Chapter Text
Natsuki walked slowly up the staircase to the Hokage’s office, every step filling her with dread.
One of the guards posted in front of the door, a man with spiky, black hair and bandage over his nose, eyed her with curiosity as she approached. He leaned over to whisper something in his partner’s ear. The other man’s dark brows shot up, disappearing under his bandana-like hitai-ate for a fraction of a second.
By the time she paused at the top of the steps, their expressions were neutral once more. She greeted them politely, and they allowed her to pass without incident. She could still feel their eyes on the back of her neck as she entered the building.
A heavy wooden door was waiting for her as she walked in. She gently rapped her knuckles against it.
“Come in!” A weathered voice called. She bowed to Hiruzen Sarutobi as she entered.
He was sitting behind the heavy oak desk, dressed in the traditional white robes of the Hokage. His oversized cap cast a shadow over the top of his face. The rest was obscured by smoke from the pipe he was puffing on.
Once it cleared, he smiled at her.
He had aged heavily in the past twelve years. His beard, which came to a point at the end of his chin, was now completely white. Deep wrinkles had set further into his face, but his dark, knowing eyes remained the same.
“Lord Hokage,” she greeted him.
“Natsuki Nishimura. Welcome home. Are you happy to be back?”
“Of course.”
“You don’t have to lie to me, Natsuki.”
Her heart skipped, and she bowed her head in shame. “I enjoyed my time in the ANBU.”
“Yes, I heard you were quite the operative. However, we’ve come across a bit of a problem here in the village. We have many young ones wishing to become shinobi, and not enough shinobi to teach them how to do it.”
She nodded. “That’s what my captain said.”
“You came highly recommended, and, I’ve seen your talent myself, of course.”
Her mind flickered back to that night, twelve years ago. She remembered looking into Sarutobi’s horrified eyes, barely able to hold herself upright, as she held a screaming baby in her arms.
“With all due respect, Lord Hokage, I’m not sure I’d make a good teacher.”
“Perhaps not.” He puffed on his pipe thoughtfully. “But you’re here already. Why not find out? If you don’t enjoy it by the time the year is over, I’ll reassign you to the ANBU.”
The air felt like it had been sucked from her lungs. A year. She was going to have to stay in Konoha for the entire year.
“Yes, sir,” she agreed, as if she had any choice in the matter.
“I think you might surprise yourself, Natsuki. You’re not the same girl who crawled out of that apple crate.”
A jolt traveled down her spine at the memory. It was dizzying to think about. She felt so far removed from that seven year old version of herself, bloody and terrified, trembling as she hid on that cart.
“No,” she agreed softly. “I’m not.”
He nodded firmly. “Head over to the academy and meet Iruka, our head-sensei. He can get you started. You may even meet my grandson, Konahamaru. And if you do…good luck.”
He chuckled softly as she bowed to him once more. She headed out of his office, still feeling a bit dizzy.
She trudged along, feeling as if she were in a dream, or maybe a nightmare, and made her way toward the school.
—
Konoha Academy .
The smell of aging wood was so familiar, it made her chest ache.
Memories were exactly what she was trying to avoid when she left the village, and now they were flooding back in full force.
“And this would be my classroom, over here,” Iruka Umino announced, pulling her from her thoughts.
Iruka was kind, and incredibly enthusiastic about teaching. She remembered seeing him at the academy while she was a student, though he had been a few years under her class.
His parents had both been killed the night the nine-tailed fox tried to destroy the village, and Iruka still bore a scar from that night.
It ran horizontally across the tanned skin of his nose, extending to both cheeks. His chocolate brown hair was tied up in a ponytail, no doubt to keep it out of his face as he chased his students around.
“It’s a little overwhelming, I’m sure. But I figured we’d start you off small. You could do a couple of classes with some smaller lessons, things like balance, stretching. Eventually, I’d like you to teach all the taijutsu classes.”
Iruka patted the desk.
“Feel free to take a look around. If there’s any supplies you think you might need, just let me know.”
“When would you like me back?”
“How about Monday? That way you have some time to get situated. I know coming back from the ANBU is an adjustment.”
“Thanks, Iruka.”
He left her with a bright smile, disappearing down the hall. She was finally alone, standing in the middle of a dusty classroom, wondering how she was going to survive this.
Get a grip , she told herself. You’ve faced worse than a handful of kids.
But every minute back only reminded her of the things she had lost. Could a place really be home, if everyone she loved was gone from it?
“Welcome back.”
Well, maybe not everyone . She turned toward the voice.
A familiar, lean figure had planted himself in the doorway. His fluffy, silver hair brushed the frame as he leaned against it.
