and immovable as he heaved out big, ragged breaths.
In and out. Ugly, wet panting breaths that made him glad there was no one around to see him crumble like this.
Hah. Right. No one at all.
His legs trembling, Kakashi managed to shakily rise up off of his knees. A handful of grass and nettles being ripped from the ground by hands that still refused to unclench as he went.
He stared down at them, processing the way his palm stung, watching the hints of red peeking out from between shaking fingers.
Finally, he peeled his fingers back— letting some of the sharp nettles fall to the ground as more still clung stubbornly to his skin.
He watched the strands of green fall as if in slow motion, finding it easier to focus on the falling nettles than anything of the house at his back.
Rubbing off the rest of the nettles onto his shirt with one hand as he wiped at his mouth with the other, Kakashi stood still and silent in the field of overgrown grass.
. . . Kakashi didn't want to sleep in that house.
He hadn't really before. Not even when he insisted to Minato-sensei that he was fine, that he wanted to sleep in his own room, in his own bed. When he'd brushed off his sensei's worried hovering and hesitant offers to stay with him instead with angry words and a cold shoulder.
But he had thought he'd be strong enough.
His eyes burned. The feeling somehow more painful than the itch in his hand.
. . . stupid.
Kakashi rubbed furiously at his eyes and began walking further into the compound.
Just for tonight, he'd stay in one of the other houses.
He didn't want to go back to Minato-sensei like this. Didn't want to admit he wasn't strong enough, or to have to apologize to sensei's stupid soft face. To see that ugly look of pity directed at him once again.
He'd try sleeping in his own house again tomorrow. He'd be fine tomorrow, he'd be strong tomorrow, he'd be brave tomorrow.
But right now, he . . .
He couldn't.
'Dad . . .' Kakashi's thoughts began, and then immediately broke off.
Dad had been weak. Look where that got him.
. . . Kakashi didn't want to think about him right now. He didn't know if he wanted to think about him ever again.
So he just didn't. Instead beginning his barefoot walk across the messy gardens, towards the closest house to his own.
Two stories tall and made of pale wood, the light blue and gold paints that had once accented it peeling with age and bleached near white by the sun. A garden of wild strawberries was out front and a wall of climbing ivy curled up the houses side, both having been there for as long as he could remember.
Kakashi had never really explored the insides of any of the other houses in his clans compound.
He'd climbed on them, explored around them, peeked into a window or two and plucked wild fruit and flowers from their overgrown yards— but had never crossed the threshold of actually entering one.
Why explore some old, abandoned houses when he could do more interesting things instead. Things like training or toddling after his father and his wolf summons.
He knew a little about them. He knew that one belonged to an aunt of his. Another belonged to a great uncle. The other two to cousins.
All people he had never known, people who's names he might have been told once but now could not remember.
And now he wouldn't have the opportunity to learn them again, would he?
Kakashi slunk into the old house on quiet feet, his soles itching from the same nettles whos stings still lingered at his hand.
He hesitated for a second as he entered, just superstitious enough to take a moment to clap his hands together and give a quick prayer to whatever spirits may remain in the home.
He gets no answer, and continues on his way.
Some of the windows are open. Have been open for a long time now. Vines creep on through them, little flowers popping up through floorboards damaged by years of sun and rain that the open windows had welcomed in.
When he peeks a head into the kitchen, he finds a tree branch has found its way through a shattered pane of glass. Growing to reach into the room and draping it's heavy leaves across the entire counter space.
An angry chirp has him retreating back out of the kitchen as a bird pokes it's head up out of a nest, hidden between the leaves.
He left the bird alone, instead creeping upstairs in search of whatever bedroom this house may offer.
He'd probably end up sleeping on the floor. Whatever futon or bed this place has is going to be decades old, an actual risk to his health with whatever molds risks hiding between the sheets. He could slip back into his own room and grab his own futon, but . . .
He thought of the house again. Of the smell of his father's blood, so heavy in his mouth and on his hands that it rooted him to the spot.
. . . He didn't want to go back in there. Not even for a second.
'I'll do it tomorrow. I'll be fine tomorrow.'
He found himself poking a head into what was probably a kids room. With soft blue walls painted with wolves and a bed with neatly made pale blankets tucked into the corner.
He wondered how old the kid who lived here might have been when they died. Wondered if they at least had the decency to die on a mission, instead of how his father had.
The thought almost immediately left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, and he retreated from the room as if it might let him run away from his thoughts as well.
