Chapter Text
Itachi wakes about ten seconds before someone knocks on the door. He stares up at the ceiling, smooth and blank and white, releases the chakra that concentrated behind his eyes instinctively, and finds a shirt to shrug into.
He opens the door and finds a genin on his doorstep, the hitai-ate on his forehead still shining and untarnished. He is probably two or three years younger than Itachi. He squints at Itachi, then down at the scroll in his hand, and says, “Uchiha Itachi?” There is a bulging bag full of other scrolls slung over his shoulder and a kunai holster strapped a little too tightly to his thigh that is leaving sharp creases in his shorts.
“Yes,” Itachi says.
The genin hands him the scroll.
There is a difference between presentable to answer one's own front door and presentable to attend to a summons by the Hokage. Itachi goes to wash up.
It’s a Tuesday morning in Konoha, and the streets are crowded when Itachi steps out the door. It’s beautiful -- the cobbled streets, the dirt between paving stones cracked with age and heat, the vines and branches snaking up and down the walls of every building he passes, the twinkle of early sunlight off glass window panes. The aroma of fresh bread intermingles with the more savory smells drifting from food stalls and restaurants and the sweet perfume of the flowers bursting from pots and garden strips.
There are shinobi leaping from roof to roof, feather-light in their landings so as not to disrupt the occupants within, but Itachi walks the streets today, the stone firm under his sandals. He passes small packs of children, civilian and shinobi alike, chattering amongst themselves on their way to school, shopkeepers bustling among their wares already laid out invitingly, and the distracted villagers on their way to breakfasts or jobs.
The chaos does not touch Itachi. It’s loud and cheerful, and even though Itachi knows the darkness that lurks underneath, he can’t help but think of the fearlessness on the children’s faces and the openness with which villagers greet one another: this is peace. This is the reason Itachi likes walking, when taking the rooftops would be much more efficient. This is his own indulgence, the reminder of what he buys with the price he pays.
On the fourth floor of the Hokage Tower, the chuunin administrative assistant greets him with a sunny smile, which he returns with a polite nod. “It’ll be just a moment, Itachi-san,” he says. “Go ahead into the waiting area -- Kakashi-san is already there.”
“Thank you,” says Itachi, and continues down the hallway.
Kakashi is waiting outside with his half-cocked hitai-ate and draped in his off-duty armor. He lifts a hand in lazy greeting at Itachi’s approach. “Ah, Itachi-kun,” he says distractedly, though he appears to be doing nothing more intensive than staring at the far wall.
“Kakashi-sempai,” Itachi greets, dipping his head in a nod. He hasn’t worked with the other shinobi in a while, not since he served on Kakashi’s squad. Anbu captains rarely have cause to run missions together. Perhaps a joint mission between their squads -- but then, there would be no reason for both of them to be in their off-duty clothing.
“Is this a mission briefing?” Itachi ventures.
“Hm. Perhaps,” says Kakashi, which means that he too does not know the nature of this summons. If Itachi looks closely, Kakashi’s visible eye is just a little too blank, the shadows under it just a little darker, and though he moves his usual smooth grace when he lowers his hand again, Itachi can very faintly make out the scent of blood. Itachi is on his third day of recovery after his last mission, but Kakashi must have just returned.
The door to the Hokage’s office opens before his observation can continue, spilling out a handful of intelligence officers whose heads are already close together as they leave, murmuring furiously under their breaths. The Sandaime calls out, “Itachi-kun, Kakashi-kun, come on in.”
The Hokage is seated behind his great wooden desk, that made of the trees coaxed into existence by the Shodaime himself. It is an elegant if simple piece and forever piled high with unending stacks of documents. Sunlight spills in from the windows behind the Hokage, giving the room a warm glow.
Itachi comes to attention a few paces in front of the desk, and at his side, Kakashi does the same with none of his earlier lethargy. For a moment, everyone is silent -- two off-duty Anbu captains, the Sandaime studying the two of them, his ever-watchful guards motionless in the rafters.
The Sandaime is old. He was the student of the Nidaime, a veteran of at least two great shinobi wars and countless battles, and retired once already. Itachi has heard whispers that he intends to attempt a second time. The Hokage’s eyes sharpen, as if hearing Itachi’s thoughts, and he nods a little to himself.
“One of you will be the Hokage after me,” the Sandaime says at last, as casual as he might were he inviting the two of them out to tea. His pipe lies smoking in an ashtray on the desk before him, and the smoke curls up to the ceiling in lazy loops. “And the other will be the pillar who supports him.” This is not friendly supposition as to the future. This is a decree, spoken before the witnesses of his Guard.
Itachi steals a glance out of the corner of his eye to the man standing at attention next to him. Kakashi is nine years his senior, even more so in terms of active duty, and nearly the age at which the Yondaime Hokage was appointed to his position. He was the Yondaime's own student, was Itachi’s own Anbu captain, and that yawning gulf of experience between them has already forged Kakashi into a capable leader. Itachi knows it should be him who is the Hokage’s successor, that Itachi should not have been put on this equal level of consideration with him, and at the end of it all, it will likely be Kakashi who takes the position.
Itachi does not voice his doubts. He thinks of his brother and his parents and his clan, he thinks of a best friend who disappeared in the night and left corpses and his oaths behind, he thinks of a village at peace instead of haunted by the shadows of war, and says, “Hai.”
But Kakashi, who also knows that he is more likely to be chosen due to his age and greater experience, says, “With respect, I would rather not, Hokage-sama.”
To which the Sandaime says, “And if I make it an order?”
Kakashi’s face is perfectly bland. “No,” he says.
The Sandaime makes it an order.
Itachi finds Kakashi in a private room in a teahouse, a window looking out over the street on one side and the door on the other.
Itachi is wise but he is fourteen; Itachi is wise enough to know when he is not wise enough. “Captain,” he says, both a deliberate calculation and an old habit he has not fallen into for some time. “I can't be the Hokage.”
“Sure you can,” Kakashi says. He did not look up when Itachi entered and seated himself across the table, only raised an eyebrow at Itachi’s uncharacteristic breach in etiquette.
