Chapter 1
Kakashi's head throbbed as he blinked against the harsh light, his consciousness slowly returning. The last thing he remembered was donning his old Sukea disguise for one final game of “unmask Kakashi” with his students before passing the Hokage title to Naruto and consigning the poor kid to a lifetime of paperwork. He vaguely remembers ‘accidentally’ fumbling the last shot his camera could take after a day of running around, then Sasuke’s finely honed patience snapping and a flash of… red?
With a groan, he attempted to sit up, feeling like something was weighing him down.
Blinking against the harsh light, he surveyed his surroundings, but nothing made sense. The village before him appeared different, and the buildings looked older, like they had done before most of the reconstruction efforts. From where the Hokage mountain looms above them, only 3 faces seem to watch over the village. Minato’s head was nowhere in sight.
Panic surged through Kakashi and he quickly tried to scramble up only to find himself tripping on his clothes. It feels odd to say, but was the ground always so close? His confusion deepened as Kakashi's gaze fell to the sleeves bracing him against the ground—they bore a striking resemblance to his Sukea disguise, but they were sized for someone much larger than him.
With trembling hands, he freed his hands from the sleeves, only to discover something even more unsettling: his hands, once weathered and scarred from years of battle, were now small and only lightly calloused. He stared at them in disbelief, as if seeing them for the first time. These were the hands of a young shinobi, they hadn’t looked like this in decades.
Desperation clawed at Kakashi as he attempted to dispel the illusion, folding the little hands to focus his chakra and muttering “Kai”. Yet, the world around him remained unchanged.
A chill ran down Kakashi's spine as realization dawned upon him. Somehow, inexplicably, he had been transported back in time,
"What a way to start my retirement..." Kakashi muttered incredulously to himself, his mind reeling with the absurdity of the situation.
He’s lost on what to do next. He tries to pinpoint his age. Surely genin, but the exact age eluded him, however, he was sure he must be living alone and at the beginning of his shinobi career just by the few calluses he had.
Focusing on practicality, Kakashi formulated a plan. He needed to blend seamlessly into the life of his younger self, starting with changing into clothes that fit. With a sense of urgency, he shoved the cumbersome parts of his outfit into his camera bag, leaving himself clad in oversized pants, a t-shirt, and a scarf, along with the wig to maintain some semblance of dignity since he didn’t have a mask.
Rolling up his pant legs to prevent tripping, Kakashi glanced down at his shoes—far too large for his current form. With a resigned sigh, he abandoned them, opting to navigate the rooftops with nimble precision. His chakra is low but he’s worked with lower when he still had Obito’s sharingan in his head.
He idly picks off the paint from his face as he tries to reorient himself with a village layout that hasn’t been like this for the better half of a decade from Kakashi’s point of view, trying to find his apartment.
Entering through the window with practised ease, Kakashi scanned the room, noting its stark emptiness. It is so unlike the cluttered space it will become, as this room seemed sterile, devoid of personal touches. The room was barren—no bookshelves cluttered with Icha Icha, no collections of plants and no knickknacks from friends. Just sterile training manuals on the shelves and a bed neatly made. It was exactly how he remembered his childhood room.
With a sigh he starts rummaging through his meagre possessions for a spare outfit to wear, however, his task is interrupted by the sound of the door clicking unlocked. He turns to look at this intruder to find another Kakashi. The two of them blink in confusion at each other until the other one springs into action.
Dodging the attack with ease, Kakashi realized this must be the current him… Is he an additional Kakashi? He mused. The child is still attacking and though the child possessed skill, Kakashi's years of experience allowed him to evade the strikes effortlessly.
“Mind if you stop attacking?” he attempted to defuse the situation, “I’m sure this can be talked out,” Kakashi suggested, hoping to avoid a brawl. Kakashi spoke calmly, but his words only seemed to agitate his younger self further, the boy lunges and in the process of ducking out of the way he finds himself tripping up on his scarf
Kakashi finds himself being pinned to the ground with surprising strength “Talk?! Who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?!” the younger Kakashi demanded. Feeling the weight of the child version of himself pressing down on him, he considers, this is one way to talk.
