Chapter Text
PART ONE
Chapter 1: Retry
Kakashi immediately knew something was wrong when he realized he was not in his little apartment unit. The mattress he was lying on was too soft, and the air was lacking that distinctive smell of wet dog his ninken produced. There was also someone walking nearby – not someone he could recognize immediately. When Kakashi tried to discretely pull out his weapons, they were nowhere to be found.
The jounin feigned sleep, feeling footsteps echo closer and closer to the bed he was lying on. He could feel the warmth as a hand slide close to his face. When the hand touched him, Kakashi bit down. Hard.
His eyes snapped open as he leaped into a defensive form. He saw long silver hair swing back as the figure before him clutched his hand with a grimacing smile.
Kakashi froze, eyeing the man before him. And then, he looked down at himself. It was a wonder he hadn't fainted in shock yet.
"Ow! Trying to catch me off guard again, Kakashi? You bite hard for a five-year-old!"
Kakashi swayed dangerously. Yes, it was really a wonder he hadn't fainted yet.
"Are you feeling okay? Did you catch a cold?" The man reached for his forehead causing the jounin – or rather the kid, seeing as he was freaking five again – to flinch back at the movement. "Kakashi, what's wrong?"
Kakashi lick his dry lips, trying to grasp the situation. What was going on? "I-" the boy forced out his first words, "father?"
The older man gave him a confused stare. "Yeah? Really, Kakashi, what's the matter? You seem a little out of it today."
The world tilted oddly for a second before Kakashi tried to focus once more. "I- it's- I don't feel really well," he lied.
Sakumo Hatake, Kakashi's father, studied his son intently. "Maybe you should lie down for a while. I told you you shouldn't have trained so much yesterday. You aren't even attending the academy yet."
Kakashi shook his head, clearing it from the daze he was in. "Yeah, sure." He sat down on his bed. "Do you mind?" He raised an eyebrow at the man, trying to act normal.
The man gave a gruff laugh. "Yeah, yeah, only five and already trying to get rid of me." He headed for the door. "I'll come back with some food later, alright kid? You just get more rest."
Kakashi nodded numbly settling back down on the bed. The minute his father left, he jumped straight back up again.
What the hell was going on?
The thought "genjutsu" immediately jumped to mind, but even before his shout of "Kai", Kakashi knew that wasn't the case. His old bedroom was too perfect for this to be someone's illusion. He'd left this place when he was six, bordering seven. No one knew him well back then. Not well enough to be able to replicate his room to such perfection.
But was it real?
Turning his search internally, Kakashi could at least tell that not everything had been a complete dream. His chakra control was not yet comparable to his jounin years, but definitely better than when he'd been five. His chakra had also increased from what he dimly recalled his younger self to have had. Unless he'd been training in his sleep, everything he remembered had happened. Or at least was going to happen sometime in the future.
But then why was he here in the … past?
Kakashi hopped off his bed, grabbing his mask along the way. He padded quietly out of his room, reeling his chakra tight. If this was real… he didn't want anyone realising anything different about him, should they ever decide to check. A kid suddenly increasing his chakra reserves overnight was definitely not normal.
The masked boy walked slowly, eyes observing and remembering everything around him. It'd been twenty years (give or take) since he'd step foot into this house, yet he could still vividly remember its contents. The house had been his recurring nightmare, one where he would constantly revisit night after night, because he'd done so much wrong to its late owner by turning away when he'd needed him the most. His mornings were haunted by Obito, and his nights by Sakumo, because he was a disappointing man who never realised his wrongdoings until the other party was long gone, and 'sorry's were no longer possible.
Kakashi strolled into the kitchen. His father turned, hearing his little footsteps nearing. "Didn't I tell you to go back to bed?" the man asked gently.
Sakumo Hatake's face was different from Kakashi's memory. The man he remembered had been pale, slouched, and so utterly broken by the unthinking words of the villagers. This one looks so young and resilient. His long silver hair was tied into a low ponytail. His face and built, though similar to Kakashi's, was more rigid and sturdy; more masculine. His stance was straight and confident. It was –
"Kakashi?"