“I am not ready.”
“You will be.”
“Captain.”
“Mm? Talking to yourself, Itachi-kun?”
“It is only training, for now,” Itachi reminds him.
"After which you will be ready," responds his old captain serenely. “Give yourself a year or five, you’ll be fine.”
"You are the better candidate," argues Itachi.
“No, thank you,” Kakashi says politely, sliding the tray with the teapot and cups to the side of the table. There are two cups; he raises one in Itachi’s direction. “Tea?” he pours him a cup without waiting for a response.
Itachi expected the refusal. Kakashi is a soldier, has always been a soldier, and has made it clear he intends to die a soldier.
“I am fourteen.” He pauses, to let the words sit in the air between them. Kakashi was a child of war; he knows what Itachi lacks. “Your expertise,” Itachi says, leaving unspoken what else he is asking for, “would be greatly valued.” It is the closest thing he will come to begging and he and his former captain both know it.
Kakashi pours himself a cup. It steams gently as he sets the teapot down, and he stares distantly into its depths.
Itachi counts the passing moments with his heartbeats. To him, the Hokage is a commander, a position. To Kakashi, it is also a teacher, the dream of an old friend, painful memories dredged up from a lighter and a darker time in his life.
Kakashi rubs the mask over his chin. “Maa,” he says with more brevity than his Anbu persona ever allowed. “I guess it’s too early for me to retire. My hair hasn’t even gone grey yet.”
Soon, when Itachi has had more diplomacy training, he will know how to respond to any situation. As it is, he does not know what to do with the sheer absurdity of the comment and elects to ignore it.
Itachi hears later from the Anbu grapevine -- the one that actually stays in Anbu -- about how Kakashi had gone and requested an audience from the Hokage, for which he showed up on time, went down on one knee, and ostensibly begged forgiveness for his premature decision and insolence but really laid down his list of demands at the Sandaime's feet. That list of demands turned out to be one demand. That one demand was Uzumaki Naruto.
At this juncture, bolstered by his previous success, Itachi feels he has re-established himself sufficiently with his former captain to seek him out directly for answers.
“I didn’t ask for Uzumaki Naruto,” Kakashi says, after Itachi has bribed him with a bento containing his best dish: grilled unagi. “I only suggested that since his status is an open secret, he might benefit from closer supervision and a mentor.”
“You want to adopt him?” Itachi clarifies, watching as the man picks through the bento box with studied casualness.
Kakashi pauses to blink at Itachi incredulously. “No. Why would I adopt him?” he asks, and for all his training and natural intuition, Itachi can’t tell if he’s serious. “There’s no need to paint a bigger target on his head. I knew his mother,” he adds as an afterthought, and Itachi recognizes the careful way he holds himself as he says the words -- old grief and old guilt.
“Is he not being adopted, then?” Itachi asks politely after a respectful interval has passed.
“Hm,” Kakashi says vaguely. “I guess we’ll find out.”
The day Kakashi and Itachi begin their joint apprenticeship under the Hokage, the Hyuuga Clan accepts a highly unusual ward into their ranks, which they learn as they stand at the base of the tower with a newspaper that Kakashi liberated from a passing chuunin. That story is just under the headline, which speculates that the Hokage has finally begun the process of selecting another successor and lists a number of eligible jounin. Kakashi is on that list; Itachi is not. Kakashi scuffs a hand through his shock of hair in a motion that would be sheepish on anyone else. “Politically,” he says, valiantly concealing his bafflement, “this does show the rest of the village that the Sandaime is not strictly favoring the Uchiha after sponsoring your Anbu career.”
Itachi, privately, wonders if this does not prove the opposite. The rest of the village perceives the jinchuuriki as a monster -- which the current greatest rival clan to the Uchiha had just been saddled with. Combined with the fact that Naruto himself is an eight-year-old holy terror by all accounts, one could easily misconstrue the honor and responsibility to raise and train such a child as a punishment.
Kakashi eyes him knowingly and says, “The Hyuuga take honor quite seriously and see clearly. Too much, sometimes -- is it that strange that they would distance themselves from outsiders?”
It is not. It is the very same reason most shinobi clans have walled compounds. “Do you believe they volunteered?” Itachi asks in response.
Kakashi hums noncommittally and says, “Ah, look at the time. We wouldn’t want to be late, would we?”
Kakashi and Itachi become, functionally, a single person. It proves difficult to replace two Anbu captains at the same time, so the Sandaime replaces only one. "When he returns, I expect you to bring him up to speed," the Sandaime tells Itachi, once Kakashi has gratefully and speedily departed to the waiting Anbu team for a last-minute, high-priority, time-sensitive mission, the type of mission a select few captains are capable of running. "And vice versa. When he returns, he will remain in Konohagakure, and you will lead the team on their next mission."
It is a curious arrangement and certainly unconventional, but Itachi just says, "Hai, Hokage-sama," and follows him to his next meeting to take the minutes.
Itachi is not and has never been what one might term a 'people person.' He is a shinobi. He does not smile at people and he does not make small talk and he has no idea why he is suddenly surrounded by people who do and expect the same from him.
"The Civilian Council," the Sandaime tells him in an aside. He is not smiling, but he does look marginally more benign. "Do try not to intimidate them too much, Itachi-kun. A fearful man is an irrational man."
Itachi widens his eyes a little and inches his eyebrows up and relaxes his shoulders. "Hai," he says,
The Sandaime nods approval. He raises his voice just a little and says, "If we could get started, please."
His voice does not need to be loud; immediately, the civilians beeline for their seats at the table. There's a small desk at the corner, and Itachi sits with pen and paper and watches the room from beneath his eyelashes.
A woman in a floral yukata says, smiling, "Who is this with you, Hokage-sama? Is he to be your new secretary?"
"Itachi-kun will be taking notes for us today," says the Sandaime pleasantly. "Now, the first order of business is, unless I am mistaken, the proposal for renovations on the Haikaru properties."
There is another summons waiting for Itachi when he goes home that evening, written in black ink on a cream colored card, conspicuous against the dark wood of his otherwise bare table. Itachi ignores it as he toes off his sandals and pads into his bathroom to wash up.
