108A/N: oh you thought the feels were over? well guess again, nerds! consider this payback for all the wonderful, tear-jerking comments left on the last chapter(s).
Tsume hates these meetings. Absolutely loathes them with every fibre of her being. She doesn't get why they have to sit here with all these other pompous assholes, listening to them argue in circles for hours. I mean why suffer through all that bullshit when they can just go outside and settle things with a flash of bone and metal? Hey, if they're that confident in what they say then surely they'd be able to fight for it? After all, aying shit isn't the same as actually doing shit. That's the way of her ancestors and the way by which they still operate now, centuries later.
However, while the Inuzuka clan and the few other surviving wild clans remain largely unchanged, the same cannot be said for the rest of the world. By their own volition, they'd clipped their claws and filed down their teeth, choosing instead to embrace a more 'civilized' way of life.
Pfft. Yeah. All these other so-called proper clans were all bark and no bite. But, hey, if this is how Tsume must protect her pack now—with words instead of fangs—then so be it. She isn't some old geezer so obsessed with tradition to not heed the changing tides.
(The Inuzuka had always been more flexible, more willing to bend and adapt to the world as it changed around them.)
(The Hatake had always been more primal, more wolf than man. A touch too wild for such a structured world.)
Tsume's gaze drifts to the Hatake clan representative's chair. It sits there forgotten and hauntingly empty.
(But sometimes you bend too far and you break; with every compromise, you lose another piece of yourself.)
(But sometimes there are things and people precious enough that you'd do anything for, even going so far as to allow yourself to be leashed and caged alongside them because sometimes the only way to protect them is to do so from the inside, right under everybody's noses.)
(After all, the belly is much more vulnerable than the hide. Any Hatake worth their pelt knows this.)
As Alpha of the Inuzuka, Tsume has a responsibility to the Hatake's last cub. It doesn't matter how diluted their blood has become. Pack is pack, that's the way it was back then and that's the way it is now. Nothing of this world can ever change that.
"I don't understand why you insist on…coddling"—the Okabe clan head's face wrinkles in distaste—"the Hatake so, there are plenty of shinobi grieving and yet, look at that, they still serve."
Tsume growls quietly because godsdammit they've been over this before. She musters every lesson of diplomacy Shibi had pounded into her head over the years before speaking.
"Hatake Kakashi's situation is…delicate." Ugh, gross, now she sounds like them. "'sides, Kakashi's leave had already been approved by the Sandaime so I don't see why we're hashing this out," Tsume grimaces, "again."
Okabe flaps his hand and Tsume bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself in check. She glances to the head of the table where the Sandaime sits, watching them all with a focused yet cool stare; a totally neutral party. Tsume knows she will find no support from him and turns her gaze back to Okabe when he starts talking again.
"Yes, yes, so you've said, but where is the evidence? This 'feral' business is a little too convenient. If you ask me."
For a moment all Tsume can see and taste is red: hazy, hot, and wet. She feels her pup kick, reacting to his mother's rage at the nonchalant dismissal of her people's suffering. Kuromaru hackles rise, his ears flicking back to lay flat against his head as he glares Okabe.
"No one's asking you anything, you little—"
And then the red is gone, her blood lust swept away by the familiar weight and feel of the hand on her thigh. Shibi squeezes her hard once and it grounds her to this reality.
"The evidence you seek lies with the medic personnel that observed Hatake-san," he says, his voice clear in the sudden quiet of the room. "There are also the eyewitness statements submitted by the Anbu on patrol. All of this was in the report, as I'm sure you recall seeing."
Okabe stammers, "Why, of course—yes."
Shibi's hand falls away but not before she both feels and hears the scritch-scritch of his kikaichu as make their way up to nestle in her collar. The smell of flowers—jasmine, she remembers Shibi telling her when she'd described it to him—follows soon after. Tsume considers stubbornly holding out but ultimately decides not to, giving in and allowing the calming pheromones to do their job. Her baby doesn't deserve all this stress. Even so, she isn't above a bit of petty revenge and aims a sharp kick at Shibi's bony ankle. Tsume scowls when he doesn't react, her best friend accepting her irritation with his usual stoic elegance.
"If such evidence is insufficient there also the personal accounts and documents of Hatake-san's affliction found in both mine and Inuzuka-dono's archives dating back to before the Warring Era."
Mumurrs break out around them, the other clan heads knowing what a rarity it is for such documents to exist in a time where nothing was written down in fear of it falling into enemy hands. And how even rarer it is for a clan to willingly offer them up for perusal.
"And if that is not enough to satisfy this honorable council then the Ayakashi clan will permit the use of its own records as well."
Tsume eyes widen as everyone turns their attention to the unassuming yet beautiful woman sitting a few ways down the table. Kuchi's pale grey eyes meet Tsume's slitted ones, and she lowers her fan, a grin splitting her face wider than what should be humanely possible. The other clan heads look away, uncomfortable, but Tsume doesn't, returning the Ayakashi matriarch's, the last wild clan other than her clan and Shibi's, grin with a wolfish one of her own.
"E—even so," Okabe continues, clearly rattled by Kuchi's contribution, but too proud to admit defeat, "It has been months since the attack and our enemies grow bolder. The Hatake has a duty to his village. We cannot afford to waste such a critical asset."
Iron fills her mouth, anger coiling at the base of her throat. Shibi's kikaichu skitter across the base of her throat and Kuromaru sits up, leaning his full weight against her leg.
It's not favoritism, she wants to shout, it's fucking self-preservation. They should all be thanking their kami that the whelp's too busy with his little Hyuuga mate to bother with the rest of them. A Feral Hatake on the defensive is already bad news but a Feral Hatake on the offense? Yeah, no, fuck that. Tsume likes her insides just where they're at—inside her. They're better off just leaving the brat be. Going after him now wouldn't just be stupid, it'd be suicidal. The final drop in an already overflowing cup. They can't afford to lose any more shinobi.
"He needs rest," Tsume speaks through gritted teeth, her sharpened nails digging into the tabletop. "You put him out there like he is now and we'll lose him."
"Regardless, I believe Okabe-dono has a point." Another clan head who Tsume can't be bothered to remember the name of speaks up, "The boy has had more than enough time to gather himself. A courtesy, may I remind you, that many others were not granted."
Okabe scoffs, "I could not agree more, Futaba-dono, so please, spare us your dramatics, Inuzuka-san." Emboldened now that he has support, he says, "Even if the Hatake should break as you fear then we'll simply reforge him into something else of use."
It's only Shibi's calm presence beside her and that of his kikaichu that keep Tsume from lunging across the table and tearing into the bastard.
"You," She leans across the table and points at the man sitting plump and comfortable in his silken robes, "don't get to talk about Kakashi like that. You all know that that boy has lost and suffered more than anybody here at this damn table combined."
A couple of them fidget uncomfortably, likely remembering who the boy's father was and the rumors they no doubt had a helping hand in spreading.
Some dip their heads or lower their eyes, remembering their late Yondaime and how he had treasured all of his students, holding onto the last of his children with the desperation of a man who'd lost too much, too soon.
"Kakashi is a shinobi, yeah, but he's also a fucking human being. Not a kunai or some other fucking tool." Tsume growls, teeth flashing in warning, "No. He is a person. And we all know people break all too easily. Just like we all know that sometimes when you try to force those pieces back together you end up with something much much worse."
