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Kakashi doesn’t know why but he’s surrounded by weird people.
It’s just a vague feeling at first, something that a child subconsciously picks up but doesn’t get processed enough to be a conclusion, and it takes time until he’s aware enough of people and his surrounding to recognize the odd, unblinking look his father sometimes regard him with.
“You’re so big now” his father says on the first day of primary school. Kakashi tilts his head to the side at the words, because he’s six, and that’s normally not considered anywhere near “big”.
“I’ll do right by you this time, Kakashi” a weak smile “Promise.”
Kakashi doesn’t quite understand that either, but he keeps still and reluctantly accepts his father’s quick hug and hair ruffle before backing away—in vain—from his mother’s forehead kiss.
But what he doesn’t understand most—despite his apparent high intelligence, as the adults say—is the conversation his parents sometimes have at night when they think he’s not listening. He’s… not listening in on purpose, not really. He just has a habit of grabbing a glass of water or going to the bathroom before bed and exactly at midnight.
“—thank you. He’s… well, still outspoken and rude, sometimes, like before, but it’s much better than when it was only me” his father says, once, at the dim dining table, sounding relieved and sad and Kakashi would normally be concerned if he wasn’t busy trying to process the words.
He fails to, even at the soft, soothing response of his mother, “It’s alright. You did what you thought was best, for both the village and Kakashi” a pause, “and while I’d normally leave you with no dinner for years for putting him in that position—neglecting our child—I know you’d done your best without me for years, and I’m proud and grateful to you.”
Kakashi’s mind whirs, trying to understand the words that are apparently a fact, before lingering on neglect and without me and he can’t for the love of him find and remember even one instance in his still-short life that fits one and/or both of them.
“Besides, didn’t you say Kakashi has forgiven you? I may not know—”
Kakashi retreats to the hallways and goes back to his room.
༄ ༄ ༄
“Hey, it really is Kakashi!”
Kakashi digs deep in himself to find the sheer will to keep sitting on the sofa instead of going back to his room, because his father has called him to meet some of his “old friends” and his mother is looking at him somehow expectantly so he has to try to stay in the living room for at least more than two minutes.
It seems his father’s friends are a weird bunch too, and Kakashi wiggles out of the one-armed hug given by a tall, big, white-haired old man as polite as possible while ignoring two pairs of eyes boring holes into him.
“I almost forgot he used to be this tiny” the blond woman says, amusement and something else Kakashi can’t quite place glinting in her eyes.
“Always a big guy, this one” the old man says again, this time patting his head—or more like whacking his head with a palm with no restrain whatsoever—several times, “even as a midget.” Kakashi’s eye twitches, and he is about to say something—because he is not tiny or a midget—but the man suddenly stops, looks down at him.
“I still remember, even younger than this, he had made a name for himself—”
“Jiraiya!”
Seeing his chance, Kakashi stands up, says something along the lines of “It’s nice to meet you” and gets out of the living room that has started to feel uncharacteristically stuffy.
“…He doesn’t remember, huh?” the loud voice still rings from the room, carrying through even with the apparent attempt at making it low, and Kakashi makes quick time to grab a mask and tie his shoelaces.
“He’s just entered middle school, hasn’t he?” a third voice—Kakashi thinks it’s the other guy with black hair and unnervingly eerie eyes—points out, and something about him makes the hair on the back of his neck rise but he busies himself with throwing on a jacket, “Wait a couple months or a few years. He might remember.”
“Knowing him, he most probably would.”
“Betting on it, Tsunade? Then I’m betting the opposite.”
“Orochimaru, you—”
Kakashi shuts the door behind him.
༄ ༄ ༄
There’s also a weird dream he has.
It’s summer, maybe, with the sun right on the top of his head, sky much bluer and landscape greener than any Kakashi has ever seen.
There are people around. Small and loud and he frowns in annoyance until he realizes that he is small, too. Palms tiny and limbs weirdly short, holding what seems to be ninja throwing stars he often sees in cartoons.