Typical Kakashi. He was always leaning, as if he couldn’t be bothered to care about holding himself up. She had always envied his nonchalance.
While his posture was casual, the eye that wasn’t covered by his hitai-ate studied her carefully. Was he thinking about the last time they were together?
It had been a couple years since she had seen him in person, but when she met his gaze, years of memories came flooding back like a tidal wave.
She remembered sharp, bitter insults and sparring with each other, sleeping on Kushina’s floor, side by side, begrudgingly at first. Then, as they got older, they were fighting back to back, completely in sync, and laughing late into the night while on watch.
They were practically inseparable for ten years, until the Hokage pulled him from the ANBU. They had written to each other plenty of times since then, but it hadn’t been the same.
It was strange seeing him in person after all these years, especially because of the explosive argument they had as he readied himself to return to the village. He hadn’t understood why she wanted to remain in the ANBU or why she refused to follow him back home.
It had been a selfish decision at the time, but at least Sarutobi had granted her the choice. This time was different. She fought to brush off the emotions that were suddenly rushing up at her. She hoped Kakashi couldn’t tell how unnerved she felt.
“Thanks. It feels…surreal.”
“I didn’t think you’d ever leave the ANBU.”
“Well, they made me.”
Her eyes narrowed. Surely he knew.
His teasing voice cut through the cloud of bitterness hovering over her. “Did they? Or could you just not cut it without me?”
“You wish, Hatake.”
The look she shot him seemed to send him back in time. Kakashi was suddenly eight years old again, staring at her fiery eyes from across Minato’s dinner table. Then, he blinked, and they were still standing face to face, taller and older once more.
“I’m glad you’re back. I know it’s probably not what you wanted.”
She offered him an indifferent shrug, though he knew her well enough to tell she was upset. “Hokage’s orders, I guess.”
“That’s how it goes.”
Kakashi knew how she felt about the Leaf village. For Natsuki, returning home meant reliving the pain of the past. It was why she hadn’t wanted to come back. She would much rather throw herself into the rigor of the ANBU than process her emotions.
There wasn’t a lot of time to unpack trauma while running grueling intelligence missions or tracking rogue ninja through the howling tundra. Even in their downtime, she would train until her fingers bled from kunai nicks, or spar with Tenzo and Kakashi until they were so exhausted they could barely drag themselves back to the barracks.
She had completely thrown herself into the lifestyle. It was how she coped, how she avoided dealing with the past entirely.
Seeing the pain in her eyes made him feel a bit guilty about orchestrating her return. If he was lucky, she wouldn’t find out about his involvement for a long while. He could only imagine what she would do if she knew, and he suspected the interaction would end with him in an early grave.
It would be worth it , he thought, as he watched her stand in that classroom. Her copper hair was shimmering in the sunlight, still tucked into those two buns she always wore. Her caramel brown eyes were troubled, but they also held a warmth she only reserved for him.
Every muscle in his body was screaming for him to pull her against his chest, to feel the burn of her freckled skin against his, the tickle of her long bangs on his cheek. He wanted to brush his knuckles over her face and stroke the pale, raised skin of the scar that ran across it and ended at the edge of her jaw.
Gods, he had missed her.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
He blinked, taken aback at her sudden vulnerability. She wasn’t looking him in the eyes, choosing to stare down at the tiled floor instead.
A pang of nostalgia struck him at the sight. He was suddenly reminded of the first time he ever laid eyes on her. She had been avoiding his gaze then too, pressing herself tightly against Kushina’s pant leg.
Old habits die hard , he thought.
“Teach or be back in Konoha?”
“Both.”
“I can help.”
“With which one?”
“Either. You don’t have to do this on your own.”
“I’d rather-”
“Be alone?”
She paused, eyeing him warily.
“I know that’s what you’d prefer, but it’ll give us an excuse to catch up. Unless you’ve got better things to do.”
She shrugged, finally meeting his eyes once more. “I could pencil you in.”
He smiled. She couldn’t see it under his mask, of course, but she knew the telltale signs of Kakashi’s happiness, rare as it was. His eyes would crinkle, ever so slightly, and glint with something that hadn’t been there before.
As bittersweet as being back in Konoha was, she had missed Kakashi terribly. Not that she would ever admit that to him.
“Natsuki!!!”
A green blur burst through the doorway, nearly knocking Kakashi off his feet.
Gai Mighto tore into the room like a tornado, throwing his arms around her middle and scooping her right up off the ground.
“Old friend,” he breathed, twirling her in circles.
“Gai, put me down!”