The boy took tiny steps towards the other man, as if running would break the illusion of his father. Sakumo, on his part, was rooted in place, wondering on that heart-wrenching stare from his son.
"Kakashi?" the father asked again, at a loss words. His son had always seemed so independent and mature, and seeing him like this was like twisting a knife in his heart, because this was nothing like what he'd thought, and he really hadn't known his son at all, had he?
Before him, Kakashi stood staring and burning that face into his memory. He desperately tried to replace the sad image he'd been left with with this better form of Sakumo. How had he never realised how much of a difference there'd been from his father's usual face and those last few months before he took his own life? Had the change truly been that gradual, or had Kakashi been blind, too selfish to notice the suffering beside him?
Kakashi could see his own pale arms lifting up on their own accord. They wrapped around his father as his head slotted so perfectly in place in the man's chest. Instinctively, he took a deep breath.
Somehow, it was like coming home, this scent of Sakumo – of his father. It'd been too long since he'd smelt it, but it was one he recognised without a second thought. It was the scent of late nights listening to tales of his father's missions, of mourning their mother together, of spying on his father's training and ultimately getting caught. It was the scent of a forgotten childhood. For years after accepting his old man's death, Kakashi had nothing left but a faint memory to remember his family with.
But now, in his arms, everything was suddenly different.
It wasn't until Kakashi felt his father patting him on the head that he realized tears had begun staining his face. But this show of emotions was too meaningful for Kakashi to hide or wipe them away. Not for today, at least.
"Father," he called, before halting. No, that word was too impersonal. When did he start calling Sakumo that? Was it when he started to earnestly train as a shinobi, thinking the world would see his maturity if he did away from any and all childish quirks? But since when did Kakashi care for other's opinions anymore; he lived his life however he pleased because conforming was something he was eventually taught as something not always for the best – especially when it mean it compromised those precious to him.
"Dad," the man-turned-boy corrected, then, "Daddy," he murmured, almost even too quiet for himself to hear, and if only just once, because he'd always regretted never calling Sakumo that as a child. It was a simple word that spoke of the deepest of familial love for his father - a love that the child Kakashi had-once-been never knew would have meant the world to Sakumo.
This time, Kakashi knew better.
How was he in the past? Kakashi couldn't care less about that question anymore. He was in the past and that was all that mattered, and he would make sure this lifetime's worth of memories was better than the last. With that resolution in mind, Kakashi held onto his chakra, tighter than ever, determined not to give anything away. In the physical world, his actions echo that determination as his arms wrapped stronger against his father's torso and refused to let go.
Chapter 2: Promise
Sakumo Hatake was not a born genius. He was a shinobi who earned his role and status through hard work and dedication. At an early age, however, he realized his son, Kakashi, was in fact a certified genius. The boy could throw a kunai as well as any genin, and he had only been four at the time. Kakashi had skills beyond measurable for someone his age. For a child, his strategy astonishing, and his intelligence was extraordinary. Kakashi was, in one word, a prodigy.
Kakashi himself realized this at an early age, just as quickly as his father had. Perhaps it was then (Sakumo honestly couldn't remember), that Kakashi started to act – and Sakumo started to treat him – like an adult. It was such a smooth, subtle transition that Sakumo never realized what he was doing.
Just when did Kakashi start calling him "father" instead of "dad"? Just when did he think it was fine to let Kakashi go out training on his own without supervision? Just when did he start failing as a father?
He never considered himself the perfect father, don't get him wrong. It would've been so much better if his dear wife had been still around to help him with this odd, new endeavour, but her death had been an unplanned part of life. Kakashi had cried and cried as a babe, and it was only for the longest time that Sakumo had dared to hold him. His hands were dyed in red, and he was more used to taking a life than raising one. Still, for Kakashi's sake Sakumo scrambled to keep up.
And yet, he'd managed to blunder so badly without realising a thing.
