Written: 6/10/24
Word Count: 1,715

Eyes so heavy they felt like they held the weight of this entire apartment all tipped precariously against my delicate lashes, I had to sit down on my bed to put my socks on. Apparently, less than four hours of sleep for an already-exhausted mind did not bode well for the future of the day. I would have to take Excedrin before I left because I was sure to get a migraine for pretending to be alive right now.

If I had worried that things would become awkward between Kakashi and me the next morning, I needn't have worried. As soon as I stumbled my way out of my room, ugly navy polo with a few too many stains to be considered "clean," I ran right into him, a spoonful of cereal making its way to his mouth as he sat perusing something on my iPad.

"What's the deal with Sasuke?" he asked with no preamble.

I stopped short, socked feet teetering back and forth across the metal lip from the fake wood to the kitchen's linoleum. "What?" It was far too early for this. Well, really, I was far too tired to comprehend words at the moment.

"Uchiha Sasuke," Kakashi clarified, perhaps thinking me confused. And I was confused, but not about that.

"Um." I entered the kitchen. I was so tired that a frown was permanently etched into my brow, but I wasn't angry. For the life of me, I just couldn't smooth it out. My hands began moving at a third of their regular pace, fitting my travel mug under the Keurig's spout. I grabbed my lunch bag from where it lazily sat on the corner of the counter and began stuffing random things inside of it. It took herculean effort to do this, rising within me this horrible toddler-like feeling that it was all unfair and I didn't wanna go.

Some people functioned on a lack of sleep, but apparently I had forgotten that I was not one of them.

"How does this end for him?" Kakashi asked, munching on another bite of cereal. For some reason, the sound of crunching made me want to throw the bowl into his face. Or out the window. Something.

Striving for calm, I grabbed a couple of granola bars for my ride to work. There was no way I was pouring myself a bowl of cereal right now. I reached down to pick up the babies, little desperate mewls acting like Kakashi hadn't just fed them three seconds before I came out. Their little lips were still covered in a salmon-fuzz, the more foul-smelling variant of a milk mustache.

Hable was developing more of an angular face, like a cheetah. Her orange had been such an intense burst of tangerine when she was born, but now the color had faded a bit, giving her an intensely soft and fluffy look, though she was a short-hair. On the other hand, Sintar's gray nose had considerably darkened, a brown nose on a dark-gray coat that was nearly blue. She retained her circular head shape, eyes rounder than her sister's.

"I thought you weren't interested in knowing the future of the story I know," I said, which wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the full truth, either.

We'd never really talked about things that happened in the Naruto anime, not after those first couple weeks when I'd shown Kakashi its existence to prove I had nothing to hide.

Diligently, Kakashi had kept his original parameters from me. He'd watched the 220 episodes of little Naruto running around and causing trouble, then he'd stopped. I'd spotted him watching Demon Slayer, and I'd heard "Inferno's" infamous trill once. So, he'd checked out Rengoku's and Benimaru's anime after I'd mentioned them.

But he hadn't asked to watch Shippuden after I'd shown him the scene of Hinata getting blasted away by Pain on the day we'd met. Kakashi stuck to Netflix shows. He could navigate the Google search bar pretty well, and sometimes found the randomly downloaded word games a distraction for what was no doubt a series of long days sitting with nothing but restless energy.

His interest in my iPad only went so far, though. He'd yet to go back into Amazon Prime, where I'd purchased each volume of Shippuden. He'd yet to watch the rest of the story.

He didn't know about Obito, or Naruto, or Sasuke. He didn't know the truth about his master's death.

"Why not?" Kakashi shrugged. "If it's just a story."

I ambled into my living room, perching on the edge of the couch as I tied my short wet hair into a high-rising bun. Half the strands escaped from my grasp, billowing out like a fanciful American Revolution-esque style. Good, just how I liked it.

"But what if it is real?" I asked him.

Kakashi set his cereal bowl before him, pulling the gray kitten into his lap from where she stretched up on his leg. He began petting her face in a series of pokes and stolen swipes as he valiantly avoided her deadly claws.

