Father
Kizashi was a playful, childlike individual. Where his wife would be the straight man, in any other timeline, he would have been the fun parent.
He was treasured for this, despite his deeds as a shinobi. They all gained their quirks over time, whether they made it out of the Genin Corps or not.
However, his delightful nature sometimes got him into trouble.
As such: He was currently reaching to dip his fingers into the icing of this delicious smelling, vibrant cake that was in the kitchen. No matter the note of warning.
Sakura Only.
He had just taken a swipe and was about to stick his finger in his mouth, when a spatula came down hard on his hand.
“Do not,” his wife growled, both more menacingly and distantly horrified as he’d ever seen her.
He sent her a wounded, pitiful look, holding the reddening hand to his chest- amazingly free of icing. “But why?” the man-child with a sweet tooth pleaded. He didn’t expect an answer. He rarely got an answer for that.
But her gaze grew distant, and she replied. “It’s Sakura’s unbirthday cake, and if you were eat anything from there, I would never get you back again. You’re not a complete failure at being a sensor. Look at it again.”
And so Kizashi did, channeling the limited chakra he had in the fine tuned control he had mastered. What he found was unmistakable. The cake, as it were, did not quite exist to his senses. Yet it was a glowing beacon of- something. Something like nature chakra, something like yin chakra. Looking at it, he could feel himself being drawn, mesmerized.
A hand on his shoulder broke his concentration. A soft, gentle smile met his eyes. The wistful melancholy spoke a story to him. “It’s not for us,” the quiet voice came. “Never for us, no matter the beauty.”
“But..Sakura..?” he trailed off. He knew that his little girl was step out of sync- the child he thought was dead, brought to him a wise newborn.
“She was always going to be a part of both worlds,” Mebuki rebuked with that same tenderness. “I told you that from the start. But she’s here, and she’s ours too. We are blessed.”
Kizashi’s eyes were drawn to where his daughter played on their tiny porch, the air around her shifting like heat waves above a metal roof. He knew better now, to use his sensor talents on those empty yet not spaces. And at his core, he realized- she was only in this world for them. If anything were to happen to them, this world would never see her again.
“We need to ground her,” he whispered quietly. “We need to find ways to make this world hers as well.” If they were to go, they would also never see her again. There would be no reuniting in the Pure Lands.
“She’s almost school age now,” Mebuki contributed quietly.
“The civilians would never accept her,” Kizashi rebutted in a solemn tone.
Mebuki sighed then, understanding. “Then the Academy.”
“A year early, but yes,” Kizashi confirmed. “She may never blend, but she is loveable.”
“She’s not meant for violence,” his wife said, with a weary closing of eyes.
“I’m not sure any of us were,” he replied, embracing his wife. “But if anyone can change the meaning of this world..”
“It’s her,” she finished.
Kizashi had always been the childlike, playful father. But his eyes were the keenest of the two of them. Mebuki brought inner strength to the table, but Kizashi was always the genius. Wisdom and genius, Ravenclaw’s at their core.
And so it began.