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Hatake fanfic
unmasked ANBU
sacralgral wrote in whitefangs
Well...a long, long time ago I promised a Sakumo Hatake fic. Uhm...It took a while but here it is. It centers more about Kakahsi, but hey! I tried!

Title: Life
Author: SacralGral
Genre: Uhm...general? Everything mixed in?
Rating: PG-13 or whatever it is named...
Warnings: If you know me, you know them.
Spoilers: What the heck are those??? I don't think there are any in my story, so...
Summary: Situations in Kakashi's life, main characters being Kakashi, Sakumo and Jiraiya.

A small body lay in the crib, white cotton-sheets nearly hiding it completely from the world and the black eyes of the two men in the room.

“He will do fine when he grows up,” the voice of the one the baby recognizes as the ‘white-furred one’ sounded, followed by the deep chuckle of the ‘silver-haired one’. The baby liked the silver-haired one better. It had seen it more often and in his dark eyes there was always a gentle spark when he looked down into the crib. The white-furred one wasn’t bad, either, he was sometimes just too loud for the baby’s liking.

“Yes, just like his daddy, right, little one?” the silver-haired one cooed, leaning over the crib and letting the baby play with one of his calloused fingers. Small hands closed around it, inspecting it from every side, then the baby tried to use it as a pacifier. With a small laugh the silver-haired one took his hand back.

“I bet he will be a heartbreaker, too,” the white-furred one commented, grinning when he looked down at the small boy, letting his long, white hair purposefully trail over the sheets. Immediately small hands snatched it up and began to inspect it. It really felt like the fur of one of the smaller dogs the silver-haired one sometimes let appear to make him giggle in delight.


Kakashi had long ago learned that the ‘white-furred one’ was called Jiraiya and that his father’s name was Sakumo, not ‘silver-haired one’. But sometimes he still called them that and then he laughed happily when they shot him confused looks.

Right now he was sitting on the shoulders of his father and watched over the heads of the crowd the dancing men and women as the procession slowly made its way over the marketplace. Jiraiya was by their side, light yukata matching his hair as he laughed over some of the actors on the moveable stages between the dancers.

His father, Kakashi noticed, had slowly moved them so that in the end the stood at the edge of the crowd, merely feet away from them the dancers and musicians. Jiraiya just grinned at them when Sakumo suddenly stepped forward, right into the dancing crowd.

A man with a large drum and wild face-paint laughed at Kakashi and some women lifted their arms like they wanted to invite him to dance with them. Sakumo laughed, loud and clear, and began to dance, his hands coming up to make sure Kakashi wouldn’t slip off his shoulders. Kakashi laughed, too, but it was lost in the loud music of the festival. His small hands fisted in the silver hair of his father and he couldn’t stop giggling in delight as the whole world spun around him, smiling faces and loud colours and powerful music and the warmth and security of his father.


Looking into the mirror, Kakashi scrutinized first his own small body, then the broader and taller frame of his father, who stood with laughing eyes behind him but tried to keep a straight face.

“Not fair!” Kakashi finally pouted.

“Well, a deal is a deal, Kakashi. You have to at least reach my stomach if you want to hold my sword,” his father replied easily, slipping strong hands under Kakashi’s armpits and lifting his son into the air. He settled Kakashi comfortably on his arms and strolled into the kitchen. “Until then you have to drink a glass of milk every day.”

“Not fair!” Kakashi repeated. He drunk the milk nonetheless.


The first time Kakashi got his hands on a shuriken was by accident.

“That looks nice,” he commented and spun the weapon in his hands.

“What are you talking about?” Jiraiya asked, yawing and scratching his bare belly. He had crashed at their house yesterday when he and Sakumo had come back from a strenuous mission and he looked defiantly too tired to be awake on his own will. His hair was dirty and much shorter than Kakashi had ever seen him with before and there were bruises and cuts on his arms and back. But his eyes snapped to full attention when he saw what Kakashi held.

“Be careful with that,” he said, approaching the small boy sitting on the veranda. “You can hurt yourself with that.”

Kakashi held the shuriken perfectly poised in his left hand, mesmerizes by its sharp, silver edges. His dark eyes flickered to Jiraiya before he threw the shuriken and it embedded itself in the wooden fence right in the cut that had already been there from Sakumo’s training.

