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Kakashi is adrift in a stream of golden light, floating along an unforgiving darkness.
Flecks of gold and green weave around his fingers like dust motes in a sunbeam. They brush against his skin, tickling the sensitive pads and attach to him for a moment. Then in the blink of an eye, the motes dart away as if nothing ever happened.
Curious little things, Kakashi thinks through the thick blanket of slow that covers his mind. He is confounded by the pause between thought and action. Blinking and testing his extremities delayed in this buoyant space.
It is not the first time on this plane, dancing amongst the glow of the orbs that seemingly guide him to destinations unknown.
It is time for you to go, Kakashi. They seem to say flowing through and around him easily. We look forward to playing with you again .
The orbs retreat with a merry bob of farewell, dimming and plunging him into darkness. Ah, it must be a dream, he concludes sagely. He was not called a genius mushishi for nothing.
Between one moment and the next, Kakashi opens his eyes slowly to be greeted with the cold outside world once more.
The cave is drafty and the wind curls around him like a mischievous blanket even through the makeshift door of branches. Kakashi reaches out in the semi-darkness, seeking out the wooden supply chest that he travels with. The small wooden drawers are filled with medicines and paraphernalia designed to aid villages affected by or catch unexplainable phenomena. These phenomena are often described as the work of spirits and manifest in the physical plane as mushi . As someone who travels the world helping where he could, Kakashi is a famous mushishi .
A cold wet nose presses against the exposed patch of cheek, the small dog's body snuffling closer with a low whine. Another much larger body lies against his side, keeping his left side shielded from the blizzard outside. Kakashi grimaces as he runs fingers through the dog's fur, glancing at the blizzard past the mouth of the cave.
It will be spring soon and the silent fall of snow will be broken by the sound of animals once more.
For now, Kakashi lights up another stick of mushi-tobacco that he does not smoke to ward off any hungry spirits. He lets out a shuddering breath that he can see and burrows his face deeper into his scarf. All he and his dogs can do is wait.
***
It takes three days to arrive at the nearest village when the blizzard lets up. The frozen ponds surrounding it will thaw into rice paddies once the season changes.
The villagers are notably wary of a silver haired stranger walking through, hostile.
“We do not want you here,” a young man in his early teens shouts from the doorway of his home. Behind him are three younger children - his siblings likely - curious and shy.
Kakashi lifts his head, blinking slowly as he pauses to take them in. “I am just passing through and do not want to cause any trouble. Would I be able to trouble you for some water for my dogs? In exchange I can offer news...” Kakashi’s focus flickers to the children behind the boy once more as they brighten at the mention of animals. “...or perhaps a story or two.”
“What kind of story?” a voice pipes up, belonging to a young girl.
“What kind of dogs ?”
Behind his scarf, Kakashi smiles and promises, “Only the cutest dogs and the best stories.”
Begrudgingly, the oldest brother motions Kakashi in and steps aside. Kakashi looks curiously around the house for any sign of their parents, but finds no-one. Something flickers in and out of view in the rafters.
Ah, Kakashi thinks as he toes off his snow walkers and watches as lavish attention is placed on his dogs, looks like there will be a small delay.
***
There are two types of people in the world: those that are born with the ability to see the mushi and those that cannot. And then there is the small subset of people born without the ability to see that learn, but as a result of trauma or something worse.
Kakashi is one such individual. His father had been the famous Sakumo- mushishi with high hopes for his one and only son, but had been so disappointed when Kakashi could not see the mushi like he could. His mother did not see that as the curse that his father did, instead choosing to dote on her only son with all of the love her frail body was capable of giving.
A few years later, Kakashi was still young but despite not being able to see the mushi Sakumo began teaching him the ways of becoming a mushishi . They took short trips to neighbouring villages that requested his help. Every trip was an adventure and Kakashi got to ride upon the back of their bull-like dog for short distances. His mother would always see them off at the gate with a small fond smile, bidding them to return to her side safely.
It was on one such trip to a village beyond the mountains that a mushi epidemic spread throughout their village.
