i.
“The library,” he repeats flatly.
“Why not?” Sensei asks, most of his torso swallowed up by the darkness under the porch. “You need a hobby.” Kakashi picks at the rough edge of a board, squinting against the sun.
“I’m fine.” It’s not even a lie. He goes to the market and does his doctor approved training and chips away at the never ending task of making the Hatake compound slightly less derelict. When Gai made him and Asuma Konoha Taijutsu Club t-shirts he barely even protested! So what if he might never get his chakra back? He doesn’t need to work at the library.
“Ah ha!” Sensei grunts and then wiggles out from underneath the porch; his hair is full of cobwebs and there’s mud smeared all down the front of his shirt. One of Kushina’s earrings sits in the middle of his grubby palm. “Got it.”
“Isn’t this what genin are for?” Surely somebody’s job is to crawl under porches for lost jewelry so the Hokage doesn’t look like an idiot?
“All of mine grew up and left ungrateful teenagers in their place,” Sensei says mournfully. “They don’t warn you about that.” He laughs off Kakashi’s glare, pushing himself to his feet. “Think about the hobby - it doesn’t have to be the library, just something you’ll enjoy doing.”
“I don’t -” Sensei raises his eyebrow pointedly. Which, fine, maybe Kakashi is the one hanging around his house on a Tuesday afternoon watching him rescue Kushina’s lost earring. “I’ll think about it,” he bites out.
He’s got nothing but time anyway.
ii.
He swears he sees Kinoe sometimes out of the corner of his eye - in the crowded stalls of the market or crouched on the corner of a roof - but when he turns to look he’s never there. Sensei scrubs through the personnel records but there has never been a Konoha shinobi registered officially, or unofficially, under the name Kinoe. Whoever the boy had been, however he’d gotten tangled up in the Root tunnels, he won’t be found easily; it bothers him like a loose tooth.
“Were you friends?” Rin asks as they flip through old bingo books. The sketch Kakashi made of Kinoe’s face sits between them with an expression of faint disapproval.
“No,” he says automatically. It wasn’t anything as neat or as simple as that, but… Kinoe’s absence - his erasure - feels like a loss of something important, something he doesn’t know how to articulate or let go of. “He got me out.” Maybe he could get me back, Kakashi doesn’t say. It’s a fool’s hope and inaccurate besides. The boy Kakashi had been last year was never coming back, but the fact remains: he can no more forget Kinoe than he could Obito or Rin.
“You feel like you owe him a debt?”
“Maybe?” He thinks of a hand reaching for his in the dark. The edge of his scar itches fiercely and he scrubs a hand over it. “It just feels unfinished,” he mutters. Outside, clouds chase each other across a grey sky.
iii.
Every morning he stares at the stain on the north corner of the ceiling. For the ten minutes between when he wakes and when he hears the kettle whistle in the kitchen he tries to convince himself that it means something, that any of this means something. Some days it works; some days he rolls over and goes back to sleep.
iv.
Thursdays are the worst. Kushina greets him in the kitchen with the nastiest tea in the world and only grins at him when he refuses to flinch while drinking it. If he were in the business of herbal remedies he would be smart enough to make them taste better that’s all. Sure, it generally stops him from puking while Kushina rummages around in his guts, but that’s a low bar.
“We’re experimenting today.” He blinks at her; all they do is experiment. “Ba, a different approach. Minato’s going to help.” Sensei, on cue, pokes his head around the corner.
“Ready? I have a meeting at 10 that I can’t miss.” Kushina quirks an eyebrow at Kakashi and he knocks back the rest of the tea.
“Ready,” Kakashi says and follows them out into the garden. It’s already humid outside and the insects buzz lazily among the bushes; a bead of sweat rolls down the back of his neck.
“Okay,” Kushina says, flopping down onto one of the cushions arranged beside the fountain. “Our problem is that too much natural energy will kill you. So we’ve been trying to prevent the absorption of natural energy at all. Which, I’m not saying is impossible, but is… difficult given we’re only working with half the information. Speaking of - have we had any luck with reaching Tsunade?” Sensei grimaces.
“Not yet.” Kushina mutters something that sounds suspiciously like drunken coward before waving a hand.
“Pft, anyway, what we haven’t tried at all yet is seeing if you could use it and balance the energy that way.”
“Didn’t we? The seal modifies the energy and Fukasaku didn’t think traditional senjutsu would work.” Sensei grins, pulling a sheet of paper out of his pocket.
“We believe - “
“Know,” Kushina cuts in witheringly.
“ - that we can disable that part of the seal without any blowback.” Kakashi forces his face into stillness, turning the problem over in his head.
