The walk through the village felt... different.
The sky had cleared after yesterday's storm, sunlight now falling gently across the streets as people returned to their routines, voices rising, shops opening, life continuing as if nothing had changed.
But for Kakashi
Everything had.
Beside him, Minato slowed his pace slightly, glancing down at the boy whose hand still rested in his, small but firm, as if letting go now would mean losing something else.
Minato didn't mention it.
Instead, he spoke lightly.
"How about we eat something?"
A simple question.
Kakashi didn't look up.
He nodded.
"...Hai."
And that was enough.
They continued walking, the quiet rhythm of their steps blending with the sounds of the village until the familiar scent of broth and noodles began to drift through the air.
Ichiraku Ramen.
They were just a few steps away when a voice called out from behind them.
"Minato! Kakashi!"
Both turned.
And there she was.
Kushina walked toward them with quick steps, her red hair catching the sunlight as she approached, though her usual bright energy was softer today, held back, more careful.
Minato smiled faintly.
"Hi, Kushina."
Kakashi remained beside him, still holding his hand, his expression calm, unreadable, but his eyes shifted slightly as Kushina came closer.
She stopped in front of them.
"Hi, Kashi... are you here for ramen?"
Kakashi nodded again.
"...Hai, Kushina-san."
For a brief second, Kushina paused.
Normally, she would have corrected him.
Told him to call her "nee-chan."
Teased him.
Pushed him just a little.
But not today.
Today, hearing him speak at all
Was enough.
Her smile softened.
"Oh... then how about we sit and eat together?"
She kept her voice light.
Gentle.
Careful not to push too much.
Kakashi nodded, something he had begun to do more often now, not out of habit but necessity, because words felt heavier than they used to, harder to find, as if every answer required more thought than he was willing to give.
He didn't like being watched over.
Didn't like the quiet concern in the eyes of his sensei, or the way Kushina hovered just a little too close, as if afraid he might disappear the moment she looked away.
It felt suffocating.
And yet
He couldn't deny it helped.
Their voices, their presence, the simple way they spoke to him as if nothing had changed... it made the noise in his head quieter, even if only for a moment, pushing back the thoughts that kept circling endlessly, the ones that always led him back to the same place.
What if.
What if he had said something different?
What if he had done something more?
Kakashi exhaled slowly.
He chose not to follow those thoughts.
And in that quiet reasoning, he allowed himself to admit something.
Having them there
It was... comforting.
The realisation felt strange.
Unfamiliar.
But not unwelcome.
He found himself wondering, briefly, when things had become like this, when these two had gone from being people around him to something closer, something that stayed even when they didn't have to.
Kushina had always been there.
Ever since she became his father's student, she had been a constant presence in his life, loud, persistent, impossible to ignore, filling spaces that would have otherwise been empty without asking for permission.
She had been the one to watch over him when he was younger, when his father left on missions, when the house felt too big and too quiet for someone his age.
Even Jiraiya and Tsunade, who had also been part of his life for as long as he could remember, not in the constant way his father had been, but close enough to feel like something more than just visitors, but people who belonged, in their own way, to the small world that existed for him.
Jiraiya came and went like the wind, appearing with loud laughter and strange stories before disappearing again just as quickly, leaving behind the faint scent of ink and sake and something Kakashi never quite understood.
Tsunade was different.
Steady.
But distant in her own way.
The hospital kept her busy; her time was divided between injuries, emergencies, and responsibilities that rarely allowed her to stay long.
Which meant
Kushina stayed.
She always said she didn't mind.
Kakashi didn't believe that part.
He was fairly certain the real reason she never complained had more to do with the amount of... material she had collected over the years, things she could easily bring up whenever he tried to argue with her.
A quiet kind of blackmail.
The thought almost made him exhale.
Meeting Minato had been different.
Before that day, Minato had only been a name.
A reputation.
Someone Kakashi had heard about in passing, usually through Jiraiya speaking with his father, about his genius student, about the boy who dreamed of becoming Hokage, about someone working on a jutsu inspired by the Second Hokage's space-time techniques.
At the time
Kakashi hadn't cared much.
It was just another story, another name. But even then, something about it stuck with him. Not admiration, not yet, but motivation. Because if someone like that existed, then Kakashi felt he could do better, too.
He trained harder, studied more, and pushed himself further than anyone expected. Not for himself, but for one reason: so that his father would be proud.
Now, the two jonin watched over him in a way that felt... unfamiliar.
Not strict.
Not distant.
Something closer.
Like an older brother who didn't quite know how to say it.
And a sister who refused to stay quiet about it.
Kushina, especially, had always been persistent about it, constantly trying to get him to call her "nee-chan," as if repeating it enough times would somehow make it stick.
It never did.