When Sakumo and Kakashi received the news from a wandering traveler, they returned as quickly as they could. It had spread through the Uchiha clan that lived upon the hills like wildfire. The large clan fell as the Sharingan took their eyes, one by one, leaving the large family compound filled with sadness and sorrow until there was no one by that name.
“Kakashi, stay here.” Sakumo growled, opening and closing the many drawers of his supply chest.
“I can help you, father,” Kakashi argued, looking between the open doorway of his childhood home and the top of his father’s silver head.
“You’re a good boy, Kakashi. But I need you to stay here with Bull and cover your eyes. Do not open them until I come back and tell you that it is safe.” Sakumo patted the top of his head and wrapped a long strip of dark silky material over his eyes.
With his eyes closed, he burrows close to Bull’s side, listening as his father ascended the steps. And then eerie silence.
It feels like forever with only the dog’s panting keeping him company. His fists shake and he waits like he is told until he can no longer resist. It will be okay if I open up just the one eye, right? Kakashi reasons and turns his face away until only his right cheek rests upon Bull’s fur.
When he opens his left eye, Kakashi gasps when he sees the smoky cloud like form of what must be the Sharingan - mushi . It twines around his home, trails of red and black engulfing his house. There is an awful spinning black tomoe set in a circle of white on the back of its head - or what Kakashi thinks is the head, and the back of it - and it sways from side to side like a snake.
His father is trapped inside, Kakashi can make out his figure in the doorway when the body clears enough to see, with something - someone - in his arms. The Sharingan was going to take them both and he cannot just stand around and let that happen.
Kakashi turned to his father’s supply chest, shaky fingers opening and closing the drawers for something, anything, to use. He pulled out the clay pots and crushed paper, quickly grinding up the ink needed to draw a seal and create an ofuda .
He could do this. Sakumo had taught him how to seal away strong mushi to be dealt with in the presence of another skilled mushishi and safely away from villagers.
With everything prepared, Kakashi runs up the stairs with his ofuda and clay pot in hand and he begins chanting. The words flow through him, channeling through his small body as he musters all of his power to seal this mushi away.
The Sharingan sways and rears, ready to strike and then it makes an unearthly sound. The soundwaves knock Kakashi back and he almost loses the pot from the force of the noise.
Bull is by his side, pressing his big furry head into the small of Kakashi’s back. The Sharingan screams as the incantation activates the power within the clay pot, drawing it in from the tail end first until all that is left is the swirling tomoe .
The Sharingan mounts one last assault. The black tomoe begins to spin rapidly, quickly enough that it appears almost like the curves change shape even ad the black changes colour to a deep blood red. It shoots out a red beam that hits Kakashi in the face just as he stoppers the jar and slaps the ofuda on top.
Kakashi collapses onto his knees, small body curled around the clay pot protectively lest it breaks and all that effort would be for naught.
Kakashi was unconscious before he could register Sakumo yelling out his name.
***
He wakes up with a terrifying headache. Immediately he brings a hand up to check the eyepatch fashioned to keep the Sharingan inside him at bay. That memory did not often replay in his dreams but the colder the temperatures, the more likely it was to recall that trauma.
Pakkun sleeps on his chest, his weight welcome and grounding even if the drool was not. Kakashi pulls a face at the wet patch on his shirt.
With the mushi taken care of in the village of children, and the adults returning from deep within the mountain, where it had placed a barrier around them and prevented them from returning. It was a miracle the children had survived.
“Perhaps it is time to go see the pack,” Kakashi muses aloud as he rubs Pakkun’s silky ears. Over the years, Kakashi had inherited his father's knack for picking up strays.. Even if he only got to see the dogs once a year, Kakashi still considered them his family.
Bull butts his big head against Kakashi’s foot and huffs out a bark of agreement.
“Alright then. Lead me home.”
***
The road of life leads him through a number of twists and turns, through two more interesting cases, before the crisp cool air mellows into a warmer, saltier sea breeze. The mountain crags and alpine trees morph into grassy plains and wide bubbling streams, the feel of it soft underneath his sandals. The sharp cries of birds of prey morph into the longer squalls of gulls.