“So, where would you guys want live if it weren’t in Konoha?”
And there’s that question, spoken with the curious, innocent wonder only children could say, muttered in between what-ifs and will-bes in the privacy of their childish conversation.
“Anywhere but Kiri” a voice answers, still high-pitched but calm, confident, and Kakashi sees a star thrown to a wooden post, stuck in between the second and third circle.
“Yeah, that’d be awful” another voice agrees, and Kakashi feels himself moving, throwing three stars at the same time, all of which hitting near the smallest, inner red circle. Another voice pipes up, “Eh, I wouldn’t want Suna. Heard there’s only sand there.”
“You’d be happy traveling until you get lost or eaten in the sacred lands of Kumo—whoa! Hey, watch it!”
Kakashi stares at the stray shuriken, unimpressed, before a boy—obnoxious orange googles strapped on his forehead—claims out loud, “I’d be fine anywhere! I’ll be a Kage anyways!”
Kakashi feels the word is vaguely familiar, but nothing but a faint sense of strong-respect-protect-the strongest comes to mind.
“Then learn to throw a shuriken right first, idiot” he doesn’t know why he says that—has only realized it’s his mouth saying it after he has closed it—but the words are easy, familiar on his tongue.
The boy grumbles and the conversation continues, more metals on the posts, and Kakashi blinks and suddenly half a day seems to have passed.
“Wherever it is, though,” the place has been mostly deserted, the rest of the kids waving goodbyes at them before leaving, sky turning to shades of red and orange, “It’s—”
༄ ༄ ༄
Kakashi has known, in theory, that communication is key and all, but there’s a reason he never straight out ask his parents.
“…Try asking your father” his mother has said, eyes the saddest he has ever seen since his grandparent’s death, hand gentle on his shoulder, “It’s not exactly my story to tell.”
What story, Kakashi doesn’t know. He says so to his father.
Kakashi has never experienced a silence so long.
“You… might remember,” his father finally says, voice cracking at the end “We’ll talk then.” The man blinks rapidly before resting a hand on Kakashi’s mop of hair, and Kakashi, for once, doesn’t back away because there's something cold coiling in his gut at the look in his father’s eyes, half-hidden behind locks of silver hair and a shadow that makes his fingers curl.
The man has never looked so defeated, and Kakashi can’t even ask why.
“…though it would be nice if you never do.”
Kakashi doesn’t even know what to remember, but nods anyway, not quite accepting the answer but not knowing how to go asking about it more without feeling like he’s making a huge mistake.
He never does ask again.
༄ ༄ ༄
It’s at the third year of middle school when Kakashi knows about it – or at least, what little bits are told to him.
A past life. A different world at different time with different people and concept and apparently a lack of common physics law.
“Well,” Kakashi deadpans at the guy sitting in front of him in the café three towns away, his drink sitting untouched on the table “nice tale.”
The guy snorts, apparently not offended by the genuine offense Kakashi gives to his story, “You don’t believe it, huh” the tanned guy says, flicking a cigarette, and Kakashi frowns a little at the tiny cancer disaster, “Well, I’d normally call it bullshit too, if I didn’t somehow remember so many useless details about god-knows how many people there are.”
It’s said with a smirk, eyes flicking to their drinks. Kakashi frowns harder and scrunches up his nose, “You knew I hate sweets” he accuses and regrets his prior attempt at being nice and polite by not pointing it out when the guy went and bought drinks for the both of them earlier. Now he’s glaring at the sickly-sweet milk-based concoction with mild contempt and phantom ache on his teeth, pushing it forward for the guy to take back.
The tanned guy just laughs instead, loud and wholehearted, “Yeah okay, sorry about that. Just haven’t had the chance to prank you for a long time.”
That’s not his business, as much as Kakashi is concerned.
