' &. if you falter, i'll be there

    “Here. Have some sake. It always helps me. And if you want to talk, well, I’ll listen.”

Giving a sigh, the man would lower himself down to seat next to her before accepting the offered sake with a small, grateful smile. Mumbling out a quiet thanks, he would wave one hand idly before slumping forward.  

The moment he sees his son beginning to tug his mask downwards, Sakumo knows he’s lost their months long battle. It seems ever since the war ended, and even on occasion beforehand, all Kakashi has wanted to talk about is Sakumo retiring from the shinobi force. Constant ‘you’re not getting any younger, dad’ conversations had been met with an equal amount of stubbornness from the man. If Kakashi assumed he would simply stand back and allow himself to be taken off of missions, he had another thing coming. 

But, after a while of it, Sakumo had (unsurprisingly) began to falter in his stance. First and foremost, he was Kakashi’s father. And with the war ended and a new era of peace on the horizon, Sakumo could justify his need to be an option for the higher-ups less and less. A fact that, once apparent, his son had jumped on. Honestly, why did he have to go and raise a kid that was smarter than he was?

❝ There really is no changing your mind on this, is there? ❞ It’s accompanied by a sigh and then a hand scrubbed over the lower half of his face. His son’s newly appointed rank of Hokage aside, he really couldn’t say no when he looked like the splitting image of his mother. Dammit.

Still, he meets his request with hesitance and soon enough, their eye contact is broken as he ducks his head. Retirement? For him? He never figured he would see the day. What was he even supposed to do with all the free time that gave him? Take up a board game? 

A huff of hot air and he’s throwing his hands up slightly, the silence finally breaking as he caves.

❝ Okay, fine. Fine! But, you have to promise to come to me if you ever need help with anything, alright? And I do mean anything, Kakashi. Missions, village decisions, wedding plans, what to have for dinner, any of it. If you promise that then I’ll let you have this like the push-over I am. ❞

Sentence Starter Meme | | Currently: Accepting!

If you had asked Sakumo what he would be doing at the height of his career, babysitting likely wasn’t one of the things he would have thought to mention. But, as a lazy Saturday morning turns into afternoon, that’s precisely where he finds himself, book on one side and an excited looking Rin Nohara on the other. Honestly, it’s refreshing to be able to read to a kid that wouldn’t hurry him along or, worse, insist that they read it to Sakumo instead of vice versa. 

Still, old habits die hard and he can’t help but slip into his habit of analyzing the book as he finishes. A question, innocent enough in nature while still being serious, and he’s met with an…interesting response. There’s a slow blink followed closely by a chuckle before he’s ruffling up her hair, albeit gently.

❝ I’m not so sure that’s what the author was going for but you know what? I like your answer a lot more, Rin.  ❞ Another chuckle that trails after his words and he’s closing the children’s book in hand, setting it aside. Honestly, he should have expected such an answer when asking a question like ‘what do you think the moral of this story was?’ to a five year old. Not everything had to be about logic with every child, it seemed. 

Shifting after setting the book in it’s rightful place, he would give the girl a grin before moving to a low squat down beside her. Cue a thoughtful hum and he tapping his chin in a particularly dramatic manner. The action lasts only a few seconds before he’s gasping, both his eyes going wide.

starter for @chidorikiller​ !

The last thing he remembers is a fall. A wound to the chest, clean and precise enough to contrast perfectly with the last of his days. He remembers laying there on the floor of his home (the first he had ever bought!) and he remembers the feeling of relief where pain should be. It was over. He finally he could give in and accept he had failed, that he hadn’t been strong enough to stand against the constant ridicule and scorn of those he had only wanted to protect. 

His last thoughts had been ones of remorse, several silent, unheard apologies to his son. For leaving him so soon, for not being able to grin and bear anymore and for breaking countless promises that he would always be there to support him. Sakumo is weak, painfully so, but he knows Kakashi won’t be. He’s last of the Hatake line now and as Sakumo’s vision blurs and then fades, he can’t think of a better son to carry on their name.

Just as all things end, it seemed they were also prone to suddenly beginning again. 