When he emerges, clad in a plain shirt and sweatpants, his hair hanging loose and damp about his shoulders, he puts on the rice to steam and rifles through his refrigerator. He buys nearly the same groceries every week, like clockwork; tonight, he takes out a quarter of a cabbage, a container of onions and carrots he chopped two days prior, a carton of chicken broth, and a package of pork on the bone. He sears the pork and gets a soup started, then, reluctantly, turns to the card waiting on the table.
It is written in a graceful hand, and reads, "Itachi-kun, your brother and I would love to see you for dinner tomorrow night. Your Kaa-san."
It is utterly neutral, completely unaccusing. Itachi stares at it until his soup threatens to boil over.
He sweeps the card to the top of a bookshelf, drops it into a plain white box that already contain dozens of similar notes, and goes to turn down his stove. Soup is not a hearty meal in itself, particularly not for a shinobi, so Itachi reaches for a small tub of protein powder in his upper cabinets, shakes a handful directly into the soup so he won't wake up hungry in the middle of the night.
Itachi eats as silently as he cooked. When he is between missions, he can go days without saying a single word aloud; the solitude is welcoming. He leaves the window open when he sits down to eat, picks a book off his shelf to peruse over his rice and soup. His mother would think him unspeakably rude, reading at the dinner table, but Itachi is alone so there is no one to think him impolite.
Itachi blinks awake at dawn, staring groggily at the blank white ceiling. He gives himself thirty seconds to let his mind shift from asleep to conscious and then sits up.
He does not have to report to the Hokage Tower until eight. He sets the rice to steam and goes for a quick run. Most of the shinobi are awake already, and a good number of civilians as well, their windows lit with the yellow glow of electric lights as they begin their days.
A chakra signature blips at him in greeting as he makes his way through the training grounds, and he pauses, slowing to a stop. A grey blur streaks towards him and coalesces into a dog, wolflike in appearance. "Haimaru," he greets, holding a hand out for the ninken to sniff. His partner is never far behind.
Hana barks a laugh as her ninken gives Itachi’s hand a thorough scrutiny, and the two other dogs at her sides trot forward to nose at him as well. "Long time," she notes, giving him an up and down glance. "You look good, Itachi."
Hana is training as a medic-nin, putting her in a rare and valuable subset of Konoha's shinobi forces. "I am well, thank you," says Itachi politely as one of the Haimaru brothers brushes his entire body against the back of Itachi’s knees. "Have I interrupted your training?"
"Nah," says Hana easily. "Thought I'd get a little warming-up in before my sensei and the rest of my team gets here -- Haimaru!" she scolds, laughter in her voice, as one of the hounds rears up to plant his front paws on Itachi’s thighs. Itachi pats the shaggy head bemusedly until Hana drags him bodily back by the scruff. "So, what've you been up to?" she asks, hoisting the dog up into her own arms. He is still a puppy but lanky already, and his hind legs dangle nearly to the ground. "Word is you've been coming and leaving the village without eating."
Itachi has been Anbu for nearly four years, which is technically confidential. In actuality, it is an open secret to anyone connected with one of the major shinobi clans, which is why Itachi is unsurprised to hear Hana refer to his service even obliquely. Even so, it wasn't until his captaincy that the frequency and duration of his missions had picked up. "I have been keeping busy."
"Well," Hana says dryly, lowering Haimaru to the ground. "You seem plenty busy now." As one, her head and those of her three ninken swivel, the ears of the latter quivering erect on their skulls. "Catch you later, my sensei's due in five," she adds. "Raincheck on a spar?" She winks and darts off without waiting for a reply. At her whistle, the three dogs whirl and sprint after her.
Hana is only a genin; she cannot hope to match him in a spar, but she made the offer as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Itachi has yet to determine if Hana's behavior can be classified as that of a typical Konoha shinobi's, but he suspects not. He finishes his run and ducks into the bathroom for a quick shower.
Breakfast is rice and yesterday night's soup. Itachi stirs a cup of protein powder into the soup as it warms on the stove. This puts it on the verge of chalky, but Itachi is not overly concerned with the taste or texture.
When he is finished, he leaves the dishes in the sink to soak, gives himself thirty minutes to review the previous day's notes, and then continues with his daily exercise.
Itachi recognizes he possesses an introversion that may be considered extreme even for a shinobi, in that he had designed multiple kata that can be performed within the confines of his own apartment. They are not optimal for honing combat capabilities, but suitable enough for physical conditioning when he is short on time. His clock reads ten minutes after six; he has time enough for two runs.
When he finishes, his muscles limber and relaxed, he dons his uniform and goes to the Hokage Tower. It is strange, so much inaction, but the unending flood of work at the Tower takes up his concentration well enough.
Kakashi’s team returns in time to report directly to the Sandaime, the last business Itachi will be present for today.
The returning team is bloodied, lightly scorched, and exhausted though wholly intact, and from what Itachi can tell, Kakashi is quite content as battered and chakra-deprived as his is. The team of five is arrayed in a neat formation before the Hokage's desk, and Itachi recognizes Yuugao's deep violet hair swept up in a ponytail, Tenzou's shaggy head parallel to hers. Tenzou is swaying a little, and dots of crimson spot the bandage disappearing under his chestplate.
"Report," the Sandaime orders, peering over his desk at the team.
"Three enemy targets neutralized, Hokage-sama," Kakashi answers. "Covert operative Mouse-3 has been extracted and delivered to Medical. Mission success."
"Very good," says the Sandaime, sitting back.
"Permission to dismiss the team to receive medical care?" Kakashi asks, ignoring the four furious stares that suddenly pin on the back of his neck before the owners of said stares remember themselves and return their eyes to the ground.
"Granted," the Sandaime says immediately. "Konoha thanks you for your service, Team Ro."
"Thank you, Hokage-sama. Cat-11, Cat-15, Bird-6, and Dog-9: dismissed. Report to Medical for evaluation," Kakashi directs, and in unison, his team stands and vanishes in a series of shunshin, leaving him kneeling alone.
