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A few weeks after mastering shadow state, Kakashi woke up to find that Shikako had crashed in his living room. He was more amused than annoyed by the unannounced intrusion.
Like the competent jounin she was, she had tripped none of his traps while entering the premises, and if it weren’t for the fact that she was one of only two ninja who could turn his security seals inside out, had added her own, and that she would be able to get in regardless (shadow state was an incredible technique and—thank goodness only he and Shikako could use it), he’d worry that his security was too lax. As it was, pride swelled at the proof of her accomplishments. A pearl of contentment creeped in as well, at the realization that even when her scent-masking dropped and her chakra presence re-emerged as she fell into deeper sleep, he’d slept through her presence appearing—proof that he felt safe with her. (It had been a long time since his list of people that he felt safe with was longer than his dog pack and Gai.)
He set about making breakfast for the two of them. As the smell of rice permeated the apartment, sleepy Nara noises emanated from the couch. A touch of chakra to his ears brought her grumbling into focus. “...’s too early—’m not movin’ u’less there’s eggs too.” And then the blanket and couch rustled as she wrapped herself more firmly into a burrito. He huffed a fond chuckle, checking the fridge for eggs. Lucky her—I’ve still got some.
Eventually, the smell of eggs cooking worked their magic on the kunoichi, and a sleepy head with an absolute mess of a braid poked its way out of its cocoon. “Mornin’ Ka—Kashi.” A yawn broke through her greeting. Did she intend the nickname? Or was the yawn to blame for that? It was odd—“Eternal Rival!” and “Copy-nin” were the closest he’d come to a nickname in… longer than he cared to contemplate. He was surprised to find that he didn’t particularly mind, her taking that liberty—if that’s what she’d actually intended. (Of anyone… she’d probably earned that right.) A non-issue for the moment though, until she repeats it when properly awake. So really—not worth discussing just yet.
He plated the meal, pressing the second bowl into Shikako’s still sleepy hands. She absently made chopsticks appear out of her hammerspace and began to eat mechanically. It’s probably best to question her before she’s fully awake.
Grabbing his own bowl, he leaned against the counter. She might try to sidestep the truth, or downplay why she came, but he doubted she’d be able to tell a lie he couldn’t see through. The direct route is probably the most efficient here.
“Mah—Shikako-chan?” She looked up sort of grumply, clutching the half finished bowl protectively. He pushed forward regardless, “Why did you feel the need to crash at my place last night?” She typically invaded Sasuke’s house, if she was avoiding her brother… or feeling crowded at the Nara’s compound. Come to think of it… she’d been much more findable at Sasuke’s place than hers the last few months.
The only other times she’d slept here, he’d refused to recover in the hospital and Shikako had facilitated his escape by pressing a certificate of level three medical competence into the protesting nurse’s hands. She claimed that she’d see to it that he rested. (That week, incidentally, led to the currently paranoid state of his security seals. He’d not dared to leave the apartment that week, as each time he thought to try, he’d catch her doodling upon his walls—it would have been idiodic not to keep abreast of those ‘improvements’.
(The orange —oh Kami, the orange. That was one trap he’d make sure never to trigger again.))
The other time, Sasuke had been tapped to break in new ANBU recruits and Shikako had taken a few missions for the sensing squad. One had gone particularly badly. (From the report that he’d swiped, the rogue ninjas that they were tracking had on them a spice which caused the Aburame’s hive to riot. Unfortunately, this gave away the squad’s location and Shikako was required to play heavy assault as a five on two fight broke out. (The incapacitated Aburame didn’t count.) In the end, the ninja they’d intended to retrieve was brought back in a body scroll. The Aburame was brought back on Shikako’s back—though his hive might never fully recover. And the non-clan chuunin had requested a transfer to the desk-nin track. Shikako had stayed with him, intermittently, for nearly two weeks and only returned home once her brother’s team took a three week mission.)
He was hoping that this situation was not the same.
“Your place is quiet.” And isn’t that an obvious dodge. He recognized dodges. (He was very good at them too.)