He awakes with a start, breath hurried and desperate as his heart thrums rapidly as if he hasn’t taken a single breath in thirty or more years. Which, with one look cast toward his surroundings, really doesn’t seem that far off the mark. It’s Konoha, of that there’s no denying, but it isn’t his Konoha. Not the one he had left all of those years ago. The trees may be the same but the houses aren’t, the Hokage mountain in the distance has too many faces but is still so painfully familiar even with the lack of space. 

His breathing regulates as he takes in all of the details, no matter how minor. He’s calmer now, more grou -- breathing? There’s a moment to check, slightly trembling fingers pressing flat against the pulse-point in his neck before withdrawing with a small, nearly inaudible gasp. What sort of dead person breathes? That’s -- ... he shouldn’t be doing that, now should he?

He stands quickly, ignoring the way his bones ache and how he stumbles for the first few steps like he’s still not used to walking. He isn’t used to walking, hasn’t had to do it in what was possibly decades now. And walk he does, without thought or concern for where he may end himself up. There’s a pull that keeps him going forward, through crowded streets and narrow alleyways until he’s standing before a familiar house.

His house. The one he had raised Kakashi in, the one that had seen so much sadness and so much happiness. It looks the same as it always had. Houses didn’t just keep themselves running, now did they? Just as dead men shouldn’t suddenly be alive again. Just what was going on?

Any further analyses of his situation is promptly cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps behind himself. Ones that are entirely too close for him rush off and hide before being spotted. At least, not with the way he’s still sluggish and unsure of his movements. So, instead of run, he simply tenses and readies himself for confrontation. If this is somebody else’s home now, he’s the intruder. He would just have to come up with a believable excuse.

❝ Are you the owner of this home? I apologize for trespassing, if so, I was just passing by wh--... ❞ Any further excuse is dying upon his lips when he finally turns to look at the stranger head-on. No, not stranger. Even if he seems older, both in the way of how he’s now much taller and in what he can see of his face, there’s no denying he knows this man. A shaking breath and eyes are narrowing, albeit only slightly.

// @honormourn​ cont. {x}

Oh, he’s deadly serious. 

At least, about as serious as one can be when one also happens to be several flasks of potent sake into the evening. Is it evening? Well, it’s definitely not the morning, so that’s fine either way.

That aside, Jiraiya–in the moment after he decides this is a very clever and good joke to make, and just goes ahead and actually says it–flashes Sakumo a beaming grin before lifting his bowl and slurping down that Mighty Good Soup. And it really is mighty good. The sheer amount of sodium alone should soak up all the alcohol just right (not to mention every last drop of moisture in his body).

Any bemusement on his friend’s part is lost on him in this more-than-tipsy state, and in all honesty he’d probably just laugh it off jovially if his blunder was pointed out. Jiraiya may not genuinely be as dense as he tended to play up, but he was used to the teasing from his slightly smarter teammates to the point where he seldom took offence at any jab, no matter how ruthless it seemed to those outside of their weird, bickering trio.

With his bowl now empty, he slams it down on the table, then downs his current beverage, which promptly joins it with a much quieter but no less enthusiastic clack!

“Hell yeah I am, this place is one of the best!” He answers, with a touch of what seems to be affront, for no discernible reason whatsoever. Then realisation hits, and his face lights up with boyish glee. “Wait, you’re kidding–really?! Well in that case…” He raises both hands either side of his mouth, and booms out to the chef, who is only behind the counter several feet away, “more tonkotsu ramen over here!!! But hold the MG…S…M… uhh, G! Oh, and more sake for this generous gentleman’s bill too, eh?”

He shoots Sakumo a knowing wink upon making the latter request–a subtle ‘don’t worry, the drinks are on me’. Needless to say, his entire presence (which was already big enough without being sloshed and rambunctious on top of it) had drawn a couple of gazes from around the place. Luckily for Sakumo, this is only a casual little stand… but with that comes the downside of the seating being closely spaced, meaning it’s extra easy for Jiraiya to drape a large arm over his old friend’s shoulder and lean in with even less regard for personal space than usual.