Okabe huffs, but Tsume can smell his anxiety, "Inuzuka-san, again with your theatrics. I don't know why we allowed a pregnant woman—"
"Don't even fucking go there," she interrupts with a snarl, eyes flashing. Her anger is further accentuated by the low buzzing of Shibi's kikaichu and Kuromaru's lips pulling back in silent warning. "And enough with this 'san' bullshit. It's Inuzuka-dono to you. I'm not sitting at this table just to hear y'all flap your lips and disrespect me, okay? I'm here to do my fucking job—"
"I beg your pardon!" Okabe leans back in his chair, scandalized, "How dare you use—"
"Okabe-dono," Shibi says from Tsume's side. The man sputters into silence. Shibi rarely speaks during these meetings but to speak not just once but twice ? Yeah, you bet your ass everyone is gonna shut up and listen. The last time the council dismissed an Aburame they'd suffered the village's worst agricultural crisis, the likes of which had never been seen before, plague and famine sweeping through the country on an unprecedented scale. From then on, the Daimyo made it a point to have at least one Aburame in the capital to attend court.
"The village's charter has a protocol for this situation of which Hokage-sama has not only been made aware of but one he has acknowledged and put into motion."
The Sandaime chooses then to speak. Tsume knows it has more to do with shutting Okabe up than helping them, but, hey, who's she to look a gift horse in the mouth?
"That I have," he says and then looks to the room, "Now that the matter is settled, I believe we were discussing plans for the housing development in sector thirteen?"
Okabe turns a delightful shade of red but, thankfully, doesn't say anything else for the rest of the meeting. Tsume settles back in her seat, one hand burying itself in Kuromaru's thick fur and the other planting itself on Shibi's thigh and gripping it in thanks, a mirror of his earlier actions. He doesn't react, his attention focused on the discussion happening around them. So Tsume moves her hand up higher and presses.
Now that gets her a reaction. A delicious one at that, the man freezing in place. No one besides her notices, given how stiffly her best friend usually holds himself. He probably just looks extra proper to them. However, the others do notice the increase in the volume of his kikaichu's buzzing as they fucking lose it. Tsume bites her lip to keep from laughing and creeps her hand to cup the dip of his pelvis.
Heh, maybe these meetings aren't all that bad.
Tsume yanks her hand away when one of Shibi's kikaichu bites her.
Never mind, she takes it back. Meeting days suck.
Tsume kicks him again but Shibi deftly dodges. Thus ensues a violent game of footsie. Tsume goes to pinch him but stills when someone clears their throat. Slowly, she turns her head to find the Sandaime watching her, one brow raised. Caught, Tsume flushes like a scolded pup and quickly drops her hand back into her lap. Shibi doesn't laugh but his kikaichu do buzz again, the sound quieter now. A honey-sweet smell emits from them and Tsume can't help but smile in turn.
He twitches when she manages to pinch his shoulder and Tsume chokes back a laugh, uncaring of the dirty look Okabe shoots them.
Jiraiya looks out the Hokage office's windows and he feels a little more of what's left of his soul wither away. He clenches his fists and turns away from the rebuilding efforts.
He should have been here.
Jiraiya should have been here, to support his student; to protect him and his wife. He knew a jinchuuriki's seal weakened during birth and yet, hadn't been here. Why hadn't he? Why hadn't he come back when he had the chance? Why had he let old hurts keep him from his home; the place that holds all he has left in this world?
For peace, his heart says, to protect them.
Peace? What peace? His mind snaps. There is no peace. It has been years and the Child of Prophecy is nowhere in sight. And protect ? Look how well that turned out.
"About Naruto, sensei, I—"
His teacher's reply is immediate, "No, you are best needed out there. Protecting Konoha from her enemies that she cannot see."
Never one to give up so easily, Jiraiya tries again, "I could take him with me. I am his godfather, after all. Plus, it'll be good for the little tyke, you know, see the world maybe even—"
"No," the old man cuts him off again and Jiraiya feels his temper flare, "Naruto is too young and too valuable to be allowed outside the village's walls."
"You don't think I can protect him?"
Sensei sighs, "No, I have full confidence in your strength." A little bit of the veteran shinobi falls away, revealing the exasperated teacher of Jiraiya's youth. "But you've never been very good with children, if I recall correctly."
Jiraiya colors at the memory, "That's doesn't—that was one time, sensei!"
"Once is enough."
"C'mon, we only lost Itsuki for an hour! And it wasn't even my fault, Oro-teme was supposed to be watching him!"
It's not Jiraiya's fault his sensei's son is a slippery little bastard or that Orochimaru decided rifling through the old man's personal library was more important than watching the brat.
"Regardless, I cannot let you take him nor can I let you stay to raise him."
Jiraiya frowns. None of this is sitting right with him.
"Well, why not give him to Kakashi or Hinata? Hell, I know Mikoto-chan wouldn't mind a third brat." He swallows and quietly says, "It's what they would have wanted."
The old man closes his eyes with a grimace. He opens them back up, his dark eyes hard as steel, and Jiraiya knows this is a battle he won't win.
But that's never stopped him before.
"That may be so, Jiraiya, but circumstances have changed and I have to do what's best for the village."
"What about what's best for Naruto?" Jiraiya argues, thinking of the baby who looks so much like his student it hurts to even look at him. "I get why me and Mikoto-chan are out, but Kakashi and Hinata are responsible enough to—"
"I do not trust her."
A heavy silence descends on them.
Well, shit. Jiraiya swallows. He doesn't know what the little hime's done to get on his sensei's radar but whatever it is it won't end well for either of them.
"Then why release her?" Jiraiya can't help but ask.
His sensei sprinkles some tobacco into his smoking pipe.
"Further detainment was proving…" he lights the pipe with a snap of his fingers. "...difficult."
Jiraiya blinks. That doesn't sound like Hinata. Granted, he hasn't known her that long, but he likes to think he's a good judge of character. He'd be a pretty shitty spymaster if he wasn't. And from what he gathered from Minato's letters and his own interactions with the girl is that Hinata is as good as they come—intelligent, polite, sweet, and entirely genuine. A rarity in their line of work.
That and Minato had adored her, often dedicating a page or three about her which never failed to amuse him. And as soft-hearted as his student was he hadn't been stupid.
"What? You couldn't handle one little chuunin?" Jiraiya tries to joke.
"Try a Feral Hatake."
Oh. Yeah, he can see how Kakashi could be a problem. Jiraiya knows the two are close, closer than the average pair of shinobi in a way that only came about when you were thrust together into a war with nothing more than each other and an all-consuming desire to live. A bonded pair is what he thinks the wild clans call it, or as close to one as you can get, he's never quite understood it all. Not very many outside of such clans do.
But Jiraiya didn't have to understand the ways of the Old Clans to know that to mess with a bonded pair was a very stupid and dangerous thing to do.
He'd only ever seen Sakumo lose it twice. Already, that was twice too many.
Once, had been on the battlefield. Sakumo's wife—Kichi—had pushed someone out of the path of a stray fire jutsu, taking the brunt of the attack. Sakumo had taken one look at the charred mess that had once been his wife's face and had promptly gone apeshit. That had been an all-new type of terrifying to see his friend go from composed-captain to feral-animal, tearing through their enemies with nothing but his bare hands.
The second time, was after his wife's death. No one had been able to get near the Hatake compound for a month. Not unless they wanted to lose a hand. The miffed look on the Uchiha representative's face when hounds of the Hatake forbade them entry still makes Jiraiya laugh to this day.
