Chapter 3
Sukea groaned loudly, dragging his blanket over his head as Kakashi nudged him for the fifth time. “Why do I have to get up for morning training? I’m old. Practically retired. Noon training is the earliest I should be expected to function,” he grumbled, voice muffled by the fabric.
“You’re not old. Not anymore,” Kakashi replied flatly, yanking the blanket away with ruthless efficiency. “And you’re still a shinobi. No excuses.”
Sukea cracked an eye open, attempting his most convincing plea. “What if you went in my place? No one would even notice. My stuff’s over there—it’s easy to apply.”
Kakashi stared at him, unimpressed. “Not a chance. I’ve got my own training, and there’s no way I’m facing Guy for you.”
Sukea groaned again, louder this time, before flopping back onto his pillow. Unfortunately, Kakashi’s patience had officially run out. With a resigned sigh, he grabbed Sukea by the back of his shirt and hauled him out of bed like a scruffed puppy. Sukea flailed half-heartedly but gave up quickly, grumbling all the while.
“I don’t know or care how old you think you are,” Kakashi said, dropping him unceremoniously onto the floor, “but no shinobi should be so relaxed about being late.”
Reluctantly, Sukea got himself ready, and the two headed toward their respective training grounds. As they walked, Sukea noticed their paths seemed to align. “Looks like we’re going the same way,” he commented, hoping for some excuse to drag his feet only to get a grunt in response.
As they passed a modest house, a booming voice suddenly erupted from within, startling them both.
“It’s your first day of training, and I couldn’t be prouder! Your springtime of youth is upon you! Find something important to you and train until you’re strong enough to protect it!”
Kakashi visibly stiffened, his pace quickening.
A voice from inside cut him off with a dramatic sob of gratitude.
“Thank you, Father! I will not let you down!”
“Hey, isn’t that—” Sukea began, just as Kakashi all but broke into a jog. This is Guy’s old house, he realized. That voice… it’s been years, but how could I forget Duy?
The door burst open, and Guy bounded out, brimming with exuberance. His tear-streaked face lit up when he spotted the two of them.
“Ah! Good morning my eternal rival and my youthful teammate!” he exclaimed, his energy undiminished by the early hour. “I did not know you were acquainted! Let us have a race to see who can reach the training grounds first!”
Before Sukea could even think of declining, Kakashi picked up his pace, clearly trying to escape.
Unfortunately for Kakashi, like an overexcited puppy, Guy interpreted this as an acceptance of his challenge. “So youthful! Your enthusiasm inspires me, Kakashi!” before taking off down the street.
Sukea couldn’t help himself—he burst out laughing, caught between amusement and exasperation. Breaking into a sprint, he shouted after Guy, “Kakashi’s team is meeting at the Third Training Ground! We should go there!”
And just like that, the race was on. Guy took off like a whirlwind of energy, Kakashi groaned in defeat, and Sukea couldn’t help but laugh as he sprinted after them, some of his favourite short-cuts not existing yet. The morning was chaos—but at least it was entertaining chaos.
—
The three of them barreled into the training ground in a whirlwind of dust and pounding footsteps, arriving in such a chaotic tangle that it was impossible to determine a clear winner. Not that it stopped Guy.
“I won by a mile!” Guy declared, striking a triumphant pose as if the entire village were watching.
Kakashi, clearly regretting every decision that had led him to this moment, brushed past without breaking stride. “It wasn’t even a race, Guy,” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation.
“Admit it, Kakashi! My youthful speed was unmatched!” Guy retorted, his enthusiasm as indomitable as ever.
Their bickering escalated quickly, Guy throwing increasingly absurd arguments about why he was clearly the winner, while Kakashi shot them down with terse, cutting remarks. Sukea hung back, watching the exchange with a mix of amusement and detachment. It wasn’t his place to intervene—this wasn’t his dynamic anymore. He wasn’t Guy’s rival, just his teammate now.
For a moment, he considered slipping away entirely. His own training didn’t start for a while, and unfortunately thanks to the impromptu race, he was already ahead of schedule. However, his thoughts shifted as he noticed a young girl standing a few meters away, clutching her pack tightly and watching the scene unfold with wide, uncertain eyes.
Rin. She must have arrived early, likely nervous about her first official day of team training.
