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Chapter Text

Kakashi landed with little fanfare in a forest that smelled familiar but that he couldn’t recognize.  He immediately stifled his chakra, engaged in full scent masking, and jumped into the upper branches of the nearest full-grown tree under the strongest stealth jutsu that he knew.  

Until he knew what time of the past he’d jumped into, he could not risk Shikako identifying his presence.  His precocious genin had had words with him regarding the matter. 

“Kakashi-sensei. I need to make this very clear to you—you will be joining the other timeline that Sasuke and I are already in.  We cannot risk making another one.  If you end up in a time before the moment we were sent back from, if you change our perception of those events, that could break things.  Very badly.  I’ll write up suggestions for things you could do if this happens, but I want you to promise me you won’t interfere with events Sasuke and I have already experienced, okay?  Even if things could have gone better, do not risk the outcome we achieved.”  

“How will I know if something I do will affect something around you?” Kakashi asked.   Kakashi took in the way she relaxed, just slightly.

Shikako was deadly serious about this, and very concerned.  Kakashi would not let her think he was taking this lightly.  Because, after all, she had every reason to take this every bit as seriously as she was; literal timelines were at stake.  (But… more importantly—so too were his genin.)  

“There is some wiggle room.  Some… flexibility.  The timeline is like an elastic tie between the point we entered the timeline and when we sent ourselves back.  There can be some jostling of the timeline, but the band of time will try to remain fixed.  Our mistake in the first place was saving a life whose loss eventually sent Madara over the edge and making ourselves known to essential players of that timeline.  We snapped the original timeline with those actions.  Don’t risk any important conversations with Madara and Tobirama until you are much closer to the time we’re sent back.  You’ve got our notes on our time there, that will help you know what to avoid.”  

Kakashi eye smiled teasingly.  “Mah, what do you take me for? I know better than to encroach on your pet projects.”

“Sensei,” she sighed, clearly exasperated.  Heh.  Poor Shikako.  It’s not like he couldn’t tell from their reports just how stressful those ‘pet projects’ had been for them.

“I know, I know,” he said.  “Yes, I promise.  I would never risk you and Sasuke not getting back home, even if doing so didn’t risk destroying timelines.”

“And you’ll stay out of my sensing range?” she pushed. 

“At all times.  I promise.”  He met her gaze steadily, utterly sincere.

Shikako let out a breath of relief. 

A few days later she delivered a letter of ideas and enough hand-written medical books, stripped of reference to authors, times, and editors, to self-study to a full med-nin.  He wondered if Sasuke had lent shadow clones to the task, or if she’d made use of her own to complete this project.  Knowing his genin… probably both.

He might not recognize where he was at, but he was well practiced in locating the nearest water source.  He'd follow that, in full stealth, to the location of Konoha.  And, if the start of Konoha wasn’t there… well, he’d know where in the timeline he was working from. 

Looking upon the Hokages’ cliff face, sans Hokage, sans civilization, Konoha non-existent, he’d thought he’d braced himself for the possibility. 

But, Konoha.  It was gone and was still yet to be.  

That realization was a gut-punch he was unsure when he’d recover from.  

He’d been hopeful (despite himself, despite his luck, and even knowing of Shikako’s doubts), when he agreed to come back, that he’d be dropped in the time his genin had last left from.  This was clearly not the case. 

He allowed himself a half hour’s mourning before he gathered himself.  It would not do to remain in the area while his kids played hide-and-seek with the monsters of this time ninja, played ninja. They’d be fine. 

They would be fine. 

He knew this.  For once, he had the future proof of this.  And the best way to secure both them and that future for them was to get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible.  He made for the Land of Tea.  

It mattered little which family was currently in leadership within its borders.  So long as he took no contract against either, Tea held little interest for a shinobi of this time and no significant clans hailed from that land.  It was an ideal location to gather information and train without drawing attention.  

It had been years since he’d gone on an ANBU training trip, and years more since his skills were the focus of such a trip.  He set up camp in a woods half a day’s run from the nearest civilian settlement, secured food for the day, and settled down to study. 

He’d never considered the role of med-nin for himself.  He was too good at killing, too good at ending life to be the one asked to save it.  Medical techniques weren’t perfect; he didn’t want the inevitable failure when losing someone he tried to heal.   His cute little genin might have taken on the role of saboteurs for the village.  They were efficient killers (when they needed to be), but their signature techniques did not drench their arms in blood.

But this was a skill Konoha needed in this time.  This was a skill his team needed him to have. How many times had Shikako already died!?   Tsunade-sama was not available and the medical strides she had made existed only in the books they had brought into this time.  Even self trained with knowledge of his original timeline, no sane ninja of any time willingly antagonized someone they might need to heal them later.  This skill could keep him alive in more than one way. 

He’d copied as many medical techniques as he could with Obito’s sharingan before he made the jump back.  Tsunade-sama had even called him in to watch an eye transplant from one of Konoha’s few marked-for-death prisoners.  Having the memories of the chakra control exercises, the medical techniques, it wasn’t a substitute for properly training the skills… but it would probably significantly cut down on the time it would take to learn. 

He crossed his fingers.  Two copies of himself appeared beside himself.  He had six months to devote to this training.  They got to work. 

Kakashi should have known better than to have accepted a C-rank mission, even an informal one that was due to pay with connections rather than riyo.  Really, A-rank assassinations were much safer.  

He dodged to the left, barely missing the hail of poisoned shuriken attempting to turn him into a pin cushion.  A quick glance over his shoulder, and yup.  Three of them were attempting a pincer maneuver.  He twisted his chakra, dispelling another genjutsu.

Fuck.  How the hell were they tracking him!?  A fourth and fifth had joined them.  The newcomers were moving at a high chuunin speed, but he was already against one almost his level and two lower jounin level.  If they had any amount of teamwork between them he was screwed. 

He lunged to the right-most jounin, a chakra scalpel coming to life to decapitate the nin—he’d been expecting a taijutsu match, not a chakra knife to the throat.  A haze began to form around the two chuunin level nin.  Their green facial markings stood out starkly.  One was distracted enough by forming his technique that the kunai Kakashi tossed buried itself between the third and fourth rib, directly into his heart.  He fell in slow motion. 

The success cost him.  The jounin nearest his level closed the distance between them, his sword grazing his side before a kawarimi put Kakashi in a position to tear a chakra scalpel through the kidney and liver of the second lower level jounin.  An elbow to the head ensured he’d be unconscious until he bled out. 

The world distorted again.  Kakashi twisted his chakra, attempting to dispel another genjutsu.  It only half worked.  The kenjutsu user attempted to close the distance again.  Another kawarimi put Kakashi above the remaining chuunin’s haze.  Somehow there were three of them.  He twisted his chakra again.  Two hazy chuunin remain.  That didn’t seem right, but he tossed a kunai with an explosive tag between them regardless.  Limbs flew.

The explosion tossed both himself and the other jounin against the trees.  The other jounin staggered.  Kakashi twisted his chakra again.  Between the healing he’d done earlier and the fighting he’d been doing he was too low on chakra to bring out the sharingan to see through a whole fight’s worth of genjutsu. 

He flew through the signs for a water clone.  Distract.  Distract.  His clone served its purpose as he stifled his chakra.  He risked the sharingan for a brief moment, the chirping of birds lit the clearing as the water from his dispelling clone soaked his final opponent.  His final opponent was dead seconds later. 

The world was fuzzy, unbalanced… but the brief time that he’d had the sharingan out confirmed that he had cleared the genjutsu affecting him.  He inspected the jounin kenjutsu user’s blade. 

Damn.  It was poisoned.  He'd suspected the least skilled nin were of the Gekidoku clan (the green tear tracks were a good indicator), but poisons and genjutsu—those were indicative of the Kudoku clan.  He’d not expected to find the two working together in this time; in the future they were known to be from Kumo and Kiri respectively… but judging by their dress, apparently the intel of them both originating from the Land of Water was true. 

Before he set about diagnosing the poison he’d been exposed to, he created two more water clones.  They collected and searched the bodies of the nin he’d killed, setting aside the money, weapons, and scrolls they could find.  Three vials were found on the high jounin and quick testing confirmed that he knew how to deal with it. 

Pouring water into a wooden bowl, he attempted to shape the chakra needed to extract the poison.  His chakra stuttered.  He tried again.  The same thing occurred. 

He closed his eyes, bracing himself for plan B.  He had hoped that his control would be sufficient to remove the poison the easy way… but even with his intensive training, the poison he’d been hit with was meant to screw over the senses, chakra control among them.  It was a testament to his medical training that he could use any jutsu at all. 

He used an earth jutsu to bury the bodies of the Gekidoku clan members, grateful that their face markings were so distinctive, before burning the bodies of the suspected Kukoku clan members. 

(In the yet-to-exist timeline, Konoha had learned the hard way that burning the bodies of Gekidoku members was one of the quickest ways to kill an unprepared team; it produced a cloud of poison gas that slowly crippled the lungs while shutting down the rest of the organs.  A few teams were killed during the first war before one survived long enough to explain to a medic what had occurred.  He’d died in agony a few days later (the attempts at treatment had only prolonged his suffering) but at least Konoha now knew what to avoid.)

Resolving to go through the scrolls he’d scavenged later, he used what stealth he could manage to find a cave an hour away from where he’d fought his battle.  He trapped the location extensively, before pulling out the ingredients he would need to mix an antidote. 

Unfortunately, the cure was almost as troublesome as the poison itself… just, probably, less likely to kill him.  For the hours it was neutralizing the poison, it was known to cause hallucinations. 

…this wasn’t such a bad thing for genin or even chunnin… when they were supervised.  But for an elite jounin, in the field, and without backup and a medic capable of knocking him out while the cure did its work…

His vision swam as he mixed the cure.  Sounds fluctuated and echoed.  Breathing, birds, and wind howled, twittered, and muted in turns.  The fabric of his clothing, the scrape of the rocks, the wood and metal of his tincture set could not settle on feeling like a soothing caress or sandpaper.  He put on a second mask to further dampen the scents around him; that sense had become exceedingly more sensitive.  

I must remain in the cave—remain in the cave—remain in the cave—remain in the cave… 

He kept up the refrain as he dosed himself.  The cure was both ingested and soaked the bandage binding his wound.

He hadn’t dared set a fire.  Not only would it be overwhelming to his senses, but he couldn’t be sure that he would be safe in its presence, or able to keep it discreet enough not to catch another shinobi’s attention.  Pulling out a cloak, he huddled against the side of the cave, attempting to force himself to sleep. 

He might have dozed off, maybe, but the world distorted—reality, dream, and memory were all unclear and… distressingly real.  He was in a cave and Obito was trapped, his gifted sharingan proving the truth of the world and that no genjutsu was upon him.   Minato was dead.  Sensei and Kushina were skewered by a giant claw.  He was poisoned and being carried—Kumo was going to take him apart to find Konoha’s secrets; they’d hidden him… tortured him in labyrinthine caves until sunlight felt like a distant memory and he was forced to retreat into his mind.  He still had no memory of his extraction.  He and Tenzou were trapped, hunted, deep under Konoha—ever present eyes and bodies (and screams and echoing whispers—wait no) preventing their exit until Tenzou was freed… but the presence, the agony, the—watchers remained.  He was forced by duty underground until the fear of rocks, the fear of caves, fear of the dark and the torture and the emotional agony dulled enough for him to function.  

After each of these events he called for them.  Sensei had forced him through the motions the first time, Gai the few times after.  He’d promised them, eventually.  He’d even called them once, on his own, when Mouse-the-first died under his leadership and the katana he carried called to him like he was an enemy needing to be neutralized.

All these things felt real, felt… present.  The cave walls loomed above him.  The sharingan confirmed the reality.  The memories were real.  Were there .  Were present .  The call of a Hawk hammered his mind.  A Bat hid in the back of the cave, there but silent, waiting for his action. 

He needed backup.  He’d promised to be there.  They’d promised to be there. 