As if Kakashi would ever allow that.
Subtle in ways that Kakashi had only come to notice over time, the way he would ask simple questions that didn't seem important on the surface, whether Kakashi had eaten, whether he was taking care of himself, whether the injuries from his last mission were healing properly.
He never pushed.
Never forced.
But he always noticed.
Kushina, on the other hand, was impossible to ignore.
Once her attention settled on something, she refused to let it go, her energy relentless, her concern overwhelming in a way that made resistance feel pointless.
Kakashi remembered
The time she found out he was underweight.
By a single pound.
That was enough.
From that day on, she had taken it upon herself to "fix" the problem, showing up with food more often than necessary, ramen, soup, anything she decided was good for him, making sure he ate, making sure he didn't skip meals, making sure he didn't have a choice in the matter.
Even though he had always rolled his eyes at their behaviour, he always acted like their attention was unnecessary, like he didn't need it.
He knew better.
Because even now, walking beside them
He was reminded of something he hadn't allowed himself to think about before.
That he wasn't alone.
And maybe
He had never been.
On the opposite side of the village, the bar was noisier than usual.
Laughter echoed from one corner, glasses clinked in another, and somewhere in the background, someone was already too drunk to stand properly, but in the far end of the room, away from the noise, a single table sat wrapped in its own kind of silence.
Tsunade sat alone at the table. Five empty sake bottles rested beside her, and another cup was already in her hand. Her eyes were not on the drink.
They were somewhere else.
Somewhere far.
A flash of silver hair. A small body. Covered in blood. The image didn't fade, no matter how much she drank. She poured another cup, her hand steady.
Someone pulled out the chair across from her.
Jiraiya sat down without asking.
For a moment, he said nothing and just looked at her, at the bottles, and at the silence she had built around herself.
"I heard you're leaving the village."
Tsunade remained silent, neither answering nor looking at him. She took a drink, set the cup down, and poured another.
"Kakashi needs you."
The words barely settled before the cup in Tsunade's hand moved fast. Sake splashed across Jiraiya's face. The bar noise didn't stop, but their table went still.
In the next second, Tsunade was on her feet, her hand gripping Jiraiya's collar, pulling him forward with a strength that didn't need to prove itself.
"Don't tell me who needs me," she said, her voice low but sharp, each word carrying more than anger. "And don't pretend you're any better."
Jiraiya didn't resist. Didn't fight back.
"You're talking like you're staying," she continued, her grip tightening slightly. "Aren't you leaving tomorrow? Or is that just another story you'll tell before disappearing again?"
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Tsunade released her grip. Just like that, she sat back down, picked up the bottle, and poured again. The liquid filled the cup with a quiet sound that somehow felt louder than everything else in the room.
"I have a reason to leave," she muttered, not looking at him. "A real one."
Her fingers tightened slightly around the cup. "Why are you leaving?"
A pause.
"Is it because of that ridiculous research of yours?"
Jiraiya wiped his face with his sleeve, exhaling softly before leaning back in his chair.
"You know him."
His voice was quieter now.
"I can't provide Kakashi with what he requires."
Another pause followed, and this one lasted longer.
"But you can."
Tsunade said nothing.
She remained still, not sipping her drink. The cup stayed in her hand, full and untouched. Jiraiya observed her for a moment before looking away.
"...Still," he added, after a while, "it's your decision."
Silence returned. But this time, it wasn't empty; it was heavy. And somewhere beneath it, a choice was waiting to be made.
The bar felt quieter after Jiraiya left, not because the noise had faded, but because his absence had taken something with it, leaving Tsunade alone with thoughts she had been trying to drown.
She didn't drink.
Instead, she slowly set the cup down, her fingers lingering against the rim for a moment before pulling back, as if even that small act required more effort than it should have, her eyes fixed on the liquid that now reflected nothing but a distorted version of her own face.
Kakashi needs you.
The words returned: unwanted, uninvited, but impossible to ignore. With them came the memory of a small body covered in blood.
Her hands were trembling despite all her skill, despite all her experience, the familiar fear rising again, tightening around her chest as if it had never truly left, the smell, the warmth, the colour Blood.
Everywhere.
Her grip tightened slightly against the table.
For a moment, it felt like she was there again.
Then she closed her eyes.
"...I'm not made to stay."
The words came quietly, almost like a reminder rather than a decision, something she had told herself before and would likely tell herself again, because leaving was easier than facing what remained.
Morning came gently.
Sunlight slipped through the windows of Minato's home, carrying with it a calm that didn't quite match the tension lingering beneath the surface. This quietly settled into the spaces between words and made even simple conversations feel heavier than they should.
Minato stood near the doorway, glancing toward the small figure sitting nearby.