He approached Rin with an easy, disarming smile, feigning the kind of nerves he figured a normal new genin might have. “Sorry about my teammate.” he said lightly, gesturing toward the still-arguing duo, an almost mirror of their first conversation.
Rin blinked in surprise, but her face quickly softened into a warm, polite smile. “Oh, Sukea! You’re here too? It’s fine, really. They just startled me. I wasn’t expecting anyone else this early, that’s all.”
“We were just passing through on our way to our own training. We’ll clear out soon. Leave you in peace.” Sukea explained, nodding toward the still-bickering pair.
Sukea saw some of the tension ease from her posture. “It’s no problem. It’s… lively,” she said, glancing back at Kakashi and Guy. Her voice dropped slightly, tinged with hesitation. “I was a little worried after yesterday’s meeting. Kakashi always seemed… distant. I thought he might be impossible to get along with. Not that I wasn’t going to try! But I’m glad to see he has friends.”
That admission hit Sukea harder than he expected. He’d always found Rin’s behaviour toward him—toward Kakashi—clingy and overbearing when he was younger. But was it possible she’d been trying all along to ensure he didn’t feel isolated? He’d always just brushed it off as some kind of misguided crush since she’s a girl.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “He’s… rough around the edges, but he means well,” Sukea managed, repeating the words she had used to try and smooth the edges of Obito’s rough personality.
Before the moment could grow too vulnerable, he turned back toward the others. “Guy! We’ve got training to get to!” he called, already retreating.
As they passed Kakashi, an idea struck Sukea. He stopped and turned back, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. In an exaggeratedly sweet voice, he called out, “Bye, Kakashi! Good luck on your first day of training! I’m sure you’ll become great friends with your team! You’re going to do amazing!” He gave an enthusiastic double thumbs-up for emphasis.
Kakashi’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
Guy, of course, oblivious to Sukea’s teasing, joined in enthusiastically. “Yes, my eternal rival! Let your springtime of youth shine brilliantly today!”
Kakashi’s expression darkened further, promising retribution, but Sukea wasn’t worried. He had a knack for dodging consequences. Sukea nearly added an exaggerated “I love you” for good measure—something he’d seen parents do outside the academy—but stopped short. The idea of practically reenacting the familial love scene from Icha Icha Tactics in front of Rin was enough to make him reconsider. Kakashi already looked like he was ready to strangle them both, and Sukea had no desire to actually die of embarrassment, even if it was for a joke.
Instead, he opted for a quick, playful salute before jogging after Guy. Behind him, Rin’s soft giggles reached his ears, muffled but unmistakably amused.
Sure, Kakashi would hold this against him for a while, but he didn’t mind. Rin looked more at ease now, her nerves eased by the ridiculousness of it all and it had the bonus of hopefully knocking Kakashi down a few pegs. Both were a win in his book.
—
Training with Chōza-sensei was a stark contrast to the loose, adaptive sessions Sukea had experienced under Minato. Chōza’s style was regimented, with every drill carefully planned and every exercise emphasizing precision and discipline. It was fitting—Chōza wasn’t just any jōnin but the heir to one of Konoha’s major clans. His teaching style mirrored the leadership he was honing for his future role. Young Kakashi would have loved this kind of structure, and playing the part of the perfect little soldier.
The thought gave Sukea pause. Had Minato been deliberately assigned to Kakashi to try to counteract his rigidity? If so, it had been a clever move. Not that Kakashi appreciated it at the time.
Chōza’s training regimen was gruelling, leaving no time for second-guessing or hesitation. By the end of the day, they were all battered and sore, but Chōza didn’t stop there. He insisted they replenish their strength with a hearty meal, dragging the three of them to a cosy Akimichi restaurant.
Sukea, used to putting himself through worse, found it easy to manage the strain. But he had to remind himself he wasn’t supposed to be an experienced shinobi anymore. He mimicked Genma’s groans and complaints, hoping to blend in.
When the meal was done, Guy, wincing but determined, stood with a resolute expression. “I will go train more,” he declared, his voice brimming with youthful vigour despite his obvious exhaustion.
Genma groaned dramatically, slumping further into his seat. “If you’ve got that much energy, you should just carry me home. I can’t move.”