His fingers made the signs without his input, without respect to the timeline he was currently within. 

Boar.  Dog.  (like his dogs—they should be here too)   Bird.  Monkey.  Ram.  Kuchiyose no Jutsu .

He felt a hook.  The world spun and his vision went black.

Kakashi woke within a cave.  Light fluctuated despite his closed eyelids.  The smell of dry earth, pups, and rock greeted him.  Sound came in and out of focus, but more prominent than the chorus of cave and forest, the unmistakable sound of whines met his ears.  The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and instinct demanded action. 

He opened his eyes.  No genjutsu.  He closed Obito’s eye.

He looked to the right and the sight of two pups greeted him.  Three claw marks grazed the back of one while the other nuzzled at the injury.  Neither were old enough to have left their den.  They were big for pups of their age, though they somewhat resembled Akino, Shino, and Urushi as pups.  Given the size of their paws, it was entirely possible the pups were actually cubs . 

Looking around again, it became clear that this wasn’t their den.  The shaft of light came in through a thin opening, but there was no way for a grown dog to enter.  The pups must have tumbled through the opening. 

He removed the second mask he’d donned; his senses might still be on the fritz, but this was not the cave he’d bedded down for the night within.  Having one of his more reliable senses less diminished seemed prudent.  (And his Hatake side was hardwired to respond to pups in need, being able to better smell them could only help.)  The motion caught the attention of both cubs, and the one that hadn’t been scraped up limped forward, growling.  

He responded with a light chuffing sound, part amusement and part reprimand.  He could respect the urge to protect a packmate, but he was far more inclined to assist them than to cause them any trouble.  (And even beyond that, he was a stranger far more dangerous than they.  Pups in their position should break out the puppy eyes, manipulate for assistance, and then either gain an ally or, should he prove a false one, run once he was more distracted or they were far more healed.)

The more aggressive pup backed up, both inquisitive and confused. 

Kakashi narrowed his eyes, but relaxed his body language.  He didn’t know if they were part of a nin-pack or were regular wolves, but he could communicate to dogs on a couple levels… and regardless of their understanding, using speech wouldn’t hurt.

“Hey now, little cubs.  I don’t know you and you don’t know me, but I am willing to help you if you’ll let me.”  (That was just a little bit of a lie.  His Hatake instincts had been triggered.  They were pups.  He’d be helping them whether they wanted his assistance or not… but better that they think they had a choice in this.)

That got a huff from the more hurt one, and a slight baring of the teeth from the protective one.  Instinct had him making eye-contact and giving a brief warning growl in response to that flash of teeth.  (Were he an acknowledged pack member, he’d have provided a light cuff about the head for that response, but he was essentially an unknown alpha, and their reactions to him were forgivable.)

He moved forward slowly, meeting the eyes of them both briefly, while commenting, “I’ll see what I can do about healing you, and then we’ll see if we can track down your pack.  Hai?”  He ghosted a hand over the back of the scratched up pup, shifting the fur slightly to get a better view of the injuries.

“I think I can fix this?”  The still standing pup cocked his head slightly.  “It will be uncomfortable while I do so though.”  The injured pup gave a slight whine, part permission and part surrender.  Kakashi lightly stroked her head, brushing a hand along her cheek in imitation of scenting.  “You’ll be fine, little Watarimono.”

He ran through the hand signs for a better diagnostic than sight, partly due diligence, and largely to confirm that despite his still slightly wonky senses, he had regained enough control of his chakra to be doing a chakra healing.  No surprises there. 

He gave a firm look to the protective pup.  “Little Takeshi, healing your littermate will be painful for her.  If you attack me while I am healing Watarimono here, I will hold you down.”  His intent must have been clear, regardless of fine understanding, since the pup sat himself down, slightly barring his neck in submission. 

Kakashi gave a firm nod, flashing through the hand signs that would allow him to burn out any infection and knit the long gashes together.  The pup gave a slight keen along the most tender portions, but did not struggle enough to shift away.  (Not that she’d have managed to do so, under Kakashi’s firm grip.)  Little Takeshi had growled again, wiggling in anxiety and intent, but held back his action when confronted by a sharp glance from Kakashi.

Watarimono went limp with relief as Kakashi finished healing her, and an acknowledging “Okay” paired with Kakashi relaxing back on his heels brought Takeshi forward to nuzzle the healed flesh. 

Kakashi brought the hand he’d marked with the healed cub’s scent forward to brush against Takeshi with similar intent.  The pup scrambled back a bit at the contact, but when the hand didn’t move to follow he leaned forward to catch his scent.  It might have been the healing that he’d done on Watarimono.  It might have been the mixed scents: main line Hatake, his littermate, and himself.  It might have been that he was simply a pup and his instincts finally acknowledged that a grown alpha had taken control.  It might have been that he was too exhausted to remain on edge any further, but the pup slumped into sleep as he leaned forward to accept a head scratch from the outstretched hand.  Kakashi suspected that it was probably all four.   

After healing the strains he found on Takeshi’s neck and front legs, he picked up both cubs, unsealed a bedroll, and settled the three of them down.  Their cave was safe enough at the moment, and he’d rather be at full strength if he was going to return the cubs to their pack.  (Having the smell of safe, healthy pups mingled with his own scent could only help with future negotiations.) 

Kakashi woke to two pups wriggling atop his stomach.  By habit, he draped a forearm over their small bodies, stilling them immediately but without alarm.  He sat up slightly and the action sent the cubs tumbling half onto his lap. 

A quick check of his senses showed no more distortions, and confirmed that the ray of light illuminating their cave had shifted across the floor.  He pet the pups as he considered his predicament; he was alone (he’d been so for months) and without backup (his genin couldn’t be contacted for another six months).  There was no evidence of other beings in the cave beyond the pups, and, given his likely action when confronted with the memories hallucinations that had plagued him, he had likely performed the summoning jutsu while he was lost to the antidote’s effects.

Sasuke had warned about the possibility of reverse summoning; their contracts didn’t exist yet in this past, and he’d been relieved to have been accepted by the Hawks again when he’d unknowingly triggered the process.  (That had been one way to escape a sticky situation… though he supposed summoning oneself to the summoning realm was a bit more dramatic than simply flying away upon a bird as he’d intended.  Effective though.  And Sasuke had made it out of the experience alive, which is all that really mattered.)  Kakashi wasn’t too surprised to have landed among canines… but damn, one complication at a time.

He glanced down and found the cubs looking at him inquisitively.  “Mah, do you have names you can give me?”  The pups looked at each other before giving a pair of synchronized shrugs.  (Well… that confirmed they understood human speech, even if they couldn’t yet speak it.)  A thought occurred to him—they were young yet, and canine—perhaps they had this in common with the dogs.  “Do you still go by numbers?” 

That wasn’t a question that anyone outside of a canine hierarchy would think to ask, but it was common practice among the dogs to name a litter by birth order until they’d grown strong enough to survive and earn a name.  Takeshi gave one excited bark while Watarimono gave two.

“Taro,” Kakashi questioned and a slight negative growl followed, “or Ichiro?”  A head butted his arm at that.  He gave a nod, and turned his head to look at Watarimono, “and you’re Cìnǚ?”  A second head butted his arm. 

“This adventure of yours has probably earned you the nicknames I’ve been using… if you’re inclined to accept them?”  It was kind of presumptuous of him to offer this to them, and a mild manipulation of the pack structure if they agreed.  Pups were always eager to earn their names beyond their numbers, but once they accepted one, they were tied to the one who had provided it… not in a literal sense, but offering a name meant offering to teach the pup to grow into the implications of that name.  (Kakashi had been too young himself to understand that tradition when naming his original pack; they’d made it work, and their names now suited them, but some of the names he’d chosen could have been an insult if he’d been more than a pup himself.)  

However, the fact remained that these cubs likely owed him their lives for his assistance (if not for the healing he provided, then for the fact that they were unlikely to be rescued from this cave without him).  If they also accepted his naming, their pack would be bound by their own tradition to honor that choice.

Kakashi shuffled the cubs off his lap as they appeared to consider the offer.  He set a bowl beside them, filled it with water, and then set a couple strips of jerky beside them.  They tottered a bit but attacked the meat and liquid with enthusiasm.  He shot a hand forward to steady the bowl when it threatened to tip under their uncoordinated efforts.  

With their immediate needs sated, they looked to him to pose the question again.  “Ichiro, Cìnǚ?” he raised his left hand.  “Takeshi, Watarimono?”  They jumped at his right hand before he had a chance to raise it.  An ember of satisfaction made itself at home in his chest. 

He packed the few things he’d unsealed before picking up both pups.  “I’ll be using a chakra technique to take us through the earth and back to the surface.  We’ll see about finding your pack from there.”  They huddled close as he enacted the Doton: Tsuchi Gunjikoudou no Jutsu, walking them through the one earthen wall of their cave. 

The pups shuddered as they exited the ground, shaking their coats as best they could while still held firmly within his arms.  Kakashi oriented himself quickly, moving to check the entrance from which the cubs had tumbled into their cave.  A massive bird’s scratch marks marred the entrance, firming up his suspicion.  “A bird of prey picked up Watarimono, and you latched on for the ride, didn’t you Takeshi?  You were both very lucky to land where you did when you broke free.” Takeshi shuffled in defiant embarrassment while Watarimono was clearly discomfited by the deduction.

Kakashi dropped the topic.  “What direction do you suppose home is for you?”  The two cubs tested the wind, wavering a bit before both looking north. 

“Very well then.”  He shifted open one of his bigger vest pockets, plopped the most convenient pup into it with a whining wholph, and repeated the action on his other side’s pocket with pup number two.  He didn’t give them much of a chance to settle before taking off to track their pack. 

The markings of a large wolf pack made itself known after a half day’s fast run.  Both cubs began wiggling in excitement when familiar scents met the breeze.  Takeshi’s movements nearly resulted in his tumbling out of the pocket, but a settling pat on the head reduced his motion. 

Kakashi slowed to a walk, sure that he would be confronted shortly.  In preparation, he’d tried to remove the cubs from his pockets, but Watarimono was adamant about not moving.  Takeshi saw the game in refusal, and decided to be equally obstinate.  Kakashi could force the issue, but it was best not to have even a playfully pouting pup within his grasp when their packmates became aware of his presence here. 

In an effort to compromise, he tracked down the nearest water source, refilled his cantine, and produced a couple more sticks of jerky.  (If he couldn’t use reason or force, he wasn’t above using bribery… especially so when said bribery doubled as proper care of pups (and the pups weren’t aware enough to realize the bribe for what it was.))  They tumbled out of his pockets with cheerful abandon before he could even suggest the action. 

He set no traps around their clearing, nor did he hush the cubs once they’d finished their food and taken to tumbling over each other.  For once, he wanted the scouts within this territory to become aware of his presence. 

Eventually the hairs on his neck prickled.  He couldn’t hear or see who he was surrounded by, but he was entirely certain that he had been.  A solidly grey wolf, slightly larger than an Inuzuka’s companion, eventually broke cover from the brush, and the two pups tripped over themselves to give a greeting.  As good as he was at understanding canine body language, he could not actually translate the exuberant tale the cubs were telling—regardless, it would be a safe bet that their most recent adventure was the story of the day.  

Kakashi kept himself relaxed as the grey wolf nuzzled over where both cubs had taken injury, and he intentionally didn’t startle when two more wolves made themselves known on either side of him.  One had stockings of white fur, while the other had one ear tipped white. The stockinged one bared his teeth near the end of the pups’ tale, but settled slightly when the pup attempted a backflip in his joy and both littermates hit their companions with pleading puppy eyes. 

A good bit of manipulation, that.  He approved.

The stockinged one gave something of a tolerant harumph before looking toward the one with the white tipped ear, and the voice that came from that cue rumbled.  “It has been a rather long while since a summoner has sought to form a contract with the pack of the Honshou Forests.  Is that what brought you here?”