If it weren't for Kakashi's sudden illness, the boy wouldn't have acted so spoilt and call to him with that unexpected cry of "daddy". That childish voice of his slammed Sakumo back to earth, head first. It had been startling to hear Kakashi like that, but it shouldn't have been because that was how children were supposed to act. His head spun with a sudden tip of vertigo, at the realization that Kakashi was still, in fact, five, no matter how mature he appeared.
What would his wife say to him if she saw him treat a five-year-old, his own son no less, like a man beyond his actual years?
And despite his failure, Kakashi never complained. If anything, the boy only played to his expectations, becoming more distant and independent each day. Sakumo had been losing his son – pushing him away! – without ever realising it. And then what, Sakumo wondered? Would he one day be abandoned by Kakashi, because how could Sakumo expect his boy to stay forever with him if he never treated him like family to begin with?
Kakashi was currently buried in his chest, arms curled around him. Sakumo's fingers tightened their hold on the back of his son's shirt.
"D-dad?" the boy questioned, sounding too surprised at his motion. Was it really so startling for him to show Kakashi love?
"I'm so sorry, son," Sakumo murmured out into his son's unruly silver hair.
His son seemed to freeze, head lifting upwards to look at him at those words. Kakashi's mouth opened, as though ready to say something – to agree, to rebut, to argue? -, but in the end he only closed it. He pressed his head into Sakumo's chest again. There was hot breathing on his shirt, as though Kakashi was mouthing muffled words he'd refused to say earlier. The action dropped a heavy stone into the pit of Sakumo's stomach.
His relationship with his son was at a level where Kakashi wouldn't dare share his personal thoughts with his father. Sakumo couldn't help but fear that Kakashi was afraid complaining wasn't becoming of the supposed adult Sakumo saw him as, and he didn't want to disappoint his father.
Kakashi didn't realised Sakumo loved him regardless. But no more. That was changing today.
Once the crying was under control, the little boy had looked at him with such determination in his eyes. "It won't happen again, I promise," Kakashi had whispered quietly to himself, a dark promise in his eyes.
Sakumo had a feeling he wasn't supposed to hear that silent vow, but he did nevertheless.
"It won't happen again?" he repeated, earning a surprised glance from his son. If Kakashi wanted his father to pamper him when he was sick, Sakumo would do so. If Kakashi wanted to call him 'daddy', Sakumo more than allowed it. If Kakashi wanted to break down into tears and cling onto him until everything was better once more, Sakumo would give Kakashi all the time in the world.
Kakashi needed to know he wasn't in the wrong; it was Sakumo who had failed him by forgetting he was only a child. He wouldn't allow Kakashi to suppress his emotions and grow up an empty shinobi who knew nothing but fighting.
"Since when was crying something to be ashamed of? We may be shinobi of Konoha, but we are not tools. We have emotions and feelings. That is how we can protect and survive." He grabbed Kakashi's shoulders, forcing his son to look him in the eye. "And you, Kakashi, you are not even a shinobi yet. So don't –" he didn't even know how to explain it, "don't lose something like this. Don't lose your love, your care, your sense of expression. Don't lose it before you're even old enough to recognize just how precious it is. Especially when you're entitled to it all at your age."
There was flicker of something in his son's eyes. It was mirth (perhaps he'd misunderstood Kakashi's comment), then understanding – understanding so deep that Sakumo almost forgot for a second that he was just talking to his son, and not a fellow shinobi.
It broke his heart yet again to see that Kakashi, his son, his precious five-year-old, was able to comprehend something so deep.
And then at that moment, he swore an oath to himself. He would become a proper father, and he would treat Kakashi according to his age, whether the boy liked it or not. No matter what it took, he would make sure Kakashi was given a chance to be the child he was.
Chapter 3: Perspective
There was a certain amount of stoicism required as a shinobi, especially when the career was paved with war and death.