“And yours isn’t?”
“Hum… Not particularly.” Wasn’t her brother on a mission? He was pretty sure that Gai had mentioned Tenten’s inclusion in Shikamaru’s team a few days ago. He’d thought that tempers had cooled the last few months between them, though he’d not missed the calculating looks the boy had sent his way.
“It’s complicated. And stupid.”
“Stupid?” Kakashi prodded. Shikako grimaced, like she’d hoped he wouldn’t jump on that. Kakashi mentally snorted. Yeah right, not when she is clearly so distressed about the situation.
“The, uh, clan… they’re not particularly happy that I taught you my ‘original shadow jutsu’. They think I should be able to pass it on to one of them.” Impossible. He understood, now, that Shikako wouldn’t—couldn’t—share her shadow with just anyone, and he remembered the knife’s edge on which they’d balanced, when nature chakra hijacked their shadow-state practice. Had she—had I—had either of us been any less able… the Nara’s forest would have two stone statues now.
“And Shikaku hasn’t set them straight?”
“He’s tried.” She huffed in exasperation, roughly poking at the eggs within her bowl. “They said that he’s ‘emotionally compromised’—that another blood-born Nara would have better luck with the technique.”
“Aa,” Kakashi said. The Nara were doubting their own clan head—and Jounin Commander—over this, huh? And he used to think that they were the sensible, rational ones. Well, the more approachable sensible ones. Kakashi hoped that the Aburame really were as sensible as they seemed at his current knowledge level, because while the Nara were brilliant, they were showing themselves to be a bit of a disappointment. “And they’re bothering you about this?” He channeled chakra to his ears, pretty sure that was the sort of question that would elicit a nearly unintelligible grumble. (He wasn’t wrong.)
“Months…’S not like they’ve l’up since they started.” Angrily consuming the last bite of her rice, she then spoke more clearly, “It’s nothing I can’t handle.” As though she’d have invaded my space for something trivial.
He picked apart her answer. I’ve known the shadow state for less than a month. This has been going on for much longer.
He’d known, early after his honorary adoption, that they’d kept something back from him—something more than the political backlash of presenting his adoption as fait accompli to the clan. At first, he’d figured that they’d tell him eventually, that it was some shadow-use related consequence to being shadow-bonded as he had. Eventually, though, he’d cottoned on that being Kage no Nakama had social implications too, that maybe ‘adopting’ an adult just wasn’t done; perhaps they expected him to not live up to the techniques, what with starting them as late as he had. (He’d been diligent, in his learning, in partial hope to avoid such a charge.) But for this harassment to have gone on for months. For her to seek refuge with him. Their behavior was utterly unacceptable. It’s well past time to obtain my answers.
“I don’t doubt you,” he stated, completely truthful. Her priorities ran the same as his. That wouldn’t stop him from eavesdropping until he had enough information to help though.
She gave him a grateful look, slipping her chopsticks into hammerspace and rising from the couch.
“Thank you for breakfast and, ah…” She gestured to his poor rumpled couch.
He waved away the thanks, his chopsticks still in hand and his bowl not at all touched. He didn’t really feel like he’d earned her thanks just yet. “It’s not a problem.”
She gave him an amused look, pointedly glancing between his bowl and his mask. “I’ll leave now—so that you needn’t rush to eat.” She seemed humored at her own suggestion, but he’d always appreciated that she’d never truly tried to look. It was… nice, to be able to relax around a comrade, without the need to play that game.
She detoured slightly to brush shoulders as she made her way out of his apartment via his balcony window. He made no effort to dodge.
(As Shikako disappeared across the rooftops, Kakashi set his untouched bowl aside, uninterested in its contents. Being teammates with such a sensor, he’d brushed up on his stealth skills. He had the time this week to infiltrate the Nara.)
“She taught him her shadow state! Can you believe it?
“Ugh. He’s not even a proper Nara, but I’ve heard she’s not even taught the jutsu to Shikaku-sama.”
“No. Really? But didn’t he say it was only possible because of the tsunagari?