“Mah, I found myself in a spot of trouble, and noted your cubs in a similar predicament.  It wouldn’t do to let the pups remain stranded when they were likely thought to be dead, so I brought them back home.”  He paused for a moment to let that thought settle—that his search for a contract was less intentional than the return of their cubs.  

He was too much a ninja to pass up a potential contract though (and, although he wouldn’t admit it aloud, too lonely to pass up the potential of pack ), so he continued, “However, I would be honored if your pack would consider me as a potential summoner.”  He met the gaze of the wolf who’d spoken with even resolve, and, with neither inclined to turn their meeting into a challenge, both glanced away in the same moment, sincerity assured. 

The stockinged wolf loped forward, picking up Watarimono by the scruff of her neck and securing her upon his back with a basic application of chakra.  The fully grey wolf did the same with Takeshi, and all four looked toward the white eared wolf for their next direction.  He released two sharp howls and one longer before gruffly stating to Kakashi, “Keep up, if you can.” 

Kakashi gave a sharp smile at the challenge of skill and replied, “I will.” 

Without further ado, the wolves took off at a full sprint, Kakashi bracketed between them. 

The wolves ran him hard for an hour.  They looped back in on their trail multiple times, attempting to confuse his sense of direction.  On their fourth attempt of the same, he gave them a knowing look.  It was clear already that he could keep up with their harshest sprints, and at this point, continued attempts to challenge his sense of direction would be insulting.  (And if that initial howl was to send a messenger informing of his presence, they’d had plenty of time to make it known.)

Taking the hint, their path straightened.  It led into a valley, still covered in trees, before a sharp right took them to the foothills of an unremarkable mountain.  The entrances of dens dotted the hills.  They were camouflaged to the untrained eye, but clearly visible to Kakashi. 

There were no pups visible beyond the two upon his escorts’ backs, but nearly twenty adult wolves surrounded his small group.  The largest met his eye and voiced a clear order, “Stay.”  And a swish of  his tail and brief eye-contact had his escorts and the pups following in his wake. 

Upon their exit, Kakashi took a seat on the nearest log before glancing around idly.  By another’s reckoning, he was in a rather precarious situation; he was surrounded by nearly twenty grown chakra-trained wolves, in their territory, and utterly without backup.  However, he couldn’t find it in himself to be truly concerned; not only did he know canines, but he had already saved two of their cubs, passed a few of their tests, and had sensed no true hostility from them.  Yes, his manipulations regarding the pups were rather blatant, but he’d done so with the expectation that they would be seen through, and he’d displayed proper intent to their care.

The largest wolf returned to the clearing, black fur crowned his head and raced along his sides, but the rest of him was just as grey as his fellows.  His calm presence acted as a dismissal to the rest, half retreating into the underbrush, and the rest into nearby dens.  The alpha sat across from Kakashi, clearly contemplating the human, before he opened the discussion. 

“You smell of the Shūkaku no Inu.  My name is Takahiro no Honshou Mori. What is your name, potential summoner?”

“Well met, Takahiro no Honshou Mori.  I am Hatake Kakashi, of the main line of the Hatake clan.  We have been genetically marked by the Shūkaku no Inu.” 

Takahiro shifted in disapproval and his ears flicked back.  “The Shūkaku no Inu are an honorable pack.  Why would you turn your back upon their favor to search us out?” 

Kakashi stilled, unsure how much of his mission, his secrets, that he could afford to share.  The dogs could sniff out a lie like no other, and the wolves likely had similar instincts.  But then again, this alpha spoke in defense of the pack from which the Hatake contracted their summons, and it was his intention to be honest about his origins with the Hatake clan head. 

He clenched his fingers against his thighs, making up his mind; pack meant pack, and pack was meant to mean the Clan, their dogs, these wolves, and his team .  In this case, deceit meant failure, and failure was not an option.  His path was clear.

“May I set a privacy seal?” he requested.  He did so at the alpha’s nod.  More settled now that privacy was assured, he answered.  “Nearly seven months ago, and roughly eighty years forward in another dimension’s future, I was informed that my team, my small pack, had been transported to this past due to a sealing trap mishap.  There were no other Hatake in that time, and the nature of the seals involved meant that a version of my team lives on in this past and that future.  They are mine , and I was not going to leave any version of them trapped in the past without backup, not when I could trigger the same seals to the same results.  The future me will still be contracted to the Shūkaku no Inu, but this is not the same timeline, my Inu pack is not yet born here, and I have not yet interacted with the Hatake clan.” Kakashi paused briefly to consider his phrasing.

Takahiro waited patiently for him to continue.  “When I performed the summoning jutsu, I was recovering from poisoning and… not entirely coherent.  Pack is important though, and I am not surprised that I was brought again to the presence of canines.”  He leaned back slightly, raw from the implications of what he’d revealed.  (Just because he could have such conversations with pack , didn’t mean it was always advised, let alone comfortable. )

Takahiro was quiet as he considered Kakashi's words.  He could smell the raw wounds on the man, some physical and some emotional, no matter how composed his body language.  The shinobi clearly believed his story to be true, and even among the summoning realms, seal creation was known to be the purview of the insane.  It was possible.  

He came to a decision.

“I will allow you to sign our contract.  In exchange, you will train at least two pups for us every five years, either until health prevents this, or a younger summoner assumes the duty to do so.  You will keep our contract within your bloodline unless we agree to a petition otherwise.  We will not engage in true battle against the Shūkaku no Inu, and are willing to negotiate on your behalf with them.” 

Kakashi nodded in acceptance; the terms of this contract were remarkably similar to that of the dog contract, and it was a boon to him that they would be willing to smooth over relational difficulties caused by contracting outside of the Hatake’s dogs. 

“You will uphold your responsibilities to Takeshi and Watarimono; they will be the first cubs that you are to train.”  The statement was pointed and well deserved.

“Of course,” he agreed.  He had literally signed up for that duty regardless of any existent contract.  “And you will guard my secrets as your own?”

A brush of Takahiro’s tail disabled the privacy seal and Takahiro rose as he confirmed, “You are pack.”  

Kakashi was led to elder Yoshiko, a pure white wolf, and the keeper of the pack’s summoning scroll.  He signed with no hesitation. 

When Kakashi left the wolf pack of the Honshou Forests a week later he had nine personal summons; the hunters/trackers: Mitsuru, Isamu, and Hideo.  The scouts: Shizuko, Shinobu, and Susumo.  And the fighters: Masa, Takeo, and Kyo.  Takeshi and Watarimono could be called upon up to twice a week for training purposes.  And the middle aged Yasushi, a wolf who somehow radiated peace, insisted she be called at least once a month, though never in battle.  (Kakashi refused to consider if the pack had assigned him a therapist—as that would have disturbing implications about his mental health—but he found her company agreeable enough… even if she had bullied him into finally healing the sword gash along his side.) 

Chapter Text

Kakashi leaned against Yasushi’s side as he waited for the arrival of the expected Hatake escorts.  Takahiro had been as good as his word and had passed word to the Shūkaku no Inu of an unacknowledged main line Hatake.  Messages passed via the summons between the Hatake Clan Head and their ‘lost’ member had confirmed a meeting point on the southern side of Iron country.

It was a bizarre thought, that he had a clan, that there were others currently with his inherited bloodline, his Hatake instincts.  It had been decades since his father killed himself since his father died.  And since then it was only the Inuzuka clan which shared some of his traits.  But even then, they’d developed differently.  Their companions weren’t summoned.  The clan itself was loud.  They were obvious in how they were marked and how often their companions were seen.

The Hatake did not become bonded to a specific companion to the exclusion of all others, they worked collectively beside their pack.  Traits were shared, but the skills that each packmate developed were to cover the weaknesses of the others.  Their intention with their contract was never to become merged with their partners.  The Inuzuka’s Garouga—their Dual Wolf Fang—was uncomfortable to observe; it always felt as though they were making a dangerous target of themselves… and doing so by sacrificing the teammate that was meant to be flanking their opponent—it felt instinctively wrong. 

(Even his otousan had grimaced when mentioning the technique in passing, so he suspected that other Hatake would respond the same.) 

A few years after his sensei died, Kakashi had read his clan’s records, the journals that detailed in full their origins and traditions.  It was said that the first Hatake found favor with the Shūkaku no Inu, so much so that the contract would remain exclusively theirs.  Generations ago (even within this past’s timeline), the clan that developed around that first Hatake was changed, a touch sharper senses, a preference for clear roles, and the idea of pack vs not-pack flourished.  

(A preference for dogs above other animals also developed… though that may have been generational reinforcement more than the Shūkaku no Inu’s influence).  

But it was the main line and summoners who were the most affected; their sense of smell became nearly as good as a dogs and their reflexes were sharpened even further.  The main line’s scent shifted to include that of the collective Shūkaku no Inu, marking them specifically as eternally belonging to the Shūkaku pack. 

The heightened sense of smell caused the first summoner to don a mask and his similarly affected clan mates soon followed suit.  Eventually, their enemies realized the danger inherent to a masked Hatake, prompting others within the clan to wear one too; it acted to camouflage skill levels of every Hatake involved, as targeting one in a mask was no longer a guarantee to killing a summoner.  Outside of undercover missions, it became tradition to only remove one’s mask at home or among family.

(Learning of that, the implications of that had sent teenage Kakashi into a sharp spiral; wearing a mask around family, wearing a mask around human-pack, especially when one hadn’t before… that.  That was a disownment.  That was a statement that those you’re around are family no more.  He had been mad at his otousan.  He didn’t understand why he hadn’t followed the rules… but he’d still been pack.  

It would have hurt less, if he wasn’t.

But his father had acted.  He’d moved to restore the Honor of the Hatake in the eyes of the village.  He’d acted to make right, in the only way he thought was left, his relationship with the son he’d thought had disowned him. 

Kakashi hadn’t known.  He didn’t know the clan history (Sakumo had never had the time to teach him that, and the younger Kakashi hadn’t known to research it himself).  He hadn’t understood the implications; their pack hadn’t been large enough for him to learn the reasons and traditions by osmosis.

He didn’t know until far too late.)

Yasushi’s wet nose finding its way into his ear pulled him from the spiral of memories and brought his attention to the return of the grey Shizuko from his scouting circuit.  Kakashi cocked his head in inquiry. 

“The Hatake party is ten minutes out.  There are three Hatake and two Inu.  Both Inu appear to be the tracking type.” 

Kakashi gave a nod of acknowledgement.  That was good to hear.  His agreement with his great grandfather the Hatake head allowed up to two summons per party, so long as neither were considered battle summons.  Yasushi had stated, in no uncertain terms, that she would be accompanying him on this venture.  Shizuko had been less forceful, but he’d requested the same.  New to the wolf contract, and with no grounds to object, Kakashi had acquiesced to their wishes. 

Kakashi passed a hand along Yasushi’s back as he rose to his feet.  His summons flanked him, facing the direction from which the clan’s emissaries were to come. 

Hatake Hotaru had traveled swiftly with his companions.  It was an odd mission.  The briefing seemed to indicate that they were simultaneously escorting an eventual out-clan spouse or an ally… but they weren’t to be surprised if the man they were escorting smelled of the Hatake main line.  

That more than anything made the mission interesting.  The only way that the man would have the scent of the main line was if he was the son of the current (unlikely) or previous (more likely) clan head and had inherited the Hatake traits in full.  (The one before that was impossible, since that head was a woman.  The one before her had died long enough ago to make it very unlikely again.)  It was rare that a child would be born a Hatake outside of the clan, as once a mate or partner was found acceptable, they would almost certainly be brought into the pack properly. 

(There were stories about the lengths Ojiisan Oda had gone to convince Obaachan Bashira to follow him home.  She’d been a silk weaver’s daughter with little interest in ninja life.  However, an injured Oda had become downright smitten when she’d held him at knife point for ducking into her family’s shop for shelter and nearly bleeding on the merchandise.  She’d eventually coerced him to let her dress the wound properly, and he’d proceeded to stop by her town regularly for the following year before she had agreed to take him as a spouse.)