“Good aim,” Jiraiya murmured.


Kakashi sucked up every information the adults threw at him like the desert the water. His father trained him in addition and in his spare-time Kakashi read about jutsus they had yet to learn in class.

Sometimes it felt all so wrong to Kakashi that he just wanted to throw down the book he was reading at the moment or the weapon he was training with and run away.

He was a genius, that much he had learned after the first days in the academy. At the beginning he had thought it was normal for children his age to hit every pole they had aimed for but then the teachers began with the basics, how to hold a shuriken the right way, and Kakashi realized that he already knew that without ever somebody teaching him. He was rapidly moved up classes after that.

Sometimes he wanted just to scream and ask all these adults to stop teaching him because he wanted to return to the time when he hadn’t even know what a shuriken was. The time when his father and sometimes Jiraiya would take him to colourful festivals or hot onsen and he could believe that they were the strongest. But most onsen were closed now and festivals had become seldom and when there was one, there was always the shadow of the war hanging over it.

Kakashi wished that the whole world to stop spinning and return to the time before he knew about shinobis and war and the blood that was spilled to protect him.


“Hey, are you alright?” a tired voice asked from behind him and Kakashi peered over his shoulder at the speaker. Jiraiya looked bad -dirty, tired and far too bandaged up.

“No,” Kakashi sighed, standing up. The hand that held the sword of his father swung limply to his side when he turned to Jiraiya. The white-haired Sannin had been away on a mission on the other side of Konoha when Sakumo had killed himself.

Kakashi looked at the floor, slightly favouring his left leg where he had been injured on his last mission, and said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him.” Jiraiya just gave a chocked laugh and hugged him tightly against his chest, feeling small hands fist in his quickly thrown on mourning robes.


“Do you really want to put it away forever?”

“Yes,” Kakashi answered, pulling the lid shut. He used some seals to make sure nobody but he could open it, then pushed the carton under his bed. Standing up, he turned around to face the person standing in the doorway.

“For the time being,” he said and looked directly at Jiraiya with his mismatched eyes. He was surprised that the white-haired man didn’t flinch away from his newly-acquired Sharingan. Instead he just stared at Kakashi with unreadable eyes and finally pushed away form the doorway.

“Come on,” Jiraiya called, already on his way down the stairs of Kakashi’s apartment house. “Free sweets it is for you.”

Kakashi hesitated a moment, then grabbed his headband to cover his Sharingan and shut the door behind himself. He hurried after Jiraiya with something akin to relief that he wasn’t carrying his father’s sword any longer.


“Hatake Sakumo,” Naruto said, staring at Jiraiya who in turn stared into his tea. “Never heard of him before. But he has a link to Kakashi-sensei, or?” Jiraiya just took a deep breath and nodded.

Naruto kept silent, undoubtedly having seen the shadow that had passed over Jiraiya’s face at the mention of the name. But after the third day he couldn’t take it any longer.

“Who was he?”

Jiraiya looked at him with tired, old eyes, resting his chin on one hand. “The official or unofficial story?” he asked.

“Uh, the official?” Naruto suggested, leaning further into the light of the candle to see Jiraiya better.

“Hatake Sakumo, the White Fang, caused a S-rank mission to fail because instead of carrying on as ordered he turned around to get his caught team-mates. He was branded a traitor and disgraced from his rank, that causing his mind and body to weaken. In the end he committed senpuku. End of story. Do you want to hear my version?”

Naruto just nodded.

“Hatake Sakumo, the White Fang, rescued all three team-mates of his from certain torture and death and caused a S-rank mission to fail. He came back with the knowledge that everybody would look down at him with disgust and soon he was disgraced from his rank. Being a shinobi was his only purpose in life and when they took that away from him, he died at the inside but on the outside he looked about fine. After three months he was physically and psychically too weak to even leave the house and committed senpuku.
Any further questions?”

There was a cold look in Jiraiya’s eyes, daring Naruto to say anything wrong, but the blond just stared at the candle, eyes wide.


“Kakashi-sensei?” Naruto asked, hesitating in the doorway. Sakura pushed him in the back and he stumbled forward. Shooting a glare at the closing door, Naruto grabbed the sword in his hands tighter and moved to the side of Kakashi’s bed. There was no movement from the man on it and he looked surprisingly peaceful, Naruto concluded as he bent over his former teacher to get a better look of his face. He had a nice face, too, far too nice to hide it constantly under a mask.