Guy took the suggestion at face value and scooped Genma up in a fireman’s carry before anyone could protest and marched toward the exit
“Wait, what? I was joking!” Genma’s protests echoed as Guy ran into the distance with him.
Sukea rose to follow, chuckling under his breath, but Chōza held up a hand to stop him. “Sukea, stay for a moment.”
A flicker of unease passed through Sukea but he forced his expression into one of mild confusion and nodded.
Chōza’s demeanour was gentle but deliberate as he gestured for Sukea to sit back down. “Would you like to order dessert?” he asked, his tone light.
Sukea shook his head. “I don’t like sweets, Sensei.”
“There goes my plan to ease into this with dessert.” Chōza sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll be blunt, then. Do you need any specific accommodations for clan training?”
Sukea blinked, caught off guard. “Clan training?”
Chōza nodded, his tone thoughtful. “Yes. The Hatake clan may not have an active adult clan head, but it would be disrespectful not to ask if you require anything specific.”
Sukea’s mind raced. “Minato-sensei never—” He stopped himself, cringing internally at the slip. “I mean, Kakashi’s sensei never asked, so… I haven’t thought about it.”
But really, he hadn’t even realized this was something a sensei was supposed to offer. Minato had never brought it up. Then again, Minato had been civilian-born and might not have known to ask.
Chōza looked serious. “I should probably discuss this with him so you can actually plan some clan training with Kakashi if you need it and ensure no one else is overlooked.”
Panic flared in Sukea’s chest. “Wait—don’t tell Minato-sensei!” The idea horrified him. Minato’s kindness and attention to his students meant he’d likely feel guilty for missing something so significant. “It doesn’t even matter that much! We train in our own time. Please, Sensei. He’d feel awful.”
Chōza’s gaze softened, but his tone remained firm. “Sukea, this isn’t just about you. Minato’s new team includes an Uchiha. He needs to be aware of these matters for all his students.”
The comment struck Sukea. That probably explained why the Uchiha clan had sometimes been cold toward Minato... Hesitating, Sukea finally relented. “Could you… not mention me when you talk to him? I don’t exactly advertise being a Hatake.” He also didn’t want his old Senei to second-guess every interaction he’d had with Kakashi and feel bad for something that honestly wasn’t a problem.
Chōza’s lips curved in a faint smile. “Understood. But your concern for Minato’s feelings speaks volumes. The Hokage tried to give me some insight into your situation when you joined my team despite not knowing much himself but let me guess—Minato wasn’t just your brother’s sensei. He was yours too, even if he didn’t realize it.”
Sukea felt a flush creep up his neck. Chōza wasn’t wrong, but the truth was far more complicated than the simple observation. Time travel wasn’t exactly easy to explain, and certainly not to his current sensei. Instead, he gave a hesitant nod since it was close enough.
Chōza’s smile warmed. “Well, Sukea, I hope, in time, to earn that same kind of loyalty from you.”
—
Chōza Sensei had arranged a joint training session the following day, despite it being so soon since the teams themselves were formed.
The group gathered at Training Ground 3 and everyone waited, shifting awkwardly under the morning sun, while the last team member remained conspicuously absent.
“Where is he?” Kakashi grumbled, arms crossed and posture stiff. His sharp eyes scanned the empty path leading to the training ground. “It’s bad enough Obito is late to everything. Now he’s making us all waste time.”
“It’s alright, Kakashi.” Minato smiled, the picture of patience. “This gives us a chance to get to know the team we’re training with today.”
Kakashi scoffed, but introductions began anyway. Most were for the benefit of the sensei, as the students had met briefly at the academy.
Minato’s attention turned to Sukea, a glimmer of recognition in his kind blue eyes. “Sukea, are you excited to train with Kakashi? I remember you’re Kakashi’s friend.”
Kakashi scowled. “He’s not my friend,” he snapped before Sukea could reply.
Rin, undeterred, grinned. “Don’t listen to him! Kakashi’s just being stubborn.
They arrived together, and Sukea was cheering him on before training yesterday.”
Kakashi’s expression soured further. “I didn’t have a choice,” he muttered, swiftly changing the subject. “Obito’s tardiness is the real issue.”