“Well, this has been pleasant” the Hatake says, standing up, and the guy seems to recognize the lie but the amused, sincerely happy gleam in his eyes doesn’t fade, “Gotta go now, though. Have to catch the last train.”
The man laughs again—because it’s clearly still noon and the last train isn’t until near midnight—before sobering up, and the look he gives Kakashi is long, odd, and awfully familiar that Kakashi wants to tell the guy to quickly scram, too.
“Still with a half-hearted excuse, I see” the guy flicks his cigar in three fingers and snub the butt on the table, “Well, we’ll probably be meeting again often enough.”
Now it’s Kakashi who snorts, because if he has a say in it, they probably would never see each other again.
So with a word of goodbye and a mental note to blacklist the town, Kakashi leaves the café, trying to erase whatever short story he has just heard because nothing makes less sense.
༄ ༄ ༄
Kakashi meets Darui in the first year of high school. It’s a normal friendship formed from a normal meeting, them being randomly partnered up for a chemistry project with another person that shows up only at the very first day.
Making friends isn’t Kakashi’s specialty—not anywhere near usable as a skill, really—but Darui is competent and laid-back and patient enough with not many friends himself, and Kakashi now sometimes finds himself eating lunch with the guy or hanging out at the rooftop or even buying books and foods together.
His parents have been overjoyed when Darui comes over once, to talk about a history assignment that Kakashi has materials on in the small library of his house, and Kakashi is just glad to have someone decent and nice enough who doesn’t look at him like they’re expecting a thousand different things that he lets the guy roam around.
“You do kendo?” Darui asks as he looks through one shelf, eyes stopping on a particular line of kendo practical theories.
“I did a lot of sports, back in the day” Kakashi answers easily, mind momentarily falling back on the many competitions he had had to participate in. Darui blinks, interest flashing in the dark eyes.
“We could spar, sometime.”
Kakashi raises a brow at the implication, “You seem more like… boxing type of guy.”
Darui grins, “I do that now, yeah.”
Kakashi hums, taking out a book about a certain war at certain period, eyeing his friend who is clearly distracted and flipping through a recipe book.
Oh, well. They still have much time before the assignment is due, and the books here are getting dusty anyway.
༄ ༄ ༄
Kakashi has never wanted to run away more in his life.
But he is kept in place, practically chained by an arm to a body to his left, and there’s another person on his right, and the place is much too crowded it makes Kakashi shiver at the thought of forging his way through.
Kakashi glances at his left instead, seeing the man with the ridiculous bowl cut talking a mile a minute, absently saying yes when said guy turns to him to ask something—the place is loud so how is he louder—and taking whatever is handed to him.
Meeting Maito Gai is… an experience.
Not a bad one, because Kakashi can feel no malice coming out of the personified overcharged battery, but it’s… certainly something.
Kakashi shouldn’t have accepted the invitation from Sarutobi—he grudgingly remembers the name—but Darui also got one from another person, and it’s holiday with nothing to do other than lounge around in his house, so might as well.
There’s another reason he accepted, though. He has looked at the tanned teen, been introduced to the loud, green guy, and let them look all happy for all of ten seconds before telling them so very politely that he gives no shit to whatever past they think they had and to leave him alone.
It has been satisfying to see the surprised, slack-jawed expressions on the two practically-strangers at the blunt words, and Kakashi has turned around, ready to leave to avoid something that will undoubtedly come next, but a grip on his hand makes him pause.
“The match” Sarutobi has said, firm, “We invited you to watch it. Just one game”
There’s refusal at the tip of his tongue, harsh and cold and burning, but he looks to the side, sees the dark eyes and—
A prickle on his skin. A shadow. Years of something sad and lonely and just one person constantly there through it all—
“…Alright” Kakashi still doesn’t know why he has said that, “One game.”
And that’s how he ends up watching one whole game (through eleven innings and all) of baseball, and he’s dragged to a too-crowded booth to get some snack—he doesn’t even like fried foods—before the two are finally satisfied enough to let him go.
