#copycaat

kakashi's been gone one week and three days.

zabuza knows he's only gone to the land of iron to appease hayate. it's been years in the making, and not even a set of twins would stop hayate from dragging kakashi there. he has this way about ignoring kakashi's anxiety wherever their lineage is involved, and zabuza still can't figure out if it's good for kakashi or not.

clearly not for kitiara, if her dreams are anything to go by.

zabuza would be a lot more concerned if he weren't so used to it. kakashi's dreams have been vivid and bloody since long before they met. the land speaks to him sometimes, zabuza thinks, the same way the mist used to fill his lungs and whisper songs of change. perhaps his children were always going to be doomed, between the two of them.

she doesn't hesitate to wrap herself around him, an affectionate little thing when she isn't sinking her teeth into him and drawing blood. zabuza supposes those moments are just as affectionate, but there's something to be said about feeling those tiny hands seeking safety in his warmth.

sleep has evaded him tonight, which is why the late hour finds him in the kitchen, snacking on the jerky yamato's been making for kakashi since he was tenzo. it feels like a lifetime ago. he's been slipping pieces to bull as a thanks for keeping him company, and with kiti here now, zabuza makes a mental note to ask yamato for more tomorrow.

touching a gentle hand between her shoulderblades, zabuza holds her against him for a few moments before getting both hands beneath her arms to lift her up against him. she settles easily against his hip, face tucking immediately into his shoulder. she isn't scared, that much zabuza can tell; thrown a little off kilter, but nothing to suggest that she won't be able to get back to sleep. his daughter is strong in her will, taking all the strange in her life with a chin tipped high and determination in her gaze.

sometimes, though, a good cuddle is needed.

"the lantern festival in kiri is a few weeks away," he says, voice low and soft, even. always so soft for his children. "haku says preparations are going to schedule." the words get kiti to pull away from his neck just enough to peer at the jerky he's holding up for her, close enough that she can bite it without having to uncurl her fingers from where they dig into zabuza's bare skin. she chews thoughtfully, if not still a little tired.

"will papa be back by then," she asks, but it's oddly closer to a statement than a question. or maybe a demand. either way, zabuza knows it's hayate's fault.

"he should be, as long as your uncle isn't being insane." it's meant to be a joke, but both zabuza and kiti grimace at the thought, which then makes zabuza snort. sometimes he thinks his children got nothing from him but his looks (and even then, they still resemble kakashi so closely) until a late night like this, where he couldn't deny kiti if he tried. "he will be. you know he never misses it."

their kiri trips are frequent, even moreso now that the kids are old enough to really take it all in. zabuza is proud of his home, wants his children to be as proud in kiri as they are in konoha. it's not something he worries too much about, but it brings him a different kind of joy to be there with them.

feeding her another piece of jerky, zabuza decides to take the bag out to the living room, carrying kiti on his hip until they can settle down onto the couch. she fixes herself into his lap immediately, curling into his chest with enough space to still snack and to slip some to uhei, who had trotted out of the twins' room likely after kiti's prolonged absence.

"do you want to talk about it?" he asks after a while, nothing but the quiet sound of chewing filling the space around them. the dreams don't happen often, not as often as he remembers kakashi being afflicted, and it seems they mostly happen when kakashi isn't around. kiti gets contemplative about the things she dreams about, finding importance in every one unlike the way kakashi would completely ignore them. sometimes zabuza is curious, sometimes he just wants to make sure no one is hijacking her subconscious.

kiti shakes her head, which zabuza had been expecting. she'll likely tell him about the dream over breakfast if she remembers it, or use it to freak out her brother. zabuza thinks she only dreams like this when she misses her father, but he can't be too sure. he hums low and rumbling in acknowledgement. "alright, kid. finish your snack and you can sleep with me tonight," he says, as if she's ever needed permission to sneak herself into her parents' bed. as if zabuza would ever not want her or kai to do so.

she nibbles on the same piece of jerky for nearly five minutes, but zabuza doesn't rush her. cranes his neck to rest his cheek against the top of her head, turning just enough to press a kiss to the part in her hair. he thinks he could stay here like this forever.

Minato listens.

He does not interrupt.

He does, however, go completely, profoundly still in a way that suggests several internal systems have quietly shut down and are refusing to reboot.

Kakashi finishes.

There is a pause.

Minato straightens - slow, precise, every movement deliberate - hands folding neatly atop his paperwork like he is reassembling himself piece by piece.

“…I see,” he says.

A beat.

Then, very gently. Very firmly. Like a man drawing a line in the sand and choosing peace over knowledge:

“Thank you, Kakashi. That was…informative. I will now be choosing, for the sake of everyone involved, to proceed with a more…contained interpretation of events.”

He is going to pretend this knowledge does not exist. Although now one of the paragraphs in Jiraiya sensei's manuscripts makes an...extraordinary amount of sense.

@copycaat chose mischief!

Clearly, it's going to be the talk of the team for the week. As it should.

ㅤIt fits just right, as expected. Maybe just a tiiiiiny little bit too long at the hems, both the sleeves and the legs, but nothing to be troublesome. Easily snug into gloves and sandals, respectively. And it makes for an interesting monochromatic contrast, considering the color of the tactical vest.

«It is!»

ㅤWhether it'll last is a different story, mostly because Itachi isn't sure how insulated the fabric is and he would rather not test it amidst crippling heat or freezing cold — but he will bring it for the next mission, just like he promised Gai that he would. To act otherwise would be both disloyal and unyouthful.

ㅤWith a smile, he looks up at Kakashi; hands smoothing out over his forearms, realizing yet another advantage: fabric that does not get wrinkles! A blessing, really. «Do you think so? Perhaps I should only get a small clan crest on it for the time being, lest a large one get disfigured if I do any significant amount of growing in the upcoming months.»

𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 : 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑-𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 (every shade tells a story — of what’s been lost, what’s still loved, and what can’t be washed clean.)

❝ fine. ❞ [ . . . ] he crosses his arms, rather dramatically, gai put kakashi in charge, so lee had to, and would, LIKE THE GOOD SON HE WAS, listen to the sensei. but he would make it very clear that he'd rather not. his opinion would be known. ❝ at home we don't, we train every day!! ❞ if lee pushes himself, gai would be proud, and lee would get cuddles. if lee pushes himself here, he gets scoldings from his father's rival. it's not fair.