Bull and Pakkun chase one another, barking loudly as they chase the gleaming forms of dragonflies in the sun. With each step towards the coast, Kakashi feels his heart soar. If there were ever a place to call home, this little fishing village where he grew up would be it.
Pakkun is waiting for him at the top of the rise. He barks once and then turns to look down at the other side. Kakashi hears giggling and shouting and once he joins Pakkun, he realises just why Pakkun kept his distance. There are three children - two boys and a girl - in vibrantly patterned yukatas lavishing attention on Bull. The large dog is on his back, enjoying the sun and rubs on his exposed belly. Kakashi scratches at stubble, the rasp of beard catching his fingernails.
He is startled out of his thoughts when the blond boy in the sunny yukata points at Kakashi and shouts, “Ah! It’s you!”
Kakashi blinks slowly, unable to recognise the shouty boy. “Haa?”
“Dobe,” the boy in the dark waves yukata hisses. He seems the sullen broody type and elbows him. “Don’t you remember?”
“Remember what, Sasuke-kun?” the pink haired girl says, looking very fascinated by the goings on even as she continues petting Bull.
“That’s Iruka-sensei’s friend,” Sasuke explains with a sigh. “The one who can’t remember anything. The one with the… Sharingan. ”
Kakashi frowns, feeling like his entire integrity has been attacked by the small child’s words and it required defending. The way Sasuke said Sharingan though… is interesting. “Hey, I remember some things. Like how to come back. More or less.”
Sasuke looks him up and down, and then scoffs. “Hn.” Pakkun looks up at Kakashi, equally unimpressed.
“I’m going to go tell Iruka-sensei his friend is here to see him!” the shouty boy decides and jumps onto his feet, making a wild dash through the undergrowth. “The last one there is a loser! C’mon, Sakura-chan!”
“Dobe!” Sasuke takes off after him, hastily grabbing a basket filled with leafy matter.
“Ahh! Sasuke-kun! Naruto! Wait for me!” the girl - Sakura - yells, tossing a quick bow at Kakashi after grabbing her basket and then runs after the retreating backs of her friends.
Kakashi looks up at the sky and sighs, letting the peace and quiet wash over him with the sun upon his skin. Bull rolls over and lumbers to his feet, shaking himself all over to rid his short coat of sand. He hears Pakkun run down to his brother and bark at him, likely to reprimand him for acting like a puppy when confronted with belly rubs. The interaction makes Kakashi smile. There is no mistaking who the alpha is amongst his pack.
Thinking about his pack makes him miss the dogs he had left in Iruka-sensei’s safe keeping. Throughout his travels and his years as a mushishi , Kakashi had taken in a number of strays. The strays ended up following him and although a number of people on his journey have accused him of being distant and cold-hearted, it is impossible for him to ignore creatures in need, even more so when they take the form of helpless puppies.
Bull and Pakkun are loyal to him, stubbornly following him through thick and thin across the countries and trained to help when confronted with mushi .
His trip down memory lane is broken when a cold nose presses against his fingers and Pakkun’s claws dig into the side of his leg.
“Ah,” Kakashi says to his dogs. “It wouldn’t do to keep Iruka-sensei waiting.”
Bull huffs out an agreement. Pakkun settles down to scratch at an ear.
He picks his way past the last of the hills, locating the well traveled track in and out of the fishing village. From his unreliable memory, Kakashi thinks there are a couple of new houses and the closer he gets to it, the stronger the salty fishy smell becomes. He has not missed the constant squabbling of the gulls.
A couple of the villagers stop and stare at him as he travels through. Nothing new there but it does surprise him when a number of them wave and smile instead. Kakashi ducks his head shyly and follows the tracks left by Bull and Pakkun.
They lead him out of the main village, climbing up to the top of one of the cliffs that offers a spectacular view of the village and the ocean. The sea breeze ruffles his hair as he climbs higher. At the top of the cliff sits a handsome large complex, built with dark wood and rice paper. A wall lines the large garden, overgrown.
A figure stands on the engawa , arms tucked away into the sleeves of a smoke grey yukata. He hears the excited chatter of children and the barking of dogs.
