Chapter 6
Sukea rolled his shoulders, wincing at the lingering soreness from their last taijutsu session. His body was young again, and he had to rebuild his hard-fought muscles and flexibility.
“Well fought, everyone,” Choza declared, surveying his team. “Let’s wrap things up with a meal. My treat.”
A ripple of relieved excitement spread through the other boys at the prospect of food.
As they were leaving the training grounds together, they spotted Minato’s team emerging from their own nearby training area.
Minato’s bright smile seemed to widen the moment he saw them, and without a second thought, he jogged over, leaving his team to trail after him.
“Choza! Good to see you!” he greeted warmly.
Sukea watched with a raised eyebrow. There was an unmistakable enthusiasm in Minato’s demeanour, as though he’d been hoping for this encounter.
Choza nodded in greeting, already preparing to continue on their way, but before he could, Minato spoke again, his tone casual but lined with boyish hopefulness.
“I’m treating my kids to some dango after training,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “Would you and your team like to join us?”
Choza glanced back at his team, weighing the suggestion. “We usually go for something heavier after training,” he admitted. But then Minato’s hopeful expression faltered ever so slightly, Choza
quickly amended, “But a light snack could be a nice change.”
Minato beamed, and as the two teams walked together, his true motive became clear. He was relentless in his questions, engaging Choza in an eager discussion about clan etiquette and training schedules.
Sukea trailed behind, only half-listening. He’d almost forgotten how insatiably curious Minato could be when he fixated on something new. The current topic, however, held little interest—something about the correct protocol for approaching an Uchiha elder.
His gaze wandered, and it wasn’t long before his eyes landed on Rin.
The small split across the bridge of her nose and the dark bruising around her eyes stood out starkly against her otherwise cheerful demeanour.
She laughed at something Obito said, her voice light and unbothered, but the sight of her injuries made Sukea’s chest tighten. The sight only deepened the guilt twisting in Sukea’s chest. He forced himself to look away, but the image of her injuries lingered in his mind as they arrived at the dango stand.
Fate seemed determined to test him, as Rin marched up to him while they were waiting for their order, Sukea painfully aware of her presence. Then, Rin broke the ice, her voice soft but sincere.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her warm brown eyes filled with genuine concern.
The question caught him off guard. He could feel Obito’s glare from where he was tied up in a conversation with the other boys, the boy clearly waiting for an apology for Rin. Sukea swallowed hard, his throat dry.
“I should be the one asking you that,” he said, his voice low and tight. “I’m the one who hit you.”
Rin waved it off with a shake of her head. “During training!” she insisted, her tone firm but kind. “It’s fine! I’ll heal, see?”
She raised her hands to her face, a faint green glow of healing chakra illuminating her fingers. As she worked, the swelling in her nose lessened slightly, and the bruising began to shift from an angry purple to a softer greenish hue at the edges, it wasn’t pretty but broken noses often aren’t when in the middle of healing.
Still, Sukea could see the exhaustion in her eyes and the slight tremor in her hands. She was still learning and from what he had heard from Sakura’s complaints when she was learning, facial injuries were complex and this girl was likely pushing herself, to make him feel better.
“See? Getting better, Pains mostly gone.” Rin said with a grimace, despite the mottled bruising still marring her face, “These things happen in training. I’ll be fine.”
Her reassurance didn’t soothe the guilt clawing at him, but Sukea managed a faint nod.
When the food arrived, he stared at the skewered dango in his hand. He’s never been fond of sweets, and today he couldn’t muster the energy to even pretend. After a moment’s hesitation, he extended the skewer toward Rin.
“Here,” he offered, his voice quiet. “I don’t really like sweets, so… take it. As an apology.”
Rin blinked, clearly surprised, before her face lit up in a smile. “Thank you.”
She took the skewer from him, her fingers brushing his briefly, but her expression shifted as her eyes fell on the bandages wrapped around his hands. Without a word, she stuck both skewers in her mouth and before Sukea could protest, Rin grabbed his hands with her sticky dango fingers, determination etched across her face. “Hold still,” she mumbled around the dango, her chakra flaring faintly as she attempted to heal his raw hands.
“Why are you holding that jerk’s hands?” Obito’s sharp voice interrupted, his irritation palpable as he stomped closer.
Sukea froze, unsure whether to laugh or feel guilty. The sting in his hands was already beginning to fade, but Rin’s obvious exhaustion made him uneasy. Before he could say anything, Rin spoke up.