His sensei rubs the wrinkles in his forehead hard. "That, among other headaches."
"...Danzo?"
The older man just grunts, neither confirming nor denying.
Jirai frowns. He doesn't like this. Especially with the odd ripples he'd glimpsed surfacing from Root's depths. Something there was changing. It is small, hardly anything worth worrying about except this is Root they're talking about and Root does not do change.
Too many variables and not enough information. A lousy hand. Eh, whatever, he's played and won with less. This will be no different.
"So what?" A tight smile pulls at the master spy's face. "You playing capture-and-release, hoping she'll lead you to her hidey-hole full of all her evil, dastardly plans?"
"There is something about that girl, I am certain, that we are all missing." His sensei turns to look out the window, looking for all the world like the composed and fearsome kage the world knows him as instead of the weary, grief-stricken man he knows him to be. "Patience and time will reveal what lies hidden. And when that happens I can only pray we'll be ready."
Jiraiya stares at his sensei.
Just what does he think is up with Hinata?
She's not a spy. Jiraiya vetted her himself. The only skeletons in her closet are a late mission report, a complaint from a civilian customer for being too formal (what even? ), and oh, yeah, the clan abuse allegations that Minato had been trying to bring to court.
(Jiraiya doesn't bother thinking of the mile-long list of bodies attached to her moniker, the Byakugan no Hime, because, hey, they all have some red in their ledger. Jiraiya knows his are absolutely drenched. What happens on the battlefield is better left unsaid.)
Her family tree is heavily documented, her kekkai genkai and unique coloring only found within the main branch of the Hyuuga confirm her lineage, and there have been no messages intercepted between her and some other second party. So they can cross spy out so that leaves some kind of terrorist or a traitor.
Eh, yeah, hard no.
Hinata is too soft for that kind of stuff. I mean this is the same girl he'd caught crying over a newborn kitten born too small, who names all her plants, and likes to volunteer at the hospital with what little spare time she has. Still, Hinata is a kunoichi through and through, with a particular kind of grit that her record can attest to. Her unit had spent more time on the frontline than any other. And through it all she'd never once complained, no, she'd held her head high as she waded through all the filth and blood, her hitai-ate proudly on display and a kunai in her hand. You couldn't ask for a more perfect soldier.
"...what exactly are you expecting to find, sensei?"
"I don't know, Jiraiya," the weathered kage—known to many as The Professor—smiles, wry and thin, around his pipe, "For once, I truly do not know."
Jiraiya knows the curious glint in his eyes is bad news. He closes his eyes and sends a quick, short prayer for the poor girl. Hinata's gonna need it.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.
ithurtsithurtsithurtsithUrTs—
It hurts so much she can scarcely bear it. Why does it hurt so much?
Why?
Why does it hurt so much? Whywhywhywhy—oh, yes, she remembers now.
("Oblivion. Birthed. You. And. To. Oblivion. You. Shall. Return. To."
"Mah, mah, Honorable Father, don't you know," A galaxy of stars twinkle ominously, their jagged edges making up the ravenous maw of a creature with no regard for the rules of this reality, "even you in all your divine power can never hope to kill me in a way that matters."
"SILENCE! Let. Every. Kami. Bear. Witness. To. The. End. Of. The. Scarecrow. Male. Of. Heaven!"
The very heavens tremble and cry at the sheer power that explodes forth, its blinding light reaching every corner of this universe and the next.)
Gone.
He is gone, gone, gone, her heart stolen from her chest.
She is no stranger to pain; to loss, but that doesn't mean it gets any easier. There is a gaping chasm where her heart once resided, the flesh there red and angry from where her love had been so cruelly torn from her. Each day that she is made to continue without her beloved at her side is excruciating, her essence leaving a gory trail behind her as she drags herself through another day without him, her cries echoing in the vast space that was once her darling's dominion.
(Tears birthed her; what a fitting end it would be to drown in them.)
And yet she endures. She is loyal to her new husband and faithful in her duties, to everything her father has entrusted her with.
But inside she burns, her pain fueling the fire that has always burned so bright inside her. She relishes each embrace that scorches, forcing her father to remember what he has done to her.
(—how could you do this to me, father?! How could you do tAKE HIM FROM ME—)
Hinata's eyes snap open, her byakugan flaring as she takes in her surroundings. Her dream is already fading but that doesn't stop her heart from pounding or the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
It's only when she recognizes the familiar pattern of Kakashi's coils and the chill of his white chakra that she begins to calm.
(—not gone, not gone, with her; always, not gone—)
Hinata bites back a laugh, her eyes watering, when Kakashi snuffles in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the pillows. She deactivates her bloodline and allows herself a moment to simply take in the rare sight of Kakashi completely at peace, his sleep undisturbed by nightmares.
Hinata traces a finger, through the smooth valley of his brows, over the sharp ridge of his cheekbones, and ends her travels on the charming little mole dotting his chin that she's grown so very fond of with a sigh. Hinata doesn't think she'll ever grow tired of his seeing his bare face; of this privilege he's given to her and only her.
Hinata gently cups the side of his face. His skin is cool to the touch like it always is no matter how hot the weather becomes. It shows how much he trusts her that he doesn't react; not even a twitch. No, he only sighs, deep and restful, filling her with indescribable pleasure. Hinata slides her hand down, memorizing the feel of him under her, and rests her palm flat on his chest. She closes her eyes, matching her breaths with his.
Some time passes and Hinata finds herself parched. She figures Kakashi won't notice if she were to slip away for some water and kawarimis with a pillow that'd fallen onto the floor in the night. Hinata staggers on unsteady legs, sweat already gathering along her forehead at the use of such a simple jutsu. She frowns and leans against the wall for support.
Her imprisonment had not been cruel, at least not physically. They did not beat her or torture her. Yet, Hinata cannot say it was kind. She'd been left to grieve the violent deaths of her teachers alone.
(She'll never forget waking up in that place, alone and frightened. Just like she'll never forget finding dried blood splattered on her face or when she'd had to pick out the bits of bone and gore she'd found matted in her hair.)
With no real answers to her questions and nothing to distract her, Hinata's mind had recreated a hundred different versions of Minato's and Kushina's deaths and that of all her loved ones. Over and over again she'd been plagued by their deaths.
(Her mother shielding her newborn sister as the compound collapses on them.)
(Hayate crawling through broken earth, choking on his own blood as the Kyuubi's chakra strips the flesh off his legs.)
(Shisui and Itachi running hand-in-hand, trying desperately to weave around the flying debris only for a support beam to skewer them dead.)
(Her loved ones—KurenaiNejiGaiAnkoKouAsumasomanytoomany—crushed underfoot as the Kyuubi rampages through her home.)
(And Kakashi, torn apart by a burst of light, his soul scattering so far and wide—)
Then there'd been the constant surveillance her village had subjected her to. Who knows how many personnel had sat behind that one-way glass, picking apart every action, every breath, in hopes of finding something to damn her with. It had reminded her all too much of her life back at the compound—no privacy, no autonomy, and oh so lonely.
At least she'd had one familiar face, er, mask—Anbu Sparrow. Although she did find it odd that the Sandaime had allowed one of Itsuki's to guard her when all the other Anbu were unknown to her.
