There's a welcoming sensation from the couch whence I sit, which makes for a comfort I cannot describe in full virtue of quality. I question myself once more, I wonder once more at whom this 'Naruto' is. No peace could come to fruition at the simple understanding of mine own name and former shinobi status.

Moreso, I have a clear residing bitterness for Horonigai now which I cannot act upon, this, in understanding of the current amount of trust I have within the village. Her reaction upon me, my demonic aura, eyes, appearance; frightening indeed, yet not in a match to the knowledge of her cruelty. The need for action siphons through me as a necessity I refuse to control, my chest burns at even the grappling thought of her. I can plainly state it to be incomprehension without questioning, but in the vague knowledge I've gained of myself, then I know it to be something different entirely: it is a burning ire.

My mind wakes me with a thought unexpectedly brought by the unconscious memories I have in residence. And in turn the tattered sofa loses company, Kakashi takes a moment away from his dolls to glance at me. A familiar sensation comes along the thought, one of distrust perhaps one of dislikes, even so, comprehension and rationality overrule, for should incidents as with Kakashi's Mother occur, then a program must be in existence to judge or be rid of those in error; for children, for parental protection, for victims. My head brings the emotion of ill will upon the idea so intensely felt, I wonder at my own experiences, that is before gesturing the young boy to follow my lead.

I have no doubt, that should that woman have a slight brain, she would go to the head office of the Hokage -or somewhere similar- to recieve aid in retrieving her son. However, despite their relation, and her coincidental innocence, I do not wish for her to hold custody any longer. I'm near certain Sakumo-san would be in agreement should he know the entire situation -which I assume, rather avidly, he does not.- So therein, I take our course to the same area, for should she put forth an lawsuit against me or her former husband, I can at least provide evidence of abusive treatment in the form of Kakashi. Certainly a type of jutsu could be utilized to prove innocence, even if the reasoning was for a minor civil suit between citizens.

Having had my mind wonder, I fail to notice the child beside me gripping my hand progressively tighter until my haze of concentration dissipates slightly.

Then, I feel the difference and draw my attention to where his eyes rest, there is a young boy running happily around the children's playground, laps by the look of it, a fierce determination seemed to have incapcialated if the lack of laboured breathing was indication enough for such an assumption. He did appear young, if not Kakashi's age then a year older at most, that considered the sweet boy holding my hand is a mere three years old, a toddler, by definition. And I do assume Kakashi only conducts himself within such a mature mindset because of an advanced intellect. Should the boy running about madly be of the same age grouping as Kakashi, then certainly he shouldn't be focusing on training yet. Regardless of my own opinion strongly resonating within, I choose not to approach the man cheering by the sidelines, -quite obviously the child's father should appearance qualify as a definitive,- I do hope silently that it is not a common occurrence to see around Konoha.

In approaching the main building, I find myself nervous and to be completely honest longing for the company of Kakashi's Father. Despite not being entirely well acquainted, I do at least know him the best of anyone within the village -with the exception of Kakashi perhaps.- As the circumstances are twisting upon me, I find myself hoping for the comfort Sakumo-san is very well adept at providing me, if only with his presence.

I grip the hand in mine slightly tighter, for while I know myself to be afraid, I wonder how his son beside me feels. As is, I can resolve myself to act as a level-headed adult, for his sake yes?

It is within the building taking notice of the many papers I must regard that I question my own decisions. Not, not the protection of Kakashi as a child, merely as an adult with limited value in a village I do not fully comprehend, staying under the supervision of a family I do not have the full situational context. My main goal remains the guard of the boy I currently protect, though I cannot justify ridicule against his mother when his father has had no telling of the circumstance.

A moment grasps me then, more of a hand unexpectedly wielded directly before me. Had my reflexes been adapted to shinobi instinct properly then the wall would never had been acquainted with my back. As it were however, my training progressed minimally, and the unusual attack within village boundaries startled me enough to stop a proper defense. Choked, silenced, and fearful for Kakashi, I did nothing to stop the attack. Though consequential to my health and safety, with a near toddler beside me any movement I made could be a potential danger. The man grasping my neck had a tight hold, and a smug expression which made my legs twitch in anxiety, not by the stare directed to me; because it wasn't, instead it was glimpsed towards the child beside me. Bringing tears suddenly with an overwhelming of emotions to powerful to properly disclose, my knees weakened shaking as apprehension reached.

"So pretty lady, your son..." An awakening came to some part distinct in my head, I don't understand what it could have been, a memory perhaps. Anger came to my mind, controlled this time, furious, controlled, and aggressive.

Words hardly came, but choked and distorted as they were: "You're disgusting." I said it with no offensive action and Kakashi still quivering at my legs. I was glaring at the man, well that is, the sensation I felt with the strain on my brow, the anger I held for the man before me; certainly I was glaring. My arms lay useless against the fence, wall, behind me as my position forced a stalemate, I could not properly indicate Kakashi to flee, his mind is still too immature regardless of the genius he is, I can't risk it. However, this man before me, wants the child beside me, not myself, therefore I could likely surprise him with a simple maneuver. Thus, I managed to turn his arm quickly too vulnerability in a twist of direction, it snapped by the pressure and I had to stop myself from the laughter bubbling forth, cruel as I may sound by finding such a malevolent joy for a man's pain, that is regardless of the fact that he is molesting me and looking upon Kakashi with eyes of lust. Its instinctive as I throw my forehead against his, relishing the thumping sound as he stumbles backwards.