He set her back onto the floor, giddy and nearly shaking with excitement. He was wearing his trademarked, dark green jumpsuit, and he was still sporting that old bowl-cut.
He looked exactly the same as he did all those years ago, on the day they first became a part of Kushina’s team, only older, and sized up a bit.
Some things really don’t change , she thought to herself.
“I’ve missed you so much! I’ve wondered how you’re doing, what kind of missions you’ve been on. Kakashi told me about the beasts in the snow. I want to hear all about it!”
She glanced over at Kakashi, who had righted himself and gone back to perching in the doorway. He’d talked about her with Gai?
Seeing her curiosity, he simply shrugged. She turned back to her former teammate.
“I missed you too, Gai.”
“We’ll need to pay Genma a visit! It’ll be just like old times.”
She nodded, knowing the last member of their squad would show his face sooner, rather than later. He became one of the Hokage’s personal bodyguards around the same time she had joined the ANBU. Last she heard, he was still at it.
“Oh! And I’ll have to introduce you to my team. Strongest genin in the village, those three. Kakashi’s team has got their work cut out for them!”
“Kakashi’s team?” Her eyes widened. “You passed a team?”
Though he had returned to Konoha a few years prior, Kakashi had failed every single student assigned to him.
Month after month, his letters would describe the inability of his students to work together, leaving them to be sent back to the academy. Natsuki had teased Kakashi relentlessly, insisting that he did it on purpose so he didn’t actually have to teach.
Kakashi shrugged. “I was just as surprised as you are. I wrote to you a few weeks ago, but I doubt the letter got there before you left.”
“Better for me to see it in person. I’m still not sure I believe it.”
“Just wait until you actually meet them.”
There was a sudden, wistful look in his eye.
“Tough group?”
“You’ll just have to see for yourself.”
“Well, I’ve got to meet my students at the training fields,” Gai announced. “Unless you’d like to join us for a sparring match? We could give them a taste of how fierce our team was, Natsuki!”
She smiled, ignoring the bittersweet ache in her chest. “Maybe another time.”
He ducked out. “See you later! Kakashi, be thinking about our next challenge! It’s your turn to pick!”
Gai disappeared down the hall, leaving the two of them standing there, alone.
“Can I walk you home?” Kakashi asked.
“You can walk me to Ibiki’s.”
Kakashi paled. “Seeing him so soon?”
“I’d like to surprise him. You don’t have to walk me…not if you’re scared.”
Kakashi scoffed. “I’m not scared of Ibiki.”
“Oh yeah? Then I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you had tea with us.”
“You know, I just remembered, I left my stove on-“
“Right. How about just walking me to the front yard?”
“That I can live with.”
They made small talk as they left the academy, walking side by side for the short time it took to get to Ibiki’s. They parted ways as she pushed open the front gate, with the promise of catching up soon.
He watched her go, hands tucked deep into his pockets, and briefly cursed Ibiki for living so close to the academy. There were so many questions and stories hovering on his lips, things he had longed to ask or tell her over the years that he couldn’t simply write in a letter.
It seemed like the universe was playing a cruel trick on him. Bringing Natsuki back to him, only to have such a brief reunion. Kakashi shook off the thought, trying to remind himself not to be so morose. They would have time to catch up soon enough.
He shuffled toward his apartment, but he was unable to shake the anxiety gnawing at him. He remembered the last conversation they had in person, a few years prior when he first learned he would be returning to Konoha. It quickly eroded into a bitter argument.
She hadn’t brought it up earlier, and they had written to each other since then, but Kakashi couldn’t help but wonder if it still tugged at her mind. He still regretted it, like he did most of the choices he had made in his life.
—
“I asked to stay.”
He felt like she had just punched him in the stomach.
“What?”
“I can’t go back to the Leaf. You know that.”
“You said you’d follow me anywhere.”
“Anywhere but there.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Please, Kakashi. Don’t ask me to do that.”
“What about your promise to Kushina? You told her you would protect Naruto. You can’t do that if you’re not in the Leaf.”
She bristled at the mention of her sensei. “The Hokage-“
“You and I both know Sarutobi won’t do anything to keep him safe.”
His voice was hard, bitter. She couldn’t deny it. She knew as well as he did that they were letting Naruto live as an orphan. His protection wasn’t exactly a priority, and being in the Leaf meant being close enough to keep an eye on him. But how could she face the boy?
He wasn’t even supposed to know who his parents were. How could she look Naruto in the eye and pretend that his mother hadn’t been the center of her world? And how could she be the one to watch over him when every glance reminded her of what she had lost?
“Why can’t you just face it, Natsuki?” He demanded. “You run from everything that’s hard.”