“It’s been a youthful day, my Eter—my Friend!”
Maito gives him a thumbs up, teeth shining, and Kakashi waves him off.
“We’ll let you know for the next one” Sarutobi says between his cigar—not many, if any, schools allow its students to smoke, and Kakashi wonders if he can blackmail the guy with it—and Kakashi just stares at them, unimpressed, “I’m not going again.”
“Sure, sure. See you next time.”
Kakashi sighs and belatedly realizes he hasn’t asked the man why he has his number in the first place.
༄ ༄ ༄
Third year of high school and Kakashi is once again approached by a stranger, right before the school gate closes and the sky is closer to dark blue than red.
“I’m not Kakashi” he deadpans, still walking, eyes on the book he has recently acquired from his father’s friend’s pile of unpublished works.
“Your ID Card here says otherwise.”
Kakashi stops, lowers the book just an inch, “My Student ID Card is in my bag.”
The guy—relatively tall and lanky with long bangs on the sides of his face—raises his eyebrows “You sure?”
Kakashi was sure until he hears the question, but the smirk and the obvious mischievous gleam in the guy’s eyes tells him that he is just being messed with. He puts on his most unimpressed stare.
Darui has left first—something to do with practice and a promise with new members—and it’s always easier with his friend as back up but it looks like Kakashi has to do it on his own this time.
He closes his book, walks to the guy standing a few feet in front of him and stops just at an arm’s reach.
“I’m not the Kakashi you know” he says, slow, trying to hammer it in because he isn’t “If you’re trying to convince me otherwise, you’re just wasting your time.”
The guy looks at him, almost blank-faced and unreadable, but Kakashi can see the same eyes shot at him like his father’s. Like said man’s friends’. Like a scarred neighbor’s. Like a smoking friend’s and an energetic one’s. Like all tens of others who expect him to remember but realize that he doesn’t.
Kakashi is, frankly, sick of seeing it.
“…Darn”
Kakashi blinks, looks back at the brunette who is looking to the side and grumbling under his breath, “No wonder Gai looked like that when he told me…” a pause, a heavy sigh, “You’re just like when we were kids..” the man mumbles, a candy stick moving around in his mouth as he talks to himself.
Kakashi lets him, carefully not paying attention to any of the words.
“Well, guess there’s nothing about it” the guy finally shrugs, and Kakashi half-expects him to introduce himself, to try to at least make Kakashi recognize something, but the man does neither of those and just says his farewell after a short, clipped, “Good for you.”
Kakashi stands unmoving on the school ground for a while after that.
༄ ༄ ༄
Darui doesn’t initially have a particular opinion about Hatake Kakashi.
The guy is a genius, he has heard. Middle school valedictorian and highest grade in the whole school with tons of non-academic medals and all that.
He’s heard he’s a jerk, too. Arrogant and rude, and has all the sympathy of an angry chihuahua with an expression that looks bored most of the time.
He’s not someone Darui would normally hang around with—much less befriend—but school assignments always suck and have a way of making people go crazy, so of course he’s partnered up with the guy and someone else who’s probably going to repeat a year.
So Darui has prepared himself, to be verbally berated or dressed down or other things he has heard rumors of, and is determined to pull his own weight because he’s a lot of things but irresponsible isn’t one of them.
The Hatake Kakashi he finds, though, is a little different than what he has heard.
He’s… rude, yes. But more of outspoken than intentionally mean. The arrogance is less visible too, and Darui thinks the trait is more-or-less granted, what with the sheer brilliance the Hatake has under his ridiculous hair. And he’s a jerk, but only to those who openly antagonize him, and prefers to be silent and indifferent most of the time.
Indifferent is a word that doesn’t fit the guy, though.
Kakashi notices most things. A lot of things. The small details people wouldn’t even try to look into, and maybe it’s just the man’s outstanding memory, but Darui would like to think that one of the reasons Kakashi bothers to remember is because he—however minuscule—actually cares.