The door opened and closed and Jiraiya stepped beside Naruto, first looking at Kakashi, then shooting a glance at the bundled up sword in Naruto’s hands. A humourless grin stretched his lips. “I should have brought him that. Do you even know what it means to him?”

“No, but in the letter I was told to bring it here,” Naruto quickly said in defence of his actions, holding the sword out for Jiraiya to take. “You should give it to him.” With that he quickly left through the door.

“What a sad lot we are, right, Kakashi?” Jiraiya asked, fitting the sword-handle in Kakashi’s hand. “Wake up soon.” And he left, too.


There were laughers and the mighty beat of drums Kakashi had missed for a long time. He sat at a secluded table under a big tree, the borrowed yukata a bit too tight. His left leg ached too much for him to stand up and so he sat there for hours, just watching the crowd seep by.

“You on a festival?” Jiraiya asked as he slid on the chair across Kakashi. There was a bottle of sake in his left hand and a small cup in the other.

Kakashi eye-smiled at him. “Well, yes, it is such a nice night.”

“Yes,” Jiraiya breathed and watched some giggling girls walk past their table. “A lovely night indeed.” Kakashi could see the faint flush too much alcohol caused on Jiraiya’s cheekbones.

“My eternal rival!” a familiar voice bellowed and Kakashi contemplated using a hiding jutsu. But Gai was too fast and practically tackled him. Only that he had somehow miscalculated his jump and barrelled into Jiraiya instead. When Gai looked up from the floor where he had landed after Jiraiya had whacked him with his bottle, Kakashi knew why. Gai’s eyes were glazed and his face flushed enough to make any drunkard proud.

“Have a competition with me!” Gai boomed after he had gotten on his shaky legs.

“Not such a good idea,” Kakashi drawled. “You are drunken off your ass.”

Gai didn’t seem to hear him and thrust his finger of justice in Kakashi’s face. “Jiraiya here will-“ Jiraiya just whacked him over the head with his bottle again and Gai hit the ground, out like a light.


“To our comrades who have gone ahead,” Kakashi murmured as he folded his hands and recited a short prayer. He was alone in front of the memorial stone.

“Hey, Jiraiya, watch where you step!” a much younger Sakumo said, silver hair cropped short. He shoved a Jiraiya who couldn’t be older than twelve off his foot and the white-haired boy just stretched out his tongue at him.

“Cut it, both of you!” one of the Jounin barked. Sakumo and Jiraiya fell silent at once.

“Wonder what pains in the ass their children will be,” another Jounin growled, teeth gnashing a toothpick. He fell silent, too, when the Third Hokage appeared in front of the memorial stone, dressed in his mourning robes. The field in front of the stone was nearly black with the many shinobi who had come to mourn their fallen comrades today.


“When I have children one day they shall grow up happy!” Sakumo declared, fifteen years old and freshly made Jounin. Jiraiya at his side snorted.

“You and a girl, less a kid?” Jiraiya laughed. “And I am an eremite.”

“Why exactly did you become an eremite?” Kakashi asked, playing with a toothpick while Jiraiya finished his tea.

“Long story.” The white-haired shinobi grinned, leaving some coins beside his empty cup as he stood up.


The painting was old, the colours not as vibrant as they had been once. But the two figures in it had the same silver hair and that was enough for Naruto to come to one conclusion: That had to be two of Kakashi’s family-members.

“Kakashi-sensei!” Naruto shouted as he swung into Kakashi’s room through the window. Kakashi himself sat on his bed, cleaning kunais and shuriken until they sparkled like some sort of treasure. He looked up, spotted the picture under Naruto’s arm and lifted an eyebrow when Naruto shoved it into his arms.

“Do you know who this is?” Naruto asked agitatedly, nearly bouncing where he kneeled in Kakashi’s window. Kakashi looked from the smiling face of his father to his own, chubby with baby fat, and nodded.

“Why do you want to know?” he questioned softly, setting aside his weapons.

“Because that is Sakumo Hatake!!” Kakashi nearly flinched as Naruto boomed his father’s name, and asked himself how Naruto came to know it.