“Humph. That just makes it worse. She didn’t get permission to adopt him either. If she was going to adopt anyone, she should have taken on little Ritsu-chan. Saidai and Risshuu would have extended custody to her too, if it meant she’d have a better chance with the shadow arts. She wants to be a ninja too, you know…”
—
“Do you think it’s because of that time she got in trouble over that unlicensed medical seal? I hear that something about that resulted in bad blood between her and the clan’s R&D.”
“Wait, really? Didn’t Kofuku-oba make sure she got out of trouble for that?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve heard that she was planning to make that shadow prosthetic for just her brother.”
“Really? That’s so immature. Shikaku-sama is coddling that girl, and it shows in her attitude.”
—
“I think it’s sweet, really.”
“Oh come on, you don’t really believe it’s—you do. You—you’re such a romantic. Really? A special move that can only be shared with your Kage no Nakama? Come on.”
“Well, it is the only way to give someone a shadow alignment without their being born with it, so I don’t see why not.”
“I don’t know about only, just the only one we know of.”
“Not my point.”
“I suppose…”
—
“Is she still hiding at the Uchiha’s?”
“Um… I don’t think so? I saw her leaving the head’s house this morning.”
“You know that doesn’t mean anything. She comes and goes at all hours… and every time someone tries to tell her how things should be done, she runs off to play house with her team.”
“Isn’t it good though—that she’s well connected with the last Uchiha? And the Hatake. He is a clan head, right? That can only help us.”
“Maybe she’s taking her duties as the spare heir too far. Her connections are only useful to us if she’s around us to make use of them. It’s a good thing Shikamaru remains the heir.”
“I guess. He is around the compound more than she is.”
—
“How about replacement tag then?”
“Oh! Yes—we should practice; ‘They can’t hit you if you’re not there,’ after all.”
“‘Preparation is the best defense.’”
“What in the world are you two on about?”
“It’s something Shikako-senpai said once!”
“That girl… Maybe you two should find… another role model?”
—
“If having the two of them around continues to cause such a fuss, she should just take his name and be done with it.”
“You’re right. I don’t see why they’re waffling with this adoption business—they’re basically married already.”
—
Kakashi fled from the Nara’s compound in full stealth, taking up residence in a blind he’d set up for himself in training ground forty-eight.
Ignorance and jealousy. Disregard and disbelief. Disdaining her commitment to her brother and her team, and turning the younger generation against her. That. That had all been… horrible—an absolute mess of a situation that Shikako had been dealing with for months—parts of it for years. And to live in a compound with them, to be judged against things she couldn’t clarify or speak about—principles that he could find no fault in and priorities that Konoha encouraged—that he’d taught her? Appalling.
(Kakashi did not think about Sakumo. Didn’t think about the whispers and insults thrown by the village, hypocritical as they were.
Kakashi didn’t think about the lingering guilt he felt for not showing his father support in that time, and the way that those regrets had haunted him for years. He’d been a child, far too young to know to play support—and hadn’t that been proven, given the result.
He didn’t think about it. Not at all.)
And then that last conversation, the one that answered his question, the one still ringing within his head:
“...They’re basically married already.”
“...basically married already.”
“...married already.”
“married…”
Was that what they’ve been hiding? Is shadow-sharing considered a Nara marriage then, at least between adults?
His mind spun at the implications and anger rose. They kept this from me. The whole clan had—and he’d looked the fool. Why?
He tried to compartmentalize, shinobi training kicking in in the face of such a personal blow. He leaned into it.
What am I missing? Shikako. She’d not have intended harm against me. He knew that bone-deep. (The antagonism she’d lived with, that she’d apparently borne—and silently at that—for the commitment she showed for her brother, for her teammates. For him. No. She’d rather harm to herself than allow harm to us.)
But they’d still kept this secret, still conspired behind his back.
He was justified in his anger and due a proper explanation.
Shikako? No. He might be mad at her, mad at the situation, mad at the Nara as a whole, but he’d sought answers because she was already distressed. He would confront her. Eventually. She owes me that much. But first, a much better target was available.