Kakashi's emotions had always been frozen, up until the day Obito died and imparted to him a lesson about learning to trust and make friends. Kakashi wasn't afraid to admit he'd cried burning tears that day, and Rin in his arms was no better. Rin's death had equally quickly brought tears to his eyes (and vomit in his throat), because she wasn't supposed to jump in front of his attack for Konoha's sake, and she hadn't needed to die with a smile on her lips like Obito had done. Minato-sensei followed suit scant years later, and Kakashi cried because the man was everything he had left in that make-shift family he'd finally been able to obtain.
Breaking down only three times in those long twenty-so years of his was something Kakashi was well aware of.
For his own father's death so many years ago, Kakashi had been too numb at the sight of blood splattered against the tatami mat, and the idea that his father took his own life, that he'd felt nothing of it. By the time the numbing spell wore off, he was too angry and bitter at the man to care.
Yet on the very first day of his time-travelling adventure, Kakashi was embarrassed to admit he'd lost control of his emotions once more. Unexpectedly, it was out of happiness of all things, but it made for a good change.
Perhaps the outburst was well overdue. True, Kakashi had hated his father, but over his years, Kakashi had long forgiven him for taking the easy way out. Kakashi would acceptingly take any apologies Sakumo would give in, and in return, Kakashi had his own, because he realised his unsympathetic actions had accelerated his father's depression.
He had been a child, but he was also a prodigy. He really should've known better.
But the past was the past, and Kakashi wouldn't allow his father to reach that state again. Presently, though, Kakashi noticed his father had changed. Or maybe because he was older, Kakashi was seeing him from a different perspective.
The father that had been in Kakashi's memories had been a distant man. He wouldn't have said Sakumo ignored him, but the two hardly spent much time together; either one was on a mission, or the other was out training by himself. Considering Sakumo's strength as one of Konoha's strongest, his numerous missions were nothing to be surprised about. Suffice to say, their time together was even less once Kakashi enrolled into the academy. Time that could've been spent together during Sakumo's days off were lost since Kakashi had either school or homework to attend to.
They'd grown apart so quickly, and the Kakashi of that time once even thought that perhaps his own father had hated his presence. Between the fact the man never treated him like much of a son (not that little Kakashi had realised at the time), and the fact that he accepted Kakashi's independence so early on, Kakashi had wondered if his existence in Sakumo's life was bogging down the man's full potential and the man couldn't forgive him for that. It certainly felt like it at the time. Sakumo killing himself off never helped his doubting heart.
But now, for some unanticipated reason, Sakumo decided it was due time to take a short leave from all the missions. And instead of relaxing, what better to do but spend all that time with his one and only son?
Honestly, Kakashi didn't know how he'd caused that sudden change from the original timeline. He hadn't done anything except give into that singular childish need to cling onto his father – once – and suddenly the future was ever so slightly bumped off onto a different track. The small things, it seemed, were just as capable of changing the future – which Kakashi appreciated, because as knowledgeable as he was, his body was still of a five-year-old, and there was only so much he could do without causing suspicion.
And Kakashi was happy to admit he welcomed this unexpected change. He was glad for the reassurance that his father loved him as a child, and had this change not happened, Kakashi admitted deep within his heart he would have always wondered.
Because a childhood's worth of doubt was hard to assuage without proof to point otherwise.
.
As for Sakumo Hatake…
Sakumo had a dilemma: he didn't know what he was supposed to do.
He'd never been a proper father. Maybe a father figure - Kakashi used to loved pretending to be a strong shinobi like himself -, but not an actual father. He resolutely pulled his name off the mission roster in order to change all that. It'd been too long since father and son spent quality time together.
Yet, what were they supposed to do together?
Even if his son was a prodigy, it didn't seem appropriate to go training with him every day. Even if it was good bonding, enjoyable, really, he was certain his late wife would not approve.
Just what did kids Kakashi's age do for fun, anyways?
He was determined to make things right with his son, and goddammit, he would try anything as long as Kakashi approved. Anything to make his darling Kakashi smile; because if he was being honest to himself, that horrid, heart-wrenching expression he'd seem fleetingly on his little boy's face that one morning was something he refused to let appear once more.