“The White Fang of Konoha, you are related to him!” Naruto continued. “That’s the reason why granny from Suna first thought you were him!”

“And?” Kakashi prodded, still seeing no reason to tell Naruto about his family.

“He was branded a traitor just because he saved his team mates,” Naruto said, much quieter now. “I want to know more about him.”

What’s the problem of the kids these days? Kakashi thought in exasperation. Wanting to know about people who were cleaned off of records a long time ago or running off to crazy Sanins.

“There isn’t much I can tell you,” Kakashi sighed, leaning back against the wall and continuing to stare at the picture.

“Tell me anyways,” Naruto said, slipping of the windowsill and opting for Kakashi’s chair.

“Well, Sakumo Hatake mainly used a sword through which he channelled his chakra to make his hits more efficient. The blade started to shine whitely when he added chakra and that’s the cause for his nickname. Before him there weren’t any particular outstanding ninja in the Hatake family but he was levelled one with the Sannins after some time. He liked to use mostly water and earth jutsus and invented some but never cared to write them down so they were lost when he died.” Kakahsi stroked his cloth-covered chin in thought. There was a lot more what he could tell Naruto about his father but he opted for withholding that information.

Without another word Kakahsi got up from his bed and went to receive his Jounin vest and mission equipment. “I have to leave for a mission now. Would you mind if I kept that picture?” he asked as he slipped on his sandals, padding back to where Naruto sat.

“Uh, no, not at all,” Naruto quickly said, getting up. He was about to bolt through the window when Kakashi stopped him with a last question, “How did you know it was the White Fang on the picture?”

“It stands on the back,” Naruto supplied helpfully, then was gone.

Kakashi turned the picture and there in neat little scrawls stood ‘Sakumo Hatake and his treasured family’. It was Jiraiya’s handwriting.


The painting and the sword would go to Jiraiya, his headband and dogtags to Gai and his porn to Naruto if he chose to accept it and not die of mortification upon receiving it. Sakura could have the plant and his weapons would be shared between them. The only thing he didn’t know what to do with were the two pictures of the only teams he had ever been on. Kakashi pondered who to give them to, then added them to Jiraiya’s pile and closed the envelope.

Slinging up his mission-bag, he looked back one time at his cleaned up room, then closed and locked his door. He met his ANBU team mates on the stair, the moon casting strange shadows on their masked faces. Nodding to some familiar masks, Kakashi took the lead and they left Konoha silently in the middle of the night. Kakashi really hoped he would come back so the enveloped wouldn’t have to be opened after all.


Naruto stared at the sword in Jiraiya’s one hand, and at the painting in the Sanin’s other hand. He himself carried a carton full of porn, Sakura silently walking beside him with a potted plant in her ashy white hands.

Jiraiya left them at the next crossing and Sakura thanked him with a thin voice before she disappeared in her house. In the end Naruto walked alone.


Looking up in the night’s sky, Jiraiya sipped at his sake cup.

“Surviving is sometimes worse than dying.”

“Whatever you say,” Sakumo murmured, paying more attention to his weapons than to a pouting Jiraiya.

Jiraiya lowered his eyes, staring over the roofs of Konoha. Half-lidded eyes observed the guards at the gates, then flickered over to the Hokage momentum.

“How about settling down and producing some offspring soon, brat?” Jiraiya asked playfully.

Kakashi lifted his eyes from his book, single eye staring seriously at the white-haired man. “I don’t want to leave somebody behind who will hurt at my death.”

“Shit,” Jiraiya murmured, cup clattering to the roof tiles as he buried his face in his hands. “You did manage that quite fine, brat.”

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I finally got around to checking this. I am in awe! You did an amazing job! Totally worth the wait. I love your writing. Thanks for making me happy today. Hope to see more of your writing soon!

You are not gonna kill me for letting Kakashi die at the end? Puh... Thanks God, I was afraid there for a minute.

Thanks for the review, however. And if you are interested in the YonKaka story I once wrote, plotbunnies for a sequel are jumping me right now, so maybe it will come up soon.

Oh, and just one note: I wrote this story practically only for you, so I am very happy you are happy with it^^ And if you want to make me happy, update your SmoAce stories soon!!

See ya,

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