“I need the practice,” she said firmly, her words slightly muffled by the dango still in her mouth. “Let me do this.”
Obito scowled, his arms crossing tightly over his chest. “She doesn’t have to practice on you,” he grumbled, his voice turning into a whine. His glare shifted to the skewers Rin had shoved into her mouth. “And how come she gets two dango? That’s not fair!”
“One of those was mine,” Sukea said flatly, his tone tinged with exasperation. “I gave her mine as an apology.”
Obito’s mouth opened as if to retort, but his face flushed as realization dawned. His indignation faltered, causing the boy to look more like a gaping red fish.
Meanwhile, the younger Kakashi stood nearby, staring at his own untouched dango skewer. His sharp eyes flicked to Sukea, then to Rin, then back to his dango. Sukea could practically see the gears turning in the boy’s head. Slowly, with a deliberate sort of logic, he wandered over to them.
“What do you want, Bakashi?” Obito quickly snapped, still bristling from his prior embarrassment.
“Here,” Kakashi said flatly, extending his dango skewer toward Obito without preamble. “You can have it.”
Obito blinked, caught completely off guard. His mouth opened, no doubt to argue, but he hesitated. After a beat, he snatched the skewer with a disgruntled grumble. “You’re such a jerk,” he muttered, though the insult rang hollow as he immediately started eating.
Kakashi stood frozen, his expression flickering with confusion and irritation. He glanced at Sukea, then at Obito, as if trying to decipher what he’d done wrong, and just as the boy was about to snap at Obito for his attitude, a loud, booming laugh interrupted the tension. Guy sprang into the middle of the scene, his boundless energy making everyone flinch. “Kakashi!” he exclaimed, his voice ringing with dramatic enthusiasm. “That was so hip and cool! Offering your dango to Obito like that! A true act of selflessness!”
Kakashi’s visible irritation deepened, but his pale cheeks flushed pink. “It wasn’t a big deal, I just didn’t want it.” he muttered under his breath, attempting to deflect the sudden attention.
Sukea saw an opening and couldn’t resist piling on. “No, no,” he said, voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Let’s give Kakashi the credit he deserves. It was so kind of him to give away his dango—especially to someone so ungrateful.” He shot Obito a pointed look. “He could have thrown it away, or better yet, given it to someone who’d actually appreciate it. Like Rin, for instance.”
The jab hit its mark. Obito bristled, his face turning a shade darker as he sputtered, “He didn’t do it to be nice! He was just showing off!”
Rin, still crouched in front of Sukea with her sticky fingers wrapped around his hands, finally snapped. “Obito!” she barked, her voice sharp enough to cut through the escalating noise. Her brown eyes blazed as she shot him a glare, though her dango-puffed cheeks slightly undercut her authority. “He was trying to be nice. Now you need to do the same. Apologize to Kakashi. Then thank him.”
Obito opened his mouth to argue, but Rin wasn’t finished. “And do it away from me,” she added, her tone firm. “I’m trying to concentrate here, and I don’t want to mess this up.”
Obito froze, his indignation deflating under Rin’s commanding tone. His gaze darted to Kakashi, then back to Rin. “Fine,” he grumbled reluctantly, dragging his feet as he shuffled a few steps away. “Sorry, Bakashi. Thanks for the dango, I guess.”
Kakashi stood silently, his expression blank, though the slight twitch of his eyebrow betrayed his irritation. “You’re welcome,” he replied flatly.
Meanwhile, Rin let out an exasperated sigh and turned her attention back to Sukea’s hands. “Honestly,” she muttered, half to herself. “What would they even do without me?”
“Suffer?” Sukea replies automatically.
She laughs but Sukea isn’t completely joking.
—
The next morning, Sukea woke up a little confused when he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve as he tried to get up. He looked over to see Kakashi curled up next to him rather than on the furthest edge of the large bed or in his mission sleeping bag like he had most nights before, his fingers gripping the fabric much like he had the prior morning on the bathroom floor. Sukea’s brows furrowed. He’d thought Kakashi would have long grown out of a clingy puppy phase by now… Not suddenly develop one.
Carefully, he shifted, attempting to slide his arm free. Kakashi’s grip tightened immediately, holding on like a dog refusing to surrender a chew toy. Kakashi growled in his sleep but didn’t wake. Despite the boy’s tenacity, Sukea was an elite ninja, and with practised precision, he gently pried Kakashi’s hand away.