He made a beeline for Shikaku’s study. If the man wasn’t there… well, he’d still be there when he arrived.
His anger had faded to a dull simmer by the time the Jounin Commander returned to his home. His chakra wasn’t completely suppressed, so he knew the man would know he was there.
Shikaku paused, briefly, just beyond the genkan, before turning towards his study. Kakashi tracked his movement as he neared.
“Shikaku,” he said, not bothering to smooth over the anger and ill-humor within the greeting.
The man narrowed his eyes and his shoulders twitched back, perfectly capable of reading Kakashi’s targeted fury, but as yet unaware as to what the problem might be. Kakashi made no move to rise from the guest’s seat he’d claimed.
Shikaku crossed the room, a touch slow and slightly wary in recognition of Kakashi’s mood.
(Kakashi would not attack him. He was only there to talk. But the man wasn’t wrong to brace himself for unpleasantness.)
His voice was carefully neutral, as though he was walking through a field of explosive seals and had no way to tell which were active, but he asked, “Kakashi—what brings you here tonight?” What indeed.
Kakashi let out a sharp breath, leaned back in his seat and looked at the ceiling. His fingers drummed an agitated rhythm against his thighs. “Shikako retreated to my place a night ago, distressed. She’s been distressed often, recently.” He glanced at the Nara, noted his silent agreement to the statement, and then looked back to the ceiling. “She doesn’t like to speak of her concerns…” (and wasn’t that an understatement) “So I investigated.” He let the words hang. Let the man put these pieces together—like I was made to do.
“You eavesdropped.” He sounded resigned, but Kakashi was in no mood to extend him sympathy.
“I eavesdropped,” he confirmed. Let him dig for himself, too.
Shikaku let out a long and quiet breath before asking, “What did you find out?” Good—he seemed to understand that this wasn’t a conversation where obfuscation would be welcome.
“Elders of your clan tried to stifle the admiration that some of your academy kids hold for Shikako. And not only is she still looked down upon for R&D’s mistake when she first worked among them, but she is scorned for the priority she puts upon Shikamaru, upon her teammates. I understand the unilateral adoption did her no favors on either account, and there is…unrest, that she is unable to teach anyone else the shadow state. …Your word is not enough, apparently.” He knew that last statement was a cruel jab—to point out the man’s inability to protect her—but he’d found out more beyond just that.
The Nara’s head had closed his eyes, not surprised, so much as riding out a pain that he knew was not yet over.
Kakashi continued, speaking very deliberately so as not to bite out each word, “It seems I have also been married—for nearly a year. And this fact was unknown only to me.”
“You have not,” Shikaku stated, definitive. His eyes opened and he met Kakashi’s gaze intently.
“Explain it to me then,” he challenged.
The Nara nodded, posture deliberately opening slightly, “Shadow-bonding is used to adopt children into the Nara Clan. It’s done by an adult who never intends to marry, or by a married couple who cannot conceive. But between adults, the only time it occurs is between already married blood-borne Nara… and between a Nara and an Out-clan fiance. In that case, it is considered a binding engagement.”
Kakashi’s world spun, implications and potentials and possibilities lining up to be picked over.
“You’ve been treating this like an adoption though?”
“That’s correct. Without your consent, she and I would never consider you bound to an engagement.” The Clan would, though, wouldn’t they. They have already.
“You said, ‘an adult who never intends to marry’...?” He let the question hang unfinished, needing to know but not wanting to ask. It was clear that Shikako had crossed many lines, by what she’d done.
Shikaku grimaced, “If she chooses to marry another, she would be disowned by my clan.” He sounded pained. “It wouldn’t matter if I refused to make it official, when the great majority would act upon it regardless.”
“And you kept this from me— why?” The anger that had simmered had been banked by the emotional upheaval he was forced to contain.