But the reason Darui decides that the Hatake wouldn’t be such a bad company is when he notices the many eyes looking at the man, bright and expectant and hopeful and—
And it’s looks Darui often receives too. Along with words and stories too wild to be possible (Because him, a commander? Really?? who would put him in any position of power with his personality?)
So when Kakashi stares—too tired to glare at this point—and brushes off the umpteenth person who approaches him to talk about somewhere and leaves and shadows and something else, Darui sighs, holds his head a little higher, and helps.
The look Kakashi shoots him is searching, a little surprised, before Darui shrugs and realization glints in the man’s eyes.
They have been hanging around together after that.
But even with their shared efforts to avoid people and ignore the foreign, distantly familiar names and phrases whispered by people, he guesses there are things that can’t be avoided forever.
Because after Asuma and Gai, their so-called “past” comes again in the form of a blond, fair-skinned man and two guys almost crashing over the Hatake as soon as their eyes meet.
.
It’s pitiful, Darui thinks, as a plain-looking, black-haired guy who seems to be their age grabs at Kakashi’s arm, a pretty, petite girl with brown hair by his side, hand hovering around the hem of the silver-haired man’s shirt.
“It’s fine” the man says, sounding hurried and desperate even though Kakashi isn’t moving anywhere, “It’s fine if you don’t remember. We… we’ve been looking for you. For years, Rin and I—”
Darui winces. If there’s something that’s a certain way to push Kakashi’s buttons, it’s to mention the past—whatever it was—…and years? Yikes.
Kakashi shoves the guy off, says something so inconsiderate Darui has to hold in another grimace, and leaves the two guys standing still on the campus hallways.
He would normally leave, too. Follow the silver-haired guy and invite him to go grab something or go for a run to alleviate the mood, but…
There’s something, about the two. A little similar to Sarutobi Asuma or Maito Gai—both of whom have been introduced to him just last month as Kakashi’s ‘acquaintances’—but a little more… something. Something that makes their shoulders slump, eyes blank and glassy and just so, so confused Darui doesn’t realize he has approached the two until the words leave his mouth.
“Uh… hey”
They turn to him, slowly, and Darui pulls out a pen and a scrap of paper—his laundry check, but whatever—and writes a string of numbers,
“…He’s a little prickly, isn’t he? Sorry about that. And it’s dull, but…” he hesitates for a second, “here’s my number, if you guys want to check up on him.”
The raven absently accepts it, glances at the paper for a second before looking back up at him, “Do you—”
“Remember? Oh no, no, I don’t” he holds up his hands, shaking his head, “It’s the reason I can even be friends with him, I think. He hates people who do, you see.”
Darui does, too, just not as intense. And he has never offered help like this—an apology, sometimes, and maybe some words of comfort, but never assurance—but… years. And maybe more, in the past, if the haunting look just a layer under the dark, brown-red orbs is anything.
“…I see” the guy reads his number once and pockets it.
“Thank you, um..” Darui turns to the girl and levels her with a neutral gaze, “Darui.”
“Thank you, Darui” she says, and it’s—oh. She looks different. Still sad and confused, brows furrowed and eyes rimmed with red that Darui was worried she was on the edge of crying. But there’s fire there, too, just like Asuma and Gai—
“I’m Rin, and this is Obito” she says again, voice clearer, “We’ll contact you soon, Darui.”
.
She was saying the truth. The following day and there’s already a group invitation on his phone—consisted of the three of them—and Darui thinks of declining before he remembers that he has brought this upon himself.
It’s a bit of a surprise—though maybe it shouldn’t, with Asuma and Gai as precedent—that the two are actually pleasant company. They’re polite, funny, and have wits about them that’s part amusing and part admirable.
“Just don’t mention things he should but doesn’t know” he offers as they walk into a newly-opened arcade, “That’s what Asuma and Gai do, after the first meeting. And Kakashi doesn’t have a problem with them now.”