The next bedroom he found probably belonged to an adult. It was bigger, for one, with an adult sized futon laid out neatly on the floor, next to a storage trunk with some fancy looking engravings on it. There was a nest of blankets separate from the futon, pressed into the corner of the room, and a good amount of empty space otherwise.
Kakashi looked to the blankets, wondering if it was maybe for the person who'd lived here's summons to tuck into.
If he had summons, he'd make sure to give them all the blankets they could ever ask for.
The room was surprisingly well preserved. He couldn't spot any bugs or wood damage or even any of the little flowers that seemed to sprout out of the floors and walls in every other room in the house. Something that made a little more sense when, examining the windows a little closer, Kakashi found a still active paper seal tucked into the window lining.
He eyed it curiously, very tempted to reach out and poke at it with his chakra, but aware that wasn't a very smart idea.
He wondered what it was for— Security? Insulation? Maybe it kept the room cool in the summer time?
He didn't know anything about sealing, so he could only guess.
To have lasted so long, the seal must be pretty powerful, right? Maybe he'd copy it down to ask Minato-sensei about later.
He moved on, grabbing the blankets and pushing them further into the corner. Making a face when he kicked up a ton of dust doing so.
The futon was next, and as he rolled it up he found that despite being stupidly dusty, just like the blankets, there was no real damage. He could see a few little ants scattered throughout the folds, but no lice or mold, which were his real worries.
If he washed it, it would probably be just fine to use.
Kakashi glanced out the window, considering the position of the sun. It was only just the afternoon. If he started now, it'd probably be dry by the time he had to sleep, right?
Kakashi looked back to the futon and got to work.
Sometime later, the setting sun now painting the gardens in shades of gold, Kakashi found himself dragging the futon back up the now de-flowered staircase.
He had taken to cleaning up the house with all of the ferociousness of a very determined chunin who knew if he stood still for even a minute, he'd be overwhelmed by his own thoughts once again. It was almost soothing actually, yanking weeds out of walls and floorboards and heaving crumbling furniture out into the yard for the birds to peck at.
Between it all he'd kept snacking on the wild strawberries that covered the front yard — refusing to think about how he'd need to start feeding himself from now on.
The work had agitated his hand, which now stung with more force than before. He knew it was stupid to ignore it, he'd have to find some bandages to wrap it with at least.
. . . But if he left it like this, would Minato-sensei bandage it for him at tommorows training?
Kakashi scowled at the thought, telling him he didn't need sensei to do something as stupid as bandage his hand. What was he, 5? He wasn't some child who needed to have his boo-boos kissed better!
He huffed, dumping the freshly washed futon onto the floor where he'd found it and collapsed onto it. He burrowed into the mattress, finding it much softer than he'd expected it to be. It was so big too, clearly made for someone more than three times his height. But that just made it even better, meaning Kakashi could ball himself up in its sheets and find himself surrounded by walls of fluff on all sides.
He couldn't help but wonder about whoever it used to belong to.
A Hatake, big and tall. They probably had had a child, if the empty room with wolves painted on the walls he'd seen earlier said anything. They might have liked strawberries, if the garden of it out front had been planted on purpose.
Were they a good parent? Had they been a strong shinobi? Were they Kakashi's cousin? An uncle? An aunt?
Would they have shared the same face as him? The same face as his father?
Kakashi's hands balled up into fists where they gripped the sheets, and he sat up. He didn't want to think about this anymore.
The trunk— now there was a distraction.
Kakashi scooted towards it, dragging the futon along the floor with him. He tried to open it up, but found that it wouldn't budge.
He turned to examining the lid, finding no lock to pick but instead an intricate seal carved into it and painted over. It looked a little familiar, and after a moment of examining it Kakashi stood and made for the seal pressed into the window.
And yeah, they looked almost identical. There were a couple differences, but ones so small he only noticed after staring especially hard.
Huh. So maybe the seals on the window were the kind to keep them locked.
Kakashi returned to the chest, flopping onto the crumbled futon and beginning to poke and prod at the seal.
He reached out with his chakra, then immediately stopped when the seal gave off a little electrical discharge, zapping him lightly. He frowned at it, then considered.
This was a chest in a Hatake household, so . . .
He reached out with his chakra again, this time not with his surface level electrical chakra but instead using the Hatake white chakra deep in his core.
The seal glowed for a moment, and then fell quiet.
Kakashi reached out carefully, and this time when he pushed at the lid, it opened easily.
Success.
Kakashi peered inside of the chest, curious as to what might be kept safe by what had so far been the only real security he'd seen in this house.
His answer? Paper, apparently.
For a second he was disappointed, but then he realized what paper meant. Documents.