When Kakashi pokes his head through the gates, he sees the chaotic mass of activity as Bull and Pakkun are in the midst of a pack reunion in a nebulous force of excited fur. Not far off, Kakashi sees the children - Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke - with their feet dangling off the engawa and watermelon seeds dotting their chins as they bit into the juicy fruit.
“I was wondering when you would be arriving.” The man is all wry amusement and mischief sparks in his eye. Bull has plastered himself against his side, rumbling in satisfaction as he receives all the petting.
“Maa, Iruka-sensei,” Kakashi drawls, ignoring the burgeoning sense of relief. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“It took you three hours to get home after the kids told me you were back.”
“You know how the road of life is,” Kakashi replies as his eyes crinkle. Riling up Iruka is always fun. The tension he carries from his weary travels sloughs off him like water in a rainstorm. He is home. “It takes me off the beaten track sometimes.”
“Next time tell the road of life to be more direct,” Iruka retorts. "Now come along. You must be exhausted."
He leads them to the room that faces out towards the bluffs, where the sea breeze rolls in and ruffles the children’s hair. The tree just outside the window sways to the sound of dogs and gulls.
“Now,” Iruka says sternly at the three children who linger in the corridor. “Don’t pester Kakashi-sensei too much while I go get the tea.”
Kakashi doesn’t say he minds, fielding the curiosity of the innocent with an artful flair. In the short minutes that Iruka is gone, he learns that the pink haired girl is called Sakura and that Naruto and Sasuke are orphans who both live with Iruka. They help out with the shop, and Iruka's occasional mushi patient or the classes he helps teach.
Iruka always had a big heart, and he carried a soft spot for children and stray animals; Kakashi counts himself as one of those.
Kakashi finds his captive audience delightful and keeps his stories mostly child-friendly. Iruka is called out to the front rooms from time to time when he has patients or is summoned by potential customers.
He always returns, leaning against the doorframe with a small satisfied smile. It is a good look on Iruka and Kakashi lifts his head to offer one of his own.
He is home.
***
Kakashi wakes up with a start, sitting upright in a bed that is not his own. His heart hammers in his chest and his hand flies up to cover the left side of his face. There is no phantom oppression that makes everything difficult to move. He sighs in relief.
Beside him, Iruka sleeps on.
Iruka’s hair is longer than ever, long strands that swirl over naked tanned skin and the futon like ink patterns. Kakashi combs his fingers through and lifts it far away to examine the scar underneath. The starburst pattern has not changed, but it had been some time since he had seen it this close.
He rubs a thumb over the raised edge, entranced by the texture.
Iruka stirs. “Kakashi…” he whispers into the night, voice rough with sleep. “Are you okay?”
“Sorry I woke you.” Kakashi’s hand falls away as Iruka sits up and turns to look at him.
Iruka hums and reaches out to cup Kakashi’s right cheek, smiling when Kakashi nuzzles into the warmth of his palm. “You didn’t answer my question,” he accuses.
“You wouldn’t want my answer.”
Iruka pauses and then leans forward to press their foreheads together, eyes falling shut. Kakashi can count each and every one of his eyelashes. His hair slips around them like a veil, letting in dappled patches of moonlight.
They sit there on the futon for a moment that Kakashi hopes would never end. Kakashi reaches a hand out, splaying his fingers over the warm stretch of firm stomach. It wouldn’t do to tire out Iruka more than he had already, but Kakashi is selfish and before long the road would beckon.
Kakashi would always return to Iruka, if he could. He would stay with Iruka, if he could. But there were too many mushi in the world.
“You missed my birthday,” Iruka states, a pout playing on his lips.
“Let’s go back to sleep and I'll make it up to you,” Kakashi rumbles, lowering Iruka gently down onto the futon and covers that familiar body with his own. He has no intention on allowing Iruka to sleep. There is nothing more to say with words.
But the way Iruka’s fingers dig into his shoulder when Kakashi presses in once more, the way he sighs and shares his breath with Kakashi in open-mouthed kisses: that says more than enough.
Although Iruka knows Kakashi will leave the village one day soon with his supply chests refilled again, Kakashi will always find his way back home to him.