The Hokage reaches for his pipe and takes a thoughtful puff. "Stand up, Kakashi-kun, and take off your mask."
Kakashi obeys, hooking the snarling dog-mask onto his belt as he rises. His face is neutral, absent the fatigue he must feel. "Hokage-sama?"
Rings of smoke rise to the ceiling as the Hokage considers Kakashi, and Itachi is suddenly, uncomfortably aware that he should not be present for this. He starts to slip around the wall of the room towards the door but the Hokage raises a hand without looking, forestalling his attempt. "Kakashi-kun," the Sandaime says, "do you enjoy being in Anbu?"
The question is a trap. Itachi despairs for his failed escape.
"It is a job that I excel at," Kakashi evades valiantly.
"Do you enjoy it?" the Sandaime presses, not dissuaded in the slightest.
"It is the purpose in which I feel I can best serve the village," is Kakashi's answer, and Itachi hides a sympathetic wince at the gleam in their Hokage's eyes.
"I feel you are better suited to serve in the light," the Sandaime counters.
"That's nice," says Kakashi, his visible eye curving into what his Anbu team would call a 'bullshitting' smile. "But I would respectfully disagree, Hokage-sama."
Clearly he is still not entirely sold on the Hokage candidate matter. Equally clearly, the Sandaime did not expect a borderline disrespectful parry and comes out rather behind in their ongoing match.
The Sandaime narrowly avoids pinching the bridge of his nose. "Be that as it may," he says forebodingly, "you will remain in the Village for the next two weeks to learn your new duties. Your Anbu duties will be deferred to Itachi when unavoidable once the reports for your immediate past mission have been submitted."
"Are you sure you don't want Itachi-kun to write those up as well, Hokage-sama?" Kakashi chirps.
The Sandaime closes his eyes. "You're dismissed, Anbu Wolf." He takes a steadying inhale from his pipe as Kakashi sketches a bow and vanishes. "Itachi-kun," he says without opening his eyes.
"Hai," Itachi responds automatically, wiping any expression off his face.
The Hokage seems to struggle for words. "I would appreciate it if you made the attempt to show Kakashi-kun that his service in the Anbu, while appreciated, is only a fraction of his worth to the Village."
Itachi has no idea how to accomplish such a mission. "Hai, Hokage-sama," he says nevertheless.
"Come out with us tonight, Itachi-kun," Kakashi says when Itachi has been excused for the day. He'd been waiting in the antechamber for Itachi to emerge, leaned up against the wall casually, still in his soiled armor with the snarling porcelain mask hiding his face. "No, thank you," Itachi says politely.
His old captain takes this as permission to follow him home. He keeps his silence for the walk back, and the flow of voices and laughter washes over them both as they pass by restaurants with the doors thrown wide to spill golden light and the scent of frying meat into the streets.
Itachi is mentally taking inventory of his refrigerator and cupboards. Tomorrow he will need to go shopping, as he normally does, as he has no protein but the can of powdered supplement, the dried packaged meat in his backup supplies in case he is on a mission and misses his customary restocking day, and in his emergency supplies. He will have to eject Kakashi before a dinner invitation becomes unavoidable because he does not have enough to feed them both.
"If you don't have enough food," Kakashi says, as if overhearing his thoughts, "then come out with us tonight."
Itachi-kun unlocks the door. Kakashi lets himself in after him. "I'm afraid I must decline," Itachi demurs. He unzips his flak jacket and shrugs it off, toes his sandals to the side of the entryway.
Kakashi peels off his mask and his sandals and wanders past into Itachi's apartment. "You're going to need a lot more support as Hokage than just you by yourself," he points out mildly.
"Or rather, you will," Itachi deflects, trying to decide if ushering him out the window would be more expedient.
Kakashi has found the box with its collection of pristine cream-colored invitations. "You don't intend to attend this," he says, too knowing. His nose would have told him that the one on top was fresh, that its sender had held it only recently. "If you have other plans, you have a reason to decline this one." He waves the card between two fingers before dropping it back in the box.
Itachi says nothing, discreetly eyeing the distance between his old captain and the most socially acceptable exit.
"Ah," says Kakashi with sudden understanding. "You intend to ignore both invitations regardless."
"Yes," agrees Itachi, and sees him out the door.
Kakashi’s return to the village proceeds unremarkably except that the following morning he shows up to the Hokage Tower freshly scrubbed and a full thirty minutes late. Itachi is already standing unobtrusively against the wall, and Kakashi slides in next to him so quickly and silently that Itachi nearly stabs him in his surprise.
The Sandaime says without looking up, "You will not be late again."
"Hai, Hokage-sama," Kakashi says meekly.
The next day he is only ten minutes late.
As they enter, the Sandaime orders, “Leave us,” without looking up, and with a whisper of chakra, the Anbu guards slip out of the room. He sets down his pen long enough to make a quick handseal, and the privacy seals activate, gold lines trailing along the walls before fading once more.
The towering stacks of paperwork on the Hokage’s desk have been temporarily relegated to the sideboard to make room for the civilian gossip rags strewn over its surface, one each from the other major villages and several from the minor ones as well. The Sandaime leans back in his chair, inviting Itachi and Kakashi forward to peruse.
A jounin like Kakashi suddenly taking up secretarial duties for the Hokage makes a much bigger splash than Itachi having done the same. Itachi is young, officially a chuunin, and definitely not a war hero. On his appointment as the Hokage’s aide, he had to order a new flak jacket from the quartermaster because he outgrew the one he wore when he made the rank for the first time at ten. It sits on his shoulders stiffly, and the collar rubs against the underside of his chin. He looks exactly like a new peacetime chuunin, taking up administrative duties because there is no need for combat shinobi.
Kakashi's off-duty armor has also been replaced with an equally brand new flak jacket in order to inspire the same appearance as Itachi's does for him, only it is less successful because Kakashi is a known jounin. Kakashi had, as far as Itachi knew, never actually been issued one before today, and Itachi catches him glancing down the bulky front in dismay more than once.
Kakashi flips over the closest newspaper. ‘Runs In The Family: Son Of White Fang Hatake Kakashi In Village Doghouse After Earning Hokage’s Ire,’ it reads.
