Scarecrow Dragon II

[Part 1 posted here]

Shisui thought himself a more upstanding Uchiha than most, but maybe that was wrong too. Sure, he wasn’t quite the saint Itachi was, but the rest of the family was a horde of terror so if he was just a little bit of a brat, it wasn’t too terrible. At least he wasn’t Sasuke. At least he still knew how to feel remorse for the terrible things he did.

“What is it this time?” Itachi sighed, straightening his robes. They were neatly pressed and straightened just like his long ebony hair. In contrast Shisui’s hair was short and wild while his the high-waisted breeches and loosely-tucked white shirt showed off their own wrinkles.

“Why would you think something is wrong again?” Shisui grumbled, biting his thumb absently and looking away.

Itachi’s dark eyes rolled skyward and he sighed. “Because you’re gnawing again and it’s you, Shisui. You’re a terrible liar.”

“I might have cursed someone.”

“With what?”

“A dragon’s vengeance.”

There was the silence before a storm while Itachi processed his words, and Shisui braced for what would come next.

“You did what?!” Itachi rarely roared but when he did it made even his older cousin shrink.

“It was in the heat of the moment, I was upset, I wasn’t thinking!” Shisui wailed, holding up both palms. “I didn’t consider the consequences.”

“You never do.”

“I feel bad about it, okay? I’m not-I’m trying to do better. I’m regretting it, okay?”

Itachi deflated from his angrier stance and shook his head. “Why would you do such a thing? What could have possessed you to pull up such deep magics?” He sounded more tired than worried.

“I’m not sure what the exact details of it are, but I saw it in a vision,” Shisui murmured as his eyes bled red and started to spin. “I saw in my vision of the future, the agony I’m destined to suffer at the hands of this man and I-I was scared!” Shisui’s eyes snapped back to black and he turned off the wall’s ledge overlooking the property below. “I’ve never had such an upsetting vision about myself before. I didn’t even know I could get that upset!”

The younger cousin approached Shisui and leaned his elbows on the ledge, looking out at the misty valley. “Did you not stop to consider that maybe the path you took to avoid fate is the one fate took to find you?”

Shisui’s blank look had Itachi exasperated once more.

“I don’t understand you riddles, cousin,” Shisui admitted.

“And yet you claim to be an Uchiha. Maybe cursing this poor soul is the thing that leads to your unfortunate fate. Go and undo your wrong.”

“But what if that’s what causes me the agony?”

“It may very well, but the guilt eats at you even now, and you know what you did was wrong. You may not be able to undo your mistake so easily, but you should still try.” Itachi pushed up off the wall and swept the long trail of his cloak around him as he turned away. “I’ll inform them of your absence at the council.”

Shisui sighed, nodding and tipping backwards. He saw the world turn upside down as his ankles came next. The ground was far below him, edged in mist that broke apart when his wings snapped open. The rest of his winding body followed as he took off for the far lands.

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This was amazing! I loved the way you’ve built the world up, and the lore behind the dragons, and the reason for Kakashi being cursed. It was too good!

Scarecrow Dragon

“We all have secrets,” Sakura breathed.

She sat across from where he paced. It wasn’t the nervous pacing of a man in distress, but something more basic and animalistic. He paced like an animal stalked prey from behind the bars of a fence, but when he turned to face her that leashed aggression melted, if only a bit. 

“Not like this,” he whispered, voice sounding far too raw. It wasn’t the voice she was used to. 

Outside there was far off rumbles and then another peel of thunder matched itself to a bolt of lightning, casting the room in a shock of light that illuminated his broken shape.  

Sakura stood and reached for him, but he drew back and the scales shifted against each other, sliding over one another in a clicking sound. He hadn’t grown into them yet. The transformation had barely been paused. 

“I don’t have much more time like this, Sakura. You have to go, now!” 

Sakura couldn’t remember a time she had seen him cry in front of him, but there were tears leaking from his singular red eye. On that side of his face the scales spread faster and grew thicker. 

The curse he picked up from the Uchiha had slumbered long enough, and now it was time for Kakashi to join their den of vice in the far off lands where the winged beasts were worshiped. Her simple cottage on the skirts of a sheep’s roaming pasture was the last place someone could expect to find such a sight. 

Kakashi had stumbled into the village years ago and into her heart not much later. She had fought it, knowing something was very off with a man who kept so many secrets, but he had always been kind with her, soft with her, in ways other boys had only played at. 

She had asked him to marry her when he confessed he thought a kiss from her might kill him in joy, and she would never forget the way he radiated as he sank to his knees in front of her and begged her not to tempt him so.

‘I’m such a miserable fool, no, you shouldn’t.’

‘You’re the fool I want.’

‘You shouldn’t settle for someone as old and shabby as I.’

‘I swear to you Kakashi if you don’t love me tell me now and save me my dignity, but don’t question my choices. Well, will you wed me or not?’

The engagement band was still on his finger, straining in silver around the red scales over his hands.  She watched the scales swallow his finger, ring and all under their layers. His fingers lengthen to claws tipped in black, larger than his hands had any right to be. 

Sakura swallowed and held her elbows, leaning forward. “Kakashi, I’m not leaving you. You’re going to marry me.” 