Hotaru supposed the man may have been the result of a honeypot mission, or maybe circumstances simply hadn’t worked out and the child was undiscovered before the mistress moved on.  Meh.  They would be told the story or they wouldn’t.  He was curious, but he didn’t particularly care about his potential inclusion, so long as the man showed the family traits.

As they arrived in the clearing he kept his posture perfectly neutral.  His cousins didn’t manage as well, their relative youth showing in their slight, but anxious, movements, but they stilled quickly enough when his trackers, Masaru and Nao, brushed discretely against them. 

The man they’d come to escort to their clan head looked like he would fit among them, despite his slight slouch; his silver hair matched theirs and his height was slightly taller compared to the clan’s average.  His build mimicked theirs as well and the facemask he wore was practically identical.  He wore a black bandana askew over his left eye.  Perhaps it was missing, perhaps it was hurt, either way it was a potential weakness.  A solidly grey wolf, a bit larger than the largest Inu guarded his blind side.  The wolf was lithe though, appearing built more for speed than for force.  

A grey wolf with specklings of white stood on his right side, her side pressed against his thigh and her back came slightly taller than his hip.  That sustained contact though, it was not a move that a warrior (or even a scout) would make during a meeting of strangers, and so confirmed that the man had not brought with him his battle summons.   (He doubted that Masaru or Nao could take them, small as they were, but hopefully it would not come to that.)

“Fall brings a harvest, with tales to a promise,” he challenged the stranger.

“Ah, Winter’s promise is Spring, and the tales that bird’s sing.”  The man’s gaze flickered across their forms, cautious and reserved.

Hotaru relaxed slightly.  That was the appropriate response.  (The man probably didn’t know it, but that was one of the friendliest passcodes provided to strangers to the Hatake clan and, with it, he was certain that, while the man was a stranger, someone the clan trusted had provided him a good reference.)

“Well met, wolf-summoner.  I am Hotaru, and this is my team: Kazumi, Kenji, Masaru, and Nao.”  He named his Inu as well, not strictly necessary when meeting out-clan peoples, but if this man was to be part of the clan, even with a wolf summons instead of the dogs, an introduction of summons was practical… and his response would speak to his mentality.

The man gave a nod.  “Well met, Team Hotaru.  I am Kakashi, and these are Shizuko and Yasushi.”  It was strange that he’d acknowledged them under his name as a team, but Kakashi’s eye had flickered over each of the named members—it was enough to know he was not being dismissive. 

Hotaru gave the man another once over—aside from his eye, he didn’t appear to have any injuries.  It would be redundant to fish for information that Kakashi was likely going to be sharing with their clan head anyway, so he asked, “Are you up for a run?”

“Of course!”  That response had been swift, almost like he’d been handed a lifeline that he wasn’t going to admit being grateful for.   Hotaru could sympathize.  If the man had been the result of a honeypot mission, or a departed mistress, or even a night at a brothel, it must be nerve-wracking to have to approach a clan he might be able to claim kinship to…  especially so if he could be directly related to their clan head.

A sharp breeze rushed through the clearing at that point, fully carrying the scent of the man and his wolves to his team.  His cousins’ eyes widened in shock at that confirmation, and he very intentionally did not meet their gaze.  That scent.  That was the mark given to the Hatake main family, and given his apparent age, he must be their head’s half-brother.  (Kakashi was entirely too old to be a child of the current head.)

He gave a sharp grin, though it was hidden behind his mask.  The mark of the Inu upon the Hatake was strong and, even without their guidance, the man had contracted with wolves.  There was a good chance that he would understand what it meant to be pack.  Regardless though, he was going to make this run a test.

“Keep up, if you can!” he challenged, unknowingly mirroring Kakashi’s wolves.  This is going to be fun.  He hoped the man knew how to water-walk.

When they arrived within the clan compound roughly three hours later, they all had leaves in their hair.  Masaru and Nao were disgruntled and soaked (wet fur was not a good look on them), and his cousins, Kazumi and Kenji, had water drenching their pants.  They had thoroughly deserved the soaking (though his trackers had not) as, once Kakashi had proven himself both smoother at cliff climbing and more adept than they at water walking, they’d done their best to disturb the water.  Impulsive of them.  Foolish too; regardless of the hazing run he’d instigated or even the man’s safe-scent, that could have been construed as an attack.

As it was, it was fortunate that their stray potential-clan-mate had a sense of humor, since whatever jutsu he must have used in retaliation was both non-lethal and had been completed before he’d been able to react to it—the hazard of being the one leading the group, what with the trouble stirred up behind. 

It could have easily escalated, but the cousins had given gestures of acknowledgment, clearly willing to lay off their antics.  The eye-smile that he’d been given had been an unnecessary confirmation that Kakashi had been satisfied with that conclusion; he had literally been able to smell the amusement and schadenfreude wafting from the man.  

They had all been given a sharp look from him nonetheless.  (The teens were going to get one hell of a lecture regarding mission boundaries, responsibilities, and appropriate risks.)  Kazumi and Kenji had ducked their heads in response.  (He’d mentally added ‘remedial signals’ to his lecture for them; a show of weakness had not been the correct response.) 

Kakashi had maintained eye contact while giving a nod of assent and then glanced towards their previous trajectory.  That was a response he could accept.  It was clear that the man knew the risks of his retaliation and would not act out again unless provoked, but it was also clear that his response had been a measured one… an appropriate warning for packmates of that maturity.  Additionally, Kakashi’s response had implied no challenge to his own authority in leading the eight of them, but had maintained vision towards their current mission.  

He had mentally awarded the man a few notches of approval before leading them all forward.  

As they approached the clan head’s meeting house, Hotaru gave a sharp whistle, gesturing his uncle forward.  “Kazumi.  Kenji.  Debrief with your father.  Leave nothing out.  I’ll be along in a few hours to discuss the training opportunities this mission has highlighted for you.”  The teens visibly drooped, well aware how rigorous such ‘opportunities’ tended to be, before allowing themselves to be led away by their tou-san.

The man didn’t voice it, but he got the sense that Kakashi approved.  Perhaps he had kids of his own?— given his age they’d be rather young… and if that’s the case, it’s understandable not to bring them to this initial meeting.  He set his musings aside, sure that answers would come in time, and guided their guest to the clan’s meeting hall.

 Hatake Keitaro sat in the clan’s hall, mentally preparing for his meeting.  His Inu had brought word to him a week ago from the Wolves of the Honshou Forest: an unacknowledged Hatake… an unacknowledged packmate.  It rarely happened that Hatakes—that one of their own—would be born outside the clan.  

If a clan member found their spouse outside of the clan, they were welcomed.  (What better way to assure their loyalty than by wrapping them into the pack?  The more they felt included—a part of them—the greater the obligation they’d feel to continue in the clan’s benefit.) 

Honeypot missions weren’t something the clan often took, but pups produced by kunoichi put in that position were still pack.  And even then, it was rare; their foremothers had passed on the knowledge of the wormwood tincture.  Those old enough to make use of it were taught to do so to prevent unplanned consequences.  (Like anything else in their profession though, its use wasn’t a guarantee.  But dosing themselves after such a mission (or dosing one’s prostitute after a night of indulgence) provided some assurance.)  However, even with that safeguard, it was possible that one of theirs had slipped through the cracks. 

It was world-tilting that the most likely culprit was his own Tou-san.  Did he really have a brother!?  (The well worn bandana accompanying Kakashi’s letter of acceptance to this meeting had been telling.  The main line scent was distinct… only possible for the clan head and children thereof.  Not even the clan’s summoners were marked by that scent.)

In their initial exchange, Kakashi had provided two letters of introduction.  The silk weavers of Keishi had been satisfied with his security.  They’d hired him to eliminate the thieves stealing from their stock and, if possible, to return some of what they’d lost.  According to them, the man had been efficient; the majority of what was stolen most recently had been returned… and even beyond that, the shinobi had actually returned one of their instruction scrolls—an item they’d not even realized had been stolen.

Almost more notable than that show of efficiency and honor was the letter from the southern rice farmers.  (They were a primary source from which the Hatake received rice, often trading protection for their merchants for reductions in the price for rice and root vegetables.)  In their letter of introduction, they had noted that while the shinobi was dutiful in his elimination of the bandits raiding their farms, he was most valuable in healing the members of their household.  One obaa-san had a chest cold.  An ojii-san had thrown his back from work in the field.  A child had broken their leg.  And, three of their men had had wounds from attempts to protect their farms themselves.   All had been healed before Kakashi had taken his leave. 

Both of these introductions were significant by themselves.  A competent shinobi. Honorable too… That is rare for a ninja’s profession.  Especially so if he’s been operating clanless for years.  He’s also capable of chakra healing.  That… it could have kept—so many alive.  He forcefully redirected his thoughts before considering those now lost to the clan.  Even had the man not been a misplaced one of theirs, he would be worth courting for his medical skills alone.

But beyond even that, his first contact with them came from his Wolves to their Inu. 

He knew of the Wolves.  Vaguely.  When he was a pup, his tou-san’s dogs had told him tales of great battles between the Inu-Wolf alliance and the ferocious Salamanders.  The realm of the Salamanders did not border that of the Wolves, but when the Inu called upon them, they had honored their alliance.  He’d not been told how the Inu had reciprocated—that was an internal summons matter and he’d been a child when hearing the story besides—but he knew there remained great respect between the two powerful packs. 

It spoke well of Kakashi-san that he had contracted with such a respectable pack… and bringing both him (with his skills)  and the potential of that contract into the clan would only increase their strength. 

Before that occurred, however, there were questions needing to be answered.  Origins needed to be established… and depending on from whom the man had obtained his skills, risks needed to be assessed.  All strength comes at a cost.  Hopefully the cost of claiming him will be one we can afford to pay. 

He set aside the bird he’d been whittling when he heard the ruckus caused by the returning escort mission.  With his enhanced senses, it was not difficult to hear the not-quite-a-scolding-scolding that the young Kazumi and Kenji had earned during their mission.  It was a relief, to see water covering them rather than blood.  It was a gift—to learn a lesson without paying in pain or grief.  To have retained that level of levity around a mission, they were a wonder.  (He hoped—he wished—they could, would remain unbroken.) 

Hotaru, Masaru, and Nao (Really though, why are they drenched?) rounded the building’s entrance with the stranger flanked by two wolves and following a few steps behind.  Kami.  He looks like Clan.  The hair.  The gait.  Even the mask.  He was tempted to lower his mask to better catch his scent, to confirm what his eyes were telling him, but he resisted for the time being.  He’s a stranger, he reminded himself.  Information first.  Welcome later. 

Hotaru spoke before he could offer a greeting.  “Keitaro-sama, this is Kakashi-san and his summons, Shizuko and Yasushi.”  The wolf—Yasushi—brushed her side against her summoner’s hip.  If the Wolves are anything like the Inu, that move was a reassurance to him.  Kakashi reflexively soothed her ruff, letting his hand settle upon her shoulder rather than hang loosely by his side.  And that was confirmation.  Hotaru continued, “Kakashi-san, Shizuko, Yasushi, this is Hatake Keitaro-sama, our clan head.” 

The man gave a glance towards Shizuko, a brief motion, before tilting into a respectful bow.  “Well met, Keitaro-sama.  Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”  His tone was even but he could see his anxiety in how his hand remained firmly against his companion. 

As Kakashi rose, Keitaro responded with a bow that was slightly more than the tilt of his head—less than what could be expected between equals, but more than what might be offered by the Uchiha, Hyuuga, or nobles.  “It’s a pleasure to welcome you, Kakashi-san.  I’ve heard good things.”  He tapped the pocket in which he’d stashed the letters of introduction.  They crinkled.  He turned, gesturing the group toward the office set up in the hall’s far end.  “Was your trip here uneventful?”  (He’d seen the water, and the Inu accompanying them were still damp.  He wanted the story.)