While the other Anbu would haul her roughly from her room at all hours, never letting her rest long enough to get more than two hours of sleep under the cell's too-bright lights, Sparrow had been different. He would dim the lights, granting her eyes a brief respite. If she was summoned and happened to be sleeping, he would always wake her by tapping on his armor, never once touching her. Then he'd escort to the interrogation rooms, his pace unhurried, allowing her to gather herself. Sparrow had even brought her some books and Hinata had, to her embarrassment, had promptly burst into tears. She had a feeling he wasn't supposed to be doing all this but had done so anyways.
(A part of her, the kunoichi who'd made a name for herself on the battlefield, suspected Sparrow's kindness to be some kind of ploy—have her do all the dirty work by earning her favor and letting her incriminate herself. Except, Sparrow had never once sat across from her in the interrogation rooms and he never stayed long enough for them to have any kind of meaningful conversation, disappearing the moment his duties were completed. If Hinata didn't know any better, she'd think he was shy.)
But Sparrow's decency did not outweigh how the others had hounded her, sniffing for even just the tiniest hint of blood. And when they didn't find any they had wedged their fingers into old hurts, hoping she'd bleed then.
(Hinata never bled. There was peace in accepting one's faults.)
(However, that doesn't mean it didn't hurt when they'd dragged all her failings into the light for complete strangers to judge.)
"Your academy records are…underwhelming. Did this frustrate you? Did it make you feel better when you made friends with Uchiha Obito? That his failings were always worse than yours?"
"In that vein, as a noble-born heiress, it must have been so refreshing to befriend a minor clan member like Nohara Rin. Finally, there was someone beneath even you."
"Aburame Suki, Jounin Akio, Uchiha Obito, Nohara Rin, Uzumaki Kushina, and now Yondaime-sama. I see you've lost a lot of people close to you. It's a terrible thing to know you survived when they didn't."
"It says here that you have some med-nin training. They say it takes a special sort of person to excel in such a field. Hmm, and despite not yet earning your certification it says here you'd been given clearance to perform the duties of a combat medic. What a burden it must have been, choosing who lives and who dies."
"Does it haunt you knowing that you abandoned Rin's body on enemy territory? I can only imagine what terrible things were done to her. Her parents must have been so distraught."
"The Hyuuga did not just disown you but they exiled you. Erased any and all trace of your existence. How come? Why go to such an extreme lengths? Is it because of your shortcomings? Were they ashamed that such a noble house produced such a pitiful heir? Did this make you angry? At your father, perhaps even, with the village? Don't worry, you can tell me."
"Did it make you angry that Yondaime-sama knew of your clan's mistreatment—yes, these are yours, yes, your medical files were made public after your exile. My a broken eye socket and three fractured ribs in just a week and for an academy student? How clumsy of you, falling down all those stairs—and did nothing?"
"You can be honest with me, Hinata-san, deep down you blame Kakashi for Obito's death, don't you?"
"I see your parents have recently welcomed home your newborn sister, hm, I guess everyone's replaceable in the end, huh?"
"Ah, what a gentle heart you have, Hyuuga-san, what grief you've experienced to know that your village turned you into a killer. Ah, all for a higher purpose, of course."
Hinata lets loose a shaky breath, opening wet eyes.
There'd been so many questions. Too many.
Cruel.
Mocking.
All of them spoken with the intent of hurting or disarming her.
Hinata wonders what kind of person it makes her that she's so thankful for Kakashi's current condition; that he can't ask her anything, not with the too-large canines protruding from his mouth or the way he seems more intent on following his instincts than any type of human reasoning.
It makes her a horrible person, she knows. His condition could be permanent for all she knows. Without access to her clan's library and Kakashi's own collection having nothing on his clan, Hinata is completely in the dark. And a part of her is scared for Kakashi but then there's that needy, selfish piece of herself that never wants it to end because Hinata is only human. And humans want so much, much more than they deserve.
It shames her to admit how much she relishes his unrestrained affection; every caress his waking mind had kept locked tight behind his impeccable control. Hinata doubts he would ever be this clingy if he was in his right mind and oh, how she craves him pressed up against her, skin to skin, heart to heart; every touch a reminder that she is here and not there—locked in that cell with only her fear and misery for company.
It's only the knowledge that Kakashi seems just as desperate for her as she is for him that assuages her guilt somewhat. They can be selfish together, Hinata supposes, knowing that she would never have let him touch, sniff, lick her, and bathe with her if she didn't need Kakashi so badly.
(His hands could have been around her throat, teeth in her flesh, his chidori in her heart—she wouldn't have cared how, just as long as they were together in some manner. Bound by love or violence, it wouldn't have mattered. It never would to her.)
Hinata fills a cup of water from the kitchen. Cool water slides down her throat and she feels the tension in her body slip along with it. With the water nearly gone, Hinata can see through the bottom of the glass. She sees the warped image of the couch and resting on its armrest is a familiar, tiny knitted cap. The same one she'd spent endless hours on—never stopping even when her hands cramped or her eyes strained with tears—because her shishou's son deserved nothing less than perfection.
Naruto.
Naruto who is now an orphan.
(All alone; his parents' love stolen from him.)
His parents gone.
Gone.
Gone.
GonegonegonegonegoneGONEgOnE —
Hinata chokes. Spluttering, she fumbles to put her cup. She flinches when it crashes to the floor, the sound near deafening in the now-too-quiet apartment. Hinata slides to the floor, tears running down her face in torrents, and looks at the ruined glass. She stares with wide eyes at the ruined reflection of herself.
Naruto! her soul clamors; for the one who was supposed to be her brother in this life, Oh gods, Naruto!
There's a commotion deeper in the apartment and then Kakashi is suddenly there, her broken self hidden from her again. He pulls her into his arms, whining and purring up a storm that swallows everything up in its wake until there's only him and the blood rushing in her ears.
Hinata shakes, both overwhelmed and wanting more. Kakashi pushes her face into his neck. She resists, not wanting to dirty him with her tears and snot, but he is determined and she is already so tired—her heart a bleeding, open wound that just keeps on hurting, oh gods, it hurts so much, please, someone make it stop —that it doesn't take much more for her to surrender herself to him.
Hinata cries and cries and cries long into the night. Kakashi joins her, howling slow and mournful. Hinata hears it echoed tenfold, their far-off voices filling the village's night air with their funeral song. The sound comforts her. It lets her know that she is not alone in her sorrow; that together they will shoulder each other's grief so that none crumble under its weight.
And so Hinata cries.
She cries for Kushina, who had never so much as entertained the notion that Hinata was anything other than the capable, wonderful kunoichi she always told her she was. Hinata still has a hard time believing it, not after she'd been told she was lesser for so many years, but for her shishou, she'll try. At least in that way, she can begin to honor her memory. Kushina had entrusted her with her clan's legacy, imparting her people's stories and teachings so they might live on in her.
(Hinata will never forget the red sands of Uzushio or the songs of the island's native birds, no matter if she's never seen or heard them in person.)
She cries for Namikaze-sensei—no, Minato -sensei—who saw her tender heart and never thought her less because of it. Something even her own father had failed to do. Hiashi had seen it as something shameful; a weakness to be purged.
Minato-sensei, on the other hand, had only ever worried for her. That her nature would get her into trouble or, worse, get her hurt. Yet, instead of trying to carve it out of her like the Hyuuga had tried to do, Minato-sensei had taught her to work with it. He'd enrolled Hinata in med-nin classes so one day she might heal instead of kill. But until then, Minato-sensei had ensured that if the hand she offered were to ever be rejected with violence that she would have the means by which to defend herself.