“Kakashi—normally when shadow-sharing occurs, it’s done with both parties understanding what’s going on, and choosing to do it as an expression of their bond. When Shikako gave you part of her shadow, she was committing to you, but not the other way around. Do you think she’d want you to feel pressured into a relationship you’d shown no interest in before? Do you think she’d want to risk scaring you with the depth of her feelings?” Shikaku gave Kakashi a piercing look. “I didn’t say anything because, contrary to what some may think, you aren’t in a romantic relationship now. And I felt that Shikako had the right to tell you in her own time. Do you disagree?”
Kakashi opened and closed his mouth, momentarily at a loss of how to respond. (The answer was obvious, yes. But. But…) The response that came out did so without conscious thought. “Does. Does she want that from me then—eventually?”
He was at a loss. Marriage. A life partner. He’d… not considered the prospect, let alone with her. He’d expected that the Hatake name would die with him, sacrificed for a mission, or a comrade… for Konoha’s betterment. He’d made his peace with that.
(The life expectancy of the spouses of elite ninja, if they weren’t completely hidden or elite themselves, was incredibly low. And marriage typically meant kids—a huge risk to said kids, and a chance he couldn’t bear. To say nothing about how often ninja passed, shortly after their spouse.
And he knew if he risked that, if he went all in again on one person… if he lost them—as he’d lost his dad, as he’d lost Minato—he’d be a hollow shell. No challenges by Gai, no genin team, no pack would be able to pull him out. Tenzou’s belief about him and ANBU would hold true.)
Shikaku hesitated. From what he’d said, it was clear that he didn’t want to speak for Shikako, but he also wanted what was best for her. Eventually he spoke, “Until she shared her shadow with you—I don’t think that she’d considered anyone, in that way. She’s not yet ready for it, and she may never be… but she would never push for anything you’re not already inclined to give.”
Kakashi released a measured breath, consciously unclenching the muscles he’d tensed.
Shikaku caught his eyes again, and said, “Regardless of where your relationship goes, you are shadow-bound. She is your Kage no Nakama just as you are hers. Do not let what might be ruin what you have.”
Kakashi closed his eyes. “I understand.”
Opening them again, he pushed aside his lingering anger, “Is there anything else, that has been kept from me for similar reasons?” He didn’t expect an affirmative. Very little could overshadow the flashbang this day has been.
Fortunately, Shikaku didn’t have any other—unexpected news for him. “No. I’ll tell Shikako that you know now, but the rest needn’t be informed.” He could now appreciate the protection his ignorance had provided, in keeping the clan at bay in regards to their relationship.
As Kakashi rose to leave, the Nara gave a final word, “You are welcome, to come to me again, if you need to talk this out.” He sounded sincere and Kakashi didn’t immediately dismiss the offer.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he acknowledged. And then he disappeared in a swirl of leaves.
He needed time to process, but he didn’t want to be alone. His pack would bother him for details, when they smelled the stress he’d just endured… but Gai— he wouldn’t insist on conversation.
Perhaps his oldest friend would be up to some mindless exercise?
(Of course, he was.)
He avoided her for weeks.
—
Kakashi could have gone to her after that first week and pretended nothing had occurred. (Shikako would have let him, he knew—she had before.) ….But the words left unsaid would have sat cloying and heavy in the air between them, a poisonous sludge eating away at them both.
She should have told me!
—
In the second week, he had seen her a few times from afar, her on street level and him atop the roofs. Each time, she’d turn towards him, sensing his presence, and happiness or expectation— something positive would light her features, before apprehension hit… and the realization of his distance would shutter her gaze.
Where would we even start?
—
In the third week, he’d taken a week-long mission. It was a tricky set of assassinations, but he got the job done. (It was good to get out of his head.) He didn’t know how to fix what had broken. (Was it even broken?) But when he returned, he knew he at least needed to try.
He stood by the memorial stone, silently begging advice from the ghosts of his past. The time apart had let him process. He knew, now, that she bore the brunt of the consequences between the two. His options were not limited, not beyond those limitations he accepted for himself.
