Chapter 10
By the time they finally decided to wrap up training, Sukea wasn’t sure he had the energy to cook when they got home. And judging by the way Kakashi stumbled after him, sluggishly brushing dirt off himself, he wasn’t up for it either. His chakra was probably running far lower than usual from working with an unfamiliar nature for the first time.
Sukea gave him a considering look. He probably won’t argue much if I—
“Well,” he said casually, “since you’ve apparently been hiding mission pay, let’s get some Ichiraku.”
Kakashi gave him a slow, tired blink, like his brain had to reboot just to process the words. He seemed to weigh his options for a few seconds before letting out a reluctant sigh.
“Fine.”
Probably too exhausted to complain.
Sukea, already pleased with his victory, reached into his pouch and pulled out a small container of purple paint. If they were heading into the village, it was probably best not to have two Kakashi wandering around too often. He tugged his mask down, uncapped the paint, and had just dipped his fingers inside when a thought struck him.
He glanced at Kakashi.
Paused.
Then smirked.
“You know…” Sukea drawled, rubbing the paint between his fingers, “Since you’ll be playing me on Monday, now’s the perfect time to practice.”
Kakashi gave him the flattest, most unfiltered no he’d ever seen. Which—fair. The kid barely looked like he had the energy to stand, let alone act.
Sukea grinned wider but didn’t push it. Instead, he gestured for him to come closer. “Alright, alright. But at least let me show you how I do it so you don’t mess it up.”
“It’s just purple drawn on your eyelids and cheeks. It’s not complicated.” Kakashi huffed.
Sukea gasped, theatric and wounded. “It’s very carefully drawn purple,” he corrected, dragging out the words obnoxiously. “There’s a technique to it.”
Kakashi rolled his eyes but dropped down cross-legged anyway, watching as Sukea got comfortable and started applying the paint with slow, deliberate movements.
“The shape matters,” Sukea explained, tracing soft, rounded markings around his eyes and down his cheeks, following the imagined line of an old scar. “Shinobi can use small, visual changes like these in undercover work—things that don’t require chakra. Skin-toned paint is common. You can make scars disappear, shift your features just enough to avoid recognition. The way I draw my eyes helps soften them and draws people’s attention to them rather than the rest of my face.”
Kakashi hummed, sharp gaze tracking every movement.
Sukea checked his reflection in the metal lid of the paint container, tilting his head slightly as he examined his work.
“Using coloured paint can be risky,” he said, smoothing out the edges of the markings with his thumb. “I took the chance because it makes the change more drastic—harder for people to connect Kakashi to Sukea. But if you don’t do your research first, it can cause problems. That’s why it’s mostly just ANBU who use it on deep undercover missions—they know what they’re doing.”
Kakashi perks up in interest. “So you were ANBU?”
Sukea grinned innocently. “Irrelevant.” Then, with a quick swipe, he smeared the leftover paint from his fingers onto a small patch of exposed skin on Kakashi's masked face.
The first rule of ANBU was not talking about ANBU.
Kakashi recoiled, momentarily distracted as he tried to rub it off, only succeeding in smearing it further. Sukea hummed quietly to himself as he waited for the paint to dry on both their faces. Once it had set, he reached over, peeled the hardened paint from Kakashi's face, and revealed the strip of colour. “Fun fact. This shade’s harmless here in Konoha, but in Suna? Different story. Puppetmasters in the Kazekage’s family wear this colour.” His smirk turned wry. “Probably a bad idea for Rin to ever go to Suna. Y’know, besides the war.”
He didn’t linger on the remark and instead continued to get ready and pulled out his wig. It was a mess—probably from being shoved into his pocket all day—but after a few frustrated attempts to smooth it out, he secured it with his hitai-ate, adjusting the band until most of the silver strands were hidden.
He looked at Kakashi expectantly. “So how’s it look?”
Kakashi narrowed his eyes, then reached out and tucked away a stray hair Sukea had missed.
—
Looking presentable enough, they set off toward the main village, weaving through the quieter backstreets until they merged with the busier thoroughfares. The familiar scent of grilled skewers and simmering broths filled the air, and Sukea was already thinking about what he’d order when—
“Sukea! Kakashi!”
Sukea barely had time to react before a blur of green came bounding toward them, full of vibrating energy.
Guy.