Chōza, stroking his chin thoughtfully, chimed in. “Uchiha clansmen sometimes follow specific training traditions—either at sunrise or sunset. Could he be late because of that? Or might he need accommodations?”
Minato hesitated, clearly uncertain. “I don’t think it’s a tradition in this case,” he admitted. “Obito’s just… bad with time management.”
As if summoned by their words, Obito finally appeared, panting and dishevelled. “Sorry! I had to help Granny get yams, and then I got lost!” he called, waving sheepishly.
Chōza didn’t waste a second. “Now that you’re all here, warm up and start sparring,” he ordered. “Minato, I need a word.” He gestured for Minato to follow, leaving the students to sort themselves out.
The group split into pairs. As expected, Guy immediately declared Kakashi his sparring partner, proclaiming their rivalry with his usual fervour. That left Sukea paired with Rin, much to Obito’s poorly concealed dismay.
The matchups weren’t entirely random. Many—including Obito, Genma, and Rin—still believed Sukea was “too small” to spar with the boys. Kakashi, unimpressed, pointed out dryly, “We’re the same size.” But his observation was ignored as Guy pulled him away with relentless enthusiasm.
Sukea didn’t mind being underestimated. It played into his cover. As Rin led their spar, he blocked and dodged her strikes on autopilot, his focus elsewhere. His sharp Hatake senses honed in on the low conversation between Chōza and Minato just out of earshot.
Most of it was what he’d anticipated. Minato’s uncertainty about clan training protocols? Expected. His mild embarrassment at his lack of knowledge about Uchiha traditions? Perfect. The more they focused on Obito and his clan, the less they’d look at Kakashi—or him. That was exactly how Sukea wanted it.
He allowed himself a small smirk as he sidestepped Rin’s punch, his mind half on her movements and half on the conversation. But Chōza’s next words made his stomach drop. “The Hatake clan may only have two members, but Kakashi is still a clan ninja and he may need time for his own clan duties as well.”
Minato’s response was harder to catch, probably shock at never having considered it, but the question “Who’s the other member?” rang clear in Sukea’s ears.
What is he doing? Why is he bringing this up?
He was so absorbed in eavesdropping that his sparring with Rin faltered. She saw an opening and lunged, determination blazing in her eyes. Sukea’s instincts, honed over years of battlefield survival, kicked in before his conscious mind could catch up. He countered with a sharp strike that landed squarely.
Rin staggered back, her hand flying to her face as blood began to drip between her fingers. Sukea’s stomach dropped.
Her lip was split—or maybe her nose was broken. He couldn’t tell. All he could see was the crimson seeping through her fingers.
On his hands.
Blood. Rin’s blood.
Suddenly, he wasn’t in the training ground anymore. He was on that battlefield, his hand plunging into her chest, her lifeless eyes staring back at him as her blood coated his arm. He couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened, and his vision blurred.
“I—I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—”
“Sukea, it’s fine!” Rin’s voice was muffled through her bloodied hand, but he barely heard her.
Obito, however, had zeroed in on the situation and was already storming over. “You actually hit her?!” he yelled, fury in his eyes. “What kind of guy hits a girl?!”
Sukea didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His knees buckled as he fell to the ground, his hands trembling. His breaths came in sharp, erratic gasps.
Genma was at Rin’s side in an instant, trying to stop the bleeding. Guy had moved to intercept Obito, holding him back with surprising strength.
“Calm down, Obito! It was an accident!” Guy’s voice was firm but strained as Obito struggled against his grip.
Meanwhile, Kakashi stood frozen, his usually sharp eyes wide with confusion and alarm. He didn’t know what to do. Sukea wasn’t responding.
The sensei, alerted by the commotion, returned to find chaos. Rin was bleeding but otherwise calm under Genma’s care. Obito was shouting, restrained by Guy. Sukea was on his knees, hyperventilating, his eyes glazed with panic and unshed tears. And Kakashi—Kakashi just looked lost.
Chōza was starting to instruct everyone to give Sukea space but Minato crouched beside Sukea, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. “Sukea, look at me,” he said gently, his calm voice cutting through the noise. Sukea’s gaze flicked to Minato, but the panic in his eyes didn’t abate. “Her blood—” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s my fault. I couldn’t save her.”