"Sure," he shrugged, apparently unconcerned, "but what does it hurt?"

I considered this question. Was the only reason I wanted to keep the future quiet because every time travel movie had warned against it? Knowing too many details may lead to unnecessarily changing the future, but...why was one future set in stone?

"I don't know," I told him honestly. My brain had tackled some very serious subjects first thing in the morning on a day where I was playing survival mode. "If you want to know something, just ask." That was a total copout. How would he know what to ask? Unless he just asked a broad question, like...

"You're telling me, there's nothing you'd want to change about the story?" Kakashi asked me. Sintar, the savage beast, had his thumb wrapped between her claws, one fine tooth perched on the digit, morphing her features into something closer to a sabertooth tiger than a harmless house cat.

Slipping my phone into my back pocket, I checked the time. 7:34. I had to leave.

I sighed, rising to my feet, tugging my navy jacket over my dirty polo. All my belongings were stuffed in the pockets, so I didn't need to keep a locker. And since I no longer had a lane to stash a purse in, this was my solution. The pockets were bursting full like the cheeks of a chipmunk, but it was more comfortable for me to always have everything I needed with me at all times. I didn't have to hang around once my shift ended, hiking to the back room to collect my things and get stopped by who knew how many customers.

I patted Hable on the head, two little taps to her nose. She sat like she was auditioning for The Aristocats, right next to her food bowl. Maybe she was auditioning for a Meow Mix commercial instead. Stumbling over the linoleum, I came to rest my hand against Kakashi's shoulder. Luckily, the man was built of steel, or I would have pushed him straight off the back of the stool.

Suddenly entering the shinobi's air space should have been cause for my cheeks to heat up, just like always. Maybe I was too tired for that now. I looked down into his handsome face. His eyes were clear, perhaps a touch amused. No anger, no expectations. How could a man not have any expectations for a woman?

"What's wrong?" Kakashi used his free hand to poke at my forehead between my brows. "Why the frown?"

With valiant effort, I smoothed my forehead out. Was it my place to question how things had gotten to this point? Was it my place to question why Kakashi seemed bent on treating me as something...more than a friend? I couldn't decide his thoughts for him. Shouldn't I just be grateful to have these moments while I could? Double bonus—he wasn't trying to force me into a pace I couldn't keep up with.

It was always Kakashi providing me relief. Comfort. What had I done, other than lend him a bed and purchase a few sweatshirts? He ran my household and stuck up for me when my social anxiety made our lives more difficult. But instead of getting tired of having to drag me around like a heavy chain digging at his ankles, he just put me in his arms and soared across the skies. I wasn't heavy enough to drag him down.

What could I do for him? What would make him happy?

"Sasuke almost made the choice not to pursue revenge. He waffled, and in that waffling, you—Kakashi—were the only one to see his struggle. Though he couldn't have guessed that Orochimaru's people were right there, waiting. Sasuke was so close—but he fell, anyway. And yeah, I wish he had come home a lot sooner, and that he hadn't lost his damn mind." I brushed at the silver hair on the edges of Kakashi's temple. His eyes fell shut to half-mast, peering up at me with this soft, delicate look that I felt I could choke and die on. "But he also found his way in the end. He met his most loyal friends, so I guess his path was never meant to be the Hidden Leaf..."

"But?" Kakashi prodded.

Keeping my hand on his shoulder, I walked around behind him, letting my arm trail over his neck. I put my chin on the top of his skull. "I just wish he knew he wasn't alone, and there were people waiting for him. Hard to say if he would have done all the things he did—to the extreme that he did—if he hadn't felt as if he owed nothing to anybody."

Then, with a boldness that was purely fueled by my tired mind, I kissed him on the cheek. The softness of his skin tingled on my lips. There had been just a hint of sharpness from a burgeoning beard, the contrast something deadly for the heart beating in my chest. Who knew Kakashi had to shave to keep his face clear? Before he could react, I scurried out the door, waving over my shoulder. "I'll be back. See ya later."