Suddenly a little more excited, Kakashi began digging through the stacks of neatly kept folders and paperwork.
Only, a lot of it was a mess of beurocratic something or other that meant nothing to the 6-year-old. Some stuff about really old trade agreements, some stuff about even older clan alliances, lots and lots of papers talking about food and weapon numbers and what they'd need to have by the winter— ooo, this one was kind of neat. It was something to do with a really old arranged marriage with the Senju.
Kakashi placed that one in a pile on the floor with the rest of the things he'd gone through, reaching back in to the trunk to pull out the next document.
This time he withdrew a tightly bound scroll, marked with the 9 squared diamond that was his clan's symbol.
He unrolled it curiously, and stilled to find he was looking at a family tree.
Suddenly handling the paper a lot more carefully, Kakashi rolled it out over his futon, crouching over it and hovering his finger along the lines of the tree. Tracing names he'd never known.
This thing was old. Really old. With branches and names that went back far before even Konoha must have existed.
Kakashi couldn't stop his sharp inhale when he spotted his father's name. Hatake Sakumo written in bold silver kanji, shining bright and proud against the black paper of the scroll.
There was no Hatake Kakashi written under him, nor any line connecting him to Kakashi's mother. This scroll, this tree, had ended with him.
Kakashi swallowed, but it did nothing to unstick the lump that had found its way into his throat. He moved on from his father's name, tracing his line upwards to find the name Hatake Haruka. His grandmother.
There was no grandfather name, and he had to wonder why. Had he not been a Hatake? Had they not been married? Or was he just never added to the scroll?
He wondered if he could find photos of them, lost somewhere in one of the old houses.
He traced the lines further, brushing along silver ink connecting his grandmother to a sibling, to someone who would have been his great aunt. Hatake Kosuke.
Traced the line further down to a name that started with an unfamiliar family name, standing out from the rest of the Hatake's listed across the scroll.
Senju Tobirama.
Wait what.
Hold on. Hold on.
Kakashi blinked down at the scroll, mouth dropped in shock. His eyes flicked from his name back to Tobirama's dumbly, and his hand fell back to his own line— tracing it up and across again, almost expecting the name to have been changed when his finger reached its place.
Still, it remained the same. Senju Tobirama written in the same proud, silver kanji as every other name on the tree. On Kakashi's family tree.
What.
Kakashi rocked back, falling out of his crouch and onto his butt with a quiet oomf. He stared up at the ceiling with wide eyes, frozen in place.
He was— Nidaime-sama was— His— Huh—!??!?!!!
Kakashi rocketed back onto his heels, hands slamming into the floor on either side of the scroll as he studied the scroll intensely.
And the name was still there.
WHAT.
Did— Did this mean—
Kakashi's eyes flicked from him to the still shining silver Senju Tobirama, tracing along the lines that connected them.
Did this mean that the nidaime, the second hokage, the 'man who'd invented a thousand jutsu's', was Kakashi's grand-uncle?!?!??
What the FUCK.
Kakashi stared at that name, feeling like every single drop of blood in his body had suddenly rushed to his face. All flushed and a little lightheaded and not quite sure he wasn't just hallucinating right now.
'This. This is so cool.'
A Hatake, nidaime-sama had been a Hatake. He was on Kakashi's family tree. They shared a great-grandmother.
He was in the same level on the tree as Kakashi's dad, Kakashi realized suddenly. Their names were almost next to each other.
In a blink, Kakashi pinched himself— then immediately let go with a pained hiss. Not dreaming.
He turned from the family tree, burrowing back through the documents, a fire suddenly set under his feet. He practically dove for that marriage contract he had set aside and found that yeah, it was set between one Hatake Kosuke and a Senju Butsama. Was that nidaime-sama's dad?
Holy sage and everything almighty, was Kakashi related to Senju Hashirama?? THE hokage?!!?
He— he needed to sit down.
Oh right, he already was.
Kakashi flopped back onto the futon weakly, then jerked back up as if stung when he realized he'd fallen onto the family tree. He rushed to carefully, carefully roll it back up. Rebound it with the ribbon with his clan emblem on it. Then flopped down again, wide eyed and clutching the scroll to his chest.
Senju Tobirama, huh? Hatake Tobirama . . .
In another world, if the Hatake's hadn't gone and fallen off a cliff— If the nidaime hadn't gone and fallen off a cliff—
Kakashi felt a little lightheaded just thinking about it, actually.