“There is a perfectly reasonable reason for why I am here,” he reassures.
The look in young Kakashi’s eye seems more like he just wants to stab him and get everything over with so before he can follow through with it, older Kakashi decides to just deal with it like how he would with his students, by ripping the bandaid off and attempting to flee if it backfires so lifting his hands slowly from where they have been in a surrender pose, he yanks off the Sukea wig, which had somehow stayed on his head throughout all of this and just to really drive it home he lifts an edge of his scarf to cover up to his nose.
"I'm you from the future."
The younger Kakashi’s gaze turned absolutely frosty.
Yeah, he didn’t think that would work either, but he didn’t have any better plans.
“Stop playing around! If you won't tell me who you really are, I'm sure we can get the Hokage to help sort this out.” the younger boy threatens, managing to haul Kakashi to his feet and out the window.
He definitely doesn't want the Hokage or any of the council really to find out about this!
Kakashi's reduced to pleading as he tries to use whatever chakra he has left to stick to any surface available to give him more time to explain.
“I have proof! Ask me anything about our childhood! No wait, you're still at that age where you want nothing to do with our past… Training? I can offer training you don't have access to? ” Kakashi frantically wracks his brain to think of any proof. He only has the clothes on his back and whatever was in his camera bag… The camera bag! “There's a camera in my bag! If you'll let me develop the film, the photos can prove I'm from the future!”
“Are you just going to plead the whole way? You are making me even less inclined to believe you.” Past Kakashi grunted as he leveraged him over another rooftop.
“I don’t exactly have many options. I’m not going to surrender because being locked up would probably cause future issues,” Like being snapped up by ROOT, Future Kakashi thought grimly, “and I didn’t exactly expect to run into you or have a chance to make a plan because I didn’t expect any of this to happen.”
He’s not sure what he said but the younger Kakashi stops and seems to start listening. He can tell the boy is plotting something, recognising the same look Suzune and Iruka would complain about when he was planning to escape his work.
“Do you know if you are going to go back?” The boy asks.
“I would strongly estimate, no. I didn’t get a look at what sent me here but an educated guess would be an extremely upset Uchiha possibly using an ability similar to the Sharingan’s Izanagi genjutsu.”
The boy really looked like he wanted to ask what an Izanagi genjutsu was but he was running on mission mode and was trying to focus on his ‘mission’ The boy eventually decides. “I’m not going to hide you. If you aren’t going back then you’ll probably get chased by more ‘extremely upset Uchiha’ due to being suspected of being a spy. I’m still going to take you to the Hokage, but I want you to follow my lead. I think I have a plan.”
Kakashi was a little uncertain of following the plan of a… maybe preteen version of himself in the past, but he didn’t exactly have any better options.
—
The time-displaced Kakashi had been unceremoniously dragged into the Hokage’s office by his younger self’s firm and purposeful grip. No one had stopped them along the way—a fact that briefly puzzled him until he remembered the Third Hokage had always held a particular fondness for the children of the village, often being softer on them. His younger self, naturally, was oblivious to this unique privilege, likely assuming it was standard treatment for all.
As they entered, Kakashi was hit by a wave of nostalgia at the strong scent of tobacco. That lingering aroma would haunt this office for years, taking nearly two Hokage tenures to finally fade. Standing in the familiar room, Kakashi’s sharp eyes fell on the man behind the desk.
This was not the weary, disillusioned Sarutobi he remembered. This was a younger, more hopeful Third Hokage, his gaze warm and almost fatherly. It caught Kakashi off guard—it had been so long since he’d seen the man look this way, even when he was alive.
The younger Kakashi shoved his older counterpart forward, already speaking with a poise that seemed unnaturally mature for his age. “Lord Hokage,” he began smoothly, “I thought it best to bring this to your attention immediately.”
“Oh, Kakashi,” Sarutobi greeted warmly, setting his pipe aside. “How nice to see you. That is a very detailed shadow clone you’ve created.”
Kakashi blinked in surprise, his younger self answering before he could. “He’s not a shadow clone,” young Kakashi said, his tone crisp and authoritative. “This is my brother. I found it an oversight that our father wanted us to operate as one unit. With the upcoming changes to my team, I think it would be more efficient if we worked separately.”