Well, except for the way Asuma pulls small, harmless pranks with his prior knowledge about Kakashi, or the way Gai keeps calling him his “Eternal Rival”—capital included, whatever that means—but Kakashi has never looked so... at ease. Comfortable. And the first time the Hatake actually chuckles—low and under his breath and all—in a conversation with them, Darui thinks that, maybe, this whole friendship-from-past life things isn’t so much of a joke, after all.
And Obito and Rin are good people, he can see from the way they approach Kakashi again, good spirits like an armor that last even until a whole day of cold shoulder, and then the next time, and the next, and one day Darui finds his friend busy on his phone, for once not paying attention to the lecture or reading another book altogether, muttering under his breath about how much of an idiot someone could be to pull an all-nighter studying for a test just to sleep through the whole thing.
Darui smiles, grabbing his own phone as it vibrates, the new contact number he got just a few days ago popping on the screen. He reads the text and looks at the picture attached - of a dog biting a very ruined, very doomed pieces of paper.
“..haha” Darui sends a reply and leans back on his chair. He has tried not to push away the people he… knew, after seeing Asuma, Gai, Obito and Rin, and he has met quite a few after that. And past the initial heartbreaks he has seen too many times to count, he can’t say he regrets it.
༄ ༄ ༄
Kakashi wakes up, the ring of alarm loud in his ears, and gets up to start his morning routine.
A morning that’s already ruined, it seems, as he sees the two added figures around the small kitchen counter.
“Hey, Kakashi! Where’s the cup that I left last time?” Obito’s very loud indoor voice greets him as he slouches past his bedroom door.
…It’s too early for this.
“…How did you get in?”
Rin pops her head from the counter, a plate of sandwiches in hand, “Genma lent us a spare key.”
“…And how did Genma have a spare key to my place?”
“Hey! Are you ignoring me? Rin’s cup is here but mine isn’t??”
Kakashi throws himself onto the sofa and puts all his will in not bumping his head on the table.
It’s much too early for this.
He has asked to get a place of his own after a year of commuting to the university and home, and with all the assignments and side projects he has to do, it’s rationally better to have a place close to campus, time-wise, and having a place all to himself has been a blessing.
Until he met Obito and Rin, that is, who got into the same university but different majors and campus, and he is never really alone after that.
“Said he got it from you, when we asked” Rin puts the plate on the table and proceeds to grab a carton of milk from the fridge, “as a token of good neighbors or something.”
Kakashi is fairly sure he has never done anything of the sort. But the added, mysterious key that one day appeared next to his set of keys suddenly makes sense.
(Maybe he should try going next door, sometime, and put any and everything just an inch out of place, just enough to drive the brunette mad—)
“Aah!! Why’s it in the garbage?! And it’s in pieces!”
Kakashi blinks, leisurely munches on the bread before swallowing, “Ah, Pakkun accidently broke something when I brought him here yesterday. So it’s yours? I was wondering why the color was so… off.”
It was bright orange, Kakashi remembers, and at first he felt a weird sort of recognition at seeing the thing on his cups rack, like a screwed sense of de javu, until the pup got closer and knocked it off the counter.
Kakashi puts his head on a hand, but instead of another bout of angry shouts like Kakashi is expecting, Obito shuts up, eyebrows pinched and mouth almost in a pout, “Pakkun, huh…”
“I’d love to meet your dogs, Kakashi” Rin says, pouring milk into three cups and adding honey into what seems to be Obito’s new one. Kakashi doesn’t point out that he hasn’t told them who—or what—Pakkun is, or even how many dogs he has. He reclines instead, eyes lazily watching his place’s perpetrators.
“They’re at my parents’ house. My father has been adopting one after another lately” and it’s not a complain. Kakashi likes dogs, and if his stuff back home is covered in a thick layer of fur, well, what can he do.
“…Your parents” Obito mutters, low and careful, and for a moment Kakashi thinks he won’t continue until he does, “so are they… healthy?”