Chapter 4: Habit
After running through several bonding ideas and doubting each and every one of them, Sakumo eventually decided on heading to the field to train with Kakashi. Kakashi liked training, so that had to count for something, right? It had nothing to do with the fact that Sakumo knew that further floundering would only serve the point that he had never been a good enough father for his son. (He was already feeling depressed enough as it was.)
The famed White Fang was reassured he, at the very least, knew one of his son's likes, but then that was until Kakashi's face twitched into a quick frown at his suggestion of training. It was only for a second, before the expected anticipating smile emerged, but a second was enough for Sakumo to catch it.
Sakumo hesitated.
There was a brief uncertainty that he'd never actually knew Kakashi at all – maybe Kakashi didn't like training and only practiced because it was expected of a prodigy, or maybe because it was something he did for Sakumo's sake. Then, Sakumo shook the apprehension away because he'd seem the joyous face on his son before at the mention of training, and today had been the only exception.
If he only knew why, though.
"Hey, kid," Sakumo called out.
His son looked curiously over at him, face reflecting nothing of the frown he'd so quickly stowed away. Still, Sakumo was certain he hadn't been imagining things.
"Hmm?" Kakashi hmmed idly, hands lodged in his pockets.
Sakumo studied the boy. Under his intense scrutiny, Kakashi only offered a smile. And though a smile was a good thing, his was only a smile in appearance because his eyes were distant as though thinking about something else instead. "Are you sure you're fine, Kakashi?" he man asked once more, another tally to the ever growing list that begun after Kakashi's illness some days back. "Lately you've been acting a bit…" Sakumo paused, not sure of the proper term. Kakashi had been mature, but there were these moments of childishness that seemed to come from nowhere. And then there were moments when Kakashi would hide himself away all secretive and reflect about things he stayed mum about. And there were times where Kakashi looked like he himself didn't know how he was supposed to act. It was disconcerting, to say the least.
"You've been a bit different than usual," Sakumo ended lamely.
Kakashi looked away, sandals scuffling on the ground. "I'm myself," he said, and that didn't answer a thing.
With a half-hidden sigh, the silver-haired man ushered his son into the small personal training field adjacent to the family Compound. Hopefully, training would do away with whatever worries that was plaguing his son.
Sakumo walked to the middle of the field, Kakashi following dutifully behind him. "It's been a while since we've sparred," the man commented, as Kakashi nodded silently while doing his stretches. Sakumo continued, "So, taijutsu match then? With weapons?"
Kakashi shrugged, slipping into his stance along with his father. Suddenly he was standing straight up again, hand scratching through his silver hair. "Aaa… bathroom break," he muttered.
Sakumo's eyebrows rose. "Already?"
With a nervous chuckle, Kakashi scampered off, waving his hand over his shoulder. The older Hatake stared after him in amusem*nt, sitting down to wait for his son to return. "That was unexpected," he muttered. Though he wasn't sure how that played into the whole oddness that surrounded Kakashi recently.
Distances away, Kakashi slipped behind a tree. His fingers drew into a familiar cross. It took several tries since his chakra control wasn't as perfect as it's been as jounin, and as surprisingly quickly Naruto had learned it, it was still an advanced jutsu. "Kagebushin no jutsu." he murmured softly, and a shadow clone poofed into existence. With a glance, it nodded to him and pulled up a Henge before leaping away.
Kakashi let out a sigh.
The curse of having more chakra than a proper five-year-old was that he was always afraid he would forget to keep himself in check around those who would notice. A shadow clone split his chakra levels, and saved him constant stress – though maintaining it was a whole other issue.
Nevertheless, it wasn't as if Kakashi had order the clone to do anything strenuous. If Sakumo looked like he didn't have his guard up, his shadow clone would come back to watch them train.
Heading back towards his father, Kakashi hopped down from the tree, smile on face. "Ready," he said, sliding back into his stance, fingers curled into the seal of confrontation as he watched his father do the same.