“If thi-if this continues I’ll consume you, my love.” The tears were coming from both eyes. “Don’t let me do it. I’d rather-I’d rather you end me first.”

Sakura felt her eyes flash. “Never!”

“Please,” he begged, forcing himself onto his knees and turning his face away from her as more scales bloomed and shed off his body. “Please. I-I deserve it. I should have never tried to-never brought this upon you.”

“I was the one who wanted to marry you. Don’t say such things.”

“But you didn’t know what I was, you didn’t know any better.” He bowed his face until it touched the floor. “My damn secrets.” 

“We all have secrets,” Sakura whispered again, reaching forward and touching his shoulder.

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This song gives me so many feelings…

lsn  ☆ character introduction

Full artwork on AO3 (🍋🍋🍋)

o(^^o)(o^^o)(o^^o)(o^^)o

Shinobi Health Check Ups

Disclaimer– this is purely a headcanon.

Sunagakure is not a rich village. It cannot shoulder the costs of continuously treating individuals with infections while the infection spreads to a tightly knit population in the middle of the desert (where everyone goes indoors to hide from the afternoon heat on a daily basis). Thus, it follows a healthcare model that seeks to prevent the spread and complications of these diseases.

The following rules of shinobi health check up thus sound harsh— but not too harsh considering that most villages already live under the authoritarian rule of one Kage (and a council of elite with pretty much no voting rights given to the public).

In Sunagakure, there are a few assumptions about people made by the health care system:

Thus, a system has been set up that ties people’s access to work with their health consults (at least for shinobi and civilian government employees– because it’s hard to enforce this in the private sector). Let me elaborate:

Once an academy student becomes a full fledged genin, he or she is assigned to a finishing medic. That assigned medic will be the one in charge of check ups whenever they are needed. However, there are instances where the shinobi might start taking on higher profile missions and require more discretion in terms of handling the information (for example, if the medic is a simple medic and the shinobi is taking on A ranked missions now). They will be endorsed to a senior medic who will then take on their check ups. The highest level are those within the ANBU ranks who are seen by only two people— the Chief of Clinics and the second in command.

How often are check ups? There is one check up scheduled early for every shinobi taking low rank missions (C-D). Twice a year for those routinely taking B ranked missions. After every A and S ranked mission, regardless of when the yearly check ups are. Once a shinobi has been away from Suna for more than a month, they also get a check up. If a shinobi goes to a place that is known to have a disease endemic to it, they also get a check up after the mission. If intercourse happens during the mission with a stranger, a check up will also happen. You get the drift.

What happens if they do not go for their check ups? See– the schedule of the check up depends on the mission desk. They stamp a card to say when the next date of check up is and they require the date, signature and license number of a known medic to verify that it was done. If the date has passed and there is no signature, the shinobi will not be assigned any missions until the completion of the check up.

Amaya! That’s not fair– what ever happened to autonomy? If, for any reason, a shinobi refuses to undergo the check up, they must submit written documentation that the check up has been offered and they do not consent. There are a few bureaucratic hoops to go through, but a stamp will be provided to say that they at least visited the health center and did not consent to the check up. It’s a lengthy process and it’s a lot easier to just get on with the check up. But it’s there.

On the event of an epidemic or an outbreak, a medical team is sent to do on site check ups of the people within the area. This is both to map out the spread of infection as well as to control it.

for @yummygreentea and inspired by @surfacage

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..”

The older Uchiha sang to himself as he ran slender fingers through raven locks. His face glowed and there was something about him that seemed wild and otherworldly, where he was more demon than human- the likes of which came for men’s blood and made sure they had their pound of flesh.

“You make me happy when skies are grey.”

His teeth were sharp, flashing every time like whitened bone when he opened his mouth to snarl- sing. Lips an angry red, the torn stomach of an animal for sacrifice.

“You never know, dear, how much I love you.”

Shisui crooned even as he gripped the hair he had been lovingly carding through. His younger cousin’s head snapped back and the Shunshin’s free hand shot out to catch his jaw in a firm hold. He was forced to look into Shisui’s eyes, the colour of life’s blood, tomoe spinning as madly as he had become.

“You took my sunshine away, Sasuke.”

And there was more pain in those words, almost, than he can bear as his mind flashed back to how he had lost Itachi. Lost him because of this insignificant ant.

“I raised him and drew him from his isolation. Showed him new ways.”

His voice was fond as he remembered those early days, when he had first offered his hand to Itachi and drew him in like a moth to a flame.

The Mirage banished the thoughts with a small shake of his head.

“I’m just doing the right thing,”

He smiled at the younger Uchiha and it was all sharp edges with no curves.

“This will only hurt….a lot.”

That was a promise.

Water Death

To make up for that stressed rant I just posted, have my favorite Uchiha cinnamon roll. 

It’s almost impossible for the body to allow itself to drown. The mouth stays closed, what little air there is trapped and greedily held until the brain is just about to shut down, until all the eyes can see is darkness and only then—

One last breath, one final gasp of denial, and everything ends.