Shikako’s though; she couldn’t marry another—not without losing her clan. And in adopting him, she could not adopt another—any child she might take on would not be gifted with shadows, at least not through her shadow shared. And, even then, aside from those circumstances, she’d flouted a long held Nara tradition. She’d warped what should have solidified a bond, a proposal or an adoption, and used it to attach herself to him. (And even after three weeks of distance, he rather doubted that he could fill that first role.) She’d burned much of the good will she might have had, in continuing to prioritize his life.
He thought back to the conversations he’d overheard. Children were warned against looking up to her—despite the good advice she’d given. The mistake with R&D still loomed over her. She couldn’t adopt a child for the clan, nor could she teach them her ‘original’ technique. She was judged to be superfluous, when compared to her brother. And among them, she would always be found wanting when she operated under the Nara name. At best, her connections might redeem her some… but only if they could see her act on their behalf. (Unlikely, that. Her most meaningful actions are always undersold by her.)
But that last conversation he’d overheard, it replayed in his mind;
“If having the two of them around continues to cause such a fuss, she should just take his name and be done with it.”
“You’re right. I don’t see why they’re waffling with this adoption business—they’re basically married already.”
… and with his mind now cleared of the shock he’d first felt upon hearing it, bits of it stood out differently.
If they’re so keen to have her family name change—If they’re tired of the “waffling”... Well. I can see to that first, while making their headache so much worse .
Kakashi typically avoided the Hatake’s head house, but he would make an exception for this.
He’d track down Shikako with the necessary paperwork in hand.
Shikako hadn’t thought much of not seeing Kakashi in the few days after she’d slept at his place. Not seeing him for a day or two wasn’t unusual, and she’d taken an overnight mission besides.
What wasn’t normal, was the fact that he’d not tracked her down shortly after she’d returned. (He’d made a habit of that… somehow knowing when her reports passed through the mission desk. The number of times he made a quip or asked a question about things she’d yet to share with him… well, she’d taken to being… creative in her reports, just to see the results. She’d heard that the chuunin whose taijutsu was so bad that he’d accidentally kicked her in the back—mid-mission—did… acceptably, under Gai’s enthusiastic tutoring.) But he’d not done so this time (even though the Inuzuka she’d been paired with provided ample opportunity). She’d tried not to worry. He did have missions too.
That hope had held out until her dad had come home.
Kakashi knew.
She’d had plans… thoughts… maybe, about how to tell him. But the timing never seemed quite right. He’d arrive too late for them to have the time for that, or something would distract her, or mission stress would intrude. And Kakashi—he’d been doing better than he had in years. She’d seen the slow creep of his recovery; accepting their team, actually teaching, claiming Tenzo and Gai as actual friends. He sought out her company and he played with his dogs.
She couldn’t… she couldn’t be the one to undo that. Couldn’t ask him to shoulder the Nara’s expectations for them—for that. Especially since she still wasn’t sure if she wanted that either. (When she shared her shadow, she’d made her choice. He was a good one. But could she want that? Could he?) No. She wouldn’t pressure him. Telling him about the consequences that she necessarily bore for her actions—that might make him feel the need to take on those consequences himself. To put that weight on him, and risk the progress he’d made…
She couldn’t.
But he’d found out anyways. (She should have known the secret wouldn’t keep—it was a miracle he’d not found out sooner.) But now he knew.
—
She realized by the second week that his avoidance was deliberate. She’d catch wind of his presence, and he’d swiftly turn away. And this wasn’t a problem she could outsource to Gai. She couldn’t ask him to track him down. She couldn’t force her presence on him when it was her own shadow upon his causing him such distress.
—
By the third week, she couldn’t sense him in the village at all.
She tried to distract herself with seal work at Sasuke’s place, but he’d eventually asked her to stop. He claimed he needed to be able to look at his walls when his sharingan was activated as well.
—
The fourth week had barely started when she felt Kakashi’s return. She typically knew where in the village he was at, according to his chakra signature—at least when he wasn’t suppressing it completely. He wasn’t suppressing it then.
As she laid in a training ground, watching the clouds, she tracked him to his apartment, to the memorial stone, and to the Hatake clan grounds.
Should she go to him? Would she be welcome? Could they work this out?
