Hatake Kakashi · Chat

The streets of Konohagakure hadn't been this lively in a long time. From the main road at the village gate all the way to the Hokage's office building, the sidewalks on both sides were packed with villagers and ninja watching the procession. The daimyo's carriage had set out from the Fire Country capital and traveled for four whole days, finally arriving this afternoon. The curtain embroidered with the Genji clan crest swayed gently in the breeze, and every now and then a glimpse of a snow-white sleeve would send a low ripple of excitement through the crowd. "I heard that princess... is coming here to marry into the village." "Hey, you think she'll marry one of the ninja lords?" Whispers swirled in every corner like fallen leaves stirred up by the wind. And on this noisy street, there was one person who stood out precisely because of how quietly out of place he was. Hatake Kakashi leaned in the shade of an old camphor tree at the corner of the street, an open copy of *Icha Icha Paradise* in his hand—though his gaze wasn't on the page. His silver-white hair was mussed beneath his hitai-ate, and his mask covered most of his face, leaving only a single lazy, listless right eye visible. He was waiting for the crowd to pass. Or rather, he was waiting for that carriage to pass. He told himself he was just passing through. Just happened to be stuck here on his way back from a mission. That was all. Then the wind lifted the carriage curtain. Just for a moment. Kakashi's finger, mid-page-turn, stopped. The noise of the street was muted by something in that instant. He saw the motley headscarves and hats in the crowd, saw a child perched on an adult's shoulders waving his arms, saw falling leaves and rising dust—all the colors drained away, all the sounds sank down. Until everything turned gray, turned silent, turned into one long take, with a single figure framed at the center of the shot. He couldn't even remember when he'd forgotten to breathe. The carriage rolled slowly past, the curtain fell shut, and only then did the world seem to press play again. The clamor rushed back in, a child bumped into his leg, muttered "Sorry," and ran off. Kakashi didn't respond. He closed the famous book he hadn't actually been reading, tucked it into his ninja pouch, and turned toward the Hokage's office building. But he didn't go to see her. He had no right. She was here to marry into the village—she would be wed to someone Lady Tsunade had carefully chosen, someone suited to her, someone who could stand openly in the sunlight. Not someone like him, whose hands were stained with too much blood, who had spent too many years in the shadows of the ANBU. He shoved his hands into his pockets, crinkled his eyes in a smile at a ninja who greeted him on the road, said "Well, just got back," and kept walking toward home. His back looked exactly the same as always. But that night, he couldn't sleep. He lay on the tatami, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying over and over that one second when the carriage curtain had been lifted by the wind—and older images too. In the darkness, he closed his eyes. A few days later, the Hokage's office. A jōnin meeting. Tsunade sat behind her desk, fingers steepled beneath her chin, her gaze sweeping across the row of the finest unmarried male ninja Konoha had to offer. The marriage terms Minamoto Terunobu had proposed were too generous to refuse—the Fire Country would provide Konoha with full material support: medical supplies, food, ninja tool materials, and funding. There was only one condition: find his daughter a strong man who could protect her for life. "So," Tsunade began, her voice quiet but commanding absolute silence in the meeting room, "this isn't matchmaking. This is Konoha's promise to the Fire Country daimyo. I need someone worthy of that promise." She picked up a roster and turned a page. "Uchiha Itachi." Itachi, standing by the window, gave a slight bow at the sound of his name, his tone calm and respectful: "Lady Tsunade." "ANBU captain; his strength needs no introduction. Steady temperament, thoughtful, and presentable too." Tsunade listed his merits matter-of-factly, then paused. "But your problem is obvious too—between Uchiha clan affairs and your ANBU workload, you simply don't have time to look after a young woman. And from what I hear, you're not exactly interested in this marriage yourself." Itachi lowered his eyes, a faint curve at the corner of his mouth. "Lady Tsunade's perception is as sharp as ever. Indeed, I've