Shisui has watched people drown before. He’s ANBU—it’s a convenient way to get rid of bodies, or at least delay them being found. He’s seen the desperate struggle not to breathe, the fury and terror and then the inevitable surrender. It was one of the reasons he picked the method of death he did; drowning was hardly peaceful, was a fight against an unbeatable enemy, but Shisui has always had a bit of a dramatic streak to him. He’d liked the metaphor of it, the symbolism, and it simultaneously managed to be eminently practical. Even Itachi couldn’t complain.

He’d felt it. He knows the Nakano was the death of him, knows it as well as he knows his own name—another irony, another bit of an inside joke carefully concealed from Itachi, whose sense of humor is underdeveloped at best and who has never, ever appreciated Shisui’s gallows humor, no matter the circumstances. He jumped, and fell, and hit the water, and then the bitter current swept him under, pulled him in and—

One last breath, held until his mind is spinning and his entire chest is burning and then—

His head breaks the surface.

He wakes blind and battered and aching right down to his bones, so much so that he can’t pick out where one pain starts and another begins. There’s water all around him, beneath him, cradling and carrying him, but it isn’t the headlong heedless rush of the Nakano in early spring. This river is smoother, shallower. His feet scrape over a sandy, silty riverbed, and though he can’t see the bank to judge his speed, it definitely seems slower than what he last remembers, that final glimpse he sneaked before he gouged out his own eye for his best friend.

Automatically, he lashes out, seeking something—anything—to grab ahold of, to brace himself with, but comes up with naught. His hands splash futilely through the water, skimming nothing, and Shisui wants to curse. He’s been a shinobi all his life, has worked with more handicaps than this in worse situations, but between the pain and the blindness and the echoing quiet that’s all he can hear beyond the river’s flow, this isn’t looking hopeful.

Shisui takes a breath, chokes on a mouthful of muddy water as a wavelet slaps him in the face, and then fights himself back under control and focuses on his surroundings as best he can. The flow of the river is easy enough to judge, and Shisui kicks out, swimming crosswise to it for what he hopes is the bank with all of his quickly fading strength. There’s no echo around him to suggest a ravine or a canyon, no birdsong or wind-rustled leaf noises to hint at a rocky forest riverbank, and Shisui can only hope that the shore isn’t completely sheer or covered in treacherous loose rock.

But his fingers close on grass, long and sodden and slippery, and then dig into firm clay. Shisui gasps and scrabbles for purchase and breath in equal measure, tries with all his might to drag himself out of the insistent current, and for an endless, breathless moment he thinks he won’t, that he’s going to be pulled away to who knows where. One more wavelet knocks him under, and he comes up sputtering and choking on the taste of river-weed and mud, half of his brain shrieking about infection and diseases and open wounds, god, his eyes—

A tree root, thick and trailing, and Shisui grabs it, winds his arm around it and hauls himself forward, towards where the current slides away into nothing more than a gentle tug at his sodden clothes. Another foot further and there’s solid ground beneath his feet, slick and sliding and apparently more silt than clay, but it’s enough. Shisui staggers, off balance and unable to care just for the moment, almost falling as his upper body finally clears the water. He’s heavy, the all-over throb changing to something sharper, angrier as he pushes himself forward, hands reaching blindly. Grass beneath his hands again, but dry this time, the tips bone-brittle and breaking as he seizes fistfuls of it and uses it to pull himself the last few feet out of the water.

There is no thought in him for dignity—not that there ever is, because that’s Itachi’s shtick and Shisui has always been quite happy to be the slightly goofy, easily distracted one of their clique—or even the possible danger of his surroundings. Shisui sucks in his first dry breath, smelling sun-browned grasses and warm summer air, and lets himself fall face-first onto the bank, his feet still dangling in the water and his hands gripping the grass blades without any intention of letting go.

A breath, another. Shisui thinks of drowning, thinks of opening his mouth for that final inhalation of cold, cruel water, and can’t fight the shudder of pure, icy horror that racks his body.

One breath, the sun warm-hot on his face and the river tugging greedily at his toes, and Shisui lets out a long, slow sigh and allows himself to drift.

The darkness, when it comes, is finally, blissfully warm.

Because Shisui’s life has never even remotely resembled a romance novel—except, perhaps, for the dramatic failed suicide attempt in the name of the greater good, but Shisui is trying his best not to think of that—there is no beautiful, kindhearted maiden or brave, strapping hero leaning over him when he comes to. There’s only the cheerful babble of the river as it swirls past his toes, the whisper of wind across short grass and the bone-meltingly sweet heat of the sun against his skin.

And pain, still, from where his eyes were ripped out, from where his body hit the water and was slammed into rocks beneath the treacherous surface, from a fight that never should have happened with a man who should have been an ally. But if nothing else, Shisui is used to pain. His tolerance for it has always been higher than normal, even for a shinobi, and so he pushes it down, shuts it away and focuses on his surroundings instead.

He isn’t in Konoha; that much is immediately apparent. There’s a certain sharp tang to the air that speaks of the sea, even though he can’t hear it, and the sunlight falls unimpeded by Konoha’s towering trees. It’s hardly dead—there are birds around, filling the air with sudden cries and startling bursts of wingbeats as they rise, but they’re grassland birds, swift starlings and light-voiced larks. Shisui knows their cries and calls, but only vaguely, not enough to positively identify where he is from that alone.