‘Konoha -- Sandaime Hokage Eyeing Yondaime’s Protégé Hatake Kakashi For Second Successor,’ says another.
‘Fall From Grace: Elite Konoha Jounin Relegated To Administration Post Following Devastating Mission Failure,’ suggests a third.
'Old Man Hokage Finally Gone SENILE? Looking To FRIEND-KILLER Reiketsu Kakashi As Potential Godaime!! Konoha In Chaos As Officials Scramble To Do Damage Control!! Turn the page to read more →’ blares the headline from Kumo.
‘Konoha’s Hatake Kakashi Presumed Off Active Duty Roster After Career-Ending Injury,’ speculates yet another.
“How unfortunate,” says Kakashi mildly. “It seems you’ve gone senile, Hokage-sama.”
Itachi slants a glance over at Kakashi, but it seems his reluctant acquiescence to the new arrangements have bought the other man some leeway yet with the Sandaime, because the Sandaime merely puffs tolerantly on his pipe and says, “Do give the Kusa Chronicles a read. I particularly enjoyed that one.”
Kakashi picks up a paper entitled, ‘Washed Up: From Child Prodigy To Obscurity In Ten Years’ and skims the article. “Ten years ago, Hatake Kakashi was one of Konoha’s youngest jounin and a rising star in its ranks,” he reads aloud. “The son of the infamous White Fang and student of the Yondaime Hokage, he was one of the most promising young shinobi of his generation until the loss of an eye in a devastating field injury. Today, at twenty-three years old, he can be found juggling files instead of kunai as a lowly secretarial assistant in the Sandaime Hokage’s administration. What happened? How did this young starlet blaze through the Third Shinobi War only to burn out so quickly?” He flips the page. “Ouch,” he says. “It’s because I couldn’t handle the pressure to be the best after a long rehabilitation period and had a series of nervous breakdowns covered up by the administration so I wouldn’t demoralize the other shinobi. I’m afraid of any blades bigger than a standard kunai now.”
There are no newspapers with Itachi’s name in the headline, or even in the body of the article, and Itachi feels the relief slide down his back. There is, after all, a much more famous Uchiha than he.
“These are of course civilian newspapers,” says the Hokage, setting his pipe down in its ashtray and steepling his fingers. “However, we would be remiss to believe the shinobi of these villages are not observing our proceedings closely. Neither of you will return to Anbu headquarters. Your team will be sworn to secrecy, and you will meet with them in a secure room in this tower for mission briefings.”
"Hai," Itachi and Kakashi say in unison.
"Itachi-kun, tomorrow morning you will have a briefing for a mission slated for one week from today," the Hokage continues.
"Hai," says Itachi, and ignores the way Kakashi's stare lingers on him long after they've moved on to the Academy's quarterly budgets.
Operative Aburame Sugaru had not been a member of Team Ro for over a year; he had died as one of Danzou's guards the night of the councilman's assassination. Hyuuga Kou had left the Corps and had been replaced by Hyuuga Hoheto, seven years Itachi's senior. The final, newest member of Team Ro was sixteen year old Imai Seitarou.
"He's an assassination specialist," Tenzou informs him. He had dropped into step next to Itachi at the grocer and followed him through the aisles as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Itachi, having never interacted with the other shinobi since his own departure from Ro-Han, naturally concludes that Kakashi must have prompted this interaction in some way. He gives Tenzou a neutral look in response. Tenzou stares back blankly.
Kakashi has briefed Itachi on the members of Team Ro, just as Itachi has briefed Kakashi on the Civilian Council, but of course facts on paper present differently than they do in action. Tenzou is his best resource for information now besides Kakashi, and comparatively more straightforward. Likely Kakashi has put him in his path to do the work he himself does not want to do, so seeking Kakashi out will prove unproductive. Itachi turns back to the shelves and adds an extra package of ground meat to his basket. "Would you like to come over for gyoza soup?" he asks.
Tenzou is an exceedingly polite guest. He waits to be invited inside, offers to help prepare the food and accepts the rejection gracefully, and doesn't investigate Itachi's meagre possessions. He sits seiza at Itachi's low living room table, and when Itachi emerges from the kitchen half an hour later with two streaming bowls, it appears he has not moved at all. "Thank you, Captain," Tenzou says as a bowl is placed before him. He clasps his hands together. "Itadakimasu."
"Itadakimasu," Itachi echoes, and then, "Tell me about the team."
Tenzou is eighteen, the second oldest of the team, and a combat and capture specialist. He's Kakashi's Second, but he rushes to assure Itachi that he doesn't have to be his as well. Yuugao is seventeen and a kenjutsu specialist, also combat-heavy, and fiery right up until she enters a battle, when she turns cold as ice. Hoheto is a tracker and sensor, trained in traps and minor sealing. Seitarou has been on the team for seven days.
Itachi gives him a look at that last part.
"His file says that he's an assassination and infiltration specialist," Tenzou explains, setting down his chopsticks on an empty bowl. "But we haven't actually done either of those since he's joined. And he's been in the hospital for most of yesterday. We didn't have a chance to run any full-team drills with him before the last mission so he was mostly a sentry."
If the mission hadn’t been such high priority, Kakashi might have refused to run it on those grounds. "Reserve a private training ground before the week is over," Itachi orders. He doesn't know the nature of their next mission yet, but he won't go in blind if he doesn't have to. "Relay the details to me when it's done."
"Yes, sir," says Tenzou, making a mark on his pad.
Itachi sees no reason to disrupt Tenzou’s position as second-in-command. He has the greatest seniority on the team, and considering his past in Root, has been in black ops for most of his life. He like Yuugao is a career Anbu, who will likely be reassigned to another post off the front lines when he hits the encouraged retirement age of twenty-five. A recruit trainer, perhaps, or T&I.
He also turns out to be quite efficient, in that at the beginning of the next business day, as Itachi is entering the Hokage Tower, he slips a piece of paper into Itachi’s pocket without anyone else in the room the wiser. Itachi checks it in the hallway. Training Ground 31, it reads. Saturday, 2 A.M.