Hotaru answered, relating the challenge the route they’d taken to return to the compound, Kakashi’s ability to keep up, and the actions his cousins had taken in attempting to disturb their guest’s footing.  “I didn’t see him do it, but I presume Kakashi-san used a water jutsu to cool their spirits?” 

“It was a simple chakra control exercise, actually,” Kakashi explained with a hint of pride.  “Chakra is molded to scoop and shape water.  In its larger form, it’s very effective at creating and directing waves.”  He gave a gesture towards the still drenched dogs.  Huh, he might have actually earned that pride.  That wasn’t an exercise he’d heard of before. 

“Your restraint was appreciated.  Kazumi and Kenji—they are young yet,” Hotaru said.  Ah.  That was approval, retroactive though it may be.

Kakashi tilted his head, thoughtful of his response.  “Pups are pups.  Active lessons tend to stick best.”  He paused for a moment, teetering on the choice to continue before doing so.  “A lower risk escort mission is the better place to make rookie mistakes, but for the most part, they did well in their positioning, leaving little trace, keeping up with his pace,” he flicked a thumb towards Hotaru, “and, when they weren’t distracted attempting to challenge me, they showed appropriate awareness of their surroundings.”  He gave a shrug, intentionally relaxing despite the analysis he’d just supplied and the implications such statements provided to them regarding him.  Huh—he knows pups, canine?  Or does he have kids of his own?... and that analysis was practiced.  You can’t judge skills you don’t have, and he sounded pretty accurate in his judgment.

Keitaro gave an agreeing hum before verbalizing, “True.”  

Taking his cue from his short answer, (and the fact that the tatami mats covering the right side of the office had a tea set appropriate for two people and one summons), Hotaru spoke up, “I’ll leave you to your business.”  He gave the two of them a shallow bow before turning to leave.  Masaru and Nao continued to flank him. 

Showing a similar perceptiveness, Kakashi’s less tactile summons, Shizuko, opined, “I would appreciate remaining in the sun.”  He gave a nod to his summoner, which the man returned, before exiting the door on the heels of the tracking Inu.   In the style of all antagonistic canines, Shizuko questioned the nearest tracker.  “Masaru, it has been a while since I last scouted with your uncle.  Is the skunk smell still clogging his senses?” 

“No more than that encounter with stink bugs has killed yours!”  

Keitaro shared a look of amusement with Kakashi, the good humor of the moment and the reduction of participants aided in relaxation for them both.  Slipping off his shoes beside the tatami, he instructed his maybe-a-clanmate, maybe-a-brother guest(s), “You can set your pack beside the rear window.  Yasushi, you’re welcome to join us, or you may claim one of the blankets.”  (The blankets, of course, referring to the two not-a-dog-bed dog-beds beside the desk and under the window respectively.)  She gave a glance toward the bed by the window before deciding to join the two humans on the tatami.  (He didn’t bother to tell Kakashi to take off his shoes.  Doing so was common courtesy, and something the man had mirrored upon seeing his host’s actions.) 

Keitaro sat first, followed closely by Kakashi.  It was clear that while they were having tea, they were not participating in a tea ceremony.  Yasushi took the liberty of placing her head across her summoner’s lap once he’d settled.  A civilian likely would have been knocked over at such an action.  He must have used chakra to stabilize himself.  Ridiculous… the both of them—but successful in showing non-aggression and intent to ally.  

Low enough that even a non-main-line-summoning Hatake probably wouldn't hear, came an exasperated, “Really?  Now?” from the shinobi across from him for the ears of his summons.  (He probably didn’t expect another human to be able to hear him.) So, it’s likely not all an act; wolves are just as pushy as dogs.  The man’s hand still found purchase atop the wolf’s head, ostensibly to stall further disruptions, but he knew the comfort such an action brought.  They are a proper pack to him. 

He poured the tea for them both, passing a cup to the wolf-summoner and then taking one for himself.  He then realized… Kakashi had made no move to take down his mask.  He was home, in the presence of a stray clanmate, and in a talk with a very likely potential ally.  Traditionally it would be acceptable for him to remove his mask now that drink had been served. …But…that might not be the tradition that Kakashi had developed.  Never mind how confusing it was for your instincts to say family and safe when your mind knows you're interacting with a stranger.  Coming to a decision, he pulled down his mask (and braced his mind against the instinctive acknowledgement of home-pack-family-safe upon his first maskless inhale… he’d smelled it before, but unstifled and in an enclosed space—it was notable).  He was the Hatake Clan Head.  He would follow their traditions and allow for explanations and grace when their expectations clashed. 

Kakashi immediately averted his eye, so Keitaro extended him the same courtesy, glancing towards his desk as he took a sip of tea.  When he glanced back, the other shinobi’s tea was gone and his mask remained up.  He opted not to offer a refill unless prompted; the essentials of hospitality had been extended and it was time to talk. 

Kakashi surprised him by speaking first.  “Would you,” he hesitated, “...would you put your mask back on?”  He had still not looked upon Keitaro’s exposed face.

Keitaro stilled.  He could smell the apprehension wafting from the man.  He wasn’t being malicious… but he also hadn’t removed his own mask.  Was this a matter of respect?  Being on equal footing?  It is proper to wear a mask around strangers, but the intention here is—at the least—an alliance… and there’s no way to fake the main line scent.  Biologically, and from what he’s shown of his mentality, Kakashi is family… close family at that, and it would take one hell of a consequence not to accept him even with a potential probationary status.  He fingered his mask, slowly pulling it back into place.  

“Explain.”  The request came out flatter than he’d intended and Kakashi winced.  It was barely noticeable, but he was the clan head for more reason than birthright.

“Would you mind if I set a privacy seal?”  Where the hell did you get such a specialized seal?

He gave a sharp nod of permission.  Kakashi removed a seal from his pocket and set it. 

“Nothing I have told you is a lie, but… you need to know the full story before you choose to show your face to me.  I am a Hatake.  If I see your face.  If you see my face; it will be as family.  This clan has me as an ally regardless of that recognition.”

Some of the hackles he’d unconsciously raised diminished at that statement, but it left confusion in its wake.  He understood wanting the acknowledgement as family over that of an ally… but the man’s nose was as strong as his own.  Couldn’t he tell which way the wind was blowing?

He tilted his head, wishing to pour another cup of tea, but not wanting to upend that can of worms again.  Instead he offered, “Explain better.” More patience had made its way into his tone that time, but the order was clear.

“Roughly eighty years in the future, in a timeline which now runs separate from this one, my students—my pack—encountered a bastardized Uzumaki seal.  Due to sealing chicanery, one of my students managed to send copies of the two of them back to our original timeline.  

“Doing so, however, left a pair of them eternally within this timeline.  

“I decided to trigger the original seal as well, so as to come back for them; if a pair of them are going to be stuck here forever, they will not do so without my assistance.”

At Yasushi’s side-eye, Keitaro refrained from questioning Kakashi’s sanity and motioned for him to continue.

“They are currently undercover and assisting in the resolution of the Senju-Uchiha feud.  You have probably noted the decrease in hostilities between most clans within Fire country,” Kakashi tilted his head in question and Keitaro confirmed with a nod.  “Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara are in the process of founding a  multi-clan village; they will succeed.  It will be named Konoha.”  … and wouldn’t that be a massive political upheaval? 

“The Hatake will be contacted within the next six months to join the village.  In my timeline the clan dragged out negotiations for nearly a year before joining; we’re a well regarded clan and would be an asset to any whom we allied to… but joining such a risky venture seemed a greater risk than we should take before seeing its foundations stabilize.”   Huh.  Simplified reasoning, but that is how I would view such an offer.

“Our hesitance was understandable… but didn’t take into account the rise of villages in Tsuchi no Kuni and Kaminari no Kuni in response to the founding of Konoha within Hi no Kuni.  Of all the villages founded, Konoha’s values most easily align with ours.  Once we had been assured of this fact, and understood the safety joining such an alliance would bring, we set about relocating the clan to Konoha.”  Keitaro internally raised an eyebrow at the ominous note in Kakashi’s accounting.

“By that point Kumo—Kaminari no Kuni’s rising village—would not tolerate Konoha gaining another strong clan.  Our base in Tetsu no Kuni is nearly as close to them as Konoha and they did not take our rejection well.”  Kakashi hesitated, clearly uncomfortable relating these facts.  Keitaro was very carefully not responding.  Hearing about a potential attack upon his clan was never pleasant, regardless of the arguable (in)sanity of the source.

“We had no proof that they set up the ambush that killed nearly half of our ninja and most of our civilians, but the three clans who participated in the attack joined Kumo roughly a month later.  It was said that only the arrival of Senju Hashirama and Tobirama upon our battlefield kept our clan from further annihilation that day, but what was left of the attacking force fled at their appearance.”  The shinobi shifted in discomfort, this potential loss a very real, and painful, portion of his clan history.  It could actually happen.  Even now, two clans have been known to band together to remove a third.  We’re a larger clan… but in a world of villages—a world of multi-allied clans—it would be entirely possible that our strength would be viewed as a threat… better to eliminate if it can’t be used by yourself.  The possibility of this was chilling.

“Now that I am here, a version of me will live out my life within this timeline.  I would like to see my Clan thrive during the rise of villages that is to come.” 

Keitaro considered.  He showed use of a specialty seal… so the possibility that he has interacted with others, even unto cross-dimensional travel is farfetched but could actually be real.  Seals are reality bending and there’s a reason that we don’t cross the Uzumaki’s lands when we’re given a choice.  The actions and considerations he’s provided are also realistic, and his actions seem intended to support us.

His future knowledge can be confirmed if we receive an invitation to the Uchiha-Senju alliance in six months’ time… but in the meantime, his skills are real and his intentions have been stated. 

“Assuming that all this is as you say it will be, what are you willing to do?”  This was more direct than he’d typically be asking, but he’d just been informed that his clan might be cut in half, potentially cut to a quarter, within the next two years.  He… couldn’t really top how direct that statement had been.

“Healing.  Healing and advice.  I wouldn’t mind running missions as well.”  Medics are always useful, and it is easy enough to test his skills in this ourselves.  “When Konoha comes… this clan should be able to offer healing to the village.  Hashirama is skilled, but most of his healing techniques can’t be taught.  But healing jutsu, being the first to support a shinobi hospital and eventually being able to share the skill—that would make the Hatake valuable.  We wouldn’t just be field shinobi.”  Keitaro translated We wouldn’t just kill or die for the alliance.  And then another implication came; having one prodigal healer would not be enough for such a situation…

Keitaro blinked.  “You’re willing to teach!?”  He’d never heard of someone offering to teach a skill so backhandedly before.  “Anyone within the clan—not just an apprentice?” he asked for clarification. 

To share such a skill, so widely, to a group of strangers you’re tied to only by blood, and—given that the man’s offering to do so even if he isn't acknowledged as Hatake—with only an alliance stated to secure reciprocity… such a gift is unheard of. 

Kakashi’s reply was almost baffled.  “Ah.  Yes?  I’m a field shinobi… but the medical skills I have are eighty years advanced.  Even six months of training to any interested clanmates would make us an amazing resource.”  Us.  That statement, almost more than the others, confirms his inclusion—he’s sincere. His scent doesn’t lie about that, and he already considers the Hatake pack.  Maybe a final test.

He nodded his head, agreeing with the potential teaching.  “If you are from the time you claim, name the line of the main family.”

The wolf-summoner shifted, his fingers carding between Yasushi’s ears.  His eye looked past Keitaro’s left shoulder, but he answered.  “Hatake Sakumo was my father and Eri, my mother.  Sakumo was born to Hatake Shusuke and Hatake Himiko.  Shusuke and Asami are your children.  Hatake Ryu is your father.”  One hell of a confirmation, that.  My kids are not yet ten—that’s not information he could pick up outside the clan.

Keitaro closed his eyes.  His instincts were urging him to believe Kakashi’s statements and nothing in his scent had shown deceit upon his motives.  Acting under the presumption of his sanity—proof of which would be borne out within six months—would cost the clan little but would gain them much.  Logistics now.