Sukea stuffed his hands into his pockets and smiled to bear the brunt of the incoming hurricane of enthusiasm that he knew Kakashi was too tired for.
Guy’s face was flushed, likely from whatever gruelling training he’d just finished, sweat clinging to his temples. “My rival and my teammate together! What great youthful occasion prompted this?”
“Nothing special,” Sukea answered with easy casualness. “Just ran into each other after training. Figured we’d grab dinner at Ichiraku.”
Before Guy could respond, a deep, booming laugh interrupted.
“Well, if you two haven’t eaten yet, why not join us?” Duy clapped a firm hand on Guy’s shoulder, beaming at them both. “We always prepare a large meal after training. It would be far more youthful than takeout, wouldn’t it?”
Guy gasped, eyes practically glowing. “Yes! Please, you must come!”
Sukea flicked a glance at Kakashi, watching the younger boy’s visible reluctance war against his exhaustion. He wasn’t exactly the most social person, but even he wasn’t dumb enough to turn down a free home-cooked meal.
Sukea smirked. “Well, hard to argue with that. Lead the way.”
—
The Might home was warm and inviting, the air thick with the rich aroma of spices. Even before Duy announced what was for dinner, Sukea could tell just by the scent.
Curry.
A slow-cooked one, judging by how deep and fragrant the smell was. It had probably been simmering for hours while they trained, growing richer with time. He could pick out the layers of spice if he’d tried.
Duy beamed as he stepped inside, already rolling up his sleeves. “Make yourselves at home! I need to check on dinner.”
With that, he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Guy to take charge.
Guy grinned, practically vibrating with energy. “Come on, sit! We’ll eat soon and refuel from all that youthful training done today!”
He ushered them toward a low table in the centre of the room. The space was simple but lived in—well-loved. The kind of home where warmth lingered in every corner. A few mismatched cushions surrounded the table, and Guy eagerly gestured for them to sit. Sukea and Kakashi settled down as their host hurried off to grab extra bowls, his enthusiasm unwavering.
Sukea glanced at Kakashi, who still looked drained from training—but at least now, there was the promise of food.
Their two hosts returned quickly, arms laden with dishes. In perfect tandem, Duy and Guy moved with practised ease, serving generous portions of steaming curry over rice. The second Sukea caught the scent up close, he knew—
This recipe is familiar.
Guy had tried making it countless times over the years. Sukea remembered watching him, stirring with deep concentration, sometimes lamenting that it never quite tasted like his dad’s.
Well. Now Sukea finally got to put that to the test.
He picked up his chopsticks, scooping up a bite. The moment it hit his tongue, the flavours melted together—warm spice, slow-cooked depth, a hint of sweetness.
Not quite the same as the dish he was used to.
But close.
Close enough to know exactly what Guy had been trying for all those years.
Sukea quietly savoured the moment. Across the table, Kakashi hesitated, his chopsticks hovering just above his bowl. He was waiting—waiting for a moment when everyone’s attention would shift so he could discreetly pull his mask down for a bite.
Unfortunately for him, Guy had taken this dinner as the prime opportunity to study his eternal rival, and he was not letting up.
“So, Kakashi, how did you develop such incredible speed? Have you always been this fast, or was there a secret training regimen involved? You must! Do you do finger push-ups? I have so many thoughts on muscle development and—”
Kakashi exhaled sharply through his nose, chopsticks lowering slightly. Sukea watched in mild amusement, debating whether to step in with a distraction.
Then, Duy turned to them, voice warm and expectant. “So, how are you enjoying the food, boys?”
“You haven’t eaten much, my dear rival,” Guy added, his tone a mix of concern and encouragement. “Surely you need lots of food to grow to become even bigger and stronger!”
Kakashi exhaled sharply through his nose.
Sukea had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
For all of Guy’s passionate observations and declarations of rivalry, it had apparently never once occurred to him that Kakashi had a mask, let alone that it might be an obstacle at times like this.
Sukea wasn’t even surprised.
Honestly, he had realized stupidly late in their rivalry that Guy probably wouldn’t even notice if he took off his mask in front of him. Correction—he knew Guy wouldn’t notice. There had been at least three challenges over the years where Sukea had removed his own mask mid-competition, only to realize later that Guy had never reacted.
Sukea considered enlightening Kakashi to this fact later, but for now, he threw the poor guy a bone.