Everyone said that Nidaime-sama was the smartest guy ever, so smart that he invented like, half the jutsus they use today. Even Minato-sensei and Kushina referenced his work a lot. Sensei had based his entire career as a shinobi around just one of his techniques. Nidaime-sama was just that smart, that even one of his projects or techniques or jutsus he'd made could change the course of your entire life if you got to know it.
Could . . . Could Kakashi do that? Could Kakashi invent things, just like his— his—
"Ojisan." Kakashi mumbled, and then immediately wished the ground would swallow him whole. Thank god he was alone, or he thought he'd actually explode from how red his face was turning.
Look, every kid had fantasized about being just like one of Konoha's founders at least once.
But no other kid in Konoha could say they were actually related to one, could they?
No one else could call the nidaime hokage their ojisan.
Because apparently, Kakashi could.
Heh. It kind of makes sense when you think about it, right? Kakashi was the prodigy of his generation, everyone said so.
No one his age could keep up with him, he outpaced even children older than him and more than a few adults.
It figures he'd be related to someone so impossibly cool.
Abruptly, Kakashi wondered if Tobirama had the same issues he sometimes did. If he had gotten annoyed at how slow everyone else could be, at how being the best sometimes got to be a little lonely. (Not that Kakashi was lonely or anything) At how people would treat him like he was still a baby, when he'd already killed and earned his place as a shinobi.
But . . . Kakashi bet Tobirama never had to deal with the stares of the village. Of the scorn and shame, the people turning their backs to him because they were too disgusted by his father's sins to even look at him.
Tobirama had probably walked down the streets of Konoha, looked at as a hero. A builder, a warrior, the strongest and smartest of them all. Who needs to be the god of shinobi, when you could be the man who built the shinobi world itself?
Kakashi wanted to be like that.
Kakashi wanted to be like his uncle.
Kakashi crouched perched in a tree at the training field, staring despondently into the sky as he waited for his team to arrive.
He hadn't really slept last night. Too absorbed in reading every scrap of paper the trunk had to offer, unwilling to let a single thing slip by, no matter how boring it seemed at first.
Tobirama probably always read everything, because loopholes were dangerous and he was super smart, or something.
Kakashi's brain swam with supply numbers and out of date clan territory maps and old mission payments and marriage contract details (who agreed to get married for only 5 crates of senju-made wine and some rice? Kakashi's unknown aunt was so worth at least 10. Probably.)
He hadn't really learned anything interesting but oh boy had he learned something. He got a little bit queasy just thinking about all those numbers again. He was pretty sure they were burned into the back of his eyelids at this point.
Kakashi didn't like math.
. . . Tobirama probably liked math though. So. He'd learn to like it.
"Kakashi?" The boy jolted as Minato-sensei's voice broke him out of his nightmare of numbers. He looked down from his perch, finding his sensei looking back up at him with worried eyes.
"Are you ok? I know you said you wanted to go back home yesterday, but—"
Kakashi scowled. Not this again.
"It's fine." He said stiffly, crossing his arms and avoiding Minato's eyes. "I was fine."
"Well," Sensei hesitated. "I don't want to push but you know you can always come back, right? Even if it's just for one night."
Kakashi didn't answer him, glaring down at the grass instead. NOT because he couldn't meet his sensei's eyes or anything, the grass was just more interesting was all.
Minato hovered for another second, visibly debating whether he should keep trying or just cut his losses here. His choice was made for him though as Obito came crashing through the bushes, shouting as he pumped his fists up into the air triumphantly.
"SAFE! SAFE! HAHA TAKE THAT BAKASHI IM EARLY—!"
Kakashi just stared at him with narrowed eyes, taking in his disheveled clothes and twig filled hair. Had he taken a shortcut by running through every bush in Konoha?
"You're not early," he scoffed. "You're just on time. For once in your life." He muttered the last part, but not quiet enough for Obito to miss.
"What was that? You want to come say that to my face?"
Kakashi rolled his eyes, looking away from the boy as Minato began to pick the leaves out of his hair.
It was only then that Obito seemed to notice what a mess he was, gasping in a way that felt way too over dramatic for Kakashi's tastes, and ruffling his hand through his hair in attempt to get it clean of debris. But all that seemed to do was make his hair even more of a tangled mess.
Minato sighed at his student, seeming to give up on his self-imposed task to pick the leaves from his hair and leaving him be.
Obito was distracted again as Rin entered the clearing, waving enthusiastically and cheering at her in greeting as Rin stopped to stare at the state of him, then shook her head and hurried closer.
Kakashi ignored them both, back to squinting sleepily at the sky as numbers danced across his vision.