“I’m no sage.” He doesn’t have the typical makings of one either. His chakra stores aren’t small, but it’s unlikely he’ll wind up more than a few points above average.
“One thing at a time,” Sensei says. “It’s worth knowing if it’s an option at all.” And that’s - yeah. It’s just another experiment. He shoves the knot of emotions in his stomach down.
“Okay.” He braces his palms on his thighs. “Let’s do it.”
Later, riding the high of power and energy that a brief dose of chakra brings, Kakashi pukes into the bushes. The world’s already dulling in the corners of his vision, but Sensei’s arm is strong against his back as he holds him up.
“That was terrible,” Kakashi mutters, squeezing his eyes shut as the world wobbles; he feels more like himself than he has in months. There’s a desperate, sawing hope in between his fifth and sixth rib that he can barely breathe around. Sensei’s gaze burns against the back of his neck like he knows.
“Could have been worse - I wasn’t hitting you with a stick.” Kakashi squints up at him. Maybe they’re all losing it, drunk on the slightest hint of a breakthrough.
“Okay, Sensei,” he says, generously, and hides his smile against the back of his wrist.
v.
“What,” Obito gasps, leaning over to brace his hands against his knees. The flush across his cheeks could be exertion or sunburn or, most likely, some combination of the two. Kakashi lets the handles of his own cart drop back to the ground and wipes the sweat from his forehead. “What are you even doing with all this stuff?”
“Farming.” Obito looks at him like he’s grown three heads.
“Farming.” Kakashi’s not wearing his hitai-ate today and he raises his eyebrow in a way he knows makes his scar look particularly ghoulish; Obito makes a face at him. “You’re farming.” Kakashi surveys the collection of lumber in their carts and shrugs, picking the handles back up.
“Rotted fence,” he says and starts walking before Obito can protest. By the time they reach the Hatake compound it’s just shy of lunch and the sun is an oppressive weight against their backs. He unlocks the main gate and shoves it open, waving Obito through. The cart he’s hauling has a squeaky back axel that Kakashi really should look at. He stops next to the first house, the one Kakashi’s been storing most of his tools in, and looks around in obvious curiosity. Kakashi tries to ignore how it itches; they know he’s been spending time here again, it’s not that exciting.
“It’s different than I expected,” he says eventually. Kakashi shrugs and begins stacking the lumber on the porch. “It’s nice. Hey.” He catches the other end of the board and refuses to let go when Kakashi tugs. “Show me your plants?” He’s got a stubborn tilt to his jaw and Kakashi swallows a sigh.
“Fine.” Obito’s mercifully silent on their walk to the southern field. They have to climb over the fence - rotted and listing strongly toward the ground - to reach the section Kakashi had managed to clear and his five spindly plants. Obito squats down to run a finger over the leaves.
“Peppers?”
“I found the seeds in a cellar.” He shades his eye from the sun, watching a hawk wheel overhead. “Shishitos.”
“My mom has a bunch. Here, look.” He motions Kakashi down and points to the top cluster of leaves. “You pinch off the tops to force the plants to branch, it helps with their stability later.” His hands are smooth and practiced; Kakashi frowns. Obito catches him at it and laughs, rocking back onto his heels. “I help my mom a lot with the garden. It’s fun, watching things grow.” Kakashi thinks about wrestling the weeds free of the soil and pouring water faithfully into the earth to see if anything would take. This is maybe the only dirt in Fire that has claimed his blood outside of a fight.
“Ma,” he says, pinching the top off another plant. “It’s not bad.”
vi.
Per official Konoha record, Hatake Kakashi is inactive due to injuries sustained on a mission to Wind. Unofficially, his colleagues are led to believe experimental ninjutsu damaged the chakra coils in his hands. Lack of caution, the old shinobi say, is frequently the downfall of prodigies. He can’t decide if he hates their newfound pity more than he did their derision.
vii.
The first time they manage it, chakra humming through him as Sensei funnels the natural energy smoothly out of his right palm, Kakashi cries. Neither Sensei nor Kushina say anything, but he can feel the moisture seeping into the top edge of his mask. He closes his eye against the brightness of the sun and inhales the rich complexity of the training ground.
“Now, Kakashi,” Sensei says and Kakashi channels sparks into his fingers. It feels like the snap of resetting bone; it hurts like being made anew. Kushina gives him five whole minutes before tightening the chakra drain back into place. Still buzzing, Kakashi slumps backward into the grass.
“Kakashi?”