“My heirs are already established, but I am willing to claim you as my brother.  Hatake Ryu did not remarry after the death of my mother—it is not implausible that he had taken an out-clan lover.  The Inu claimed that your bond to the Wolves is relatively recent?” 

“Hai.”  Useful.

“In that case, it is plausible that you had no confirmation of your connection to the Hatake, let alone the main family until they informed you.  The fact that your first contact with us came through the Inu supports this.”

“I had thought to claim to have been raised by my maternal uncle until his death in my teens.  If he’d been part of a clan, he never spoke of one.”   If she’d been disowned for the pregnancy but her brother left with her.  Possible.  A mother dying in childbirth is common enough… and would explain why she’d not informed his father of his child.  Being his maternal uncle’s last relation would also justify the brother not searching them out.  (One never knew how clans would react to bastards.)  And him dying… with Kakashi being young, but not too young to be alone.  Hm.  And it would also explain any eccentricities.

“A good cover,”  he agreed.  “I will have you see to the currently wounded and then assign you to a mission to take within the next few days.  Hotaru will take the lead.  Presuming that your skills are as good as you claim, you will be expected to begin teaching medical skills within the next three weeks.”  

Kakashi agreed easily.  The response was a comfort and paradigm shift for Keitaro all at once.  The shinobi had showed no discomfort with the expectations, with the order, with the implication that the skills he claimed—the skills he bled for, the skills he sacrificed for—would be demanded so quickly. 

In that case.  He lowered his mask. 

Kakashi’s eye drank in the sight of his maskless face.  Trepidation tightened his limbs, and his scent betrayed fear, anxiety, and want, before hints of hope—maybe—seeped into it.  Acceptance was shown when he closed his eye, both hands still upon the wolf head in his lap.  Then Kakashi looked away.

“In my timeline… I was the last Hatake.”  That was a severe gut-punch… but.  Oh.  That explains so much.  “My students—my pack—they haven’t seen my face yet.  It… didn’t seem right to show it, after my Tou-san died.”  And didn’t that have a world of implications.  “I will.  I am willing to show you.”  He said that as though he had had to rotate the world itself… to choose such an action.  “But… they’re mine.  I can’t show…”  He trailed off, the struggle for words an aching thing. 

Keitaro took mercy on him, “You’d rather not show your face to the clan as a whole until your pack is together again.  Together and home.”  He could be wrong, but it seemed to be fairly plain to him.  He’d been the clan head for years—by now he’d gained a certain amount of insight into his clan’s mindset, in ways he hadn’t needed before taking said role. 

Kakashi, shoulders slumping ever so slightly, confirmed Keitaro’s statement.  “Hai.”  

That was… reasonable.  Gaining a clan, it was significant, but it would not magically sooth the loss of a—well, everything in one’s entire life before.  The clan—the greater pack—would help… but only with time.

Keitaro let the silence settle, busying his hands by pouring another two cups of tea.  Eventually he responded, “You will be sharing your techniques with us?”  Kakashi nodded.  He passed another cup of tea into his hands.  (It had gone cold, but he doubted his faux-brother would call him on it.)  “Then you are welcome to keep your mask on until this time becomes both pack and home to you.  Just—do not return to wearing the mask among us… after you’ve chosen to remove it among the clan as a whole.” 

A sharp spike of grief followed by a flood of relief infused the man’s scent.  (Keitaro was grateful that such talks traditionally occurred in such a confined space.  Glens were soothing for the mobility factor… but, in a room such as this, knowing one’s scent was a powerful tool.)  Keitaro glanced toward his desk, quietly sipping his tea.

Kakashi hesitated, but he set down his tea.

Keitaro wouldn’t push the man.  

The summoner raised his left hand, his right once more grasping his wolf’s ruff.  She nuzzled his arm, her action furthering its upward motion. 

Eventually his fingers played over the edge of his mask.  With a deep breath, one more felt by those in the room than truly heard, he lowered his mask and reached for the tea. 

“Welcome home, Otouto.”  A shuddering breath passed through Kakashi’s frame before a stillness came over him.  His body forcefully relaxed and he eye-smiled, the action not completely matching the quirk of his lips, but trying nonetheless.

“Tadaima, Jiji-sama.”  His visible eye sparkled. 

At least that humor is real, Keitaro thought. 

I have a little brother now.  

Keitaro let that thought settle in and make itself at home.  Kakashi finished his tea.

He’ll fit right in. 

Kakashi took a deep breath in his newly-assigned room, trying not to freak out.  (He was surrounded by people with the Hatake nose—there was no way to have a breakdown in true privacy here, and that was not yet a comfort.  …And masking his scent, that was a skill barely known in this time; his scent disappearing would only cause alarm.) 

Yasushi nuzzled against him, pressing him to sit upon his sleeping mat.  He carded his fingers through her fur, focusing his senses on her smell, her texture.  Pakkun had done the same.

Pack was not made in a day.  He'd heard stories of his ancestors, short though the window to hear them had been, but that wasn't the same: they were alive, they were present… not just a bunch of names.  (They smelled like pack, like his dogs, like Tou-san, but it was different.  They weren’t his yet.) 

The wolves were kami-sent.  They were welcoming and welcome; they were his.  His Inu might be beyond his reach in this time, but it was… easier, to accept the wolves when he could see them as an extension of the summons he already has.  (His Inu were just… on vacation at the moment.  A version of him would see them again six months from now.)

He forced his mind away from the fact that that meant he’d still already lost them.

Yasushi reared up, knocking him upon his back, before settling atop him.  A wet nose poked his neck before she turned her head away from him.  “Breathe.”  

He obeyed.  It was a jagged thing.  Bull had done the same, though it was Pakkun who’d most often voice that order.  

And then there were the emotional patterns that he'd developed in ANBU… more tied to his Hatake instincts than he’d ever acknowledged before; caring looking out for his squadmates with reckless abandon and fervent intensity.  It’s what Obito would have wanted… and wouldn’t Sensei approve?  Whenever he ended up with a new one—a rookie—the instinctive need to keep them safe, to keep them guarded… no matter what thoughts of their own end might have driven them onto an ANBU’s path.  No wonder Tou-san had made the choices he did.

The need to avoid taking a genin team.  He’d never live up to Sensei.  He’d known and it was petrifying, that there’d be more attachment than even team Ro.  An ANBU didn’t need to be taught how to survive, they just needed to be taught to do so better.  But a genin team… they were pups.  They became pack—the pull to his instincts, his duty for his village, his responsibility to them, entirely too much to ignore.

But to let it happen again, even a little bit—he knew the risks of retaliating against those Hatake pups, those kids who’d smelled like pack-but-strange.  They’d pulled at every instinct he’d tried and failed to bury and every instinct he’d inadvertently primed by each acknowledgement of his genin as his.

He knew—he’d read, the smell of pack, of pups, of infants.  It was a connection said to be powerful.  It was.  It was terrifying.

And to be surrounded by these smells (safe, family, pack—unknown), to be surrounded by this pack…  (Instinctively attached to strangers.  Strangers who knew his instincts.  Strangers who could read his scent… It was dangerous.  It was invasive.)

A cold nose found his ear again.  (At least he knew their instincts.  At least he could understand their scents.)

A paw tapped his hand.  He returned it to petting her fur.

Shikako needed this.  Sasuke needed this.  Konoha needed this. 

The Hatake needed this.

He needed this.

Kakashi took a deep breath.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.

Okay.  He could do this.

He must, after all.

Chapter Text

Ancient Icha Icha and Information Gathering

Riki and Rai exchanged a look.  They had been effective in their mission; the troublesome Fire Nation noble was dead, his wife was “grieving”, and the resources for the less favorable heir had been sabotaged beyond redemption.  They were less than a day’s run back to their compound, and, as Hotaru had stated he would, their new and ridiculously skilled clanmate had proven his worth.  But… 

Kakashi was giggling—again. 

Camp was set up for the evening and his face was set into an ornately bound book.  A pink silk ribbon was tied around the gold-plated cover and a delicate lace handkerchief was held in waiting as a bookmark. 

They’d already eaten, Rai had settled down to sleep, and it was Riki’s turn for first watch, so Kakashi wasn’t technically skimping on his duties… but really?  Books are expensive… and the practicality of that one—Kami, it’s gaudy.  And the town we just passed through wasn’t that well off, was it?

A hand came up to cover his mouth, a redundant action, what with the mask they each wore, before it plunged into his pack.  Pulling out a plain journal Kakashi began writing notes, though it didn’t appear to be a proper entry; lines were made connecting points across the page and eventually a crude map took shape on the mirroring page. 

Riki tried to get a better look, but was met with a dismissive wave of a hand and the inane statement that, “This is far more effective than bath-houses.”  Whatever that might mean.  It’s not like we’ve stopped by one.

Huffing, he left the man to his leisure reading.  If nothing else, the summoner was allowed his eccentricities; he’d saved their lives during their travel home, after all.  

An encounter with some kunai-happy Gekidoku members had left two bodies to dispose of and, when he’d gone to burn the bodies Kakashi had been adamant that he not do so.  Burning Gekidoku corpses apparently causes poisoned fumes—who knew?  And it would have been all the worse if he’d been the one to cremate them—he was water natured (a rare element within his clan), so the best he might have managed was obscuring their identities… and a slow burn would have only led to more poisoned smoke. 

Instead of opening the earth, or just leaving them to rot, their new clanmate had brought out a black banded sealing scroll.  “Waste not, want not,” he explained.  “I do have medical lessons to teach when we get back, you know.”  Strange though it was to be bringing enemy corpses home, they couldn’t argue with the logic and, even now, the body scrolls held residence within Kakashi’s supply pouch.

Kakashi turned the page in his reading.  Another delighted giggle was let loose. 

If only the man wasn’t so terrifyingly competent in each skill he displayed, Riki would fear for his ability to find a spouse.  As it was—the giggle still echoed within his mind—it was fortunate that the shinobi had so much else going for him.

Riki moved himself away from their clearing, taking cover for the remainder of his watch.  He would be giving Kakashi the second watch just for the trauma of having to listen to that.

The night continued quietly.

—

A few days later the Hatake Head was gifted intelligence on the bedroom alliances held by half of the Fire Court’s nobles.  Tips for their seduction, “for the sake of future clandestine use”, were outlined in great detail.  

All types of pairings were included. 

Keitaro wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or disturbed.  

The Hatake, as a general rule, didn’t seduce nobles.  They paid well, but they were annoying… and repeat business would dry up if the clan appeared to attach themselves to a specific family. 

When Keitaro inquired as to whether Kakashi really thought they’d be seducing nobles in the future, the man had said that one never knew what would end up being useful.

The further suggestion that “Konoha might make use of this!” did not help his burgeoning exasperation.  

…At least Kakashi was dedicated to that potential future.  

The use of this type of intel on a larger scale though… Keitaro was starting to hope that Konoha would happen, too.  Then it could be someone else’s problem.

Of Hatake Traditions and Expectations

Megumi watched the newcomer as he lounged half way up a tree, (potentially probably) salacious book in hand.  He projected an air of cool casualness, one which he seemed to display most of the time.   She wasn't fooled—Kakashi projected confidence quite well, in ways that fooled plenty in the clan, but she could see the skittishness that clung to him in the way he hid behind his mask and his book.  That was fine.

Megumi approached Kakashi, striding across the grass to meet him, and looked him up and down.  Doing so was something of an artform, considering his positioning so far above her, but she had well honed the skill.  (He’s pretending not to notice.  Hah!)  This was the man who would be teaching her daughter, starting in a few days… which meant that he had to know stitches, at least.

“Do you have any experience with weaving?” she asked, direct.  It was the best way to wrangle children.  It worked on skittish shinobi too.  (The legitimate grey in her hair had to count for something as well.)  Kakashi blinked at her with a bland look. 