Itachi accepts that it is probably as close to privacy as they can get in a ninja village and silently mourns his early Saturday morning.
Knowing a team’s abilities is very different from knowing a team’s members, a fact Itachi is grimly reminded of each time he is attached to a new team. He stands at the treeline and watches the moonlight spill down on the silhouettes beginning to warm up on the field.
“Why are you lurking?” someone says near his ear, and Itachi’s eyes snap around. “I’m sorry,” Tenzou says, immediately backing up with his hands raised. “Kakashi-taichou ordered me to. He wants me to tell you that you can’t join the team if you only watch.”
Itachi raises his eyebrow and turns around completely.
“He’s not here,” Tenzou reassures, still sounding abashed. “He didn’t want to step on your toes or anything. He just said you’d be, ah, lurking. Here.”
That’s considerate of Kakashi, considering that technically it is Itachi who is stealing his team. “I suppose we should go, then,” he says.
The three Anbu in the field are absent their armor, dressed down in off-duty uniforms. Yuugao smiles at him, though they know each other only in passing. Seitarou ducks his head in a bow. Hoheto crosses his arms over his chest.
“Two in the morning, Captain?” Hoheto does not sound amused. He also does not particularly sound like he means ‘Captain’ as a gesture of respect.
Tenzou winces minutely out of the corner of his eye and Itachi knows without a doubt that were Kakashi in his place, he would throw Tenzou to the wolves without mercy. “Discretion is mandatory, given the nature of my position,” he says instead. “I’ve been advised that you have been briefed on this already.”
“Hai, we were,” confirms Tenzou quickly. Hoheto doesn’t press.
“I have received your personnel files,” Itachi continues. “As you have not received mine, I will inform you that I am designated as an infiltration specialist with combat proficiencies primarily in genjutsu and katon ninjutsu.” He pauses, and the four members of the team watch him hawkishly. “Our upcoming mission is to capture or kill a nukenin target,” he says. “Therefore, the objective for today’s exercise will be to find and capture me.”
He can read their skepticism. Hide from a Hyuuga? Evade the Mokuton?
“And eliminate the members of the opposing team,” he adds. “Tenzou, with Seitarou. Yuugao, with Hoheto. You have one hour. Begin.”
The exercise ends with a large bush tangled in Yuugao’s hair, Seitarou pinned to the ground by a wire trap, and Itachi decidedly uncaptured.
Itachi considers asking that the mission be reassigned.
Itachi has run an Anbu team before. He’s been a captain for nearly a full year at this point. He sits down with Ro-Han’s personnel folders spread out over his living room table and stares at them. He’s not supposed to take those files out of the Anbu headquarters, but given that he’s currently banned from HQ, allows himself a dispensation.
Someone knocks on his door. Itachi is utterly unsurprised to find Kakashi on the other side.
“Itachi-kun,” says Kakashi, faux-surprised like they had encountered each other unexpectedly at the market rather than the other man coming to his apartment and knocking on his door.
“Kakashi-sempai,” Itachi returns, resigned.
Kakashi glances past him into the apartment, directly at the mess of illicit files sprawling on his table. “Hm,” he says mildly. “Why don’t you come out with us tonight, Itachi-kun?”
Kakashi has yet to say who ‘us’ refers to or where ‘out’ is. "No, thank you," Itachi says, wondering if he can get away with accidentally shutting the door in Kakashi's face.
"Itachi-kun," Kakashi says, and there's something on his face resembling a smile but more fixed. "When's the last time you interacted with another shinobi outside of official business?"
Itachi talked to Inuzuka Hana a week or two ago. This information does not impress Kakashi.
"You don't have other plans tonight," Kakashi says with an air of finality.
Itachi glances over his shoulder at Ro-Han's files.
"You'll learn more about them if you come with me," Kakashi says pointedly.
Itachi has less than a week before he leads the team on their first mission together, and limited training sessions before that happens. He gives Kakashi his blankest stare. "Where are we going?"
They end up at a bar. It's a shinobi bar with non-alcoholic options for those who would prefer not to poison themselves, either to protect their brain development or because they would be on duty imminently. Kakashi leads them straight past the main floor, down a narrow hallway and alarmingly rickety stairs, and into a private room thick with smoke.
"Get this out of here, Sarutobi," Kakashi says loudly as they enter.
Asuma flips Kakashi the finger but complies, and with the cool burst of a fuuton, the air clears.
Itachi recognizes faces, matches them to the names of chuunin and tokujo and jounin and Anbu. The oldest are in their late twenties -- he spots Namiashi Raidou in the corner with another former member of the Yondaime's Guard Platoon, nursing shot glasses of whisky -- and Itachi is the youngest, though there are several other teenagers mingling.
"Hatake," says Genma, clapping him on the shoulder as he passes. "Didn't think you'd show, lazy bastard."
"Maa," Kakashi drawls. "Couldn't give up the chance to corrupt the next generation. You seen Uzuki?"
Genma jerks a thumb over his shoulder as he goes. Kakashi ambles in that direction, and absent other options, Itachi follows. "Stick with Yuugao," Kakashi advises over his shoulder. "She's got a good head on her shoulders."
Itachi had been planning to stick with Kakashi, if anyone.
"Kakashi-sempai!" Yuugao's voice is bright and pleased. "And Itachi-san." She's out of her uniform, wearing simple black clothes that highlight the dark brilliance of her hair. "I haven't seen you down here before."
"Itachi-kun isn't too much of a drinker," Kakashi explains, patting Itachi on the shoulder.
"What about tea?" Yuugao suggests immediately. "They've a few types. They have ciders and sodas or lemonade too, if you prefer."
"Tea would be…nice," Itachi manages, somewhat taken aback by Yuugao's exponentially friendlier demeanor.
"I'll get it," Yuugao's companion volunteers. "I'm about to grab myself something anyways. Anything for you, Hatake-san? Yuugao?"
"Fizzy pink lemonade, thanks Gekkou-kun," Kakashi says cheerfully.
"You know what I like," Yuugao says with a smile. Gekkou returns it as he goes.