Nowhere near Konoha, he’s certain. Nowhere near the Nakano that should have borne him to his watery grave.

But Shisui is a shinobi, has been for over a decade, and he doesn’t waste time with disbelief or directionless worrying about how he got where he is. Instead, he pulls himself to his feet, toeing off his waterlogged sandals as he staggers upright, and listens.

Birdsong and water rushing and a whisper of wind among the grasses. No people. No chakra either, from what he can sense—muted, impossibly weak, those senses, when he’s so used to the Sharingan, to being able to pick out every nuance and spark from half a league away.

(Being blind, he thinks, is quite possibly one of the worst fates an Uchiha could suffer. No matter what power the Mangekyo grants, surely it isn’t worth it.)

The susurration of the grasses breaks briefly to his left, then starts up again a few meters on. Shisui listens carefully, head tilted slightly to hear more clearly. A road, he thinks. Too wide to be a path, and it can’t be a dry riverbed when the river runs to his right. He steps towards it, careful and deliberate, bare feet feeling out the space before they settle. Three short, hesitant steps and the grass gives way to packed earth, rutted and worn almost smooth with small patches of stone peeking through here and there. Shisui doesn’t quite allow himself to sigh in relief, but the thought is certainly there.

Fire Country—Konoha—lies west of the ocean. There are border patrols along the north and northwest borders, and couriers constantly moving to and from the west. If Shisui can figure out the directions and make his way there, he’ll likely be found soon, if he keeps his chakra visible and doesn’t try to hide.

But—

But the reasons for his attempted suicide haven’t been negated by his miraculous (ridiculous) survival. The Uchiha can’t know of Danzo’s actions. They can’t know that Itachi is a double agent, and that Shisui was as well. Shisui can’t take that risk. There’s an entire clan at stake, if he goes back and not enough time has passed. Families and children and Konoha’s fragile peace, and Shisui won’t be the one responsible for upsetting that. Even if Itachi—

Shisui takes a shuddering breath, picks the direction he thinks is east, and starts walking.

It’s hard. The first few steps feel like drowning all over again, his toes scraping the sandy bottom of a river unable to get a grip. Like grasping for a hold and feeling it slip like sodden-slick grass between his fingers. Like one last breath of air that isn’t enough and can’t last. There’s nothing around to steady him, to orient him. Only darkness and a clawing, tearing sort of desperation. Shisui stumbles the way he hasn’t in years, more than a full decade, but his reflexes are enough to catch him even without eyes, and he steadies. One step, another, one foot in front of the other until he’s caught the rhythm of it. His body doesn’t need to see—he’s trained in the darkness a thousand times before, has made himself go without sight because he’s well aware of the Uchiha clan’s almost crippling reliance on their eyes.

But it’s still a shock, suddenly finding himself without. He hadn’t expected to survive his leap into the Nakano—had planned to the contrary, even. One last play to protect Konoha, even if no one besides Itachi ever knows. Because Shisui isn’t a hero, and never has been. He’s an assassin, a killer, has murdered dozens of people and fought in a war and gone on some of ANBU’s darkest missions. But he’s done it all for the good of his village, and that’s what matters. That’s the only thing that counts, in the end.

Danzo… Shisui might not respect the man himself, but he can admire his willingness, his lack of hesitation to dirty his hands in the name of protecting Konoha. Even though Danzo stole his eye, tore it from him and betrayed him, he’s sure that Danzo thought he was doing the best thing for the village. Danzo has never trusted the Uchiha, and apparently with good reason, going by recent events. He has his own beliefs, and he acted on them in the name of keeping Konoha strong.

Shisui won’t aid him, maybe, but he won’t hinder him either.

And he won’t let something as small as a lack of sight stop him from moving forward, now that he’s somehow survived.

Sakumo-Kakashi Role Reversal AU

Sometimes, Sakumo thought his father had no idea what to do with him.

It’s not that he doubted that Kakashi loved him, it was hard to doubt the man’s feeling when he was constantly shadowed by a ninken with ANBU training and Kakashi’s habit of visiting him first- before checking injuries at the hospital or even reporting to the Hokage, but there were times where his father was just…different from the other parents he saw.

Once, when he found out that he was the top ranked student of his year, Sakumo surprised his father with a hug in his excitement and Kakashi just froze, one hand darting into his weapon pouch before it registered that it was Sakumo and froze too. Kakashi had stood stiffly in his hug for a moment as he babbled about his achievement- Sakumo noted the reaction but didn’t comment because his father always reacted badly whenever he acknowledged that his father nearly harmed him- before awkwardly patting his head in congradulations, casually pulling away with the excuse of leading the way to a celebratory meal.

Then there were the times that Kakashi was home when Sakumo was practicing or doing homework for the Academy, the man always hovered- but then when in the village, Kakashi always tended to hover like a mother bird around a chick flying for the first time- and watched him work but never approached, never offered to help. It wasn’t that Kakashi was unwilling to help him but Sakumo got the impression that the man didn’t know how to help; Hatake Kakashi was a genius and Sakumo, Sakumo wasn’t.