Sukea moved through the apartment with silent efficiency, slipping on his wig and carefully applying his clan makeup as what was quickly becoming routine before grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He scribbled a quick note on a scrap of paper and stuck it to the counter: ‘Off to training early.’ Signed with a henohenomoheji.
Satisfied he was ready, he stepped toward the window and leapt out, as he landed, his departure was shattered by a booming voice.
“My youthful teammate! Good morning!”
Sukea flinched, his instincts sharp but his nerves momentarily dulled by surprise. He turned to find Guy standing in the middle of the path, hands on his hips, his trademark confident grin radiating energy that seemed almost too bright for the early hour. He wasn’t alone. Beside him stood Duy, looking every bit as energetic as his son, though his expression carried a flicker of surprise at seeing Sukea but thankfully he didn’t voice it aloud.
Sukea blinked, his mind scrambling to shift gears and respond like a coherent human being. “Uh, hey, Guy. What are you doing here so early?”
Guy thrust a fist skyward with dramatic enthusiasm. “I am here to challenge my eternal rival, Kakashi! He was so wonderfully cool and hip yesterday with his kindness, and I need an opportunity to even the score!” His grin widened as he added, “I didn’t know you lived in the same building!”
Suppressing a groan, Sukea managed to keep his expression neutral. Great. Guy now knew where he lived. Thankfully, Guy seemed more focused on Kakashi for now.
“Right. Well… good luck with that.” He adjusted the strap of his bag, glancing toward the apartment above. Guy would undoubtedly keep shouting until Kakashi woke up. He probably should let it happen since Guy is his rival, but he’s a little disappointed at not having an early morning challenge himself. Sukea forced his tone to remain neutral. “I’m just heading out for some training.”
At the mention of training, Guy’s eyes practically sparkled. “Ah, of course! Making up for your recent tardiness—how wonderfully youthful!”
Before Sukea could respond, Duy chimed in, his voice as warm and enthusiastic as his son’s. “Oh, is this the teammate you were talking about, Guy?”
Guy gasped, realization dawning. “Ah, of course! I haven’t introduced you two!” He gestured dramatically between them. “Father, this is my teammate, Sukea! Sukea, this is my most beloved and inspiring father, Duy!”
Sukea eyed the man, almost internally pleading that he wouldn’t contradict his son’s assumption that they had never met before giving him a wary but polite nod. “It’s nice to meet you,” Sukea said smoothly, sidestepping the man. “I have training to get to, though. Have fun with Kakashi.”
Guy beamed. “Thank you! And may your training be as spirited as our rivalry!”
Duy remained silent, his expression unreadable, but he gave a nod as Sukea walked away.
Sukea’s feet carried him with an unthinking rhythm, the path familiar now. No more ghosts were waiting for Sukea at the memorial stone in this time and somehow his father's grave became his new tether. Like he usually did at the memorial stone, his feet unconsciously took him to where he had planned to sit there in solitude.
But when he arrived, he stopped short. Someone was already there.
Obito.
The boy was crouched by Sakumo’s grave, his back to Sukea, carefully brushing dirt and debris from the worn headstone. A kunai he’d brought with him glinted faintly as he used it to carve out weeds tangled around the base. He shouldn’t be surprised, he suddenly recalls Duy had mentioned he was a regular visitor last time he was here.
Obito’s fingers brushed over the crude letters Sukea had carved into the stone the day before. “The White Fang’s name is Sakumo, huh?” he murmured, his voice low but clear in the stillness. A faint smile touched his lips. “Nice to finally meet you properly, Sakumo.”
Sukea felt his throat tighten at those words. His feet rooted to the ground, he didn’t know what to say—or if he even wanted Obito to know he was there. This moment felt too intimate to intrude on.
But Obito didn’t stop. He moved from grave to grave, speaking softly to the markers as if their occupants could hear him. Most of it was the same kind of optimistic boasts Sukea had heard before, about how he was going to train hard and become Hokage to make the village better. Yet there was something deeply sincere in the way he spoke, as though he believed every word.
After a while, Obito glanced at the sky and stiffened. “Oh no! I have to help Granny with her groceries before training!” he exclaimed, leaping to his feet and sprinting off before Sukea could think to step forward.
Sukea rolled his eyes, then crept over and finished cleaning some of the graves himself, finishing the work Obito had started.
“You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”
Sukea startled slightly, turning to see Duy standing a few paces away. The man’s voice was softer now, his usual exuberance tempered.