Kakashi’s jaw nearly dropped. Brother? Of all the lies his younger self could spin, this one was bold. He vaguely remembered stories of shinobi families with twins operating as a single identity to maximize efficiency and cover for each other. His younger self had taken that idea and run with it, crafting a convenient fiction on the fly.
Feeling a nudge, Kakashi straightened awkwardly and bowed. “Uh, hey, Lord Third. Nice to meet you, officially?” he said, his tone adopting the casual, playful demeanour of his Sukea persona. “I’m Sukea. Sorry for the sudden inconvenience.”
Sarutobi’s keen eyes flicked between the two of them, his expression thoughtful. “Your brother?” he repeated slowly, leaning back in his chair. “This is quite the revelation, Kakashi. I wasn’t aware Sakumo had another child.”
“It was kept… private,” young Kakashi replied, his tone steady but with a calculated touch of hesitation. “While we’ve operated together effectively, it feels inefficient to continue under the pretence of being a single shinobi. I thought it best to inform you.”
Kakash– no Sukea, he’s Sukea now. Either way, he cringed internally since his younger self was really laying it on thick. To his surprise, Sarutobi didn’t immediately seem sceptical. Instead, he leaned forward, clasping his hands in thought.
“I see,” Sarutobi murmured, his expression unreadable. “And what brings you both to my office?”
Without missing a beat, young Kakashi responded, “Concealing the existence of a potential threat would violate the ninja code. I wanted to mitigate that risk and ensure that Sukea could operate as his own shinobi.”
The Hokage’s gaze shifted to Sukea, scrutinizing him. “Interesting. And do you share your brother’s prodigious skills, Sukea?”
“I’d like to think so,” Sukea replied with a sheepish chuckle, playing up the persona. He's not going to let them think they received a new weapon they can play with, “Not quite as sharp, maybe. That’s why he’s usually the ‘face,’ but I can hold my own.”
A heavy silence followed as Sarutobi steepled his fingers, studying them both with quiet intensity. The pause stretched just long enough for Sukea to feel a bead of sweat begin to form. Maybe I should’ve played it safer—acted more like a younger Kakashi clone, he worried, what if it's too out of character and they send him to T&I to dig. Still, he was a ninja, and showing doubt wasn’t an option. Steeling himself, he adjusted his oversized scarf, pulling it more snugly over his face, a subtle tell that betrayed his unease.
“I’d like both of you boys to report to the hospital for an official medical evaluation,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Sukea felt his younger self stiffen beside him. He recognized that reaction all too well—the same visceral dislike of hospitals he still carried. Despite the obvious distaste, they both responded obediently in unison: “Yes, sir!”
As they turned to leave, Sukea’s sharp Hatake ears caught Sarutobi muttering under his breath. “I thought this was something only my Sensei had to worry about… I’ll need to keep a closer eye on shinobi families. Can’t let these things slip by unnoticed…”
Suppressing a groan, Kakashi followed his younger self out of the office. This day was turning into more of a headache than he’d anticipated.
—
The two boys trudged into the hospital with the energy of condemned men on their way to execution. The sterile scent of disinfectant hit Sukea like a punch, and he winced internally. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t been in a hospital in years—he’d had his fair share of injuries—but there was something about the clinical chill and harsh lighting that made his skin crawl. He’d gotten better about tolerating them as an adult, but that had a lot to do with Sakura working with him or the comforting presence of someone like Gai holding his hand or even one of his aides in an emergency.
Here? He was on his own. Well, sort of.
The two were quickly intercepted by a no-nonsense nurse, clipboard in hand and an air of authority that brooked no argument. “Ah, the Hokage mentioned you two would be arriving,” she said briskly, steering them into an exam room with practised efficiency.
Blood was drawn almost immediately—first from Sukea, who grimaced but held still, and then from his younger self, who seemed to bristle at the intrusion but offered no complaint. The vials were whisked away by another nurse, no doubt to run every test imaginable, from genetic matching to whatever else they could think of to prove Sukea wasn’t some kind of imposter.