When he got home, he'd have to look to see if there was more to find about his uncle in the house. Maybe there would be more in one of the other homes? One of them had to have once belong to his grandmother, who would have been Tobirama's aunt.
Or . . . did his house used to belong to his grandmother? Kakashi frowned, suddenly unsure. That would make sense, right? Because his grandma was his dad's mom, so . . . ?
How could he not know this?
Kakashi's nettle-burned hand itched as he dug it into the wood of the tree.
Dad had never actually talked about his mom, Kakashi didn't even know if she had been the one to raise him. And now he couldn't even ask him and he'd probably never know because Kakashi's dad had left him.
Left him with an empty, haunting house and a garden that he'd never be able to take care of alone. A thousand questions about a clan he knew almost nothing about, and no way or person to get answers from.
Fuck.
Kakashi didn't need his dad anyway. Kakashi would be fine. He— He had the nidaime now. Kakashi had his uncle, Hatake Tobirama, his legacy and all the mysteries he brought. A man who the entire village hailed as a hero, as one of the heroes. So unlike anything Sakumo could ever be.
So yeah. Screw his own house, Kakashi would search the others for hints of the nidaime.
And if there wasn't anything to find, maybe he could try requesting to see Tobirama's things directly from the village? Kakashi was the Hatake clan head now. Even if he was young, since he was a chunin that meant the village had to accept him as a legal adult, which meant being clan head was his right. And even if his clan was wiped out, he still had the right to request belongings of his deceased clan members.
But would that work?
"—ashi! Yo, Bakashi! Man he's really out of it, huh?"
Kakashi blinked, looking back down at where his teamates stood at the base of his tree, looking up at him curiously.
He jumped off of his perch, landing in front of them as he adjusted his scarf over his masked face.
"What's on your mind?" The older boy asked, kicking at his foot lightly. "You're so distracted!"
Behind him, Minato looked like he was suddenly in some kind of physical pain. "Ah, Obito let's not—"
"You're pretty stupid, huh." Kakashi said, blunt and mean as he narrowed his eyes at Obito.
'What's was distracting me so much? Wow I really wonder, not like anything huge has happened to me latley.' Kakashi scoffed, thoughts dark as he looked away from the now offended boy.
"Stupid!? I'll show you stupid—!"
"Oh please, you've already shown it plenty." Kakashi bit back.
Obito puffed up in anger, but his step towards Kakashi was blocked by Rin, who slipped between the two of them and placed her hand on Obito's chest.
"Stop it, Obito." She glanced back at Kakashi, giving him a sad look. "And Kakashi, stop trying to get a rise out of him."
Kakashi only let out an angry huff of breath, turning away. This was stupid, what was even the point of coming to training if Obito would just waste the entire time finding new and more impressive ways to prove he was village idiot.
"Alright! That's enough of that, Rin, Obito, how about we go for a little walk together!" Minato said, giving the two older kids a tense smile.
"Kakashi," Minato placed a reassuring hand on top of Kakashi's head. Kakashi didn't meet his eyes, but . . . he didn't knock the hand away either. "Letting you come back to training this early was a mistake."
Kakashi jolted. "But, sensei—!"
"No, listen to me Kakashi." Kakashi stilled, hating the fact that he knew his emotions were playing out so clearly in his eyes right now as he looked up at his sensei, wide eyed and vulnerable. "I know you want to prove how strong you are right now, and you are strong, ok? But I— You aren't—"
Something sad and complicated played across sensei's face as he looked down at Kakashi, who felt pinned in place by both his eyes and the hand still on his head.
"It was my mistake, ok? I'll talk to them," he glanced at Rin and Obito, still watching them. "And you can rejoin us in just another week, I promise."
"But—"
"Hah!" Obito stuck his tongue out at Kakashi, grinning. "Bakashi's getting grounded!"
"Obito!" Minato shouted, sharp and disapproving.
"Like I'd even want to be on a team with someone like you!" Kakashi yelled, his eyes beginning to sting. "You useless crybaby ninja, you'd probably get us all killed on our first mission!"
A look of true hurt flashed across Obito's face, but Kakashi had turned to flee before he could think anything more than 'good.'
Who needs this stupid team anyways? Kakashi's father had a team and look where that got him.
'Nidaime-sama probably never needed a team' Kakashi thought as he flew through the trees, ignoring Sensei calling his name behind him. 'He was probably so strong he could do any mission all on his own.'
No team to slow him down or betray him, no stupid sensei to say he wasn't ready to go back to training.
Nidaime-sama had it all figured out for sure.