Sukea straightened, brushing dirt from his hands; he berated himself for not noticing he had been followed. “No need. I’ll try not to be late to training today.”
Duy raised a hand, his voice calm. “I’m not here to dictate your punctuality. I was just curious about what kind of teammate was having my boys back. I was planning on visiting here today though anyway.”
Sukea found himself wondering why Duy would plan to visit. He hadn’t known his father to be particularly close to Duy in life, although his own memories of his father’s friendships were hazy—most had distanced themselves before… it happened.
“Were you friends with him?” Sukea asked, nodding toward Sakumo’s grave.
Duy’s face softened, the usual sparkle in his eyes giving way to something more reflective. “No,” he admitted after a pause. “I wasn’t friends with Sakumo. I admired him—he was a wonderful man—but we didn’t know each other well.” He glanced at the grave, his voice dropping to a quieter tone. “I come here to visit my son’s mother. She’s buried nearby. I noticed Sakumo’s grave not long after he was buried, and… well, it didn’t feel right to leave it untended. So I’ve been keeping it in order. Lately, that Uchiha boy has been helping, though he’s always in a rush.”
Duy chuckled softly, though the sound was tinged with sadness. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if to steady himself. “I’ve wondered, sometimes… If this is how a hero like Sakumo is remembered, then what about someone like me? A genin? How will I be remembered?”
The question hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Duy’s voice wavered for a moment, but he quickly forced a smile, his tone rising back to its usual cheer. “Ah! Forgive me. These are not thoughts for someone your age to dwell on. Forget I said anything!”
But Sukea didn’t forget. He couldn’t. Because deep down, he already knew the answer to Duy’s question. He’d seen it firsthand. Despite Duy’s eventual sacrifice—his heroic final stand that saved his son and embodied every belief he held dear—few would truly remember him. His legacy would be just a footnote as Guy’s genin father as Guy ‘beat the odds and became great’ and Duy’s own deeds covered up to protect the village's pride.
And it hurt. For Duy, for his own father and for all the others who had given everything to a village that seemed to demand more than it ever gave back. For those who died as heroes but were shunned by the village.
And yet, there was one thing Sukea could say with certainty.
“Your son,” he said softly, meeting Duy’s gaze. “Guy. He’ll never forget you. And really, your precious people are the only ones who should matter. ‘Those who break the rules are scum… but those who abandon their friends are worse than scum.’”
Duy’s eyes widened at the words, his breath catching. A sheen of unshed tears glistened in his gaze, and he turned his face slightly away, hastily wiping at his cheeks with the back of his hand. “You’re very mature for your age,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
Sukea watched him for a moment, his own expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he dusted off his pants and turned to leave. “I have to go,” he said over his shoulder. “Or I’ll be late to training.”
As he walked away, the faint sounds of Duy’s quiet sniffles followed him.
Sukea felt a flicker of guilt. He hadn’t paid much attention to Guy’s father in his first life, and hadn’t even known when Duy passed until much later on when Guy started getting clingier about his rivalry. By the time he and Guy actually grew close, the grief had long been buried beneath layers of unshakable resolve.
—
Sukea wondered if it had even been worth showing up on time. The moment Choza announced that they’d be starting chakra manipulation exercises, he had to fight the urge to sigh. Seriously? These are actual child lessons…
He glanced at his teammates. Genma looked intrigued, absently rolling a senbon between his teeth, while Guy practically vibrated with anticipation, already bouncing on the balls of his feet. Sukea leaned against a tree, arms crossed. He already knew how his chakra worked—this was going to be a dull exercise.
Choza’s large frame commanded attention as he addressed them. “Before we begin tree and water-walking, we’ll start with the fundamentals of chakra nature. Chakra comes in five basic elemental affinities: Fire, Wind, Lightning, Earth, and Water. Most shinobi naturally align with one of these elements. Your affinity determines which types of jutsu will come most easily to you.”
Sukea zoned out slightly. He already knew this. He’s explaining it like a textbook… It wasn’t that Choza was a bad teacher—he gave the essential basics—but Sukea had taught this lesson before. Mastered it. It was hard to sit through something so basic when he had long since surpassed it.
Meanwhile, Choza continued, holding up three slips of chakra paper. “By channelling chakra into these, you’ll see how yours manifests. Fire will burn the paper. Wind will slice it. Lightning will crumple it. Earth will turn it to dust, and Water will dampen it.” He handed each of them a slip. “Go ahead.”