Hinata cries for Naruto who will never know his mother's laugh or the comfort of his father's embrace.
She cries for her village, for all those who'd perished that night and the ones who remain to mourn them.
Hinata tries not to (oh how she tries, but she could never deny her nature) but she finds herself weeping for the Kyuubi no Kitsune himself. The one her soul had instantly recognized as kin. Whose mischievous smiles and croons of 'I love you, onee-sama's' haunt her dreams.
Hinata cries and cries and cries until her eyes dry up and her throat swells and even then she doesn't stop, shaking and clinging onto Kakashi, the only thing her keeping from drowning in her anguish. And Kakashi holds onto her with the same kind of fervor, nails hooking into her flesh, keeping her moored to this plane. A physical reminder that he is here with her and that he won't let anyone take her away from him.
Not again.
Never again.
Not after knowing such wretched separation.
And in turn, Hinata knows there's nothing she wouldn't do to keep him here with her.
They will never take you away from me again, Hinata promises, pressing herself impossibly closer, I won't let them, the gods be damned.
Outside, lightning renders the sky asunder only to be chased away by the rising dawn.
Kinoto looks between the bawling infant and the caretaker pointedly ignoring it. Instead she goes about attending to the needs of other every child. Every other child except the one currently screaming its blonde little head off. Even when his cries wake the others near him, she continues to pay him no heed, choosing to soothe those startled by his wails instead.
Kinoto waits until the woman leaves before going to the now whimpering baby. He frowns at the smell coming from him and checks the infant's diaper.
Disgust fills him when he finds the worst case of diaper rash he's ever seen. And Kinoto has changed more than his fair share of diapers back when he used to live at the orphanage.
It is only because he knows how much Hinata cares for Naruto and his respect for the children of Uzushio that Kinoto decides to act. He cleans him as best as he can before sneaking into the kitchen to grab a box of cornstarch. He applies a liberal amount to the babe's bottom. Kinoto takes out the tin of medicinal cream Hinata had made and set out for him and uses that too.
Naruto's whimpers die down, the cream doing its job. In a few hours, there should only be pink skin where before there'd been open sores.
Kinoto finishes by wrapping Naruto in a clean, loose diaper. The baby is completely still as he tucks in the corners, his blue eyes wide as they stare up at him. This is likely the most Naruto's interacted with another human since he was brought here by the Anbu commander. Kinoto lingers just a moment longer, gloved hands brushing along the baby's bare belly where his seal lies hidden.
Kinoto blinks and refocuses his efforts on why he truly came here. With a puff of smoke, he unseals a small, hand-knitted hat. He triple-checks the anti-theft seals stitched into the soft wool once more. Kinoto doesn't trust the boy's caretakers to not try and take it away. Seeing no errors, he turns his attention to the seals Hinata had placed. There are a plethora of defensive seals, all aimed to protect the wearer. There are also some tamer seals, like self-cleaning and a seal that allows the hat to grow with its user.
Kinoto slips the little toad-themed cap on Naruto's head. He accepts it with minimal fuss, his face scrunching before smoothing out once more. Kinoto places his hand on the jinchuuriki's covered head and releases a slither of chakra. Something like pleasure curls in his breastbone when Hinata's stored chakra flares back at him. Kinoto snaps his hand back, smoke wafting above them from where the seal had burnt the leather of his gloves. He checks the child and finds Naruto's eyelids drooping at the feel of Hinata's sunshine chakra awakening and spreading through the now-activated seals.
His primary mission completed, Kinoto turns around to leave but stops when Naruto begins to whimper.
Ah, right.
He takes out another scroll from his pouch and unseals a raggedy wolf plushie adorned with the Hatake crest. He holds it out in front of him and shakes it, successfully gaining the baby's attention. Naruto reaches for it and Kinoto lets him take it, watching how the child hugs it to him tightly, his little fingers turning white. A draft blows in and he shivers and clutches the doll closer. Kinoto looks for a blanket and when he doesn't find one already in the crib, he takes a spare one from a nearby sleeping child and wraps it around both Naruto and the wolf. The baby yawns and closes his eyes in sleep.
Kinoto spares Naruto one more look before disappearing from the room.
Kakashi comes to back himself gradually. It takes a while to put away his wolf, to peel back his skin and tuck in his wolf's fur and fangs, but he manages becuase for all that they are different they are still one and the same. Two halves of one whole. And his wolf knows that Kakashi is just as willing to give up his own life if it means Hinata will live.
(cub? alpha's cub? His wolf asks him. Kakashi flinches, bile and horror rising from his gut and threatening to spill over and drown him. His wolf whines and doesn't ask about Naruto again but the worry is still there.)
Kakashi comes to at random intervals but always with Hinata in close, very close, proximity. He panics the first time it happens.
It's day, sunlight streaming in through their living room window. Kakashi blinks, the fog around his mind clearing enough to recognize he is on the couch, his head pillowed on something warm and soft. Slowly, the rest of his body comes back to him and he realizes that whatever it is that he's laying on isn't just comfortable but it's also very alive. With the way his head gently rises and falls and the slow beat beneath him, he surmises that this alive thing is a person. But not just any person.
Cautiously, Kakashi tips his chin up and is met with the cover of one of his novels. A romance-fantasy series he's been meaning to catch up with, but hasn't had the time. But that's not important. What is important is the person holding said book.
"…'nata?" he croaks
The rhythmic up and down stops and the slow drum picks up speed. Slowly, the book rises and Kakashi is met with the brilliant sight of Hinata, whole and safe, her eyes shimmering like liquid stardust.
"…Kakashi?"
Kakashi swallows, "…hello."
Hinata blinks and replies back, "H—hello."
They lay there just staring at one another for a moment and then, without warning, Hinata is bursting in motion. She is a flurry of panicked touches and questions, inquiring about his well-being and attempting to check him over. But Kakashi predicts her movements and bats away her hands.
Hinata frowns and he sees the way action makes the hidden veins of her byakugan tense as all four hundred and two of her eyebrow hairs slide down—
Kakashi stills as he realizes that everything is a little too sharp. A shaky hand reaches up and he finds both his forehead protector and his mask gone. Breath picking up, he looks back at Hinata who has quieted, her gaze averted.
"I'm sorry, I didn't—I tried to…" A deep breath. "...you didn't want to put it back on."
Kakashi stares at her.
"…what…?" he asks, incredulous, because what she's saying doesn't make sense. Kakashi hasn't taken his mask off in front of another person since he lived with his father—
"It's the truth! I p—promise, you, Kakashi, I tried to but you refused!" Hinata tugs at her sleeves anxiously, her smell souring, "I would never remove your mask, not without your permission, please, Kakashi, you have to believe. I would never do that to you."
Kakashi knows that. Of course, he knows. And he wants to tell her that, but his tongue is heavy and his chest hurts too much to try and talk. Sadly, his silence only encourages Hinata's panic and that feeds into his own which only worsens Hinata's and on and on it goes, the two of them trapped in some twisted cycle, no escape in sight.
Soon, Kakashi finds his mind growing hazy as his wolf rears back its head, summoned by their heightened emotions and the last thing he remembers is bounding forward, the overpowering need to sootheguardcalm the final push needed to fall into oblivion.
Thankfully, the next time is better, Hinata lets him get his bearings first before gently asking her questions. And there a lot of questions, which he can't fault her given the circumstances, and while he doesn't always stay present long enough to answer them before his wolf returns, he does answer her biggest ones:
No, it isn't permanent.