“Let’s be serious for a minute though Hatake–how long’s it been since we last hung out? Actually, don’t answer that. Too long’s the answer. It’s unacceptable, that’s what it is, wars and kids or not!” The sage cocks his head with a playful curl to his lips, possibly the only indicator that he isn’t genuinely being an abrasive bastard, no matter how it sounds–that, along with the fact his eyes soften upon his own allusion to a certain mini-Hatake, of course. 

“Say… how is the lil pup, anyway?”

In all honesty, Sakumo couldn’t quite recall the last time he had allowed himself time to go out and about without the addition of his son. It seemed that ever since becoming a father, his life had been all but consumed by either child care or running missions. A lifestyle that, while definitely rewarding, hardly left him much time for a social life outside of said missions. On occasion, it felt almost cold. Or, perhaps, lonely would be a better term for it? There were only so many conversations you could hold with a toddler, child genius or not.

Which is likely why he can’t help but meet Jiraiya’s glee with anything short of fondness. He’s never been the loud type himself, ever since boyhood he’s preferred the exact opposite, actually. A quiet, lazy afternoon leading into having a few drinks with work acquaintances was where he shined. But there’s no denying his friend’s energy is infectious, every grin and laugh from him drawing forth a quiet chuckle from Sakumo in turn. In his own manner, Jiraiya is an easy presence to be around.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to allow himself the occasional night off from responsibility. It’s a feeling that’s long since settled in but one that kept growing in conviction. He was allowed to just be himself sometimes, he didn’t have to be a legacy holder every waking moment. It’s a freeing thing.

However, his attention is soon slipping from the realization to instead focus back in on his friend as he begins to yell across the already closely packed ramen stand. Okay, so maybe their differences in default volumes would take some getting used to but it still was hardly enough to make him feel more than the slight rush of embarrassment. A rush that increases a bit more when he notes the scattered gazes being thrown their direction. Their respective reputations aside, wasn’t it a bit rude to be so loud? Maybe he was just uptight these days since he spent most of his time in either work mode or father mode, though.

In the place of any comment on the volume, the Hatake is instead moving to wave a hand in dismissal at the Sannin’s words. Despite it, there’s an undeniable start of a grin on his face accompanied by a habitual scrunching up of his nose. 

❝ Did you know my own son bullies me? He’s barely even four and already I’m fearing for how his teen years will turn out. Perhaps it’s karma for me not coming around, huh? ❞ Even with his words, as borderline whining as they may seem, the grin only softens into a fond smile as his shoulders relax a bit. For the time being, he’s abandoned the bowl of slowly cooling ramen, currently far too focused on the catching up aspect of their meeting.

starter for @sennenryuu !

Kurogane Chitose. It’s a name he’s heard uttered more than a few times whenever he’s in or around the mission room. Though, he still couldn’t entirely discern if the reason he heard so much about her was because she was becoming something of a village phenomenon via the rumor mill or if the reason was Sakumo’s interest being piqued by her arrival. Everything about the girl that he had overheard so far ignited some sort of parental streak within himself, the main flare undoubtedly stemming from the fact she was nearly the same age as his son. 

So, when the call for a team to assemble with the addition of Chitose managed to reach him, he had naturally volunteered with a distinct lack of hesitation. The mission itself was simple enough, more of a test to see both her abilities and loyalties in action rather than assert the village’s own power. A two bird with one stone situation that any other time, Sakumo likely would have passed up. This obviously wasn’t the same as any other time, however. 

Putting aside his own curiosity at what she had up her sleeve, Sakumo genuinely couldn’t bring himself to turn a blind eye and potentially leave her to fend for herself among squad mates who weren’t as empathetic toward immigrating into new places.

All in all, that’s how he finds himself at the dawn of a new day, a fully stocked pack upon his back and his arms folded across his chest as he awaits the arrival of their other teammates. A fact that’s quickly voided by the approach of said teammates, his arms loosening so he can instead offer a hand up in a wave.