Genma was the first to focus. His paper instantly caught fire, burning to ash in seconds.
“Fire release,” Choza confirmed with a nod.
Guy followed, and his paper also ignited, though Sukea noticed it crinkled slightly before being consumed. Guy didn’t seem to care, grinning broadly at Genma.
Then it was Sukea’s turn. He pushed chakra into the slip, and immediately, the sound of faint static crackled in the air. A sharp scent of ozone followed as the paper crumpled tightly in his fingers.
Choza frowned slightly. “Lightning release,” he mused, rubbing his chin. “You’ll have to forgive me, Sukea—I might have a little difficulty training you in your natural affinity. Most shinobi specializing in Lightning release come from clans that migrated from the Land of Lightning, and it’s… less common in Konoha.”
Sukea shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ve already got some resources.” He kept his tone casual, not wanting Choza to waste time trying to find him a tutor. The last thing he wanted was for Choza to go out of his way to search for a tutor he didn’t need. The Hatake were one of those clans from the Land of Lightning, after all. He doubted anyone in Konoha knew more about Lightning release than he did.
Choza gave him a sceptical look, one that clearly said we’ll talk about this later, before moving on.
“The reason we test this now is to help tailor your training,” he continued. “Each affinity has strengths and weaknesses, and the better you understand yours, the more efficiently you’ll be able to use your chakra in battle. For example, Fire overpowers Wind but is weak against Water. Earth beats Water but is countered by Lightning. These natural advantages can help shape your approach in combat.”
Sukea let the explanation wash over him. He already knew all of this—he had spent years mastering all five elements. Still, he forced himself to look mildly interested. No need to draw attention.
Choza eventually wrapped up the lecture and handed each of them a single leaf. “Now, we’ll practice refining your elemental control. Genma, Guy—focus on burning your leaves with your chakra. Sukea, your goal is to crumple yours.”
Sukea had resigned himself to sitting around and maybe pretending to figure out the ‘trick’ to channelling his chakra. That was until Genma piped up.
“Wait a second! That’s not fair. Guy and I have to actually destroy our leaves, but Sukea just has to crumple his? He’s got it easier!” The boy argued.
Sukea shot the boy a deadpan look, feeling his patience wear thin. He turned his attention to the leaf in his hand, rolling it between his fingers. If he thought his task was so easy, fine—he’d show him. With a deliberate flick of chakra, he sent a surge of chakra into the leaf.
There was a sharp snap and a crackle of static as sparks danced across his fingers, and the sharp scent of ozone filled the air again. The leaf crumpled before catching alight. Sukea gave the remnants of the leaf an unimpressed glance before turning the look to Genma.
“I'm done sensei.” Sukea commented, his tone dry.
Genma gaped at him.
Choza looked a little lost at what to do next. It was clear he hadn’t anticipated anyone finishing the exercise so quickly and had probably expected it to take the whole lesson.
“Well, uh…” Choza started, glancing between Sukea and the other two boys, who looked clueless on how to perform a similar act with their own leaves. Although Guy was trying, marked by the heavy concentration on his face that looked more like he was in pain. “Sukea? Why don’t you go grab a few more leaves over there and practice… different levels of crumpledness?” Choza suggests a little helplessly, “I’ll, uh, check on your progress once I get Genma and Guy started, Okay?”
Sukea shrugged, throwing his sensei a bone. “Fine by me.”
He wandered to the edge of the clearing, finding a patch of shade under a large tree. He leaned against the trunk, folding his arms and watching as Choza knelt down between Genma and Guy, launching into an explanation of how to focus their chakra into the leaf since it would take much more effort than with the chakra paper since the paper does most of the work for you.
At first, the two boys listened intently, their brows furrowed in concentration. But it wasn’t long before Guy’s competitive streak kicked in and Sukea was disappointed that he’d already shown his hand and couldn’t participate.
Genma looked flustered at being rushed by Guy’s challenge but it kept each other occupied, which Choza took as an opportunity to make his way back toward Sukea. His expression was equal parts concerned and exhausted, but there was also a note of curiosity in his gaze as he approached.
“So,” Choza began, crossing his arms as he regarded Sukea. “Have you done the exercise before or are you just a fast learner?”
Sukea shrugged nonchalantly, though there was a flicker of smugness he couldn’t tamp down. “Both.”
Choza raised a brow. “I know it wasn’t Minato who taught you, considering he was the one asking me for advice on how to lead this very exercise not long ago. So…?”