“Ah… no.  Was I supposed to have?” Kakashi asked.  Well, she’d far from expected it, given his lack of a clan upbringing—and many clans subscribed to gender divisions for who did weaving (which was nonsense)... never mind the non-clan civilian perspective—but still.  He was Hatake, it was his birthright and responsibility to learn what weaving he could. 

“Hm,” Megumi said.  “You will meet me in your free afternoons starting next week.  Let's see if you're as hopeless as Keitaro-sama.”

Kakashi gave another blank-faced blink.  Little troublemaker.  She gave a firm nod,  briskly turning away before he could move to answer.  He would come.  They all did, eventually.  (Even the troublemakers.)

A mud covered child collided with her skirts, seeking to avoid his mother and a well deserved bath.  She used the excuse to observe Kakashi’s perch.  The book was still held central, but his eye observed the clouds.

Yes, she thought.  He will come.

—

They often started teenagers on these skills—when angst took hold, missions got harder, and the burdens of adulthood began to take shape.  (Perhaps that was why students often lacked insight for questions?)  By contrast, her new pup took to her instruction as she imagined he did to all of his shinobi skills—with a frightening focus and with intent to fully understand.  (She was gratified that he made no attempt to play at understanding before he’d truly learned the skill.)   She’d never before been asked the consequences of altering a motion… or her thought process for choosing each string.  (These were things often learned through youthful trial and error, rather than the understanding he sought from her teaching.)

But… he had asked and the opportunity was present (and entirely too good to pass up). 

(It was a pity that Keitaro-sama didn’t pass by at that time… such displays always reddened his cheeks.)

Megumi took joy in displaying Keitaro-sama’s first woven blanket when answering Kakashi’s questions.  Like Kakashi’s beginning attempts, the clan head’s weave was strong—tight, but not distorted—but, for the life of him, Keitaro could not keep a pattern.  She was hopeful, after explaining the pitfalls, that Kakashi would fare much better.  

(She was resolved, though, that no matter his level of talent, they’d keep at it all the same.)

—

Three weeks later, Kakashi gifted Keitaro-sama a blanket of his own.  The weave was stable and the design was clear.  

It had turned out that, yes—Kakashi was quite gifted when compared to the Hatake clan’s head.

—

Keitaro considered, briefly, allowing his dogs to lay claim to Kakashi's hard work.  Someone had to be behind the resurfacing of all of his “failed” weaves from the quiet uses they’d been shuffled off to, and Megumi and Kakashi were prime suspects.  However, weaving was a clan skill… and Kakashi—he’d been proud.  

Kakashi had tried to smother it, to hide it under satisfaction and good humor, but Keitaro’s nose was strong. 

His otouto was still skittish, still kept himself apart.  He wasn’t ready to show his face to the clan as a whole (it might be years yet, before he did), but Keitaro could encourage what small steps he’d taken thus far; the blanket he’d made found a home in his bedroom… and was found wrapped around one of his children each evening that Kakashi had reason to call. 

Unconventional Medical Training

Kakashi considered his “class” while he lounged in a tree.  Most were shinobi, some were civilians who’d had the basics of chakra training—(the whole clan had had some level of training, after all, even if the minimum intent of it was to survive long enough for the shinobi of the clan to arrive to the rescue.) 

The first task he’d given them, even before he’d officially taken them on, was to have them copy their own textbook from the one he’d compiled after cross-referencing all his future-provided source material.  The book was as dense as it was straight forward, its intent being to provide the absolute maximum amount of knowledge in the least amount of time.  The first chapters included such gems as “Anatomy for Dummies,” “What Symptoms Mean Death (and How to Slow it Down),” “First Aid for Field Work,” “Chakra Control—How Not to Kill Your Patient,” “Sanitization: for Mindset, Fields, and Hospitals,” and “How Not to be an Idiot.”  The latter of which provided strict instructions for what practice on corpses and animals was necessary before ever touching a non-enemy human; he’d described the negative consequences of disregarding said instructions in horrific and graphic detail.  Better to traumatize them a little before ever letting them near a living patient.  

Basic to mid-level skills, such as wound knitting, bone mending, lung clearing, and blood filtering… along with an introduction of poison treatment were covered next.  While the final chapters included such topics as, “Chakra Sharing and Why You Shouldn’t Do It,” “How to Pump a Heart Manually”, “Influencing Systems without Killing You or Them,” and “Major Surgeries—Step by Step” he didn’t expect any of them to make it to the practical portion of the latter chapters before Konoha came calling… but perhaps one or two of the more dedicated might make that grade within a few years.  

(He fully intended to grill Shikako on her theoretical and practical skills once it was safe to do so again; eye transplants took skill, after all, and she’d seemed quite certain she could do so…given the relevant reference material.  He’d bet she knew far more of the theory than she’d had the chance to practice.) 

Seeing that most of the medic hopefuls had succeeded in keeping their fish alive (at least until it was time for dinner preparations, anyways), he hopped out of his tree.  Most gave a jolt in recognizing his presence, losing control of their chakra in the process.  Hum, those aren’t ready yet then.  

Five hadn’t wavered.  Time for their first human trials.  He raised a hand causing a large sphere of water to engulf the fish of the most competent trainees, relocating them to a nearby bucket.  One was about his genins’ age (a girl—Etsuko—quiet but willing), one a few years older (eighteen year old Shinta—he had a temper, but more often with himself than others).  Two were in their twenties (Hikari and Himiko—sisters just a few years apart), and the last was firmly middle aged (the elegant Mayumi).  The latter three knew more of the non-chakra side of healing, what with claiming the role of basic healers within the clan.  (Mayumi specialized in herblore for general maladies, while Hikari and Himiko specialized in traumatic wound care and poisons and their antidotes.  They… weren’t incompetent, given the current time, but they certainly had a lot to learn.) 

He led them away, stealthily creating a shadow clone to continue the class’s supervision.  Shadow clones weren’t a skill he was inclined to advertise, but so long as he wasn’t seen in two places at once, there remained plausible deniability.  (And no matter how self-policing his chicks were prone to being, he wasn’t so irresponsible as to leave them unobserved.)  He brought the five he’d collected into a clearing beside the river.  He was tempted to give them no instruction before going through with his intentions… but—trust was still being built… even with his freely shared knowledge.  At least the minimum is needed, he decided, before providing the instructions; “Follow your training.  You’re to last for ten minutes.”

And then he was flying through the signs: Snake.  Ram.  Horse.  Hare.  Ram.  Horse.  Hare.  Snake.  Ox.  He clapped his hands.  

None of his students had even considered dodging (something to train for later) before they were trapped within a massive water prison.  The youngest had frozen in shock, as had Hikari.  Himiko had immediately swam forwards, testing the enclosure.  

However, Mayumi and Shinta did neither.  Their calculating gazes found his face and he looked solemnly back.  “Ten minutes,” he reiterated.  It wasn’t an amount of time that they could survive underwater without use of the fish test upon themselves.  Mayumi gave a slow nod, her lips held firmly together, and determination lit Shinta’s eyes.  With a coordinated glance, Mayumi pointed to the sisters and then herself before pointing Shinta towards Etsuko.  He gave a firm nod.  

Mayumi grabbed the elbow of Himiko while giving a firm flick to Hikari’s nose.  Shinta did the same upon Etsuko.  Attention thus obtained, they made clear motions for the fish exercise before reaching to their neighbor;  Mayumi to Hikari and Shinta to Etsuko.  Himiko did not yet appear panicked, but made no signs yet herself.  (Oh.  That—that isn’t what I intended, but.  Ah!  The intent to care for others first runs strong.  A Hatake thing… or just a medic’s mindset?—hummm.  For medics that could be both good and bad.)  

Shinta and Mayumi looked expectantly towards the person they’d assisted.  Etsuko’s hands flowed through the jutsu as well, slightly hesitant, but more sure with each motion, before pressing her hands to Shinta’s chest.  At seeing their action, understanding lit Himiko’s eyes and she ran through the jutsu for Mayumi while Hikari did the same for her sister.  (They were supposed to practice on themselves first… but their pallor was ebbing back from purple, so it has clearly worked—no need for emergency measures.) 

Their time ran out and Kakashi released his jutsu.  His students sprawled on the ground taking gasping breaths.  Etsuko and Hikari coughed, expelling water, and he lit his hand in a diagnostic before deftly clearing the last of the water from Etsuko’s lungs.  (Hikari’s coughing had managed the task itself.) 

“What lesson was this intended to teach you?”  His gaze focused on the two who had panicked, sure that their responses would be different from Shinta and Mayumi’s. 

Himiko spoke first though, “These skills—they’re for real application.  If we need to use them, we are to use them.”  Kakashi tilted his head in acknowledgement but didn’t actually confirm. 

Hikari took strength from her sister’s response and suggested, “We can’t panic when we need to use them.  That…  It didn’t help anyone.  Er, we had to stop and think.”

Etsuko looked to her feet, hands gripping at her trousers and her shoulders slightly hunched.  “We…” she corrected herself, “I didn’t respond well… you.  You gave us a warning but I didn’t realize what we were supposed to do until Shinta got my attention.”  Kakashi gave her a nod—that hadn’t been a lesson, but it was an apt description of her actions. 

Shinta tapped his arm against Etsuko’s in brief comfort before he chimed in.  His eyes were harder than they’d been during any of the classes, as though a truth had been made more real to him than it had been before.  “People can die if we don’t know the skills you teach as well as we think we do; there was a moment—my concentration wavered—but I could feel myself losing the oxygen that wasn’t getting to Etsuko properly.  It… was not good.”  

“True.” Kakashi provided a verbal answer.  That was one of the points he’d intended with this exercise.

Mayumi spoke next, her words measured and carefully chosen, “They are all correct, aren’t they?  But we still missed something.”  Insightful.

Kakashi responded, “Yes… and you all did.  But first to confirm though; to be a medic, you need to accurately know your level of skill.  If one of you had been incapable of performing the jutsu correctly, it would have had significant consequences on your team.  Wasting time in panic can jeopardize both your life and your patient’s.  Unless you are in the medical house, chances are good that the situation in which you are using medical skills is less than ideal.  You will have to work in this regardless.”  He paused, letting them take in the lesson before answering Mayumi’s insight.

“That being said, as a medic you are a valuable resource.  You need to use your resources more wisely.  Had you each used the jutsu upon yourself, all of you would have been free to investigate ways out of the water prison.  

“Himiko—you started to do the latter, but overlooked the former.  The rest of you, either panicked or only considered the medic-to-patient application of the technique.

“Additionally, securing your own breathing would have bought you time and air and, had one of your fellows failed the exercise, you would have been in a better position to assist them.

“If you’re required to give medical aid during a battle, you must consider how your actions can affect those around you; in this case, you succeeded in keeping each other alive, but how you did so—you resigned yourself to being fish in a barrel.”

They listened with rapt attention, some wilting and some visibly considering his words.  It was unusual that he provided such an in depth explanation without pulling out one of his reference books, but… this was a practical lesson, and such analysis was necessary.

Eventually, he’d received a nod, or at least brief eye contact, from each.  He clapped his hands once, “Again then.  You now know what to expect.”

Another water prison engulfed them all.  (And they again didn’t think to dodge… perhaps a version of Tsunade’s dodge training?  Humm… later.  Drowning students now.)

Cardgame: Blatant Cheating and Making Friends

“How.  How.  How do you keep doing this,” Riki hissed.  Next to him, Rai sighed in annoyance.

Kakashi shrugged casually.  “Just lucky I guess,” he said, and eye smiled.  Himiko eyed him dangerously, while her sister, Hikari, looked amused.

“Like hell you are,” Riki growled.  How adorable.  “How?!  You didn’t even touch the deck this time!”

“Why Riki-kun!” Kakashi gasped in mock offense.  “Are you accusing me of something?”

“Yes!”

“What’s all this about, then?”