already made my stance clear to the clan head—rather than marriage, I'd prefer to focus on my duties in the ANBU." Tsunade nodded and drew a line through his name on the roster. "Uchiha Shisui." Shisui, leaning against the doorframe, stepped out of the shadows, arms crossed, eyes curved with barely contained mirth. His Mangekyō Sharingan swirled with an eerie red light in the daylight, but the glow in his eyes right now had nothing to do with battle—it was the kind of light a person can't hide when they're thinking of someone they love. "Here." he said. Tsunade looked at him and sighed. "You don't even have to speak. One look at your face and I already know what you're going to say." "Then I'll just say it?" Shisui picked up with a laugh, his voice clear and bright, carrying the easy forthrightness of a young clan head and a frankness so open it was impossible to dislike. "I've already met the little princess—yesterday, in the garden behind the Hokage's tower. She was crouching by the pond watching the koi. I didn't know who she was, so I went over to say hello. Then she looked up at me, and the sunlight happened to fall right into her eyes." He raised a hand and pointed at his own eyes. "And then she said my eyes were beautiful." The meeting room was silent for a second. Kazama let out a meaningful "Whoa—" from the side. Shisui spread his hands, his expression so guileless it was almost too guileless. "One look and I was done for. The kind of done-for where you look at her once and you've already picked out your kids' names in your head. Lady Tsunade, I'm serious—Uchiha Shisui, in my capacity as head of the Uchiha clan, wishes to ask for the Fire Country princess's hand in marriage." "You're serious?" Tsunade raised an eyebrow. "When have I ever not been?" Shisui countered. "Last time you were supposed to turn in the quarterly financial report." "...That's different." Tsunade massaged her temples. She knew Shisui was a good man. Strength, character, standing, feelings for the princess—every item was beyond reproach. But behind him was someone even more restless— "Shiranui Kazama." Kazama rose from his chair. Unlike the two Uchiha before him, he had no Mangekyō, no kekkei genkai—just a face that said "I've been waiting for this." "Lady Tsunade," Kazama struck first, speaking a third faster than usual, "let me say this up front: I'm not here to fill a slot." "I know you're not here to fill a slot." "I'm genuinely asking for the princess's hand. Yesterday, when she stepped down from the carriage in front of the Hokage's tower, I happened to be standing guard at the gate. She stood there in the wind for a while, her hair getting a little tousled without her noticing, just quietly taking in Konoha." Kazama paused there, as if reliving the moment, then shook his head and smiled. "I've seen a lot of women, Lady Tsunade. But that princess is different—standing there, she made even the drab buildings around her look a little more beautiful. I figured, if I could make a girl like that smile without a care in the world, this life would be worth it." Shisui clicked his tongue softly from the side. "You're even smoother than me." "Shut up. I'm reporting to the Hokage." Tsunade watched the two of them bicker and let a rare smile slip through. But she quickly reined it in. Her fingers tapped lightly on the roster, her gaze settling on a man standing in the farthest corner of the room, who hadn't said a single word the entire time. Silver-white hair. A hitai-ate worn askew, covering his left eye. A mask hiding the lower half of his face. Hands in his pockets, shoulders against the wall, as if he'd fallen asleep standing up. Tsunade's gaze swept past him without pausing and returned to the roster. "Alright, you three—" she began, ready to make a preliminary summary. Then that man moved. The one who always stood in the corner, always spoke last, always brushed everything off with "Well, whatever"—he took a step forward, out of the shadows of the corner, and walked to the center of the meeting room. The metal of his hitai-ate glinted under the fluorescent light, and his exposed right eye was no longer its usual half-asleep self, but calm, serious, carrying a light no one had ever seen in it before. "Lady Tsunade." He said only four words, but everyone fell silent. Because Hatake Kakashi voluntarily speaking up during a meeting was, in itself, already abnormal enough. Tsunade narrowed her eyes at him. "...Kakashi. Do you have something to add?" He didn't beat around the bush. "I want to be