“Wow, Kakashi, it must be really hard eating around that mask,” he mused, deliberately casual.
At that exact moment, Guy froze.
Because that was when he realized—
Guy looked absolutely devastated. “I—I didn’t even realize—I was keeping you from eating this whole time—!”
He slapped a hand to his forehead as if the sheer weight of his mistake was too much to bear. “This is unforgivable! I have hindered your recovery after training—I have robbed you of youthful sustenance!”
Sukea stuffed a spoonful of curry into his mouth, trying to silence the sarcastic response threatening to escape.
And then—
“I have an idea!” Duy suddenly announced, slamming his bowl down with a firm determination. “Let’s have a group challenge! We’ll eat blindfolded!”
Sukea nearly choked on his curry.
Kakashi, on instinct, recoiled at the word ‘challenge’.
“Why?” Kakashi asked flatly.
Duy smiled, unwavering. “To test our hand-eye coordination, of course! And to truly experience the taste of the food with no distractions!”
Sukea knew what Duy was doing.
He was trying to make Kakashi feel more comfortable. It was thoughtful. Sweet, even.
But what made it hilarious was that—
Guy had suggested this exact same thing years ago, back when he and Sukea had been in the weird, tentative early stage of their rivalry.
“Sounds like a great idea!” Sukea grinned, barely holding back a laugh as he slipped his headband down over his eyes.
—
Sukea was warm and full in the way only a home-cooked meal could accomplish. The weight of a good dinner settled into his limbs, the lingering spice of curry still on his tongue. Across the table, Kakashi had eaten quickly, finishing long before the rest of them. And with nothing left to occupy him—well.
The warmth of the room, the satisfaction of a full stomach, and the sheer exhaustion from training had done the rest.
Kakashi had started nodding off before anyone even noticed.
Sukea caught it first—the subtle change in his breathing, the way his posture softened just slightly. He peeked before the others finished their ridiculous blindfolded meal challenge and reached over, tugging Kakashi’s mask back up under the guise of nudging him awake. By the time everyone else pulled off their blindfolds, Kakashi’s face was safely hidden again, his head tilted just enough to pass as merely drowsy rather than outright asleep.
Sukea settled back, satisfied with his work, only to be immediately roped into yet another challenge.
Duy, ever full of energy, had barely finished his meal before throwing down the gauntlet: a table-clearing competition.
With speed on his side, Sukea had an early lead, whisking dishes away in a blur. But Guy had the home advantage—he knew exactly where everything belonged and packed the leftovers with an efficiency honed by years of routine. It was a close race, each of them determined, battling for the title of Ultimate Dish Clearing Champion.
And Kakashi?
Kakashi was barely awake.
His arms were folded, his chin tilted downward, and every now and then, his head would dip before he jerked it back up at the last second. He was trying—really trying—to stay conscious, but at this point, it was obvious he was losing the battle.
Sukea eyed him, considering. Did he even have enough chakra left to haul Kakashi home?
It didn’t really matter. He was already deciding that he had to, already preparing to offer to take him home when—
“Guy,” Duy proclaimed, “why don’t you carry your rival home? It looks like he had a very youthful day.”
Kakashi’s head snapped up, eyes widening in alarm. “What? No, I can—”
“Fear not, my youthful rival!” Guy beamed, already stepping forward. “I shall carry you home!”
“No, you won’t,” Kakashi deadpanned.
But he was so tired that his resistance was more of a token effort than anything real, and Guy—clearly taking the lack of immediate struggle as permission—actually followed through.
Kakashi made an irritated noise as he was unceremoniously hoisted up, but his attempts at fighting back were pitiful at best. Sukea, fighting very hard not to laugh, waved goodbye with zero intention of stepping in to save him.
Kakashi shot him a look—the kind that promised retribution.
But then Guy enthusiastically bounded off, and Kakashi was too exhausted to argue.
Sukea stretched lazily, about to follow them out when—
“Sukea,” Duy said, turning back to the kitchen, “why don’t you stay and help me with the dishes?”
Sukea blinked. He could have said no, could have made some excuse, but… something about the way Duy asked made him hesitate.
And just like that, he found himself alone in the warm, curry-scented kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a cloth in hand to help dry dishes.
For a moment, the only sounds were the soft clink of ceramic and the quiet rush of water. The kind of silence that settled after a lively evening—comfortable, easy.