"Kakashi," he said, his tone light but careful, "how about you go spend some time with your friends while I arrange your room and bring your things here?"
Kakashi Hatake didn't look up immediately.
"I don't have friends."
The answer came plainly, without hesitation, as if it were a simple fact rather than something that could be argued.
Minato sighed softly, not in frustration, but in understanding.
"Don't say that," he replied, stepping a little closer. "What about the girl with the purple markings on her face? Or the boy with goggles? And how could I forget your rival, Guy?"
Kakashi's expression shifted slightly.
A faint look of annoyance crossed his face.
"They're not my friends," he said, his tone flat but firm. "And I don't want to waste time like that."
His gaze lifted now, steady.
"I want to train."
A pause.
"...When will you train me again?"
Minato watched him for a moment, noticing the way his focus had narrowed, the way grief had already begun to turn into something else, something sharper, something controlled.
He stepped closer and crouched slightly so they were at eye level.
"Alright, alright," Minato said, a small smile forming despite everything. "How about this, you go outside for a walk, just for a bit, and when you come back..."
He paused deliberately.
"I'll teach you something."
Kakashi's eyes shifted.
"...A new jutsu?"
Minato nodded.
"...Okay."
It wasn't excitement, but it was sufficient.
Kakashi stood and walked toward the door without another word, his movements calm, measured, as if each step had already been decided before he took it.
He was gone.
Minato had just finished preparing to leave when a knock echoed softly through the house, the sound light but deliberate, carrying a familiarity that made him pause for a fraction of a second before moving toward the door.
When he opened it, he didn't look surprised.
"Jiraiya-sensei."
Jiraiya stepped inside without ceremony, as he always did, his presence filling the quiet space with something that felt both warm and distant, as if he already belonged somewhere else.
He sat down casually.
No jokes.
No loud entrance.
Just silence stretched between them for a moment longer than usual.
"I'm leaving this evening," Jiraiya said, his tone unusually plain, almost detached, as if saying it quickly would make it easier.
Minato nodded slowly.
"...I see."
There were a hundred things he could have said.
But none of them came out.
Jiraiya didn't stay long.
He stood up just as simply as he had sat down, giving Minato one last look, something unreadable passing through his eyes before turning toward the door.
Kakashi walked alone through the village streets.
The world around him moved normally. Shops opened. Voices carried. Children ran past without noticing him. But beneath it all,
There were whispers.
"...That's him, isn't it?"
"The Hatake boy..."
"...poor kid..."
"...his father..."
The words never reached him directly, but he heard them anyway. Not with his ears, but with something deeper.
"Like father... like son..."
Kakashi didn't stop.
Didn't react.
Didn't even slow down.
He just kept walking, hands at his sides, expression unchanged, as if the voices belonged to a different world entirely.
His steps eventually carried him toward the training grounds.
He stood there for a long time.
Not training.
Not moving.
Just... standing.
By the time Kakashi returned, the sky had already begun to darken, evening settling gently over the village, the soft orange glow fading into deeper shades of blue.
Minato looked up when the door slid open.
"Oh, Kakashi—you're back."
Kakashi stepped inside.
Silent.
Minato hesitated for a moment before speaking again.
"...Jiraiya-sensei is leaving today," he said carefully. "Do you want to come say goodbye?"
A pause followed.
Kakashi didn't answer.
He didn't look at Minato. He didn't ask anything. He simply walked past him and closed his room door. The sound was soft but final. Minato stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door. Then he exhaled quietly.
"...I see."
The village gates stood tall against the fading light, shadows stretching long across the ground as the day slowly came to an end.
Minato arrived just in time.
Jiraiya was already there.
Alone.
Waiting.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Jiraiya glanced at him.
"...He didn't come, did he?"
Minato shook his head.
"No."
A small silence settled between them.
Not uncomfortable.
Just... understood.
Jiraiya reached into his robe and pulled out a small letter, folded carefully, its edges slightly worn as if it had been written and rewritten more than once.
He handed it to Minato.
"Give this to him."
Minato took it.
Carefully.
"...I will."
Jiraiya turned his gaze toward the road ahead.
For a brief second, something flickered across his face.
Regret.
Maybe.
"...Take care of him, Minato."
Minato didn't hesitate.
"I will."
Jiraiya nodded once.
Then, without another word, he walked forward and disappeared into the distance, leaving behind nothing but quiet air and a letter that carried words he couldn't say himself.
The next morning arrived quietly, but the village was already awake in a different way.
Word had spread.
Tsunade was leaving too.
Some stood near the gates out of respect, some out of habit, and others simply because departures like this always carried a weight that people felt, even if they didn't understand it fully. A few offered words, a few bowed their heads, and some only watched as she walked past, her steps steady, her expression carefully composed.