As Sukea rubbed his sore arm, he caught sight of the nurse’s clipboard, which bore two files—one with sparse scribbled handwriting, likely his younger self’s, and one blank, soon to become his.
“Name?” the nurse asked curtly, beginning with him.
“Sukea Hatake,” he answered smoothly, She then went through other basic health and identification questions, rattling off his date of birth–September 15, Allergies–None and everything else they threw at him.
The nurse scribbled down his answers before turning to young Kakashi, confirming the same set of questions against his existing file. When Kakashi huffed that he was nearly nine years old to get the nurse to stop coddling him during his questions, Sukea nearly choked. They were eight? He didn’t realise they were that young. Was he even a Chuunin yet? Had the rest of Team Minato even graduated from the Academy yet?
As the questions continued, Sukea shifted uncomfortably on the exam table. The sterile smell was oppressive, the kind that seeped into your clothes and wouldn’t wash out. He glanced at his younger self, who was as rigid as a plank of wood, answering every question with clipped precision.
For a moment, he debated reaching over to take his younger self’s hand. It might help ease his nerves—or it might end with Sukea losing a few fingers. He eventually decided it was worth the risk. At least I’m in the right place if this goes south.
To his surprise, young Kakashi didn’t pull away. The smaller hand in his own was still, but something about the contact settled his own nerves.
When they were called up to have their height, weight, and vitals measured, they let go without a word. But as soon as they were done, young Kakashi silently offered his hand back into grabbing range. Sukea took it without hesitation.
The nurse frowned at the results, muttering something about how their measurements were “nearly identical.” She double-checked the clipboard, clearly wondering if she’d been tricked into measuring the same person twice. Sukea supposes that they probably are exactly identical due to matching Kakashi at the exact moment he was pulled back to
Finally, they were told to wait for the bloodwork results. The two of them sat side by side in the quiet room, the only sound the faint rustle of paper and the occasional distant footsteps.
“Why are you going along with this?” Sukea asked after a while, breaking the silence. “You didn’t seem to believe me earlier.”
Young Kakashi shrugged, his expression smug. “If you were lying, I don’t think you’d let me drag you this far. Besides,” he added, even his mask couldn’t hide how his smirk widened at his next word, “it makes it easier for me to throw you to the wolves if this is a trick.”
Sukea huffed a laugh, swinging his legs idly. His hand still gripped his younger self’s, and he gave it a little swing for good measure.
“You’re holding my hand like Sensei,” young Kakashi said suddenly, his voice quiet but tinged with suspicion.
Sukea blinked. Oh. Is that why this feels so familiar? The realization hit him like a kunai to the chest. “Well,” he replied after a moment, adopting a cheeky tone to mask his sudden wave of emotions, “Sensei’s not here, so I guess it’s up to me to take on my new role as your older brother.”
Young Kakashi yanked his hand away immediately, his glare sharp enough to cut steel. “I’m not a kid who needs to be taken care of!”
Sukea smiled, unbothered by the outburst. His genin had long since grown out of their cute phases, but here was a younger version of himself—grumpy, proud, and full of potential. Plenty of time to enjoy watching him squirm.
“Sure you’re not,” he teased lightly, leaning back in his seat. Oh, this is going to be fun.
—
The moment the nurse confirmed the blood tests, both Kakashi and Sukea bolted from the hospital like it was on fire. Sure, the nurse had tried to trap them with a lecture about the glaring holes in their medical records—how on earth could such an obvious fact have been missed for so long?—but neither of them stuck around long enough to get properly scolded. The important part was over: they were officially "twins," at least as far as the system was concerned.
As they darted down the street, Kakashi announced they were going to train.
“I don’t even have proper clothes,” Sukea countered, gesturing to his oversized and ill-fitting attire. “Unless you want me tripping over myself, we’re making a stop first.”
The first shop they stumbled into was a second-hand ninja supply store, cluttered with racks of faded flak jackets, utility belts, and a random assortment of gear that had clearly seen better days. Sukea scanned the place, half-looking for clothes that might fit and half-distracted by the reality of child soldiers being so normalized in this era. Clothes for kids? Not a problem—plenty of stock.