Sakumo was smart and he worked hard to improve but he still struggled with the things he learnt, it wasn’t instinctual like his father (sometimes the Academy teacher would look at him and sigh, mumbling about how different he was from his father and Sakumo- Sakumo wasn’t a genius and he wished he could be himself without disapointing people, whished who he was was enough) and that was the problem. Kakashi, he thought, wanted very badly to help him and train with him but didn’t know how to explain how he just knew what to do, didn’t want to train with Sakumo because it would just emphasize the fact that Sakumo wasn’t a genius.

It was, Sakumo would think whenever Kakashi would kind of hunch into himself when Sakumo glanced at him, as if Kakashi viewed this a a personal failure- like there was something wrong with him just because he couldn’t help his son with homework.

It made Sakumo think, along with the absolute absence of his mother, that Kakashi hadn’t planned on having a child.

Sakumo was going to be a father- keyword: was. There were very severe complications that lead to his wife dying in childbirth, double whammy in that she gave birth to a stillborn. He deals with his grief- and bitterness, honestly, because he can’t help thinking that her death (her decision to keep the child despite the knowledge that the birth would kill her) was for nothing- by throwing himself into work, by becoming a living legend that spans across the Elemental Nations.

Kakashi is an orphan, was dropped off at the orphanage as a baby (decided to rename himself ‘Kakashi’ because he really liked the Henohenomoheji faces),  who still goes into the Academy at a young age but doesn’t graduate until a year after he originally did because, while he’s still a mini-genius, he doesn’t have a shinobi father to help him.

They meet because, due to graduating later, the timing is off for Kakashi and Minato’s not there to claim him as a student and no one is really willing to take on a tiny little six year old genius of an orphaned Genin that just a bit off and doesn’t have a team so Kakashi ends up shuffled around from jōnin to jōnin, doing D-Ranks and getting advice but mostly training himself.

Then Sakumo, on medical leave with strict orders to take it easy, is assigned to Kakashi as his stand-in jōnin-sensei of the month.

Sakumo never had anything to do with Genin, had actively avoided them in fact because he kept thinking about what-ifs (what if the child survived? would they want to be a ninja? would they be a shinobi like him or a kunoichi? would he have corrected their stances as the learned their first kata?  would he have shown them how to take care of their weapons? would he have taught them to track? would he have passed on his summons to them?) and hated that none of that would ever be.

When he’s assigned to Kakashi, Sakumo’s equal parts angry and bitter but mostly he’s fucking terrified at being responsible for the tiny little genin (terrified of failing again because that’s why he always took Solo-missions these days).

He deals with this by being distant and cold, by being harsher on the genin then he should be- and he, the part that remembers fondly his time at the Academy when he was a chūnin and filling in for a teacher, hates himself for it but fear is a powerful thing- but the genin, the tiny little six year old genin that the jōnin have been passing along like a broken kunai, takes it without complaint. And just- keeps. Going.

Throwing everything into correcting mistakes- even things that aren’t mistakes but spiteful criticism targeting things that genin aren’t even expected to know yet, let alone be proficient in.

And that-…that means something.

On Kakashi’s part, he’s used to being alone- used to not having anyone. The closest he’s gotten to having someone was an Orphanage Matron and an Academy Sensei but that passed because Kakashi didn’t cause mischief so the matron needed to pay attention to the other children and Kakashi was smart so the Sensei paid attention to the students who were struggling. And that’s fine, Kakashi’s used to not being anyone’s priority- used to being sidelined by louder, slower and more troublesome kids because he knew how to behave, because he never needed help learning things, because he was quieter then the rest (but, then, why talk when everyone would listen to someone else first?).

Kakashi’s alone and it’s fine, he’s used to it (he will never talk about the night after getting his headband where he curled up beneath his blankets and hoped to finally, finally have someone because everyone knows about the strength of the bonds from genin team. will never speak of the despairing, frustrated tears that came when the night after finding out that he’d have no team, that no jōnin-sensei wanted him.) and he refuses to keep him from being a good ninja.

Sometimes though…sometimes Kakashi just wants to scream, to cry and rage at the jōnin- at the Hokage himself- and ask Why?  I graduated just like everyone else! Why don’t I have a team? Why can’t I have a Sensei? What’s wrong with me!? Why am I not enough?!?

He doesn’t, though, because he’s no one’s priority so no one would listen to him anyways so all he can do is get stronger (to try and become a renowned ninja so that, at least when he died someone would morn instead of being a name carved into the memorial stone and forgotten by the time the next name is added).

Kakashi can’t help the hope that comes when Hatake Sakumo is assigned to him because the man is a living legend (and he can’t help hoping that maybe, maybe-) and then he can’t help wishing to have never met the man. Because people always say how kind Hatake-sama is, even by civilian standards, and it’s swiftly apparent that Kakashi is the exception to this legendary kindness.

(There’s something wrong with him, he realizes, because why else would the legend- the hero said to show kindness even to enemy shinobi- hate him so?)

Fine. That’s fine, Kakashi has gotten this far on his own, he doesn’t need anyone to coddle him. All he needs is to learn how to be a better ninja and Hatake-sama, for all that the man isn’t at all what he’d expected or hoped the man to be, is a resource that he can use.