Then Duy spoke.
“How have you been doing, Sukea?”
The question was simple, but his tone was soft. Gentle in a way that caught Sukea off guard.
He kept his expression neutral, reaching for something normal, something expected. “Training’s boring. I wish we were starting missions already.”
Duy hummed, rinsing off a bowl. “I suppose, in the kind of environment you’re in, you would be eager to grow up and get out there.” He handed the bowl to Sukea and picked up another dish, voice unhurried. “Your sensei, however, is making sure you’re all fully equipped before moving to the next stage of your journey.”
Sukea didn’t respond, scrubbing a little harder than necessary at a wet spot.
Duy continued as if he hadn’t noticed.
“Guy tells me he enjoys training with you.” His tone was casual, warm. “Says you make things interesting. Keep him on his toes.”
Sukea snorted, smirking. “I suppose Guy’s challenges give me a reason to even turn up to training at this point.”
Duy chuckled. “I’m glad to hear you also have fun with them.”
A pause.
Then—
“You know,” Duy continued, voice light, “you and Kakashi are welcome here anytime. If you ever need anything. My son enjoys both of your company. Also I think it would be nice to see you more often.”
He set a plate aside, instead of handing it to Sukea to dry then glanced at Sukea with a warm, knowing look.
“Not just at your father’s grave.”
It took him a second—two, maybe—to process what Duy was implying.
His mind scrambled for denial, a cover, something sharp-edged to deflect. His pulse surged with instinct. They were in the middle of the village, in someone’s home—he couldn’t exactly eliminate him to shut him up.
But before he could even open his mouth, before he could conjure an excuse, Duy moved.
Soapy hands—rough with years of work, but gentle—reached out, tucking a stray strand of silver back beneath Sukea’s hitai-ate.
Sukea froze.
He’d let his guard down. He’d made a stupid, amateur mistake.
Duy just smiled.
A kind, understanding smile, with no judgment behind it.
“We live in a ninja village,” he said gently, “and everyone has something to hide, unfortunately, parentage is a very common one.”
—
Sukea stumbled home, feeling... a little lost.
The evening had been fun—good food, lively conversation, and plenty of laughter—but that last exchange with Duy had completely thrown him.
Duy knew. Or at least, he thought he knew.
The whole interaction had been such a disaster he didn’t even know where to begin unpacking it.
It hadn’t been an accusation. There had been no sharpness, no suspicion in Duy’s words—just that quiet, deliberate kindness, like he genuinely wanted to help.
And then, somehow, the conversation had shifted.
Duy had hesitated, something almost careful in his expression before he’d asked, gently:
"Does Kakashi know? About your bonds of brotherhood?"
At first, Sukea had stared.
His brain scrambled to piece together what Duy was actually asking—because what kind of question—?
And then the wording clicked. The soft, hesitant way Duy had spoken, like he was gently stepping around a delicate family secret.
And Sukea had realized, with dawning horror, that Duy—earnest, well-meaning Duy—had somehow concluded that he and Kakashi were half-siblings.
Sukea had been so flat-footed by the assumption that, before he could even think of correcting it, his mouth had already moved to confirm, “Yeah, Kakashi knows.”
Which... wasn’t a lie?
Trying to lighten the air from whatever this is, Sukea tried to joke "He’s my little brother. We live together, so it would be weird if he didn’t."
Which was also… technically true.
Duy had beamed, nodding along.
"Ah! True, we ran into you when Guy went to challenge his rival the other day! Such a strong, youthful brotherly bond—!"
And then—
Duy sniffled.
He actually sniffled.
Sukea had stood there, completely overwhelmed by the sheer force of Duy’s genuine and heartfelt sincerity, as the man clapped a firm, slightly pruney hand on his shoulder and earnestly told him to go home and check on his brother.
Sukea had nodded, trying to will away the heat rising to his face, unsure why hearing it phrased like that felt so weird. It wasn’t like he’d never joked about it himself—he constantly referred to Kakashi as his little brother in private just to rile him up.
But hearing it said seriously—with such genuine warmth—was... different.
He muttered a quick thank you for dinner, then escaped as fast as possible.
And now, as he neared home, he could still feel the lingering awkwardness in his chest.
Duy knows something now.
Sukea exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. At least he wouldn’t have to actually face Guy at training on Monday. Small mercies.