With that, they leaped at each other.
.
Kakashi's legs swept across the ground around him as kunai flew from his hands. There was no way Sakumo could avoid the attack without breaking out of his forwards charge towards Kakashi – or at least that would've happened if the leg swipe had actually reached.
With a quick eyebrow raised at Kakashi's actions, Sakumo ducked under the flying kunai as he continued charging at his son. Kakashi instantly threw himself backwards in a flip, using his hands to propel himself onto the side of a tree.
Sakumo, however, was ready for his escape. Shuriken pounded the tree where Kakashi was – or had been, a moment earlier. The boy had already pushed himself off, and disappeared into the forest behind him.
Sakumo grinned. "Come out! You can't hide from me!" he called out.
For a second, it unnerved the man that he couldn't find his son's chakra anywhere in the training grounds. The word 'prodigy' jumped to mind, but before he could dwell on it, his attention was jerked away by the sudden chill from behind.
Sakumo ducked, tips of his long silver hair tugging as it caught Kakashi's flying kick. He spun quickly, grabbing the kid out of mid-air. Small feet kicked as the boy struggled in his arms. Kakashi's smile never faded, even as his father shook him.
"Give up?" the older man grinned. Instincts suddenly screamed 'danger!' at him. Where could… – his hair!
Sakumo threw Kakashi aside as he turned, grasping the ends of his tied silver hair. Explosive tags were stuck to the tips, about to activate. The man swore, wondering when Kakashi had the time to attach them so quickly, before stabbing them out and throwing them away.
The moment the tags left his fingers, he could feel Kakashi's presence in front of him again. Sakumo knew his son was quick. He also knew with his own twisted position, he couldn't dodge whatever attack the boy planned on landing on him.
The man clenched his teeth, and tried to position himself to receive the least amount of damage. Little Kakashi may be, but boy could he punch. Kakashi probably had an anatomy diagram of the human body glued to his brain because he never failed to strike where it hurt most.
That's why when the blow never came, Sakumo was greatly surprised.
The Hatake turned sharply, just in time to see his son retract his arm. An arm that had been a foot away from his chest. A foot away!
Sakumo had to dismiss the stray thought as Kakashi charged up to him again, running on fours with the help of his hand, as though he was trying to keep himself from stumbling on his feet. The man flipped the boy just as quickly, landing a blow as he did so. Large grey-blue eyes narrowed into a somewhat childish glare.
The White Fang smirked. "Tired yet?"
His mask stretched as Kakashi grinned. "Nope."
And with moves quicker than Sakumo remembered, Kakashi rushed at him, weaving though the older man's attacks like it was ingrained into his instincts, if not moving inelegantly and just a tad awkwardly, and then thrusted an arm at him, aiming for Sakumo's chin. Had it hit, Sakumo would've been disorientated long enough for Kakashi to land another blow in. – Had it hit.
Sakumo frowned at his son as it happened once more. "Okay, stop, stop," Sakumo ordered.
Kakashi skid to a halt. "What?" he grumbled.
There was no amusem*nt in Sakumo's eyes. The man stared intently at his son before finally gesturing the boy to come over. "Alright, Kakashi," he said firmly, "What's going on?" His voice held no room for arguments or evasion of the question.
Kakashi tried nevertheless. "What 'what'?" he asked innocently.
"Why are you fighting like that?"
"Like what?" the masked boy tried again.
The response made Sakumo frown even harder. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, kid," he lectured, "Why are you fighting like you think you're taller than you really are?"
The boy paused. "Habit?"
Unamused, Sakumo glowered at his son. "Try again."
"I… had a dream," Kakashi explained slowly, seriously, as though he wasn't making this up as he went along. "I had a dream where I was taller and fighting the start of another war. And now it's become a habit."
The man rolled his eyes, but they soften as he glanced down at his son once more. He gently held up his hand to Kakashi's forehead. "Funny," he responded, "but dreams don't do that to people, no matter how intense they are." And there didn't seem to be anything wrong with Kakashi either – no cold, no fever.