“Hatake have had Earth and Lightning natures for generations,” Sukea replied offhandedly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Dad taught us the basics, and scrolls filled in the rest.” He idly picks up a leaf from the ground and crumpled it with his chakra.
He’s probably been able to crumple a leaf with his chakra since he was 2. His father had been kind and loving but from how people reacted when Sukea had told people of how young he was when he started training, they apparently deemed his father as having absolutely no idea what an appropriate age to start training a child should have been.
He thought Choza would be impressed since he’s from a clan, a big one at that, but his expression sits firmly in the concerned category.
Choza looked like he wanted to say a lot of things but ultimately settled on, “And you didn’t show any of this at the academy?”
Sukea snorted. “No. They wouldn’t have promoted me like Kakashi anyway—it was too close to graduation for that. Besides, I wasn’t interested in walking out of the academy with the label of ‘prodigy.’” He waved a hand dismissively. “Ask any Nara—it’s not worth the hassle. And people would’ve started comparing us. No thanks.”
Choza gave him a long, considering look before offering. “I could see if I can arrange some advanced training for you—something better suited to your skills?”
Sukea gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’ll think about it.”
Before Choza could press further, a commotion broke out as one of the boys finally managed to get a thin wisp of smoke from their leaf. Choza rushed over to intervene, leaving Sukea alone again. For a while, he watched in silence, but boredom eventually got the better of him. Wandering back over, he offered some advice, carefully explaining how to focus chakra in a way he knew would make sense with his green-suited teammate.
It worked. Within minutes, both Genma and Guy were making progress—enough to make Choza’s expression shift from relief to mild alarm as small flames began to lick at their leaves.
“Careful, careful!” Choza called, rushing over. Sukea leaned against a tree again, satisfied. If they set the forest on fire, at least it wouldn’t be his fault.
—
Kakashi came home from training and was clearly upset.
Sukea looked up from the rom-com novel he’d picked up after training. He had been trying to scratch his itch for some light public reading material since he’s probably got a lot of waiting around in his future, but the convoluted love triangle and the author’s glaring misconceptions about shinobi life made it a less-than-enjoyable experience. With a sigh, he set the book down.
Judging by the glare Kakashi wore, whatever gripe his younger self had was bound to be more interesting than that flimsy excuse for a plot.
“How was training?” Sukea asked with a smile, already bracing for the tirade.
“They don’t even know water walking!” Kakashi exploded, his hands thrown up in frustration. “I tried to show Obito how to do it, and he accused me of showing off!”
Kakashi flopped onto a nearby cushion, “I can’t believe Rin and Obito are STILL working on the basics. It’s not that hard." he mumbled through a pillow.
Sukea snorted, unable to hold back his amusement. “Good to know I wasn’t the only one thinking that today.” He reached over to ruffle Kakashi’s hair, ignoring the younger boy’s weak attempt to bat his hand away. “Choza-sensei had my team practising elemental manipulation, and trust me, they’re struggling just as much. We’re probably on the same curriculum so I guess we both get to suffer together.”
Kakashi rolled onto his side, glaring at Sukea with a mix of annoyance and exhaustion. “Minato-sensei said I should just go do solo clan training tomorrow while he works with them. He’s trying to get rid of me,” Kakashi grumbled, though there was a flicker of genuine hurt beneath his words.
“Actually, I think Minato-sensei’s suggestion for clan training sounds like a good idea. I think I’ll join you!” Sukea announced brightly.
Kakashi’s glare faltered, replaced with a suspicious squint. “Why would you do that?”
Sukea sighed, leaning in with an exasperated look, “Come on, Kakashi. Your teammates just graduated from the Academy. Of course they’re behind you. Minato-sensei isn’t trying to get rid of you—he’s just giving you a break while he gets them up to speed. Do you really want to spend the day watching Obito and Rin falling out of trees? And let’s be honest, Obito’s ego can’t handle you pointing out what he’s doing wrong. Waiting for him to figure it out himself? That’s practically torture.”
The logic seemed to cut through Kakashi’s initial worry about being abandoned by Minato, and a flicker of excitement lit up the boy’s face before it faltered. “Wouldn’t you need to let your sensei know first? About joining me on such short notice?”
Sukea waved the concern away with a casual flick of his hand. “It’s fine~ I can sort it out easily!”
The confidence in his tone seemed to mollify Kakashi somewhat, who let out a small huff of reluctant acceptance.