That’s a weird tone, there, like a thought changed halfway. Kakashi ignores it.
“They are” he easily answers and watches as the lines of his friends’ shoulders slump in apparent relieve and… he doesn’t even want to start thinking about what he’s supposed to think about that.
Kakashi looks at the clock. He’s got class in half an hour, same as Rin, and Obito has one in two hours. His attendance is safe for the most part but some are bordering on dangerous, and maybe he should prepare if he doesn’t want to be late, but, eh.
“Hey”
Obito looks up, on the way to take the used plate and cups to the sink. Rin glances at him.
“About the past” the words taste weird on his tongue, but for once, the feeling of not knowing throbs so hard it overrides his annoyance “Can you share more about it?” because aside from the general, vague descriptions Asuma has told him on that first meeting, he doesn’t know much about the world he is supposed to have lived in for more than half a century.
Rin gapes, eyes so wide and body so still Kakashi wonders if she remembers to breath, and the plate slips from Obito’s hold, thumping on the floor with a loud clang.
Kakashi patiently waits through the stretching silence, still leaning on the sofa. He can understand the surprise, because it’s the first time he has asked or even said a word about it—about even showing an ounce of curiosity, really—and he tries to clamp down on the following instinct to ask them to drop it.
“Are you… sure?” Obito asks eventually, sharing glances at Rin, “It’s not exactly a pretty story..”
Yeah, Kakashi has gathered as much.
“Sure” he says, leaning forward, and the two lean closer as well, “Whatever you want to tell me."
And he really should’ve phrased that differently, because apparently, for the two people in front of him—eyes bright with hesitation and worry and something Kakashi can’t place but swears is familiar—that means everything.
༄ ༄ ༄
The trip back home at the break of the semester feels… different. Partly because he has just learned something so huge and foreign he’s still trying to make sense of it, but mostly because his father opens the door to see not only his son, but said son’s four other friends whom he has never bothered to mention.
And who, for reasons Kakashi is now aware of, are looking at his father with barely-hidden awe and disbelief sparkling in their eyes. His father has looked confused at first, but once he sweeps a look over all of them and his eyes land on Gai, he looks a little like he’s going to cry.
They’re all invited in and waste no time to flop on the sofa and coo at the dogs, going through the photos on the tables and hung on the walls, and Kakashi holds himself from saying ‘make yourself at home’ because they look like they might really do just that.
His parents look happy to have the guests—a little too much, Kakashi thinks, because now his father is showing them his collection of books and ornamental weapons and whatnot—and Kakashi can already tell that his mother is preparing a feast while forbidding them from helping.
“Thank you for finding him” Kakashi hears his father say, barely a whisper, when he’s busy preparing the table and the others are cleaning up the mess after playing indoor with the dogs.
“I’ve heard a lot from Jiraiya-sama and Tsunade-sama, and…” a pause, a clatter, “…If you kids need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
There’s a silence, then a flustered noise, hurried denials and assurance, until they seem to realize they’re being too loud and fall back to a hushed tone.
“Well, actually, there’s something…” Kakashi’s eyebrows shoot up at Obito’s awkward whisper, and he strains his ears a little more, “…Can you show us his baby pictures?”
Silence. A guffaw. Kakashi stands unimpressed even at the soft chuckle from his mom.
Eh. He’ll let it slide. Just this once.
༄ ༄ ༄
The revelation of his past life doesn’t change much, unexpectedly. He’s still got work to do, friends to meet, and a whole life to live. The looks strangers-but-maybe-not sometimes give him are still uncomfortable, but at least it’s not as suffocating anymore.
“Ah damn. You done with uni already?”
Kakashi looks up from the boxes stacked outside his place, “I’m taking a master’s degree a little far from here.”
Genma hums absently, closes and locks his door with a click and thumps his shoes a couple times.