Kakashi looked up at Megumi with his version of an innocent look—less sweet, more like he had no idea what you were talking about, or even that you were talking to him.  (After he’d left ANBU, when people were used to thinking of him a certain way, he’d gotten a lot of mileage out of it—actually confusing people enough that they thought maybe he really didn’t understand that giving someone mourning flowers after a breakup was really weird.  Since people figured him out, though—well, he still got plenty of mileage out of it… mostly in the form of irritating his fellow Konoha citizens though.)

To Megumi, he directed, “Just teaching an important downtime activity.”  He waved at their set up,  indicating the ongoing card game.  “This one is called nekoitachinu.”  Cat, carp, weasel, dog.

“He’s cheating!” Riki said.  Hikari snickered—but then, she wasn’t playing.

“Slander,” Kakashi said.  “Slander and lies.”

“I see,” Megumi said.  “Actually, you know, I think I’d like to learn this game.”

Himiko took a break from staring at Kakashi like she was thinking about how to take him apart, giving a slightly concerned look at Megumi.  (After her performance in eventually breaking his Water Prison, Kakashi had taken to calling her Shark-chan, which she’d been unamused by—though he’d then informed her that, in Kiri, sharks were sometimes called “dogs of the sea.”  This factoid had only somewhat appeased her.)  “Are you sure, Megumi-ba?  He really is a huge cheater.”

“You too, Shark-chan?  I’m wounded,” he said, knowing it only made him look guiltier.  That was, after all, the point.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Megumi said.

Kakashi sighed.  “Well, since everyone’s sure I’ve been cheating, we might as well start a new round now, ne?”

“No,” Rai said.  “We’re finishing this round.”

“Well, if you insist…”

—

Kakashi stared in bafflement at the smirking woman who’d been teaching him how to weave for the past few weeks, who had very limited training in chakra, and had seemed very much the no-nonsense type of woman.

“My my, it looks like my win again, yes?” she said.  Riki groaned in response.

Himiko grinned on the sidelines, where she’d joined Hikari in spectating after Megumi’s first win.  (She’d clearly known what was coming.) 

“So it is,” Kakashi agreed cheerfully.  It had only taken her two rounds of playing, plus the half a game she watched initially, to figure out the game—and then she swept the board with him.  Repeatedly.

“I just can’t believe you’re an even bigger cheat than Kakashi is!” Riki said, clearly upset that his old weaving sensei was not just the straightforward and supportive woman who scolded you for mischief and messing up your weave that he knew.

Kakashi, too, wasn’t sure how she’d managed to out-cheat an ex-ANBU captain, but he knew when he was beat.  He just hoped she’d be willing to teach him these tricks too.

Bringing Out The Swirly Eye

Keitaro was… just a little bit in shock.  

He’d known that Kakashi was incredibly skilled, that he knew jutsu and elemental releases that the clan had never seen.  He’d chalked that up to having a village—a multi-clan alliance and eighty years of interdependence to account for the skills he’d shown.  Kakashi was also… incredibly intelligent; it would have made sense that he’d made full use of the resources available to him.  (Had he not displayed as such, with each weaver who’d decided to teach him their craft?  He thought briefly of the beautiful silk scarf that Asami—his pup—had refused to stop wearing.  It had been a gift from the girl’s new “uncle” and it had been wonderfully made.)

But… they’d been ambushed—what seemed like a group of unrelated shinobi—rare, but not unheard of.  A couple had been incredibly skilled with genjutsu and the rest showed mid to high levels of skill.  There were nineteen in all and all exits were cut off.  Two of Kakashi’s wolves flanked their summoner while two of his Inu did the same for himself.  Each of the summons was meant for battle, but six to nineteen.  Well.  He’d feared that they might not make it home. 

In the stillness before battle Kakashi had looked at him, as though judging his worth.  A moment, as though he was weighing their chances of survival against the trust between them.  He’d been too well trained to close his eye—what with the fight nearly upon them—but he’d let it drift to his wolves nonetheless and then firmly met his gaze.  

Kakashi, his resolution clear, firmly stated, “I can make sure we survive this, but none can be allowed to live.”  Their situation had been dire, and he’d nodded in agreement; he’d set his Inu to chase down any that might flee before placing his back to his clanmate’s.  He’d heard gasps as Kakashi adjusted his bandana, and before they were plunged into battle he’d heard, “I’ll explain later.” 

The fight was furious.

Eventually they were separated; his otouto drew the most attention while his wolves tore into the throats of those distracted by wounds.  In a finishing move, lightening blossomed into his outstretched fist and the chirping of birds filled the clearing.  “Chidori,” Keitaro had heard, as he and his dogs had dispatched the three who had broken to flee.  

Kakashi looked at him in the resounding silence that had followed, for the first time with both eyes exposed: one—sharingan, and the other—Hatake grey.  He’s not half blind, his mind had supplied—such an inane response.  

Kakashi had re-covered his eye—his Sharingan!?  They’d collected the corpses, removed the valuables, and his otouto shifted the earth to cover the group in a massive burial… clearly exhausted enough by the discussion to come not to bother with either the sealing or burning of the corpses.

He’d waited until they set up camp to enquire further.  His clanmate had proven himself one not to lust after power.  (He’d shied away firmly at any jokes which insinuated he be made clan heir.)  Whatever situation had gained him such a guarded dojutsu… it must not have been a pleasant one.

Kakashi set a privacy seal, while Kyo—his white eared wolf—set himself up as a backrest.  (The stockinged wolf, Masa, had joined his Inu to scout around their camp.)

“It must be some story,”  Keitaro offered.

Kakashi made no eye contact but he nodded and then began to speak.

The tale was a harrowing one, painfully coaxed out and abbreviated though it may be, but it justified the dojutsu’s presence.  It was dangerous to have, especially in this time—but it was… satisfying, to know that his otouto’s pups had him covered, if it became known to the Uchiha that a Hatake had obtained one of their eyes.  (Kakashi had tapped the seal etched beside it—proof that his keeping it was authorized… even if the Uchiha’s head still did not know.)

This storm is one the Hatake can weather. 

Troublesome.  So troublesome. 

He resolved himself to the future chaos. 

Of Packs and Summoners

Kakashi flitted through the trees, traversing the branches to better observe the chaos of his pack; little Takeshi and Watarimono were sandwiched between the trackers, Mitsuru, Isamu, and Hideo.  Their goal was to find Shizuko, Shinobu, and Susumo (who were working on stealth, as all scouts should).  Anytime the more experienced trackers became too narrowly focused (or the pups themselves became unfocused), one of the warriors would abscond with that pup for some rigorous sparring.  Once the pup was worn out, they would be deposited once more among the trackers to continue the hunt for their prey.

After the third time Watarimono had been taken (and the second time for Takeshi), Kakashi called a halt to the exercise.  The pups collapsed in exhaustion, giving off whines that he recognized as pleas for food and drink.  The scouts appeared satisfied with themselves—they’d truly hidden well.  And the trackers seemed determined to give a better showing in the future.  (Though… to be fair to the trackers, showing the pups the ropes was a handful.)  Masa, Takeo, and Kyo barely seemed affected; faux fighting pups was no strain on their skills. 

He pulled out a bowl for the pups before distributing strips of jerky to each of his pack.  They’d taken to the exercise well and gamely tolerated the pup’s participation.  (Takeshi and Watarimono were more his responsibility to train than theirs, but exercises in teamwork by definition required teammates, and they were skilled at what they did.)

The pups near about face planted after devouring their meat, but tottered forward on exhausted limbs before slumping against his calves and promptly falling into sleep.  He gave a bereaved huff before scooping them up to place in his vest pockets. (He could have dismissed them, sure.  But then they’d arrive back home unconscious… and that was asking for trouble with both the Alpha—their father—and their mother (a wolf of firm opinions).  And after naming them without permission, and the grace he’d been given for that.   Yeah—no.  That was not a conversation he wanted to have.  They were just fine napping in his pockets.)

As though they could read his thoughts, half his pack politely looked away (the scouts and Kyo were his new favorites) while most of the others chuckled quietly.  Mitsuru, the odd one out, simply watched the pups position with disconcertingly soft eyes; the hunter’s gaze was made all the more disturbing since the pups were placed along Kakashi’s torso… and Kakashi had become well aware, in the months he’d known them, of how deadly each of his wolves could be.

Hotaru loped into their clearing, his full pack on his heels, and invited himself to join them by exclaiming, “Kakashi, we’d hoped to catch you and your pack here.  Masaru suggested a challenge—though Nao has wagered that Shizuko  will try to back out—a game of chase and find.  We’ll have ten minutes to hide six flags within the forest, three for each of us.  The team which retrieves the least will have to hunt the winning team’s dinner.” 

All wolf ears in the vicinity (save those of the sleeping pups) perked up at the challenge.  At the clear interest, every tail in Hotaru’s pack displayed excitement.  Nao turned to his packmates, joy in his tone, “We’ll give them a challenge for sure!”  

The husky beside him fanned the mood, cheering, “Supper’s on them!”  He egged the wolf pack on further by directing to Shizuko, “You know-I’d prefer deer.”

Shizuko bared his teeth, an acceptance of challenge rather than an active threat.  “Nao, I hope you didn’t bet more than you can afford to lose.” 

The inu yipped.  The wolves howled.  Kakashi bowed to the unavoidable company he’d be keeping as their packs battled it out, and procured his three bandanas from Hotaru. …And then he issued a challenge of his own, “Mah.  Who’d need ten minutes to hide three flags?  I’ll be back here in five.”  He then disappeared from sight.  

It was a wonder the pups slept through that racket.

—

Hotaru grinned at his pack, satisfied already in their efforts to socialize his people-shy clanmate, before he too went to hide his flags.  

Perhaps he’d eventually manage to drag Kakashi to Keitaro’s pup-filled class on wood carving.  (The man would have no idea how to interact with them… and it would be hilarious.)

Konoha Comes Calling

The mission had taken longer than he’d hoped, but they’d all arrived back in one piece.  He’d not wanted to leave for the mission, given that it had been nearly six months since he’d joined the Hatake.  It could happen any day.  He left Hotaru to give the verbal mission report before making a bee-line to bathe and change—as much as he’d grown to tolerate it, he’d never enjoyed being covered in muck.  

He’d just finished dressing when the knock came at his door.  The smell of his clan head drifted through cracks around it… he was anxious?  And excited?  He pulled up his mask before letting him in (who knew if Keitaro’s pups were lurking about—the two of them took great joy in claiming their tou-san’s clothes, and they knew which way their scent would blow.  They’d been trying to catch him out for months.  Incorrigible, the both of them.)

Disdaining a regular greeting, his clan head exclaimed, “Otouto—you’re not crazy!  This came a week ago.”  He then shoved a letter into Kakashi’s limp hands.  It began;

—

To the Honorable Hatake Clan, we, Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara, reach out to you in good faith and on behalf of our Clans and our Alliance.  We wish health and peace between all clans, and to this end have begun the Village of Konoha, a village for shinobi, for Clans…

…For the sake of peace between the shinobi Clans of Fire, we formally invite you, the Hatake Clan, to enter into this Alliance.  Should you find yourself willing to explore this opportunity, we are willing to meet two weeks hence, at a neutral place of your choosing in the North of Fire Country.  A maximum of five representatives for each Clan are expected within twenty-five miles of these talks.  We await your response.

Senju Hashirama, Senju Clan Head                 Uchiha Madara, Uchiha Clan Head

—

“Finally,” Kakashi breathed out, not quite able to stop himself from going loose in relief, his shoulders dropping.

Looking up, he wasn’t made to ask.  When he met Keitaro’s gaze the man stated, “I’ll be expecting you at this meeting.”

Kakashi straightened, “Of course, I’ll come.”  His genin—his pack—his team.  They were so near.

Keitaro nodded, like he’d expected that answer.  “Come to dinner tonight, we’ll troubleshoot the best approach to this.”  At Kakashi’s “Hai” he mercifully left Kakashi to his daze.  

His year was finished.  Konoha was ready for them. 

Shikako. 

Sasuke.

His packmates could finally be reclaimed. 

He relished the thought.

At last—Konoha has come.