Two pale hands clasped over his larger one, pulling it down from his face. Clutching them, Kakashi glanced upwards at his father, eyes gentle like he was saying it was more than enough to see Sakumo care. But Sakumo didn't just want to care; he wanted to help too, dammit! Kakashi was his precious son.
"Kakashi-" the man began before stumbling to a stop, because he wasn't made for this, and he didn't know what to say. Being a supportive father was harder than being a shinobi.
Kakashi studied him. As if noting Sakumo's discomfort, he leaked a simple smile, eyes slanting into a tender expression. "Really, don't worry about it."
"But-"
Kakashi interrupted him. "It'll pass in time," he promised.
For a while the White Fang stared into his son's eyes, observing the absolute firmness they held for his statement. The man's shoulders slumped in reluctance. "I understand. That's enough training, right?" Sakumo finally said in a defeated tone. He tried to work a small, indulgent smile onto his face, but it ended up looking more like a frustrated grimace.
Kakashi opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to argue, before he thought better of it and merely gave a minute smile instead. "Yeah. Sorry," he said softly, "Maybe next time?"
The White Fang nodded, hands gesturing for the boy to go on ahead. "To home with you," he said, "I'll go collect our weapons." He cut off his son before Kakashi could argue back. "Now, now, you're only five, Kakashi, and you need rest. I can take care of this."
With almost a pout like look on his face, Kakashi nodded, turning around and hopping back to their Compound. The silver-haired father watched his son go, letting his face drop to an unguarded look of worry now that Kakashi was no longer there.
He let out a long sigh in frustration. That went well, he thought sarcastically. He wanted to make Kakashi smile and have fun, but all he ended up doing was drawing up more of the boy's worries and learning he didn't truly know his son as well as he thought he did.
Sakumo frowned to himself. He still had more days off, and meanwhile, more training was out of the question, at least until Kakashi recovered from … whatever was going on. Really, what did kids do for entertainment these days anyways?
He was already out of ideas.
Chapter 5: Salvation
"Where do you think you're going?" A suspicious father asked, watching as his kid silently slipped across the room.
The boy froze. "Out."
"Uh huh." Sakumo replied skeptically. The tone of his voice itself was expressive enough for the boy to understand Sakumo was demanding more details.
Kakashi turned sharply on his heels, facing his father. "I'm going to help give directions to little old ladies, and maybe help her carry her luggage home," Kakashi said off-handedly, after only a short pause.
"Excuse me?"
"Aaa, help little old ladies across the road?" the boy tried again, "while watching out for black cats crossing my path?"
The White Fang looked thoughtful, turning the idea in his mind, wondering if it was supposed to make more sense than it actually did. Shaking his head, Sakumo gave out a low sigh. "Never mind, just go," he shoo'ed. "Come home before lunch."
"Yes sir," Kakashi said with a mock salute. He jumped out the window ("Use the door!" Sakumo cried at his back) and hurriedly ran towards the training area without further ado.
The moment he knew he was nowhere near earshot of his father, Kakashi grinned to himself under the mask. "Well," he murmured to himself, "it seems the usual excuses make horrible pre-excuses." The boy paused. "And horrible post-excuses too," he noted, because there was never at time when anyone believed him, no matter how seriously he uttered them. What did he expect; they were Obito's words after all. Obito's truths were Kakashi's lies, and no one ever knew because everyone who understood were long dead by the time Kakashi had adopted the words for himself.
By the time Kakashi made it to his destination, he had already shook himself out of his mood. His eyes held nothing but determination as the boy studied the wooden training dummy before him.
"First without the dummy," he murmured to himself. The boy got into stance. Slowly, he ran through katas. Then through the kihon-techniques, feeling strange as what should be familiar basic procedures held foreignness to him.
Kakashi had realised this throughout his training with his father. It'd been the reason why he hadn't wanted to, at first. But clearly Sakumo was trying his best to bond with Kakashi, so who was he to decline the invitation. At the very least it was someone to fight against, and gave him a better idea of his current abilities.