There was an audible click as she gritted her teeth. “Are you calling me a coward?”
“You’re acting like one.”
She stepped forward, her fists tightly curled and trembling. “Fuck you.”
She looked ready to lunge up and hit him. Kakashi didn’t care. If he had to land some low blows to convince her to follow him, he was willing to do it.
“I’ll drag you back to Konoha.”
“Try it then.”
Her fingers twitched toward the weapons pouch on her belt. She hadn’t even taken it off when she returned from her solo mission, a sign that she was already tense before she even walked through the door.
She was beginning to unravel, but Kakashi couldn’t stop. Why couldn’t she see that everything about the ANBU was making them worse? They were becoming more violent, more traumatized, more codependent.
As their skills and reputations grew, their missions had only gotten bloodier and more dangerous. She didn’t even care about the risk, and she didn’t see a problem with that.
“Why do you need this so badly?” He demanded.
“Need what? ”
“This!” He snatched her bloody vest from the floor and slammed it onto the coffee table in front of them. “The missions, the killing. Does it really change anything, Natsuki? Does it erase what they did to you?”
Something feral glinted in her eyes. He was backing her into a corner, and she was willing to scratch and claw to fight her way out.
For a moment, he was sure she would. He watched as her fingers twitched toward her weapons and readied himself for the blow. She never drew.
Instead, she took one firm step toward him, gazing up at him with a look he had never seen in her eyes before.
“I hate you.”
She hissed the words, and he winced, too stunned to try and hide it. It would have been less painful if she had stabbed him.
He watched, defeated, as she stalked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
—
She walked up the familiar stone path, having abandoned Kakashi a few minutes before they hit Ibiki’s block. She weaved past the waist high flowers and plants growing partially into the walkway. They were beautiful and well-tended, if not a little bit wild. She preferred them that way.
Her knuckles lightly rapped against the wooden door. She waited a few moments, hands tucked into her pockets. Finally, the door opened, revealing a looming figure with scars marring his cheeks. He was dressed in a dark coat, wearing his usual black cap and shinobi headband.
The neutral glare he always sported disappeared. He broke into a broad smile at the sight of her. “Natsuki.”
She bowed her head. “Hello, Ibiki.”
“They told me you were coming home. I didn’t believe it. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
Her smile fell for a moment. “It wasn’t optional.”
“I see. We can discuss it over tea, if you have time for it.”
“I always have time for you.”
Minutes later, she was seated in one of Ibiki’s creaky kitchen chairs. The aged oak table was the same as it always had been. She’d had many meals there, eating in comfortable silence over the years.
“So they’ve officially assigned you to the academy?” Ibiki asked.
He readied two teacups and set the kettle on the stove.
“Yes. I’ll be helping Iruka with some of his classes.”
“Iruka is a kind boy.” Ibiki slid in across from her. “Good with the children, if not a bit soft.”
“They probably need someone with a gentle touch. Which makes me wonder why they chose me…”
“You’ve got the talent, there’s no doubt about that. It may be good for you. Smooth out your edges.”
Her brow furrowed. “My edges?”
“It’s no secret that you struggle with restraint.”
Sweat began to pool at the base of her neck. She hadn’t been expecting a lecture from Ibiki so soon, though she supposed one was inevitable.
“Restraint? I-“
Ibiki raised one sharp eyebrow. She went silent.
“I’ve spoken with Hatake some over the years, since he’s returned. He mentioned you were lashing out, sometimes taking too much liberty with targets, or other criminals completely separate from the mission at hand.”
Her eyes widened. She couldn’t believe that Kakashi had spoken with Ibiki while she was away. And he had told him, of all people, what had happened on those missions? Ibiki had always been able to see right through her and cut her to the bone with his scathing honesty.
“He was concerned of course,” Ibiki continued. “And I admit what he said concerned me too. It’s something I’ve always feared might happen.”
She attempted to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. The disappointment in his eyes was shattering.
“I didn’t just fear for your safety in the ANBU, Natsuki. I feared what it might turn you into.”
“What do you mean?” she whispered.
“I know becoming a shinobi was important to you. Your desire to fight, your determination to survive…these things made you the perfect candidate, but they also put you at risk of losing your humanity.”
“Ibiki-”
“I never wanted that for you, Natsuki. I understand why you feel the way you do. I understand that what happened changed you. It doesn’t make you a bad person, but I’d hoped that over time, you could heal from it…that some day, you could have a peaceful life.”
She closed her eyes, bowing her head in shame. “I just don’t think that’s in the cards for me.”
“You’re still young.” His scarred hand closed gently around her own. “Being back home may change that…in time.”