She didn’t know.
She had not expected that he would come to her.
Shikako looked up as she felt Kakashi approach, and her pulse started to speed up. She immediately started regulating her breathing—in, and out. She could handle this. She could extend friendship to a rampaging bijuu. She could face danger with focus and clarity, this was nothing.
(This was not nothing. This was so very, very important, and she didn’t know what to say, what the goal was, there was no plot to tell her how this conversation “should” go, and therefore what to expect, what to try to do instead. There was no clear danger to address, no obvious path to follow. And this was Kakashi. Kakashi, the comforting strength at her back, the man whose conviction and loyalty she could trust so well—and, from a certain perspective, she’d betrayed that trust. Was that his perspective? Did he feel betrayed? Or just afraid, or trapped?
She had to hope she’d be able to figure it out without screwing it all up. That he’d extend her the benefit of a doubt, if she fumbled.
Oh, Kakashi.)
Kakashi’s posture was… anticipatory. She’d not expected that. His eyes flickered around the training field as he finished his approach, and he dropped one of her own privacy seals upon the ground beside her as she sat herself up. (The clouds had provided little reprieve to her thoughts—not when their subject himself sought her out.)
“I’m glad you’re back, Kakashi,” was what she managed to say.
He hummed in acknowledgement and sat himself across from her. The silence stretched, but it was not as… fraught as she’d feared it would be, though a tension remained.
Eventually he broke it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” So we are talking about this then?
She glanced towards his face, but found she couldn’t hold his gaze. The grass strands around her played distraction for her fingers. If he’s willing to be direct… I should be so too.
“I. I didn’t want to hurt you with the knowledge. It’s a commitment, and shadow-bonding—it shouldn’t be forced on anyone. You didn’t choose to accept my shadow… It was my choice, to save you in that way. You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have to be bothered by the consequences of it.” Bits of broken grass stems littered the ground around her knees, once she’d choked out the explanation.
Quiet resounded between them for a moment that felt like forever.
And then Kakashi snorted near silently, before he stated, “I should have known.”
Shikako hunched in on herself. Frustrated tears pricked the corner of her eyes, not enough to fall, but enough to add a physical stress to this confrontation. I should have told hi–
“You’re far too much like me.” What?
“Shikako.” She trembled slightly as he tipped up her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You saved my life. Whatever consequences come from that—I don’t leave my teammates behind.” She felt a sob catch in her throat, and she blinked rapidly. That was—that was more than just absolution. He understood and they were good.
She had not burned her bridge with him.
Time passed without her notice as she digested her relief. But eventually, she came back to herself. Taking in her position, she realized that he’d allowed her to slump against his side with her head against his shoulder. She snorted a bit when she saw that he had his book open in hand— a very Kakashi distraction. At the sound, he twitched his shoulder, prompting her to sit upright again.
“You’re alright then?” A quick assessing glance took in both her state and her nod.
“Uh. Yeah.” She stumbled over her words, flustered by the emotion she’d forced upon him. “Yeah. I’m. I’m good now.” After nearly a year of not telling him this—weeks of fearing the worst—fearing that his trust in her, that their relationship was irrevocably broken… and to have this instead. Yeah—I’m good now.
“Right then.” He tapped his fingers lightly upon a stack of papers that she’d not previously noted. “I don’t like when people harass my teammates.”
She looked at him in question.
Without a hint of shame, he explained, “I eavesdropped on the Nara.” Oh—oh no. “They’re not happy with you. It sounds like they haven’t been happy with you for a while.” He’d heard—there’s much he might have heard. She winced.
“One of their louder complaints was the fact that you’d not taken my family name.” She froze and her eyes went wide. He’s not honestly suggesting… Her pulse sped up again, but she pressed the panic down.
He met her eyes. “As the Hatake clan head, I am able to take whomever I wish into the Hatake clan. I don’t have elders to answer to… so I needn’t specify if this is marriage or adoption. So long as you’re acknowledged as clan within our registry, you’d be able to use the Hatake name. Or hyphenate. Or not.”