As he sifted through racks, he also considered what kind of image Sukea Hatake should present. His movements slowed as he reflected. Should he aim for something deliberately distinct from Kakashi, or lean into the similarity for simplicity’s sake? Kakashi, naturally, had no patience for his musings.
“You’re taking forever,” young Kakashi complained, arms crossed as he stood near the door.
“I’m trying to figure out who I want to be,” Sukea shot back.
“Be faster,” Kakashi retorted.
Sukea snorted but relented, grabbing a few practical pieces—some simple kimono shirts, pants, and a jacket—before blindly snagging a couple more just to shut Kakashi up. “You’re paying,” he declared as they approached the counter. “Whatever’s yours is mine anyway.”
Kakashi scowled. “No, we’re not the same person anymore. You can pay me back with training.”
“Yeah, sure,” Sukea muttered, only half-listening as he handed over the items for purchase. Ducking into the changing room, he swapped his ill-fitting clothes for something that actually fit. It was a relief—though his face still felt oddly exposed, and every smell in the shop seemed sharper than before. Pulling his brown wig out of his pocket, he carefully adjusted it over his head. It didn’t fix the sensory overload, but it made him feel less... seen.
He bundled up the oversized clothes he’d been wearing and handed them to the shopkeeper as a donation. As soon as the bag of purchases was packed, Kakashi grabbed his arm. “We’re going to train. There’s still daylight.”
“Barely,” Sukea grumbled as they were dragged toward the outskirts of the village.
The sun was dipping low in the sky when a voice called out, “Kakashi!”
Both of them turned instinctively, and Sukea’s breath caught. Minato-sensei. He looked so young—barely older than a teenager himself, his blond hair slightly tousled as he jogged toward them, radiating energy and optimism.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Minato said, stopping in front of them. “I need to talk to you about something important.”
Kakashi crossed his arms, already exuding impatience. “Can it wait? We’re about to train.”
Sukea jumped in, sensing an opportunity. “We can train tomorrow,” he said with a shrug. “Whatever Minato-sensei needs is probably more important.”
Minato beamed. “Exactly! And besides, you both need to eat. Let’s grab some ramen. My treat.”
Kakashi groaned, but Sukea grinned. He wasn’t about to turn down free ramen.
At Ichiraku, they settled onto stools as Minato introduced himself to Sukea. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said warmly. “It’s great to know Kakashi has friends his own age. I’ve been a little worried about that.”
“We’re not friends,” Kakashi snapped, glaring at Sukea as though this was somehow his fault.
Minato sighed, his smile softening but not fading. “Well, it’s good to see you spending time with someone, at least.” His tone grew more thoughtful. “Maybe it’ll help you take what I have to tell you a little better.”
Before Kakashi could respond, their ramen bowls arrived, and Minato dove straight into his point. “Kakashi, I just got word that I’ll be assigned a team from the next batch of academy graduates. That means you’ll be part of a proper genin team soon.”
Kakashi’s chopsticks froze midair. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Minato hesitated, then continued, his voice steady. “If the team doesn’t pass my test, all three of you will be sent back to the academy. I want you to do your best to get along with them.”
Sukea blinked, a vague memory stirring in the back of his mind. He remembered Minato confessing, years later, that this was all a ploy to encourage Kakashi to interact more with his peers. At the time, though, it must have felt like an impossible betrayal. Kakashi’s face made that clear enough—his younger self looked stricken, the flicker of vulnerability quickly buried under a cold, defensive glare.
Sukea can’t even think of a way to smooth it over so he decides it isn’t his problem. He drained his bowl as fast as possible, setting the empty dish down with a clatter. “Well, this has been fun,” he announced, standing abruptly. “But I need to drop off my shopping. Catch you both later.”
—
Kakashi barely registered Sukea’s retreat. His focus was entirely on Minato-sensei, who, in his eyes, had just delivered the ultimate betrayal.
“Why?” he demanded. His voice was low, and controlled, but the raw emotion undercut his composure. “Why would you let this happen?”
Minato’s expression softened, his tone gentle. “Kakashi, this isn’t a punishment. It’s an opportunity. I want you to—”
“To babysit some academy brats?” Kakashi interrupted, his disbelief sharp enough to cut. “I’ve worked harder than anyone, and you’re throwing me in with—children?”