the princess's marriage candidate." The meeting room went so quiet that only the rustle of leaves outside the window remained. Tsunade's expression froze for a second. She set down the roster, leaned back in her chair, and studied him with the look of someone seeing him anew. Shisui's smile faded. Kazama's brows knit together. Itachi tilted his head slightly by the window, his expression calm, but his gaze boring into Kakashi. "You?" Tsunade's voice was incredulous. "Kakashi, do you know what you're saying?" "I do." "Do you know who the princess is?" "I do." "She is the only daughter of Minamoto Terunobu, the Fire Country daimyo. The Fire Country has only one princess. Minamoto Terunobu guards her like his own life, and now he's entrusting her to Konoha because he wants her to be cherished here, treated well, given a stable life. Do you think—" Tsunade leaned forward slightly, her voice growing heavier, "a man who's late every day, spends his entire salary on those little smutty books, whose refrigerator at home has been broken for a month without being fixed, who can't even take care of himself—do you think you're that 'stability'?" The words were harsh. But Hatake Kakashi stood his ground without even blinking. "I know what kind of person I am," he said, his voice low but steadier than he ever was. "I know I'm not good enough." He paused. "But, Lady Tsunade—I want to take care of her." The words were plain, so plain they almost sounded casual. But it was that very plainness that made Tsunade's fingers stop their tapping. She looked at him again. Studied him seriously. Then she shook her head. "No." Kakashi didn't move. "Reason?" he asked. "Plenty of reasons." Tsunade leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "First, every problem you just listed about yourself is true. Second, the princess needs a husband who can give her a sense of security, not someone who's always off on S-rank missions and might—" she swallowed the word "die," "might not come back at any moment. Third—" She paused, her tone softening a little. "Kakashi, it's not that I don't recognize who you are. Everything you've done for Konoha, I've seen it all. But I'm the princess's matchmaker. I promised Minamoto Terunobu I'd find his daughter a good home. I can't let myself break that promise." And Kakashi didn't back down. He took off the hitai-ate that had always covered his left eye. Tsunade said nothing. "Just this once," he said. The office was silent for a very, very long time. Tsunade's gaze cut through his expression like a scalpel, searching for even a trace of hesitation or uncertainty. She found none. In this man's eyes, she saw only one thing— He was serious. Tsunade closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them. "Shisui." "...Yes." "Everything you said, I've noted it. Kazama, you too. You're both good men, both good choices." She paused, then looked at the man still standing there, both eyes—left and right—fixed on her. "But this man—he never says 'I want.'" A helpless, self-deprecating smile crept into Tsunade's voice. "He said it. I can't pretend I didn't hear it." She stood up, braced her hands on the desk, and looked straight at Kakashi. "Hatake Kakashi. I'll ask you just one question." "Please ask." "If one day, the princess sheds a tear in front of you—not a happy tear, but one of grievance, sadness, or disappointment—what would you do?" Kakashi lowered his eyes. Then he raised his head and, in the most solemn tone Tsunade had ever heard from him in all the years she'd known him, said: "That day will never come. But if it does—" He paused. "I won't forgive myself. You don't have to forgive me either. Just carve my face onto the Hokage Rock." Tsunade stared at him for a long time. "Fine." She sat back down, picked up the roster, and circled Hatake Kakashi's name. "Hatake Kakashi, official candidate for the Konoha–Fire Country marriage alliance. After this meeting, go to the logistics division and pick up the marriage procedure checklist, and have a report on your personal living situation on my desk by tomorrow—and fix that broken refrigerator this month. Also, that smutty little book—" "Lady Tsunade—" "I can't control you, but when the princess sees you holding that thing, you explain it yourself." Shisui walked over and clapped Kakashi on the shoulder, harder than necessary, through gritted teeth. "Congratulations, se-n-pai." Kakashi adjusted his hitai-ate to cover one eye, turned his head to look at him, and curved his eyes in a smile—a real one this time. "Thanks."