I gain a smile in return from Kakashi looking upwards at me in a glee for safety. My own lips upturn, as expected, the appearance makes me smile even if only slightly. We take hands and walk away, though my eyes do glimpse at the fallen man holding his head and whimpering. Though, I had ignored the temptation integrated within me to kick his precious little sack attached for an extra blow upon his ability. I end up focusing my attention upon the child beside me, who I will have to guard at least temporarily until Sakumo-san gets home, therefore, my priority is to not be arrested by some shinobi finding my actions unjustified.

I wish I could fight certainly. However, with Kakashi being so vulnerable, perhaps it is best that I remain within the village to protect this child... For he may as well be my own, to guard and help, at least while his father is away, certainly his mother is no aid. Getting arrested while already under probation would serve me ill, despite my avoidance of such a measure, it is within my own personal morality that I protect the child beside me regardless of possible kidnapping charges.

My luck stands in the pleasant relief of being able to remain within Sakumo-san's home, thus I need not worry about where to stay. That may perhaps serve to illustrate me as a caretaker of sorts, there are those who at least who know that I am not a vile kidnapper.

.o0o.

It was a month later when the sky had become its brightest that footsteps pounded on the stairs outside. Clearly ringing throughout the small home, waking Kakashi from his unexpected nap, and startling me from the reluctant cleaning I had begun. The door opening had me on a natural alert, but once a familiar head of silver hair came through the knife I had held as defense was placed back to where it came from. A smile greeted me too, perhaps that was the thing that surprised me the most, I did my best to greet him in turn my discomfort had begun to ease within the village though seeing the man who I already considered a friend did help.

I was about to welcome him back, when running footsteps stopped me and Kakashi jumped exuberantly into his father's embrace. I could only giggle at the bright character displayed by the young boy, so glad to see his father, of course, it was a reaction I had expected. It was different to see, just the simple up-curve of his mole as he smiled, he even let out a giggle a sweet little thing I'd only heard a few times before. Sakumo-san did too.

"Welcome back..." My own words sounded oddly butchered by a higher pitch, but still, strangely my chest didn't twist at the realization it warmed. Especially when he looked back to me -Kakashi-chan's eyes and smile over the shoulder, as they both grinned at me in addition to his father's closed-eye smile. It felt oddly warm around all of us, and my head says I hadn't felt anything similar before, a familial comfort I should certain refrain from taking indulgence in.

"It's good to be back." Snapping me away from my own melodrama, my host puts his son down to continue in his own child festivities turning fully to my direction with a stretch. Black eyes staring intently at me from his head's pult back positioning, a question straining through his retina's despite his calm demeanor a suspicion had begun to linger within him. The look I received was one cast upon me before, there was no hatred buried beneath, but certainly an ire at the unknown. "Though, Naruto-kun I must ask, why is Kakashi-chan here instead of with Horonigai-san?" I would be foolish to deny my own apprehension at the inquiry, the entire situation could look awful if not properly explained, and I do not wish him to think something had occurred to his ex-wife because of my own interference. My head brings me to my first conclusion; I don't want him to think of me as a kidnapper!

Automatically, by an instinct I still cannot quite put to reasoning, my hand goes to scratch at the back of my head with nerves I didn't really know I had. "Well... Actually... Its kind of complicated..." Again my nerves rain onto me, this time in obscuring my voice into an unuseful mumble. Derailing my reasoning slightly and making me look as a fool, though I save myself slightly with the sigh I let loose as protection. "She was... Her boyfriend was actually being awful to Kakashi actually, he was hurting him, for no reason. She was allowing it, so I thought...-" After that my words failed me, not in anxiety, but in a fear; of all persons, Hatake Sakumo was the one who I wanted to have an ever positive opinion of me. The hesitation disappeared however on the thought of Kakashi, for my safety was not the one in peril, it remained his. Which made my decision a simple one, I felt my fist clench behind me as my lips did the same, the stare from my irises I could sharply feel. "-She was allowing him to abuse Kakashi-chan, I couldn't allow that." My teeth gritted then, painfully digging the sensation into my head.

"I see..." Even though I remained vigilant for his impression on the matter, nothing slipped by the shinobi mask, suddenly, and firmly crafted into place. Behind, the quiet sound of pattering floorboards was distinctive, a sweet voice as mumbling on the other side of a wooden door. Kakashi-chan speaking to or as his dolls, and I assume Gama-chan -as I'd found him missing earlier today, stolen from my hair by little hands more nimble then my own. Sakumo-san turnt in the direction in addition to myself, I saw the movement he painted in a slow, melancholy, turn. His sadness appeared to me as a statement not said, a plain regret seemed to echo as his fellow. Then, I found tears glimmering above my own lashes in the realization my host had begun to cry, his shoulders shook, as his neck bent his face away from my view. Empathy had overtaken my own emotions in watching him walk slowly to his son's room for a fragile confrontation I could not imagine.