The problem was this: his mind knew what to do, but his body was struggling to keep up. His body was lacking the muscle and length his mind remembered, and maneuvering was like steering using the wrong controls. Kakashi had forced a smile on his face, hoping his father wouldn't realise what was going on. His stumbling could've been overlooked; he was a kid, after all. But missing his target caused a greater concern than he thought it would.
He was used to being fifty-something centimeters taller than he was now. Was it his fault his body was conditioned to attack a foot further than his kid body could hit?
Anger bubbled inside of him as he (clumsily, in his opinion) practiced his kihons again and again and again and again. They were simple things and he'd never done so horribly on them before. Rage burned as Kakashi suddenly tried to stab at the wooden dummy.
He lurched and fell instead.
"I hate this body," he hissed out angrily. If he had aged back slowly, it would've been fine, but the change in his height had been too abrupt. It would take a while before Kakashi could fight properly again.
As his conditioned older-self stabbed another hit that his kid arms never reached, Kakashi drew his hands into a seal in a fit of annoyance. "Henge," he cried, and the smoke cleared to his old, taller, body, stood where his child-self had been. Kakashi flexed his fingers, and took a punch. Delight rushed through his body as the hit struck where he had intended.
This was what he was used to.
The man stared at his adult-sized hands, frustrated laughter cutting through the crisp morning air. This was a first for him, having no choice but to fight in a henge.
It was so unusual, so awkward, so infuriating, and he could do nothing about it but laugh at the absurdity of it all.
The Henged Kakashi vigorously attacked the dummy, glee building at the sound of each solid hit. It was pathetic, really, that he was so used to training and fighting, that the moment he couldn't perform it, his whole life seemed so off (or maybe it was the whole travelling to the past thing?). As the silver-haired time-traveler continued to spar with the wooden dummy, he could feel himself relaxing for the first time since he'd first realised he'd been de-aged. His body moved instinctively through the familiar movements, mind finally let free from the stress he felt.
He finally felt like himself once more.
His body moved naturally, giving his mind freedom to dwell on the immediate future.
What should he do now, re-train his habits by learning how to fight as a kid again? Reconditioning his body – his ingrained instincts – would take ages, never mind that awkward period where he couldn't fight properly as either a kid or his older henged self. Just thinking about it already displeased him, because Kakashi hated feeling helpless, and he couldn't force himself through that.
He'd lived his whole life as one of the strongest warriors of Konoha. He couldn't put himself in a place where he lost everything he was known for.
But then that only left the option of henge-ing into the appropriate form whenever he wanted to fight – at least until his body reached its proper height once more.
Which was reasonable enough, except what was Kakashi going to do about the Academy? Certainly he could convince his peers he couldn't fight without stumbling, but Sakumo knew him better than that. Sakumo knew how skilled Kakashi truly was, and his lack of talent would worry the man.
Clumsiness aside, Kakashi also realised he would have to watch himself throughout the entire Academy year. He knew too much for a student, and his instincts were far too honed. He'd been living in the center of an upcoming war, and he still was too twitchy, too alert, to be safe amongst delicate children. (And let it be known, Kakashi never really liked kids to begin with.)
Kakashi let out a hiss of frustration as he sent a roundhouse kick at the wooden dummy one last time, before dropping out of the henge and catching his breath.
The more he thought about the academy, the less he preferred to go. Kakashi knew everything the teachers could teach him and then some. They had hardly helped his old five-year-old student self, so what more could they teach him this time around? What was the point to being hailed as a proper prodigy when it did nothing but catch the eyes of others and put him in the spotlight?
Kakashi knew he was good, but he could only pretend for so long before he slipped up somewhere, and he didn't need any jealous shinobi picking up on it and perhaps using the information for their own interest.
That said, what were to merits of becoming a proper shinobi, anyways?
This was his life he was reliving once more. His freedom, his salvation. He'd be damned if anyone tried to dictate what he could or could not do. Kakashi was determined to play by his own rules.