Minato’s eyebrow furrowed. The amount of both coming out of his student and on this boy's hands was not fatal.
Chōza knelt on Sukea’s other side, his deep voice firm but kind. “She’s fine, Sukea. Look.” He gestured toward Rin, who offered a weak but reassuring smile through her bloodied face despite how much of it had managed to drip onto her shirt.
But Sukea’s breaths only quickened. “It’s not coming off,” he murmured, his hands trembling. “There’s so much blood.” He began scratching at his hands, as if trying to scrub them clean.
Chōza exchanged a worried look with Minato. “New plan. Kakashi, take Sukea to clean up. Genma, escort Rin to the hospital to get her checked properly.”
Chōza hauled Sukea to his feet and practically shoved him toward Kakashi, who caught him awkwardly. “Take care of him,” Chōza instructed, his tone brooking no argument. Kakashi nodded, guiding Sukea away with a rare flicker of concern in his sharp, calculating gaze.
—
The first thing he consciously perceived was the sound of trickling water. Soft at first, a distant murmuring, but then louder, accompanied by splashing. Coldness seeped into him, not just from the water but from the sharp grip of someone harshly wrenching his hands apart.
“They’re not going to get any cleaner!” a voice snapped, sharp and laced with frustration.
He blinked, disoriented, the world slowly sharpening into focus. His hands felt raw, the sting of overzealous scrubbing still lingering. Instinctively, he gripped onto the hands that had pulled his own apart, something solid to anchor him in the moment.
His blurry vision cleared, and then his breath hitched. He was staring at… himself?
But no, not quite himself. Younger. Angrier.
It took a few moments for the jumbled pieces of his mind to fit together. This wasn’t a manic hallucination. This was Kakashi. His younger self, alive, breathing, and all too real. The hands still gripped in his own were so small yet the same size as his, both pairs free of electrical burn scars, nor calloused by years of ANBU work or other signs of missions gone wrong. The eyes glaring at him were sharp and familiar, he used to look at himself in the mirror trying to figure out what was wrong with himself with that same look.
Sukea blinked hard, shaking his head as fragments of memory slid into place. The past. He wasn’t in his time—hadn’t been for weeks now. He’d been living with his younger self, trying to maintain this fragile, fabricated identity. But why was he here, next to the river, half-wet and trembling?
“Are you broken or just stupid?” Kakashi’s younger voice cut through the haze. He yanked his hands free and crossed his arms, glaring with the same irritated sharpness Sukea once wore like armour. “You’ve been sitting here, scrubbing your hands like a lunatic. What’s wrong with you?”
The question, though blunt, and harsh carried an undercurrent of something like concern—or at least curiosity.
“I…” His voice cracked, hoarse from the earlier panic that had gripped him. “I suppose I’m broken.” The words were a whisper, weighed down by the image of blood on his hands. His gaze darted back to Kakashi, wide and desperate. “Wait, is Rin okay? I didn’t hurt her badly, did I? I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her because of me,”
Sukea’s voice climbed as the panic crept back in, his breaths quickening. His chest tightened, and his words tumbled out in a frantic stream.
Kakashi regarded him with a blank stare, his expression flat. “I mean… you punched her in the face,” he said bluntly. “But she’ll live.”
“I punched her in the face?” He breathed with disbelief startled out of his panic then he gave a weak chuckle, hollow and brittle. “Look at me, I’m pathetic, getting so freaked out over a little girl's blood.”
For a long moment, Kakashi said nothing. His sharp, calculating gaze lingered on Sukea as though weighing the situation. Then, without warning, he stepped forward and tentatively patted Sukea on the head.
“There, there,” Kakashi said stiffly, his hand lingering awkwardly on Sukea’s hair before quickly retreating.
Sukea blinked, caught completely off guard by the gesture. It was clumsy, impersonal, and almost comical, but it wasn’t nothing.
Kakashi, clearly deciding his comforting duties were fulfilled, shoved his hands into his pockets and added casually, “By the way, my teammate Obito has taken you hurting Rin pretty personally.”
Sukea’s stomach sank.
But Kakashi shrugged as though it were the most insignificant thing in the world. “He’s not very strong, so I don’t think there’s any real danger, but if he starts running around after you screaming, that’s why.”