"Where's the rookie?" Kakashi asks, settling himself on a wooden stool. Gingerly, Itachi follows suit.
"Tenzou volunteered to fetch him," answers Yuugao. "He and Hoheto might be trying to pregame him, I don't know."
"How vicious," Kakashi muses affectionately. "Kid's not going to be able to walk tomorrow."
Yuugao's answering smirk is sly. "That's the fun part."
"Ah, youth," Kakashi sighs. "They grow up so fast don't they, Itachi-kun? Oh, here they are."
Tenzou pours Seitarou down onto the stool next to Kakashi, slumping next to him with a sigh. "Sempai," he greets, and throws a half-hearted salute at Itachi.
"Captain!" Seitarou bubbles at Kakashi, deliriously happy and already quite intoxicated. He turns to Itachi and repeats, "Captain!" in a slightly less enthusiastic tone. He pauses, frowns. "You can't both be Captain," he says sadly, and stares off blankly into the distance.
"Ah," Kakashi says. "Might have gone a little overboard there, boys."
Hoheto gives them both a nod and promptly vanishes, presumably to procure more alcohol.
"Oh, Tenzou," says Gekkou. He's holding three tall glasses in one hand and a shot glass and a bottle in the other. He juggles them all down onto the table.
"Hayate," Tenzou says. His eyes are already starting to look a little bloodshot. "Doctors still aren't letting you drink, huh?"
"Nope," agrees Gekkou -- Hayate -- gloomily, pulling his glass of what smells like apple juice closer "They say it'll interfere with the new meds they're trying."
Seitarou leans in, unfocused eyes more or less on Itachi. "You can be Cap," he slurs. "Cause it's shorter. Like you."
Hayate snorts. Itachi blinks, nonplussed.
"This is some excellent blackmail," Yuugao opines, pouring herself a shot of kuusu. "Please let me be the one to tell him what he says."
Kakashi claims his bubbling, very bright pink lemonade. Itachi tries his tea. It's iced, bitter and tangy and painfully sweet, and he finds that he likes it.
Hoheto returns with a pitcher of umeshu and three squat glasses. “Jyan-Ken-Pon,” he announces grimly, pouring out a measure each for himself, Seitarou, and Tenzou. “He or she who loses, drinks.”
Seitarou lurches upright, pulling his closer. Itachi does not think he actually needs more liquor. “Yeah! Levelin’ th’ playin’ field. Good ‘dea, H’heto-sempai.”
Itachi, Kakashi, and Hayate don't have alcoholic drinks. Itachi opens his mouth to point out that drinking would have no detrimental effect on them but behind Seitarou, Yuugao taps a finger against her lips and winks. Itachi closes his mouth again.
“Sure,” says Kakashi breezily, and sticks out his hand. “Jyan, Ken, Pon.”
Seitarou loses.
Seitarou loses quite a bit, because he only chooses Pon.
Hoheto keeps drinking even though he loses only infrequently after Seitarou is disqualified by virtue of losing consciousness. He must have begun imbibing early, at the same time as Seitarou, but the first sign that he has veered firmly into inebriation is when he declares, “I understand the Kago no Tori no Juin,” in a completely normal voice. No Branch Hyuuga brings up the Caged Bird Seal if they are even remotely sober.
Itachi looks to Kakashi for help, but Kakashi waves a careless hand, on his second fizzy pink lemon beverage. Yuugao sighs morosely and lets Hayate pour her another drink. Seitarou is drooling facedown on the counter.
“It is a relief,” Hoheto insists. He reaches for the pitcher and only sloshes a little outside his glass. “I know that no matter the circumstances of my death, I will not contribute to the downfall of the Clan.”
Tenzou pats him sympathetically. He does not seem drunk, only sleepy. His eyes keep closing for longer than a blink should strictly last.
“What was completely unnecessary,” Hoheto continues, his voice never rising from its steady monotone, “is that an obedience component was added.” He pauses to give them each a piercing stare, including the top of Seitarou’s head. “The Main Family,” he proclaims, “are dicks.”
Tenzou give him another sympathetic pat. “We know,” he yawns. “Why don’t you tell Itachi-san about the time Hiashi-sama tripped into a koi pond?”
Itachi finds himself on the receiving end of Hoheto’s stare. “This is vital information for you to know,” the Hyuuga says gravely.
“Ah,” says Itachi.
“After that, Itachi-kun can tell you about the time Councilwoman Koharu’s aide accidentally invited a band of strippers to her sixtieth birthday celebration,” Kakashi volunteers lazily, raising his glass in their direction.
Itachi wonders if it is treasonous for them to be gossiping about their superiors in the back room of a bar. But even in a corner of a crowded room, even with the majority of their number too inebriated to function normally, he finds that though he is not exactly content, he is strangely comfortable. “I am sure that my account is not as amusing as yours,” Itachi offers, and for the first time that night, the corner of Hoheto’s mouth crooks in a tiny smile.
Someone knocks on Itachi's door not soon after dawn. He's been up for long enough to get dressed, and opens the door to find Yuugao on the other side wearing sunglasses and holding a large coffee in one hand. "Morning, Cap," she says, raising the tumbler in his direction. "I'm about to go wake the rest of the team for training. Want to come?"
Itachi hesitates. He has to report to the Tower in one hour, and there's too little time to run drills with the rest of the team.
"Not for the training part," Yuugao assures him. "Just the waking part. It'll be fun. You can bill the time as getting to know your teammates."
That is indeed one of the items Itachi has on his list of tasks to complete. "Allow me to retrieve the rest of my uniform," he tells her, and goes to get his flak jacket.
Tenzou owns a small flat near the Anbu headquarters. All three of their teammates had been deposited there the night before because it is closest to the drinking establishment and Kakashi would not be bothered to take them to different locations when they proved unable to walk under their own power. Yuugao, having still been upright at the end of the night, escaped the same fate and appears quite smug of this fact.
She doesn't take them to the roofs, content to stroll along the streets in silence as she nurses sips from her coffee. "Tenzou's going to try and book another private training site off Anbu grounds," she says.
"Good," says Itachi.