Beside her walked a small girl, her hand loosely held, her presence gentle in contrast to the heaviness surrounding the moment.
Tsunade didn't slow down.
Didn't stop.
Stopping meant reflecting. And reflecting meant recalling the past. But when the gates finally came into view
She slowed.
Because someone else was there.
Not a guard.
Not a villager.
A small figure leaned quietly against the wall beside the entrance, silver hair catching the morning light, posture still, almost too still, as if he had been standing there for a long time.
Waiting.
Tsunade's breath caught.
Kakashi Hatake.
For a brief moment, something unspoken passed through her expression—surprise, hesitation, something softer beneath it before she forced herself forward again, each step suddenly feeling heavier than before.
Kakashi looked up.
His gaze moved first to her.
Then, briefly, to the girl beside her, who gave him a small, innocent smile.
And then back to Tsunade.
"...Are you leaving?"
His voice was quiet.
Flat.
But it carried more than it showed.
He doesn't blame Tsunade for leaving; instead, he blames his father. He understands that his father is supposed to be there for him, but a Sannin has no obligation to a child.
Tsunade stopped in front of him.
For a second, she didn't trust herself to speak.
Then she lowered herself to her knees so they were at the same level, her movements slower than usual, as if she were bracing herself for something she couldn't quite name.
"...Yeah," she said softly.
She prepared herself for anger, for pleading, for questions she wouldn't be able to answer. But what came instead was something different.
"Are you leaving because of me?"
The words were simple.
And they shattered something inside her.
"No—"
Tsunade's response came too quickly, too sharp at first, before her voice softened, her hands instinctively reaching forward as if to hold him together.
"No, Kakashi...It's not because of you. I'm leaving because..."
She stopped.
Because there were no words that would make sense to him.
Or to herself.
"...because of things I can't fix right now."
She just hugged him
"I'll come back," she whispered.
They both understood that it wasn't certain, maybe not even likely. But neither of them voiced this uncertainty. For a moment, Kakashi remained still. Then, slowlyvery slowlyhe raised his arms. His hands trembled slightly, just a little. But he hugged her back. Not tightly, not desperately,y just enough.
"I know," he said quietly.
There was a pause.
Then, in a softer voice, he added, "...stay safe."
Tsunade closed her eyes.
Because that wasn't what a child was supposed to say.
And that was exactly why it hurt.
When she finally pulled away, she didn't trust herself to look at him for long.
So she stood.
Turned.
And walked forward.
The small girl followed beside her.
Kakashi remained in his spot, watching silently as another person walked away from him.
At the same time, an event occurred on the other side of the village, which will begin a new tale.
The Uchiha compound was quieter than usual, its wide streets and tall wooden houses holding a stillness that felt deliberate, as if even the air understood that certain conversations were not meant to be overheard.
Minato stood near the edge of the courtyard, waiting.
In his hand, he held a folded note.
Worn at the edges now, as if it had been opened and closed too many times in too short a span, carrying the weight of words that refused to settle no matter how often he read them.
He read it again.
And again.
He didn't misunderstand it; he simply wished he didn't have to. Footsteps approached measured and steady.
Fugaku Uchiha.
"So, Minato," Fugaku said as he came to a stop beside him, his tone calm but observant, "what is it that you wanted to discuss?"
Minato folded the note carefully, slipping it away before turning to face him.
"Oh... you've arrived, Fugaku-san," he replied, his voice composed, though something beneath it remained unsettled. "Can we speak somewhere more private?"
Fugaku studied him for a moment.
Then nodded.
They walked in silence through the compound, past familiar walls and quiet pathways, until they reached a secluded room tucked away from the main house.
Fugaku stepped inside first.
Formed a series of hand seals.
The air shifted.
Barriers layered over the space, sealing it from sound, from presence, from anything that didn't belong within.
"Speak," Fugaku said simply.
Minato didn't answer immediately.
For a moment, he just stood there, as if choosing his words carefully, not out of uncertainty, but out of understanding how much they would matter once spoken.
"As you know..." Minato began slowly, his gaze lowering slightly, "...I was the one who found Sakumo."
Fugaku's expression didn't change.
But his posture did.
"I know," he said.
Minato continued.
"And I found Kakashi there as well."
A brief pause followed.
Fugaku gave a short nod.
"I'm aware."
Minato lifted his eyes.
This time, they didn't waver.
"When I tried to wake him," he said, his voice quieter and more focused now, "he opened his eyes for a moment. Then I....saw something."
Fugaku's patience thinned slightly.
"What are you trying to say, Minato?"
There was no irritation in his tone.
Minato held his gaze.
"...please let me be wrong."
He spoke.
"...I think Kakashi awakened the Sharingan."