She was silent, choosing to gaze down at the aging wood of the table instead of into his dark, intense eyes. She had no desire to see the hope they held, the hope she knew was wasted on her.
Ibiki cleared his throat. “I know Hatake has been looking forward to your return.
“I saw him briefly at the academy.”
He nodded. “He’s been begging the Hokage to reassign you.”
Her head whipped up. “What?”
The kettle began to whistle, causing a high-pitched whine to spread throughout the kitchen. Ibiki rose from the table and went to fiddle with their cups, his back to her.
“Ibiki,” she pressed. “He told you that?”
“He didn’t mention that when you saw him?” His tone was casual.
“No, he certainly didn’t.”
Ibiki hummed thoughtfully. He set the steaming cups down onto the table. “Forgive him for it, yes? I’m sure he missed your company. As I recall, the two of you were attached at the hip for years.”
“We were,” she said softly.
“Don’t dwell on it.” He patted her hand once more. “You should be thinking about your lesson plans. Would you like to borrow my kunai collection? The children would certainly love it.”
“I think we’re starting with something a little more basic.”
“Ah. Hand to hand combat?”
Natsuki laughed. “Balance and stretching.”
She and Ibiki caught up for the next couple of hours, going through the entire pot of tea. By the time she was getting ready to leave, the sun had set and the streetlights were glowing. After Ibiki walked her to the door, he lingered there for a moment.
“Don’t dwell on the past, Natsuki,” he called out. “ It’s time to move forward.”
—
Natsuki slipped through the door of the inn room, pulling off her mask. It was past midnight, and she hoped her teammates would have fallen asleep. Tenzo would surely be out by now, but Kakashi sometimes stayed up to read.
As she stepped through the pitch-black entryway, she began to feel lucky. Then, the dim light of a lamp flooded the room, startling her.
“Where were you?”
She cursed inwardly at the sound of Kakashi’s voice. He was sitting on the futon, cross-legged and facing the door.
So much for him being asleep.
“I was just getting some fresh air.”
“Then why is there blood in your hair?”
He rose from the couch, crossing the room toward her.
Natsuki ignored the question, continuing toward the bedroom. She was just beginning to brush past him when he caught her by the wrist.
Her gaze snapped toward him. He felt something inside him break at the sight. The look in her eyes was empty and cold, completely devoid of emotion. “Let me go.”
“Natsuki, what did you do?”
“Nothing.”
Kakashi’s jaw twitched under his mask. “Don’t lie to me.”
She glared at him, fighting to pull her arm away, but his grip only tightened.
“We can’t just go around killing whoever we like,” he snapped. “We have a mission to complete.”
“You don’t know what he was doing-”
“It doesn’t matter! You’re putting the mission at risk, putting yourself at risk-”
“I don’t care-”
“If something happened to you-”
“I can take care of myself, Kakashi.”
“But can you take care of the team? If not, you might as well just head back to base.”
She scoffed. “You wouldn’t-“
“I’ll kick you off this mission.”
“You can’t-”
“I’m your captain.”
Her eyes lit up with disdain . “You’d pull rank on me?”
“Only if you force me to.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, drawing one long breath in through her nose. “Yes, I killed him. But he was going to hurt that girl. I made sure he’ll never be able to do it again.”
Kakashi eyed her carefully. “I believe you.”
The breath she had been holding left her throat.
“But,” he continued. “I also know that’s what you’re looking for.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re not just going out for fresh air, Natsuki. You’re going hunting.”
She was silent. The only sound she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat.
“That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? You’re looking for someone to kill.”
“We kill all the time.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Not like this.”
“Is there really a difference, Kakashi?” she whispered. “At least this time, I’m doing what I know is right.”
He frowned. Questions like that were ones he tried not to think about.
Who was he kidding? They were ANBU operatives, and they had been for years. Morality had gone out the window a long time ago.
Kakashi was no stranger to senseless violence, and yet, there was something so unnerving about seeing Natsuki become a ghost of herself. He was watching her humanity slip away like sand through his fingers, watching his best friend become something he knew she wasn’t meant to be.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “What I do know is that I need you on my team. I need you to stop.”
“Alright,” she said softly. “I’ll stop.”
He opened his mouth to say something more, to urge her to tell him what was truly bothering her. Something was driving her to go off in the night and hunt for monsters, and not the kind that shinobi normally fought. This was something different from their missions.
Something else was fueling her blood-lust, and Kakashi would be damned if he let it take her from him.
“Natsuki-“
“I’m tired.”
She tugged her wrist from his loosened grip and disappeared into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Kakashi sank down onto the futon in defeat. He was already losing her.