❝ Well, Young Man, do believe me when I say I wouldn’t blame you a bit for doing so. Though, I must warn you my son is a bit … possessive when it comes to those books. ❞  There’s a momentary falter in his polite smile, as if he’s recalling an unpleasant memory, before it’s flickering away almost as soon as it arrived. Surely Kakashi would go easier on his students than his father, right? Especially over something as silly as a book series. 

On second thought, he wasn’t so sure his son would.

A nervous laugh paired with a scratch to his temple and Sakumo’s tilting his head to the side, curious. Or does he look more cautious? How was he supposed to explain to this boy that his son’s attachment to his books ran much deeper than simply reading them all the time?

Sentence Starter Meme | | Currently: Accepting!

Honest to goodness, Sakumo had only ever tried to do his best when raising Kakashi. Sure, there were times when he likely should have been a bit tougher on him as a child, but all in all, the Hatake figured he had done fairly well for being a single father. 

Or, rather, he always assumed he had done just fine up until the moment Kakashi comes bursting in their front door one quiet spring afternoon, declaring loudly that he has a warrant out. Then, and only then, does Sakumo begin wondering if he actually had done as good of a job as he initially thought. Not that that had any business being analyzed at the moment.

A long-suffering sigh that’s followed closely by him doing his best to maintain his calm in the form of scrubbing both hands over his face several times. It’s fine, he’s sure Kakashi just misunderstood the charges. Probably. However, there’s no thought to even question the legitimacy of his son’s statement – as Kakashi always said, he didn’t enjoy jokes at his own expense – even as he raises up and rushes over. 

First, a scan to make sure there weren’t any injuries that needed treatment on the visible parts of Kakashi’s body. Then, after confirming a lack of immediate danger, he’s moving to wrap an arm around his son’s shoulders to guide him into the front room. The contact lingers even as he moves to sit them both down, side by side and leaning against the base of the couch. A gentle pat to the crown of silver hair and he’s sighing again, this time lighter.

Here went nothing.

Sentence Starter Meme | | Currently: Accepting!

All things considered, Sakumo was currently terrified. In fact, he couldn’t recall when he had last time he had felt his heart race quite like it was doing at the moment. Hiding out from enemy shinobi and going on mission after life-threatening mission truly had nothing on the murky, greenish orange liquid that sat on the coffee table before him. Watching him. Waiting.

A sigh, both shaky and tired at the same time, and he’s turning his gaze to the drink’s creator with a look that’s borderline pleading. A silent request for his son to not make him drink yet another kitchen concoction. This was, after all, the thirteenth this week. Surely he had enough empathy to see his old man in distress and find some other poor soul to do this to?

The look doesn’t even begin to phase Kakashi.

❝ Young Sir, if I may be so bold, what exactly is in this… creation of yours this time? ❞ Another glance toward the offensive beverage and his pleading expression is only increasing. As luck would have it, it seems his son’s apparent delight only grows with Sakumo’s desperation. A fact that’s all but confirmed as Kakashi speaks again, this time more insistent. And insulting. If being called an armadillo could really be counted as an insult, he supposed. He certainly felt insulted.

❝ Is that a no from you?❞ Another sigh and he’s shifting to fully look at his son. Here goes one last attempt. All or nothing.

Sentence Starter Meme | | Currently: Accepting!

There’s a slow blink that follows the Sannin’s words, equal parts confused and somewhat taken aback at not only Jiraiya suddenly speaking, but the words he actually speaks. Said confusion leaks into his entire expression and soon enough, he’s lowering his chopsticks down to rest upon the rim of his bowl of ramen. Was … he being serious right now? Sakumo honestly struggled to tell most of the time with the Sannin given his usual exuberant nature. Still, Jiraiya was smart, perhaps among the smartest of the village in his own way, so surely he knew that wasn’t correct? … Right? 

Either way, Sakumo didn’t think he could bring himself to rain on the man’s parade, serious or not. And what was the harm in letting him not know if he was being serious? So, instead, he’s simply opting to pick his chopsticks up once more with a small smile that grows as he offers a stream of noodles up in a toast of sorts. Now was a time to relax, not get into arguments over small things.