Yes, it is a stress response, you're right. But not unique to just his clan, but the other wild clans too.
No, there are specific conditions that need to be met to trigger a Feral episode—yes, that is the official term—such as the grievous injury…or death of a pack member and, um, other intense emotions like that.
The, ah, purring thing, yeah, that's just a me thing, uh, Hatakes don't usually…do that.
Yes, I believe you, most importantly, I trust you or I wouldn't have taken off my mask. Now stop crying, please, Hinata, I don't know what to do.
No, I won't get sick. Raw meat is actually healthier for me—no, you're cooking is fine, please don't change anything.
…sorry, it's just that wolves are…very tactile, so you can just push me away if I make you uncomfortable—uh, is that so? I'm sure I like it too—hm? No, I actually don't remember anything. Why? Did I do something—and, oh great, you fainted.
No, I won't die, but I will get very sick if I eat chocolate.
Kakashi thanks every god he can think of that Hinata is so damn patient and understanding becuase he doubts anybody else would have put up with some crazy animal person invading their personal space all the time and slobbering all over them.
Just this morning, he'd come to just as his wolf was giving Hinata's ears a very thorough tongue bath. Sage, Kakashi doesn't know how he's ever going to live that one down.
But moments like this?
Kakashi shivers and his breath quakes when Hinata's blunt nails run along his scalp. Hinata pauses. Kakashi can't stop the whine that slips his lips or the way he nudges her hand, desperate for more of her touch.
"Kakashi?"
He opens his eyes from where his head is pooled in her lap and finds Hinata looking back at him, her novel set aside and her brows pinched with concern. She bends closer, her hair falling around them so it's just her and him, the outside world and all its hardships far removed from them.
"Kakashi?" Hinata calls again and his eyes flutter half shut when she rests the back of her fingers on his bare cheek, his mask absent. "Are you with me?"
"Yes," he gasps, breathless at the sight of her, "always."
"Then," Hinata strokes his cheeks, her smile a fragile thing, "welcome back."
Kakashi nods and closes his eyes, revelling in her soft touch. Hinata runs her fingers along the raised skin of the scar on his eye, slowly and just as reverent as he is when he traces her own. She caresses the sharp points of his cheekbones, dipping down to shyly trace the corner of his mouth before settling on his chin, lovingly circling the beauty spot that has charmed her so. Eventually, he hears the rustle of paper as Hinata resumes her reading and her hand goes back to petting his hair, absentmindedly twirling and tugging on the strands.
Yeah, Kakashi could live the rest of his life like this. He could die like this, even. And very happily too. But Hinata wouldn't like that so Kakashi simply turns his cheek and burrows closer to her warmth, content to live in this moment with her for as long as she'll have him.
Again, Kakashi hears the familiar click of hardened claws out in the halls. It's something that strikes him as odd, given he's the only resident on this floor that has ninken. And he knows it's a ninken, he'd recognize that sound anywhere. But it's not until he hears the rustle of grocery bags being set down in front of his door that Kakashi solves one of Hinata's questions.
Someone had been dropping off food and supplies once a week like clockwork for the past month that Kakashi and Hinata have been on medical leave. Kakashi understands why he's been taken off the active duty roster given his current state but Hinata's situation is what confuses him. If she had been cleared and released by T&I then why hold her back this long? They may not be at war but Hinata's able enough to take at least C-rank missions by now, maybe even B-ranks if assigned to a team. It is concerning but there's nothing Kakashi can do about it as he is. Besides, he prefers it this way. Having Hinata with him tempers his wolf and eases his hurt. And he can tell his presence comforts her as well.
But back to their mystery grocery supplier.
Hinata had asked him if he knew who was responsible and Kakashi had shrugged. He couldn't smell or detect any tampering with the foodstuffs. Add the fact neither of them were in a state to go outside and Kakashi was more than content to leave things as they were. Most likely it was their friends' or Itsuki's doing. Hinata had a way of endearing people to her and Kakashi isn't stupid enough not to reap the benefits of it.
At least that's what he thought then. He knows differently now. He just hadn't thought there was anyone left besides Hinata that cared about him.
Kakashi opens the door.
"Wait!"
A woman—an Inuzuka given the fang tattoos on her face and her earthy tones—stops and turns around. She raises a brow at him before approaching him, her ninken following close at her side. She leaves a good two feet between them, giving them just enough room to scent each other. The spicefdirtkinprotective he gets from her is familiar to him but also not. Kakashi figures his wolf must have come into contact with her at some point.
Kakashi has to crane his neck to look up at her because she's that tall. The two of them regard each other silently. Her ninken looks between them anxiously.
"Well?" She cocks her hip. "You got something to say, brat?"
Kakashi frowns and gruffly says, "Tell your alpha I said…thank you."
There was only one person who would have known what forms to file to give him such extended medical leave. Only one person stubborn enough fight for it—for him— during a village crisis against a whole council who thought clans like theirs were only good for war fodder.
One person.
Just one.
Someone who knew which cuts of meat a Feral would most appreciate. Who would send one of their own to patrol his territory when he couldn't, redirecting people away from his den. But that woman hadn't sent just anyone, no, she sent an Inuzuka with Hatake blood, knowing his wolf would be more tolerable towards someone who shared a similar base scent.
The Inuzuka grins and Kakashi notices her teeth are just a touch sharper than the average Inuzuka—like his are.
"Sure thing, kid," her dark eyes check him over. Kakashi lets her, holding himself still. Her expression softens but never loses that dangerous edge. "It's good to have you back."
Kakashi grunts, looking away. Her ninken steps forward and he extends his hand for her to sniff.
"What's your name?" He asks her quietly. The bloodhound barks eagerly, her long ears flopping.
The woman huffs, a smirk curling her mouth. "This is Momo," she says and gives the ninken's rump a solid pat. "And I'm Motoko. Nice to finally meet ya, pup."
Motoko.
The name is vaguely familiar like he'd heard it in passing somewhere before. Kakashi makes a mental note to look into the connection later.
"…likewise," Kakashi says quietly and can't help taking another sniff. It'd been so long since he'd smelled the crisp, wild scent of wolf on another person. It soothes something deep inside him.
"Aight, I guess I got shit to do now. Let's go, Mo." She whistles and Momo pulls back to resume her place at her partner's side. Motoko lifts a brow and looks at Kakashi pointedly. "Looks like we're playing babysitter and messenger."
Kakashi rolls his eye and shuts the door, his smile hidden beneath his mask.
It hasn't been more than thirty minutes since Kakashi spoke to Motoko before someone kicks in his door.
"DYNAMIC ENTRY!"
Somewhere in the house he hears Hinata yelp followed by a splash.
Kakashi sighs and grabs a random seal off the coffee table to save his place. Looks like he won't be finishing his book today.
"KAKASHI!" Gai peers through the dust and looks around the apartment, his eyes watering when he spots him. "Kakashi! You've returned!"
Hinata comes into the room then, looking frazzled and dressed in a damp pair of pajamas, her hair dripping onto the floor.
"HINATA-CHAN!"
Gai sweeps Hinata off her feet in a joyous embrace. Warmth thrums through Kakashi's veins at the sight of them together.
(pack, his wolf says, sinking contently between Kakashi's shoulder blades and stretching down the length of his spine, packpackhappypack.)