Kakashi has a month to learn all he can from a legend, he’s not going to let hurt feelings get in the way of that.

Yozora

Yozora (Night Sky): Kakashi goes back to his childhood home and finds a mysterious locked black book, curiosity has him opening the book which releases all kinds of yōkai and mythical beings into the world.

Overall Goal Of Show: Kakashi seals all the things who escaped back into the book

OP Song - “Hysteria” by Nano

Starts with Kakashi opening The Book and the surge of beings that are released which act as a scene-change to the rest of Team Minato having a picnic at the Memorial Stone to include Obito. There’s a lime-elapse of them eating and spending time together and then pack up as the sun starts to set. They walk through the village together and Minato is the first to leave via Kushina dragging him away, then Rin who hurries to the hospital as the pass by for her shift leaving Kakashi who continues alone.

Kakashi looks up and the screen follows his gaze to see the moon  in the sky which is used as a scene-change to him being cornered by a yōkai (which changes). Shiro appears, pinning the yōkai and turning to give an unimpressed look at Kakashi who shrugs but seals the yōkai into a page. The two walk home together and Kakashi adds the yōkai’s page into The Book with the end scene being a view of the yōkai’s page in The Book.

END Song - “Hero” by Monkey Majik

Kakashi, in the backyard and leaning against Shiro, going through  various pictures. Finishes with Kakashi glancing up in time to see Kushina to take a picture of him, end scene is of that picture that reveals Rin and Minato posing behind him.

Mr. Ukki the Third

Here’s another late-night Madakaka Drabble, BECAUSE APPARENTLY I CANNOT BE STOPPED AND MY ASKBOX MEANS NOTHING IN THE FACE OF MY DESIRE TO DO SOMETHING NICE FOR ONCE. 

Not beta-read, way too short, and more cracky than anything I’ve written, recently.

(for @thetoxicstrawberry)

The plant was mocking him- Madara was sure of it.

It was a gift from Hashirama, created using his mokuton, and Kakashi had promptly dubbed it Mr Ukki the Third. (Madara took note of the wistful gleam in his eye and decided it would be better not to ask.) Though it appeared innocent enough, with small clusters of dark green leaves and a woody stem, it felt as though it was watching him stumble through acts of courtship from the windowsill. Madara was insulted. And suspicious.

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Trigger warning: Attempted Suicide

Prompt: Kakashi has a failed suicide attempt.

Rated: M

Pairings: None. Team 7 love, man.

What did it mean to die?

Was it the cessation of life? Was it the loss of your spirit on earth?

Where would you go after you stopped breathing?

Kakashi stood before the monument in the Konoha cemetery. The steps that lead up to the monument honoring all those shinobi who lost their lives were wet with morning dew. Above, the clouds hung ominously, as if mirroring what the tall shinobi was feeling this morning.

His hooded eye gazed down at the polished marble, pondering what it would be like to have his name etched underneath it like all his other friends.

Obito, Rin, Minato, Asuma. Dad.

All their names hung in the air as his eyes skimmed over them. He frowned, feeling his chin quiver and he quickly reached up to his masked mouth to cover it. He felt like he was being suffocated.

It was something that always lingered in his mind, as if a small demon sat on his shoulder, poking him with these thoughts when he needed it least.

Often times, he tried to push it all away, diving into something else and transfixing his time on that. The first time his feelings overwhelmed him, he was still young. His adolescent body was just developing into the man he would become. He gutted himself and made himself into a shinobi after bloodlust, killing men in whatever situation he could. He invented the Chidori, punching his lightning blade into the chest of any man he felt should die at his hand. Minato-sensei had caught in, appointing him to the ANBU to perhaps distract himself. That time it only went away when he found purpose as a black ops captain. 

The second time was when he hung up his ANBU mask, attempting to find purpose after the black ops. When he returned back to the regular Konoha military, he seemed to lack what he had once found in the ANBU even though he knew he couldn’t go back. 

Then, Lord Third had mentioned he become a sensei to a new team of genin coming fresh from the academy. He didn’t seem to think he fit the bill for a teacher. He wasn’t like Iruka or Ibisu who seemed to have it within them. But nonetheless, he accepted and found purpose with Team 7. 

Now, they were gone. 

Kakashi had watched his young and inexperienced team grow into young adults. Naruto had been taken under the wing of Master Jiraya. Sakura worked under Lady Tsunade. And Sasuke was missing, rumored to be under the watchful eye of Orochimaru. 

His team had grown up with it much time for their old sensei. Kakashi shoved his hands in his pockets as the air became heavy with the anticipated rain showers of the day. He breathed in, turning around to gaze at the hundreds of tombstones that lined themselves in the lawn before him. He lowered his chin, making his way down the steps and out the gates. His hand reached into his back pouch for his book, brushing against its spine before his mind suddenly wandered and his hand returned to his pocket. He could do it, he thought. 

It would be easy. A kunai to the throat. A Chidori to the chest. He entertained the idea of leaving this world, wondering what it would be like to leave everyone behind. He wondered who would care. 

