#first child

Kakashi Hatake was not easily rattled. Not by S-rank missions, not by enemy ambushes, not even by Gai’s daily “training challenges.”But the tiny, red-faced bundle in his arms?Yeah… that was another story.He stared down at his daughter — his daughter — eyes blinking slowly at him, her little fist curled like she was ready to punch the world.“…Yo,” he muttered softly, unsure what else to say.The baby blinked once, then let out a squeaky sneeze.His heart stopped.“Wait—what was that? Was that normal? Do I call a medic?” he whispered, glancing around the room like ANBU backup would appear.From the bed, you groaned. “Kashi… she sneezed. That’s it. Relax.”“…I am relaxed,” he lied, while awkwardly adjusting his grip like she was a scroll full of explosive tags.Eventually, he sat in the rocking chair. His masked face softened — the way it only did when no one but you was watching — and he traced a single gloved finger against her tiny hand. She gripped it instantly, her fingers barely wrapping halfway around.“Guess you’ve got me already, huh?” he murmured.The baby yawned. He swore his heart did a somersault.He was still Kakashi Hatake — copy ninja, shinobi of the Leaf.But now… he was Papa.And nothing was more terrifying… or more perfect.The house was quiet when you and Kakashi returned from the hospital — quiet in that tense, new-parent way, like the air itself was holding its breath.Kakashi nudged the door shut with his heel, one hand cradling the baby, the other juggling a diaper bag.“Okay,” he muttered, scanning the place like it was a mission site. “Secure entry point… no enemy presence… living room clear.”You rolled your eyes. “It’s our house, not a battlefield.”“Not until she learns to walk,” he countered, nodding toward the bundle in his arms.The tour was slow. He took her to each room like she was some foreign dignitary.“This is the kitchen… where your mom will hide snacks from me.”You swatted him.“This is the bedroom… where I’ll pass out from exhaustion at least twice a week.”And finally — “This… is your room.”He stepped into the nursery. The crib was simple but warm, sunlight spilling across a mobile of tiny paper dogs. He set her gently inside — only for her to immediately fuss, her tiny hands reaching for him.“Uh-oh… guess we’re not ready for separation,” he sighed, scooping her back up.It was only when you started unpacking the diaper bag that you noticed him frozen by the rocking chair, staring down at her while you fed her.That unreadable mask-and-eye combo softened into something almost boyish, his gaze steady, like the entire world had shrunk to just this moment.“You’re staring,” you said.“Mm. Just making sure she’s… y’know. Real.”After feeding, it was clothes time. You handed him the tiniest onesie imaginable.“…This won’t fit,” he said flatly.“Kashi. It will.”Three minutes later, he’d somehow gotten her arm through the leg hole and was holding the onesie up like it had betrayed him.“She’s… slippery,” he muttered.And then — disaster.“Uh…”You turned.“She won’t let go of my finger… but I really need to—” he leaned closer, voice dropping like it was top-secret intel, “—take a piss.”You laughed so hard you nearly fell over.“Well, guess you’re holding it, Papa.”He groaned, trying to gently pry her tiny grip free without waking her, muttering about how this was worse than Gai’s training marathons. Eventually, he gave up, sinking into the couch with her still clinging on, his other knee bouncing impatiently.The crib could wait.