Yuugao nods. She doesn't expect any further conversation from him, which is a relief. She breezes into Tenzou's apartment ahead of Itachi as if it were her own, her footsteps deliberately loud. "Good morning!" she calls cheerfully, sweeping the curtains open with one quick movement. The burgeoning sunlight floods the darkened room. “Captain on deck!”
This elicits only a pitiful whimper from one of the lumps on the floor and a full-bodied cringe away from the light from the other. On the battered futon, Tenzou groans and makes no move to get up.
“Why,” mutters Hoheto, both arms covering his face.
“I have coffee,” Yuugao singsongs, and three heads turn towards her only to flinch when the movement exacerbates the throbbing in their heads. “But it’s mine,” she adds.
“Why is Anko considered the mean one?” Tenzou bemoans, sinking back into the couch cushions in despair.
“Have you met Anko?” Hoheto points out, his voice muffled. He sprawled flat on his back on Tenzou’s carpet and does not seem as though he will amend this any time in the near future.
“You guys are embarrassing yourselves in front of Cap,” Yuugao drawls, but saunters into the kitchen, pulling down a can of coffee and a kettle.
Itachi takes that as his cue. “Good morning,” he says.
Hoheto lurches upright, fixes bleary, vaguely horrified eyes on Itachi, and wordlessly staggers towards the bathroom.
“Oh gods -- Captain!” Seitarou blurts, stumbling upright and turning bone white and then greenish in the process. He only pauses once to clutch at his head. Tenzou flaps a hand at Itachi in something that resembles a salute.
“You mean ‘Cap’,” Yuugao corrects, saccharine, and Tenzou recovers enough to snicker.
“Huh?” Seitarou’s mental facilities appear not to have fully recovered. He winces at the clatter when Yuugao sets the kettle on the stove.
“Do you -- ow -- do you remember what you said to Kakashi-taichou and Itachi-taichou last night?” Tenzou rasps, finally peeling open his eyes. He drags himself upright so he’s draped against the back of the futon.
The blood drains from Seitarou’s face. “N-no,” he stammers.
Yuugao takes great glee in reminding him.
Seitarou is appropriately mortified. Tenzou is disproportionately amused.
Hoheto emerges from the bathroom completely unruffled but for the frown that slits his eyes nearly shut. As a reward, Yuugao presents him the first mug of coffee. “First one up gets the first coffee,” Yuugao says, unrepentant, when Tenzou makes a wordless noise of outrage. “Oh -- Cap? Coffee?” She plucks the mug back out of Hoheto’s hands and offers it to Itachi. Hoheto, betrayed but in no position to do anything about it, glares at Yuugao.
“No, thank you,” says Itachi, and hands it back to Hoheto. Hoheto stalks away before anyone else can remove his drink.
“Me,” Seitarou begs, reaching towards Yuugao but Tenzou trips him on his way to the kitchen and he goes down with a squawk.
Tenzou’s quicksilver smirk is entirely for Yuugao and Itachi. “Sorry, rookie,” says Tenzou, solemn-faced as he turns around with his cup victoriously. “Too slow.”
“That was dirty, sempai,” complains Seitarou, after fifteen seconds where he has to concentrate so as not to vomit on Tenzou’s carpet.
“It’s almost like we’re shinobi or something,” Yuugao says dryly, as she pours the rest of the pot into the last mug and holds it out to Seitarou. “Here, Cap, I’ll get you some tea. Tenzou's got this great variety from Shimo or something that he never drinks.”
The sun is steadily rising beyond the window and Itachi has barely said two sentences, but he finds himself reluctant to leave.
Kakashi nods at him as he falls into step on the main street leading to the Tower. "For me? You shouldn't have."
Itachi passes him the second of the travel mugs Yuugao pressed into his hands before he could extract himself from Tenzou's flat. "Tea from Shimo," he reports. "Compliments of Tenzou-san and Yuugao-san."
Kakashi hums, inhaling the steam from the cup gently. Sunlight dapples his pale hair, bright in the shade of the trees overhead. "Learn anything about the team?"
Itachi learned absolutely nothing of strategic importance from the time Kakashi knocked on his door until now, except for the location of Tenzou's flat. Productively, he could have spent the night reviewing the personnel files for the team and going over Ro-Han's old mission reports.
But he did learn that that Hoheto likes to pretend to be above the typically somewhat childish Anbu antics of its teenaged cohort but hoards opportunities to escape the suffocating hand of his Clan. He learned that Seitarou has two older kunoichi sisters who smother him with affection and expectations and that he consumed alcohol for the first time last night. He learned that Yuugao is either in a relationship with or wants to be in a relationship with Gekkou Hayate, that she likes her liquor strong and smooth, and that although she likes to torment her teammates she will also make them coffee in the morning. He learned that if Tenzou were forced to retire from active duty he would choose to become a librarian, that he's comfortable enough with his team to allow them in his own sanctuary despite his past, and that he thinks the world of Kakashi.
So Itachi says, "Yes," and despite Kakashi's non-reaction he can tell that his former captain is pleased by this answer.
He has by now deciphered that Kakashi, having seen another Uchiha prodigy 'flame out' as the articles describe the spectacular implosion, and being aware of Itachi's somewhat self-isolation, is taking advantage of their situation to ensure that Itachi feels like part of Konoha by sharing with him his own team, his own social circles. It's not necessary. Itachi is content to watch from a distance, to admire the beauty that is Konoha in peacetime from afar. That he can contribute to such a peace is Itachi's greatest purpose.
Maybe this is his way of convincing Itachi to want to be the Godaime, that it is Itachi who is best suited to be the next Hokage. If so, then he is failing. After watching the way that Kakashi's team and his peers revolve around him unconsciously, Itachi sees now that the Sandaime is right -- Kakashi isn't meant to be a thing of the shadows; he's meant to lead in the brightness of day.
Surrounding every star is the void of night, and Itachi will be the darkness that allows that light to shine.
Kakashi crinkles his eye at Itachi and raises his tea a little as they enter the Tower. "Maa. Let's work hard again today," Itachi-kun," he says.
"Yes," Itachi agrees, accepting the implicit challenge.
Mission: start.