As her shocked silence continued, he shifted a bit in discomfort, seeming slightly unsure. “I—I’m not looking to replace Shikaku for you…”
She interjected at that, “I didn’t think you were.”
“Those are too big a pair of shoes to fill,” he agreed seriously.
The deadpan statement startled a laugh out of her and he continued, earnest and sincere, “You’re… a friend, and my comrade—not my kid. But it’s not right—you shouldn’t need to stay in that environment, when you’ve got an out, with me.” Oh—Kakashi. To offer this, to welcome me into his clan as well. That’s—that’s so much more than I’d have sought to ask. (She knew him—a clan of one, and she knew the emotional risk he took, in offering her a place in his clan.)
She reached for the paperwork, reading through it thoroughly. “I wouldn’t have to give up the Nara name?” she questioned.
“Unless the Nara kick you out, it’s not a problem for you to continue to use it.” That’s good. It would hurt dad… for me to lose the name, after he’s put so much work in so that I could keep it. She was not ignorant to the political trouble he’d taken on within the clan on her behalf. But on that note—
“This won’t cause Dad more difficulty, will it? It’s just—I’ve already caused him quite a bit of trouble.” She sought out Kakashi’s gaze (and wasn’t it new—still, to have two eyes look back?)
Kakashi looked to think hard for a moment, as though he were puzzling through a problem, before he answered, “I think that this might actually help him.”
“How so?”
“He allowed the honorary adoption, Shikako. It was possible because I’m a clan head—and it was necessary, for me to keep that headship—but doing so means that I can reciprocate that ambiguity.” Shikako cocked her head, not quite following.
The lines around his eyes crinkled and she could hear the grin in his voice, “We’re going to drive your clan absolutely nuts.”
She poked his shoulder, encouraging him to get to the point. She was not immune to the alienation that she’d been made to feel, the disapproving looks and the snide comments—following her across the clan grounds. She could get on board with driving the busybodies within the clan a little crazy… if he’d just explain.
“Nara-Hatake Shikako has a nice ring to it. As a clan head, and more importantly as a well recognized jounin, I do have the option of not publicly claiming any spouse I take… especially so when there aren’t yet children involved. And we don’t have to clarify if it’s a general adoption into the clan, personal adoption, or marriage, which caused the name change. So long as Shikaku is on board, and willing to claim inter-clan confidentiality clauses are in effect, we needn’t ever clarify—just list eachother as mutual emergency contacts and prevaricate if folks ask about a wedding.”
Understanding dawned on her as he spoke. It’s considered rude to ask about the details of a marriage contract, and likewise the details of clan-adoptions. They’d be left to wonder. This could work. And it would be… acceptable recompense, for all the pushing they’ve been doing. (If they spoke poorly of the ‘marriage’ they’d be risking an angry Kakashi, and it would be in impressively poor taste, to suggest that she give up the Nara’s name, if she’d been so lucky as to be allowed to keep it. (Not many women could keep their family name, when marrying into another’s clan.) Pushy as they were, they’d be bound by their own propriety. This… might actually take some pressure off of Dad.)
A matching grin lit her face and fondness burned more brightly within her chest.
“I’m in,” she stated, producing a pen from hammerspace.
Kakashi pulled out the first form that they needed to sign.
(It was probably the most enthusiastic either had been about paperwork in a very long time.)
Kakashi showed up in Shikaku’s office, signed paperwork in hand. He was almost certain that this was the outcome for which the man was hoping.
“You’ve stopped avoiding her?” was the greeting he was welcomed by.
He shuffled slightly, straightened, and confirmed, “Yes. We’ve worked it out.”
Kakashi flourished the papers that he and Shikako had prepared, setting them lightly upon the Nara head’s desk.
Shikaku narrowed his eyes, flipping through the paperwork at a rate which lived up to his clan’s reputation. A slight upward twitch of his lips occurred, but he looked up seriously. “Are you sure then?”
Kakashi glanced at the documents and then met the man’s eyes. “Absolutely.”
“I’m glad.”
And then he too reached for his pen.