"Gai-kun!" Her smile falters at the sight of their downtrodden door, the ink of her destroyed seals running down onto the floor. Kakashi grimaces at all the hours of hard work lost. Gai follows their gaze and his expression morphs into mortification.
Carefully, he sets her down and hurries over to prop the door against the cracked frame. Gai sweats when the ink begins to run down even faster.
"Don't worry I'll have this cleaned up in no time!" he says and pulls off his red scarf with a flourish.
"Oh, Gai-kun you don't have to—"
Gai bowls over Hinata's protests and uses his scarf to mop up the mess. Finished, he whips around to face Hinata, causing her to jump. He bows at a perfect ninety-degree angle.
"I am truly sorry, Hinata, but fear not! This Sublime Green Beast," he straightens, pointing a thumb at himself and shooting them a blinding smile. Kakashi winces, scooting back further on the couch, "will personally repair the damages and provide you with all the ink and paper you require."
Hinata's smile returns now that she's been properly appeased, "We would appreciate that," she looks to Kakashi, mischief twinkling in her eyes, "wouldn't we, Kakashi?"
Gai's attention shoots back to him, his eyes going all big and watery. Kakashi narrows his eyes at him but he grunts in agreement, returning back to his book.
Hinata giggles, pleased. Kakashi sticks his nose in the crease of his book, stretching the book open wide enough in an attempt to hide his reddening ears. Seeing that she just giggles more he deems it a failure.
"I'll get you boys some tea. Please excuse me."
Left alone with Gai, Kakashi does his best impression of a couch cushion.
"Kakashi!" Gai calls.
Apparently, it's not a very good impression.
The pages of Kakashi's book flutter when the other teen rushes him. There's a brief pause—long enough for him to kawarimi or just knock Gai aside—and then it's over, strong arms winding around him. Kakashi sighs, dropping his head against the weeping boy's collarbone in defeat.
"KAKASHI!"
A sigh, then, "Gai."
"Kakashi!"
"...that is my name, yes."
"Ka-kassshhiiii! " Gai cries and squeezes him hard, lifting him up. Kakashi lets it happen, his body dangling like an overcooked noodle. "I was so worried when Inuzuka-san said you were not taking visitors."
"Inuzuka-san?" Kakashi asks, thinking of Motoko. "Were they tall? Grey-ish, brown-ish hair? Droopy-looking ninken?"
"Yes!" Gai nods enthusiastically. "Inuzuka-san and her clansmen have been steadfast guards during your recovery. Until now she's denied entry to this floor to everyone…well, everyone except for your protege, of course."
Kakashi blinks.
"…my what?"
Gai just grins at him, "Your protege, Uchiha Shisui! I hear Hayate-san and Kou-san were greatly distressed that Inuzuka-san did not warn him away but such is the unbreakable bond between master and apprentice."
"Gai," Kakashi sighs and leans back far enough to look him in the eye. "Shisui isn't my apprentice, he's just…"
He trails off unsure how to continue without outright admitting he'd all but adopted the boy. Shisui is pack; their pup. It was impossible to think of him otherwise seeing how much Hinata adored him and how happy it made her to be around the little Uchiha. And Kakashi would do anything to keep her happy, so he'd invited Shisui closer. And in doing so, he too had grown to care for the Uchiha.
Shisui made it so easy to like him. He possessed a natural charm that just drew people in like moths to a flame, all dimples and easy smiles. Plus, the younger boy was clever for his age, able to follow along when Kakashi and Hinata delved into the more technical aspects of chakra theory. But what Kakashi really admired about Shisui was his resilience. Not once had he ever allowed this life of theirs—full of bloodshed and strife—to rob him of his heart. Shisui had seen the very worst that this world had to offer and still had the strength to look past it all and find the good. In that aspect, he and Hinata are alike. Kakashi would have given up long ago if weren't for the light these two brought onto his darkened path.
Still, Kakashi is much too young and inexperienced to be a proper parent for Shisui whom his wolf yearns to be. It's not unlike the situation his sensei had been thrust into when Kakashi had been assigned to him, the nineteen-year-old finding himself navigating this odd space between older brother and father figure. A role that Minato had, with time, naturally grew into. One that Kakashi knew he would do the same. He'd known it the moment Hinata had first introduced this brother of Obito's whom Kakashi had never heard about before that day.
(Gods, wasn't he just the worst? He was so caught up in himself and those kami-stupid rules he'd failed to noticed that his own teammate, the boy he'd known since he was four, had left behind a little brother. What else could he be with that same stupid sunny grin, the two of them sharing the same base smell of firegoodearthpack?)
"…he's Shisui…" Kakashi finishes lamely. But Gai's known him since boyhood; knows him better than anyone else. Well except for Hinata.
Gai's gaze softens, "I see."
Kakashi clears his throat, squirming in his friend's hold.
Gai continues, his usual exuberance absent but it doesn't make his words any less sincere, "It is good to see you both safe. Truly."
Kakashi hums and closes his eye, breathing in the comforting scent of earthjoysweatloyalty . They stay that way for a moment: Gai embracing him and Kakashi allowing it, his arms hanging loosely at his side. He opens his eye to see Hinata watching them fondly in the background.
"Okay, okay, yeah, good to see you too." Kakashi awkwardly pats Gai on the back with his book, pushing him away. Hinata smiles at them and slips back inside the kitchen.
Gai lets him slip free of the hug, his expression uncharacteristically serious. Kakashi's gaze wavers but doesn't break.
"Kakashi," Gai takes a careful step forward. Kakashi twitches but doesn't stop him. "Know that I am with you, my friend, I am with you in sorrow and joy and whatever else comes."
Kakashi swallows roughly, hands opening and closing at his sides.
"…I know that…" he says.
Of course, he knows that. It's hard to miss someone like Gai and even harder to get rid of him. But boy did Kakashi try. He'd done everything he could to push him away—yelled at him, belittled him, ignored him, and he'd even gotten physical a few times. But like Hinata, Gai had stubbornly weathered the storm of his ire.
Gai suddenly grins, the sun peeking through grey clouds, "Great! Now"—he swirls around just in time for Hinata to walk in with the tea tray—"time to drink!"
Hinata laughs and invites them to sit at the table. Kakashi watches with rapt attention as Hinata serves them with the grace of a seasoned tea house performer, every movement carefully timed without a single pause, always in continuous motion like water running down the mountainside creeks, into one pool after another. To be a witness to such versatility—hands that can break just as easily as they can mend, handling such fragile porcelain is a strange kind of beautiful.
Hinata looks up then, the light catching her eyes just right so that they glitter like twin pearls. Kakashi breathes in sharply through his nose. His wolf whines and presses insistingly against his consciousness. Kakashi is thankful when Hinata's bangs fall forward like the darkest tide pulling its treasures back once more into its depths.
Gai too is equally enraptured and isn't shy about expressing his admiration.
"Yosh, such grace! And not a single drop out of place!" Hinata flushes but doesn't pause, keeping up the steady stream. "To think we have the honor of enjoying such fine tea made by our very own fire blossom is almost too m-much for me to handle." Gai sniffs Kakashi and tosses a napkin at his face. He accepts it with a watery thanks and blows his nose. Loudly.
"Thank you," Hinata murmurs, a demure smile on her lips that makes Kakashi's blood run just a touch hotter, "you flatter me." She finishes, setting the pot down soundlessly. Hinata serves them each a cup which they both take with great care.