He thought of Guy, his oldest friend. Nowadays, he seemed more immersed in training with Lee. There was you, a comrade turned lover for one night. Since then, there hadn’t been much contact between the two of you. He frowned at the thought. 

He thought of Iruka and Yamato. Both of whom had their own troubles and work to take care of. 

He thought of Team 7, frowning as he mentally evaluated each of his students. They were older now, more mature. Or at least, Sasuke was. Perhaps even Sakura. He wondered how Naruto would react.

Kakashi’s chest constricted as he walked the desolate road of Konoha. He was caught between wanting to release himself from the memories and feelings, and not wanting to cause the ones he loved such pain. 

He remembered finding his father and how it had felt as though he betrayed him, left him for the dead to learn how to navigate this world on his own. It was such a disgrace to die of suicide back then. Kakashi walked passed a civilian who was sweeping the cobblestone, looking up briefly as the brooding shinobi passed. Now, as an adult, Kakashi felt something deeper than he had the past two times he felt this pain. He sympathized with his father’s actions, realizing the justification for them. 

He ached for silence in his mind. Nothing seemed to work. There was no Minato to save him, pushing him into his next ambitious agenda. For a moment, he looked up, thinking that he had to be his own hero. And yet, the sky above responded with a single raindrop that fell between his eyes. He curled his eyes shut, disgusted that he couldn’t help himself. 

So many men had died at his hand. He constantly felt as though his hands were soaked in blood. He continued to walk, itching his palm as he thought of the all the chests they had pierced with his chidori. 

“Kakashi,” looking back, he saw his young cherry blossom walking down the cobbled street, her heels clicking on it. He felt his chest tighten, looking at how much older she looked since the last time he saw her. She certainly didn’t need her old sensei anymore. 

“Sakura-chan,” he turned, bowing his head. 

“How are you?” She asked, placing a gentle hand on his lower arm. She smiled at him, and he suddenly felt exposed, as if she knew his thoughts, despite it being impossible. 

He looked down at her, wondering what she could possibly want with him. Perhaps she needed more training. His heart lightened, excited to feel wanted.

“Fine,” he replied shortly. “Why do you ask? Is there something you need me to do?“ 

She gently smiled, tilting her pink head and letting go of his shoulder. 

“No, Lady Tsunade suggested I come speak to you,” she told him. His heart sank again. "She said you quiet during your last mission briefing. More so than normal.”

“Oh,” Kakashi nodded, trying to hide his disappointment and sound surprised as he continued down the street. 

Kakashi waved a hand, dismissing his only female student, “no reason.“ 

He wasn’t about to confide in a 15-year-old student. She nodded your head as Kakashi looked away, not noticing the suspicious look in her jade eye as she gazed up at the copy-nin. She took his shoulder in your hand, stopping him. 

“Anything bothering you, Kakashi-sensei?” She frowned, looking up at him. He stared down at her, the look in his eye deep and forlorn. He felt his chest tighten, the demon on his shoulder whispering to him.

She doesn’t really care, it said. 

“Nothing,” he replied, turning away. 

The pink hairs kunoichi stood there, rain beginning to pour itself from the sky onto the stone road. She watched as he began to walk away, lifting a hand to wave a goodbye. 

* * * * * * * 

Kakashi sat on his bed, his elbows resting on his knees. His chest felt like a weight was sitting on it. His body ached for the sleep that only came in small intervals throughout the night. Dawn had just barely opened its eyes when the silver haired ninja stood, the rickety floor board creaking under his step. He walked into his bathroom, turning the light on to wash his face. 

He splashed water over his skin, feeling the cold water against his face. Feeling something other than the perpetual ache in his head. He opened his eye, staring at himself for the first time in what felt like days. 

The circles under his eyes were darker than he remembered. He lifted a hand, tracing the purple circle under his eye and down the scar that resided to just above his lip. He remembered how it felt to get that. The pain he felt. 

No matter how many memories Kakashi seemed to recall, none of them could penetrate him. He tried to think of happier memories, the feelings of joy and accomplishment. And yet, the sad, tired eyes stared back at him. 

He gritted his teeth, angry. He clenched his eyes shut, feeling tears spill from under his lids as he inhaled sharply. 

“I can’t anymore,” he whispered. “I just can’t do it anymore.” 

He felt himself kick the cupboard, his arms flailing and punching the mirror before him. It shattered, glass sticking to his knuckles. An ugly wail bubbled up in his throat, all the memories of people dying to resurface. Minato, Obito, Rin, Dad. He wanted to forget about it, to be the strong shinobi so many admired. But he couldn’t keep being strong. He couldn’t continue to be the strong one in the village. 

Kakashi bent over, yanking his mask off so that he could breathe. The air in the room felt so thick, like his lungs couldn’t handle it all. His teeth showed as he gritted them, feeling himself sob in a way he never had. He shoved things off the counter, anger, resentment and disappointment surfacing. He reached in the drawer of the bathroom, pulling out a bottle of painkillers. 

He walked out of the bathroom, throwing caution of the glass out the window as it cut the bottom of his feet, leaving footprints of blood as he reached into the nightstand next to his bed. He reached in, grabbing a kunai and twirled it in his fingers. Heaving, he pushed himself against the wall and slid down, staring up at the ceiling. 