Minato’s calm didn’t waver, though a shadow of disappointment darkened his gaze. “I know this isn’t what you expected, but you’re still young, Kakashi. You’re a brilliant shinobi, but even the best can’t work alone forever.”
Kakashi’s fists clenched at his sides. He didn’t need anyone. He couldn’t rely on anyone. Minato-sensei, the one person he thought understood that, was now standing here telling him otherwise—and it stung deeper than any kunai.
The tension stretched thin between them, taut as a tripwire. Kakashi turned abruptly on his heel and walked out of the ramen stand without another word.
Minato’s disappointed gaze lingered in his mind, gnawing at him. He didn’t understand—didn’t want to. All Kakashi wanted was to go home, shut the world out, and pretend none of this had happened.
His plan for solitude was derailed the moment he stepped inside his apartment and found Sukea lounging on the floor.
The boy had ditched the brown wig, tossing it onto a pile of newly purchased clothes. However, he was wearing one of Kakashi’s masks—his mask. Sukea sat cross-legged, methodically sorting through his earlier haul of second-hand clothing, his movements deliberate yet oddly relaxed. He seemed completely unaffected by the day’s chaos, and that infuriated Kakashi more than he cared to admit.
“How are you so calm?” Kakashi blurted, his irritation bubbling to the surface.
Sukea glanced up, his brow quirking at the question. “Should I not be?”
“You’re wearing my mask,” Kakashi shot back instead, deflecting the conversation.
“Oh, this?” Sukea touched the fabric covering his lower face, his tone casual and almost teasing. “Felt weird not having one on.”
“Well, it’s mine,” Kakashi snapped, his voice sharp with frustration.
Sukea leaned back, propping himself up on his hands with an infuriatingly calm demeanour. “Relax, kid. We might have to do a little sharing until everything’s sorted out. Be glad I’m putting effort into into building a new identity so we might have a chance at separate lives rather than becoming ‘The Hatake prodigies’ or something. Plus, we’re practically the same person, so I have some right to my old stuff.”
The flippant remark hit a nerve. Kakashi’s scowl deepened. “We’re not the same person. You certainly aren’t acting like it since you could stand to be more serious about all this.”
For a moment, Sukea’s expression shifted—something unreadable flickered across his face. Then he shrugged. “You could stand to loosen up a little. Not everything has to be life or death.”
Kakashi clenched his fists tighter. He didn’t want to loosen up. He didn’t want advice from someone who looked like him but felt like a stranger. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
—
The next morning, Sukea woke to the unwelcome sight of Kakashi standing over him, sharp-eyed and impatient.
“Get up,” Kakashi ordered. “We’re training.”
Sukea squinted against the faint morning light streaming through the window. He groaned. “It’s not even sunrise.”
“I want to get some training in before meeting Minato-sensei,” Kakashi replied, his tone brooking no argument.
Reluctantly, Sukea dragged himself out of bed, his chakra reserves still depleted from the day before. As he shuffled around to get ready, he couldn’t help but notice the intense frustrated energy Kakashi radiated as the boy straightened out the sleeping roll on the other side of the bed. Had Sukea changed something by being here? Or had he just blocked it out?
By the time they found a field, Sukea realized belatedly that he wasn’t much of a teacher. His students had always been trained either by others or by stumbling through techniques after he half-showed them how. Sure enough, their “training” quickly devolved into sparring, with Sukea adjusting to his altered proportions and Kakashi venting his frustration about being forced onto a genin team.
The morning wore on until an ANBU approached them, their mask concealing any emotion. “Hatake Kakashi,” the ANBU addressed formally, “inform Hatake Sukea to meet with the Hokage in twenty minutes.”
Kakashi turned to Sukea, relaying the message like a bland order. “You heard them. Go. I’ve got to meet Minato-sensei.”
As Kakashi walked away, Sukea couldn’t resist calling out, “Fine! Have a great day! Be good for Minato-Sensei!” His voice dripped with mock encouragement, the tone he used to tease his own students.
Kakashi didn’t turn, but the redness in his ears was reward enough.