“I’m fine.” He breathes steadily until he can swallow down the lump in his throat. The sky, when he opens his eyes, is a bright, endless blue. Somewhere in the trees two squirrels are bickering. “It worked.” There are still a hundred different issues - not knowing senjutsu, how to control the amount of natural energy, etc etc - but it worked. This dull and empty shell isn’t the only thing left for him. Sensei leans into his sightline; the senjutsu almost makes him glow, his eyes glacier blue.
“Again?” he asks, extending a hand, and laughter slips out of Kakashi’s throat before he can stop it.
“Yes,” he says and lets Sensei haul him up. Again and again, however long it takes.
viii.
“Daen and Mei broke up,” Rin whispers, sliding into the booth and stealing a piece of meat off of Obito’s plate. “Genma overhead them this morning at the mission desk and apparently it was ugly. ” Obito groans.
“They couldn’t have made it two more weeks?” Rin, 500 ryo richer than she was this morning, laughs and pinches his cheek.
“Better luck next time, Obito-kun.”
“Piss off,” he grumbles, batting her hand away. Kakashi marvels at the professionalism of the shinobi corps everyday.
“How was the lecture?” he asks before they can devolve further. Rin see-saws her hand as she chews.
“Some interesting theoretical applications of LYC-40, which is the main compound in a soldier pill, but they haven’t overcome the issue of chakra induced cell death. We just don’t have the ability to target it like we need to yet. They say Tsunade could, but…” She shrugs and scrapes back her hair into a ponytail. “Oh! Asuma was there because his cousin was on the core research time, said to tell you that he’s not going to be in town next week?”
“For taijutsu,” he clarifies. No one deserves to be stranded with the entirety of Might Gai’s enthusiasm. “Either of you want to come?”
“What day?” Obito asks.
“Tuesday morning, training ground six.”
“Sure, why not.”
“I’ll bring lunch after,” Rin says, biting her lip.
“And a stretcher,” Kakashi mutters and dodges the napkin Obito throws at him; Rin laughs.
(She brings enough lunch to feed an army and her camera. A few weeks later he finds the photo of them staggering home - Obito’s arms stretched over Kakashi’s and Gai’s shoulders - taped next to their chunin team photo in his room.)
ix.
There’s a tree Kakashi doesn’t recognize right outside the southwest edge of the Hatake compound. It looks like a bao li, but it’s too thick to have grown in during the last seven years. When he lays on the roof of his once home it shades him from the afternoon sun. He contemplates, more than once, trying to figure out who owns the land it sits on. A cluster of maples on the far side of the compound are dying, diseased in some way, and he could use a fast growing tree to replace them. The leaves sway in the breeze and he shuts his eyes; maybe next year.
x.
“It’ll be different than you’re used to,” Sensei says. He tips the vial of Kakashi’s blood into the ink and swirls them together.
“How so?”
“Hmm.” He taps the end of his brush against his lip. “If you think of most sensors as being able to see the stars on a regular night, senjutsu is like being able to see every star visible on the new moon. Overwhelming at first.”
“How far is your range?”
“I’ve never measured exactly - over a quarter kilometer. Maybe half? If we’ve calibrated the seal correctly yours should be under 20 meters to start with. We don’t want to tie too much of your chakra up in the seal itself. Ready?” Kakashi nods; the ink’s cold as it goes onto his chest, spiraling out across his shoulder.
“Tighter there,” Kushina says, leaning over Sensei’s shoulder, pointing at Kakashi’s clavicle.
“One fuinjutsu master per seal,” Sensei mutters, blowing hair out of his eyes, and Kushina winks at Kakashi.
“I thought you were the sage tonight.” Sensei growls and Kushina smacks a kiss against his cheek; Kakashi rolls his eye pointedly. Despite their bickering, Sensei waits for Kushina to nod before he sets the ink down.
“Ready?”
“Ready,” Kakashi says and Sensei pushes senjutsu chakra into his chest. There’s a cold burn and then the world explodes into light.
+i.
He’s in the tunnels again, rock pressing in on either side of him. Somewhere in front of him water drips.
“Kinoe,” he whispers into the darkness and suddenly he’s there, breath puffing against Kakashi’s cheek.
“Shut up,” he hisses. “They’re coming.” He grabs Kakashi’s shoulder -
Kakashi jolts awake and throws his weight against the shape looming over him, barely managing to palm a kunai before they tumble over. There’s a grunt and they roll twice more as Kakashi blinks spots out of his vision. Everything is so bright , pressing in on him. Someone - Sensei? - shouts in the hallway and, moving with a terrible sense of familiarity, Kakashi presses his blade to the person’s throat just as cool steel rests against his own. Neither of them breathe. He squints - brown hair, brown eyes, and…
“Kinoe,” he says and the room descends into chaos.