“Sad there’s no one you can steal coffee from anymore?” Kakashi asks and pointedly doesn’t give back the next room’s spare key. Genma shrugs before smirking, “Actually, I think Raido’s gonna call dibs for the place, and his fridge is usually consisted of more than milk and coffee and eggs.”
Kakashi snorts, looking over the railing at the relatively busy streets below. Genma joins next to him and it’s comfortable silence until something vibrates and Genma pulls out his phone.
“…Not this shit again”
Kakashi raises a brow, “Gai?”
A scoff “Anko” The brunette briskly pats the pockets of his jacket and after apparently finding everything he needs, waves a hand, “Just check the group chat. See ya”
Kakashi waves back, just glad that he isn’t the one having to clear up the mad woman’s mess. One Obito is bad enough…
“Oh” Genma pauses at the stairs, looks over his shoulder, “Don’t be late tonight” and like it’s nothing, faults and slides over the railing.
Kakashi sighs. It’s not like he doesn’t already have two people constantly nagging him about it.
.
The place is… decent.
He wants to say it’s nice, high ceilings and pretty lightings and all that, but with most of the members of his famous group chat sitting around and talking loudly… well. Let’s just say Kakashi is glad they reserved half of the place instead of just a few tables.
It’s a normal dinner with no occasion to be celebrated—except for their Youthful Reunion, as Gai says—but apparently the bunch isn’t capable of running out of topic and Kakashi finds himself talking more in an hour than he has in a week.
“Here.”
Kakashi accepts a bowl offered to him—one with steaming miso soup in it—and says his thanks.
“Pass this over to Kakashi, too, Raidō” Asuma says from some seats away. Raidō blinks at the thing and Kakashi just knows— “…sugar cubes?”
“Yeah, he loves it—”
“Kurenai, did you know that Asuma—mmph”
Asuma has just flung himself to close Kakashi’s mouth—almost knocking Raidō over in the process—and sprouts denials at Kurenai’s raised eyebrow.
Where would you want to live if it weren’t in Konoha?
Kakashi passes some tempura to Obito and offers Rin his bread and gets some slices of broiled fish in return.
People talk, and there are things he can recognize and can’t, but the eyes looking at him are… alright. Almost nice. Like just being him, here, without what some others have and some others don’t, is fine.
And it feels… right. Like living in his house. Like eating his mother’s cooking or being nagged by his father. Like seeing his new neighbor and his two friends bickering on the sidewalk. Like opening a book and strolling around.
Like coming home.
Where would you want to live if it weren’t in Konoha?
The dinner lasts until midnight, and Obito and Rin follow him back to his new place, two weeks-worth of groceries in hand. Kakashi manages a half-hearted rejection before sighing in defeat and letting them follow along.
༄ ༄ ༄
“…You look fine.”
Kakashi blinks down at the calm, thoughtful look of a kid one and a half head shorter than him, who is holding up a large blue tupperware – a house-warming gift, probably.
“…Thank you?”
The boy snorts and turns around, and it’s when Kakashi sees the other two kids waving at him and telling the boy to hurry up, that he realizes that the raven is his new neighbor.
…Oh, well.
“I’d be fine anywhere”
He settles the tupperware in his hands and goes inside only to hear alarms blaring all at once and see the occupants of the living room jolting awake.
“I’ve got our breakfast” he announces. Rin and Obito stare blearily up at him before lighting up.
“Wherever it is, though.”
“Whoa, hey! Why’s it all your favorite??”
“Eh, their lucky guess?”
“—ah, never mind, there’s some dango, too—”
“You can have my share, Obito”
“Tsk, tsk, Obito, taking people’s food even when you’re this old—”
“Hey!”
“It’s gonna be fun if you guys are there.”
The dream is half-remembered, fading at best, and Kakashi can’t quite recognize the voices in it anymore—can’t remember what his own answer had been—but… But perhaps he agrees, just a little, with the boy with the ridiculous orange googles.
Because wherever he is now, whatever he does and doesn’t remember, Kakashi is having fun.