Kakashi curls his hands around the cup and pulls it close, his posture slumping when he inhales the rich blend. Gai blubbers something about 'youth' and 'flowers' and drains the tea in three large gulps.
Hinata laughs and pours Gai another cup. He accepts it eagerly, this time cupping his hands over hers and holding her still for a moment. Hinata startles and looks up to him. Kakashi watches them over the rim of his cup.
"Darling Hinata," Gai smiles gently at her, his eyes wet; the very picture of summer rain, "you have been greatly missed." He rubs his thumbs along the faded bruises on her wrists. The sight of them still makes Kakashi bristle. Hinata bites her lip when their joined hands tremble. "Not a day went by that we did not think of you." Gai squeezes her hands, his expression both earnest and beseeching. "You are my dearest friend, that will never change. I will stand beside you against whoever dares to challenge you. I will be there to accompany you on whatever path you choose to walk. So long as there is still breath in my lungs I will cheer you on always."
(Sometimes Kakashi forgets for all that Gai plays the fool, he's still a shinobi. Of course, he'd be the one to piece it all together.)
Hinata stares at Gai with wide eyes as if seeing him for the first time. And perhaps she is. Gai and Hinata have been training partners since their academy days, each of them determined to prove that the world was wrong about them; that they are worthy of their village's attention and praise. That the ones they deemed failures could one day be exceptional. It was a goal they shared.
Or so Hinata had thought. Kakashi can see her shock clear as day. Becuase clever, loyal Gai had told her in no uncertain terms that he would abandon their village's affection—all that progress he's sweat and bled for—and even the very village itself if it meant staying true to his heart.
"…why?" Hinata whispers despite the many security measures keeping their conversation private. "Why go so far for me?"
"It is like I said, you are my dearest friend." Gai grins at her. "Is that not reason enough?"
Again, Hinata just stares at him, silent tears running down her face and then she's a blur of midnight blue and lilac, vaulting over the table and onto him. Kakashi snatches the cup she sends flying, smoothly scooping up the still-steaming tea from the air.
Hinata clings to Gai, sobs wracking her small frame. Gai holds her tenderly, taking care not to crush her when he engulfs her in his arms.
(pack pack pack, the words echo in the hollow space of Kakashi's ribs, warmth trickling in their wake.)
Over Hinata's shoulder, Gai makes eye contact with him. And in his dark eyes, he sees the promise of his earlier words repeated back at him.
I am with you.
Kakashi allows the words to wash over him a second time, letting them etch themselves in his heart so he can't forget or ignore them as he'd done before. He wonders again for the millionth time what he did to deserve a friend like Gai.
Kakashi nods back at him, And I with you.
Gai flashes a bright grin at him, teeth sparkling. Behind his hitai-ate, Obito's eye cries.
Hinata watches the water bubble and curve around the stones made smooth after enduring the same caress for centuries. Down it travels, far past her even her byakguan's sight, until it reaches the sea. The same sea that Kushina had spoken with such fondness between their lessons, her voice filled with longing for a home she could never return to except for in her memories.
"Hinata," Kakashi calls, approaching her like one would a wild animal, his steps slow and audible so she doesn't startle when comes to a stop beside her. She shivers when his body heat seeps into her chilled core.
"It's ready," he says, the words quiet and thick, spoken around too-large fangs.
Kakashi's condition has improved greatly these past few days. He is able to stay conscious for longer periods of time now, however, he does lapse back every now and then.
And as much as she wants Kakashi to get better, Hinata can't quite stifle that selfish part of her that's going to miss this other side to Kakashi—all those carefree touches and affection. She comforts herself with the knowledge that his wolf will never be far, prowling the edges of Kakashi's consciousness until it is needed once more.
Hinata takes a deep breath and faces Kakashi. He's covered up once more, mask and headband in place to mask his expressions and dressed from head to toe in dark loose robes, making his body language undecipherable. Like this, most would be hard-pressed to say they know anything about Kakashi.
But Hinata is not most. She knows Kakashi. Hinata has known him through loss, pain, and war. It is harder, yes, to parse what lies underneath all his carefully constructed layers but not impossible. Not for her. She'd know him anywhere and in whatever form he took.
Hinata takes hold of his hand and Kakashi threads their fingers together. He looks at her and she sees her grief mirrored in his overcast gaze, the bags under his eye perfectly matching her own.
When they'd emerged from their home they'd met with a village struggling to get back on its feet. The majority of the wreckage had been cleared, the rooftops were heavy with foot traffic as their comrades rushed to meet the village's mandated mission quota, and the dead buried and sorted. It was Konoha's belief that the dead were to be returned to the soil from whence they came so they might nurture the lands in preparation for those who remain and those who will come next.
However, those were Konoha's traditions, and for all that Kushina had made a home here among the trees she is and will be forevermore a child of the sea. And like any people, they had their own way of honoring the dead.
So Hinata had dressed them in the darkest shades of blue she could find. It is the color of the night sky that guides lost ships home and the color of the ocean's darkest depths—the final resting place for all of Uzushio's children.
As one they kneel at the Naka river's bank. Kakashi pulls out Minato-sensei's favorite three-pronged kunai, a handmade Uzumaki clan spiral charm dangles from the end, and places it on the little raft they'd built from the surrounding foliage. Painstakingly carved into the driftwood is a mix of prayers and Uzushio-style seals. The sail is made from a mix of leaves and sealing parchment. Hinata presents Kushina's favorite sealing brush and reverently places it next to the kunai.
The magatama around her neck dulls with griefpainloss. Hinata blinks back tears at the echo of her own anguish.
Together, they push the funeral barge into the water. Out of the corner of her eyes, Hinata catches Kakashi uncovering his Sharingan. They watch the raft gently bob along the river's currents.
Hinata places her shaking hands in the sleeves of her kimono and takes a deep breath
"I pray for your safe journey, children of the high tides, move gently with the ebb and flow of the sea," she begins, reciting the funeral prayer Kushina had taught her one sombre afternoon. "M—may you find eternal rest in Uzushiogakure's whirlpools, Kushina-shishou, Nam—" Hinata stops, clearing her throat before continuing, "...M—minato-sensei."
Kakashi chuckles, the sound miserable but amused nonetheless. Hinata refuses to look at him, embarrassment lightening the burden of her grief for just a moment. The magatama around her neck glows brighter and Hinata is thankful for its warmth as it begins to rain.
"Thank you for—for," Hinata sucks in a shaky breath and she hears Kakashi do the same where he stands next to her, "loving us when we'd forgotten how to."
Scarred fingers find her own and together she and Kakashi watch as the raft begins its pilgrimage out to the open sea. They stay long after they lose sight of it and even longer when the sun finally sets, uncaring for their sodden clothing or the chill settling itself in their bones.
None of it matters.
Hinata gives Kakashi's hand a firm squeeze. He returns the gesture, shuffling closer until they're connected from shoulder to hip. Hinata dips her head and closes her eyes, her tears mingling with the rain. Kakashi is her mirror opposite, lifting his head and releasing a piercing howl. Hinata snakes her arm around his and rests her head against him, letting the vibrations of his voice soothe her weary soul.
Absolutely none of it matters. Not when they have each other.
A/N:
gai: they say that love is an uninvited guest
kakashi: is that why you barge into my house without knocking?
shibi: violence isn't the answer.
tsume: you're right.
shibi: *sigh of relief*
tsume: violence is the question-
shibi: wait what?
tsume, bolting away: -and the answer is yes!
shibi, running after them: NO-!