Who would find him? Would he remain here, dead, for days? They only wanted him for his physical strength. And even that was wavering the older he grew. His time as a shinobi were numbered. He lifted the silver blade, pushing it against his finger. 

He contemplated his options. With shaking hands, he opened the bottle and shoved a dozen in his mouth, swallowing hard. He exhaled, looking up at the ceiling. In his hand, he clutched the blade, feeling it cutting into his palm. He considered lifting it, imagining it slicing him, and yet, he didn’t. 

He reached for the bottle again, shoving five or six more into his mouth. Kakashi leaned over, holding the back of his neck as he rested his head on his knees. He stayed there, feeling time ticking in his ears as he waited. The world drifted in and out of vision, his heart rate accelerating and then dropping. He felt the control over his body drift from him as his torso slid over the wall and onto the floor. 

His world turned black. 

And then, he heard it. 

* * * * * * * * * *

“Kakashi-sensei!” It sounded as though he was underwater. The world around him felt far away and his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. 

In his living room were Sakura and Naruto, bursting into his living space with joyous smiles and a bag full of hot food. 

“We came to bring you breakfast to cheer you up!” Naruto hollered. 

When no one answered, both of his students frowned, lowering their arms. 

“Kakashi-sensei?” Sakura called, her voice lower than before. 

“Sensei, aren’t you happy that I’m home?” Naruto laughed nervously. No answer.

“Maybe he’s not home?” Sakura suggested, putting down the bag of food. 

“Not home so early?” Naruto frowned, “Or maybe he’s just sleeping. Let’s go wake him up.” 

Before Sakura could stop him, Naruto pushed past her and into his bedroom. The blood visibly drained from his face when he saw the scene before him. Kakashi laid on his side, arms tangled, holding the blade of a kunai. Blood trailed from his hands and into the bathroom, his feet bloody with shattered glass. 

“No!” Sakura yelled, running up to his lifeless body. Quickly, her hands began to glow green, assessing him. She gritted her teeth, tears streaming down her face and onto his mask. 

“Naruto! Go get Lady Tsunade!” 

* * * * * * * * * 

“You’re not going to die on me!” Kakashi heard through fogged hearing. He fell in and out of consciousness, feeling Sakura working on his body with her own chakra. His body didn’t feel like it was his own. 

More voices around him came into proximity. The voice of the Hokage yelled, barking orders. His body was picked up and put on a stretcher. He drifted back into darkness. 

“You’re not leaving us, Kakashi!” Tsunade murmured aggressively as he stirred. She yelled orders to Sakura as his body rumbled over to the Leaf Hospital blocks away. Black.  

He stirred again, feeling his body being poked with IVs, fluids being pumped into his body. The sound of his heartbeat monitor rung in his ears. 

“Kakashi!” he heard. The voice belonged to Naruto. Black.

 “Kakashi-sensei!” he heard again, his eyes only half opening to a blurred vision of yellow and orange.

“Kakashi-sensei, why would you do this?” Naruto asked, his voice distraught. “You didn’t need to do this. Everyone - everyone loves you. If you needed something - I am here. Granny Tsunade is here! Sakura and - Sasuke! We’re here!” 

Black. 

“Kakashi-sensei,” another voice. Pink. “Can you hear me? If you can, I just wanted to tell you, you are the best sensei. You -” 

Black. 

* * * * * * * * 

~3 Days Later~ 

“Kakashi,” Tsuande sat opposite of him, discharge papers in hand. “I’m here to talk to you.” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Kakashi murmured, fiddling with the bandage on his palm. 

“There is plenty,” Tsunade frowned. She paused, staring at him as he sat in his hospital bed. 

“Kakashi,” Tsunade began again. “I just wanted to tell you something. I may not be able to understand exactly how you feel, but I care about you and want to help. So many people want to help.”

“I’m sorry,” Kakashi frowned. 

“Don’t,” Tsunade shook her head. “I don’t want to hear about how you’re sorry. I see your life and how you’ve overcome so many things. The weight of it all must be unbearable. But you are not alone. When you want to give up, tell yourself you will hold off for just one more day, hour, minute—whatever you can manage.“

Kakashi looked away. Carefully, the Hokage placed the discharge papers on the edge of his bed. 

“I have an appointment scheduled for you to see a counselor-” 

“I don’t-”

“You will,” Tsunade returned sternly. She nodded and began to walk away before turning and looking back at him. 

“And Kakashi?” 

“Hm?”

“Your team loves you more than you understand. They still love you.” 

Kakashi looked away again, feeling his chin begin to quiver.

On his nightstand next to him was a card, something he always thought to be too cliche and tacky. However, this time he would cherish it. For it was signed by all of the Konoha shinobi. 

Get well soon

This was a heart wrenching and yet absolutely gorgeous story. Exactly my kind of thing. Fantastic work. I will absolutely be re-reading this one. We need more works about Kakashi’s struggles that don’t rely on a pairing to make them readable.

take me back to my embarrassing grade 6 naruto phase

i’m watching old naruto reruns with my brother and couldn’t help but doodle some of my faves