Chapter Text
Kakashi knocks firmly on the door, two ANBU at his flanks, masked and silent. His gut is tight with worry. The moment he received the message, he didn’t waste a second. He thought—no, hoped—he’d be overreacting. But something about the way it was worded, vague and abrupt, has him on edge.
The door creaks open after a moment that feels too long, and Sakura appears in the frame, her brows drawn, mouth tense.
His heart drops.
“Sakura,” he says, stepping forward, voice low and urgent, “What’s going on?”
She doesn’t blink. “You’re late.”
He stares. Blinks once. “What?”
Is she… mad?
“You’re late,” she repeats, more irritated than worried, and folds her arms.
“I came as fast as I could,” he says incredulously. “Did something happen? Is someone hurt? I—”
She exhales loudly, pushing the door open wider. “Yes. Something happened. Tsunade-sama decided to drop everything last minute and leave the hospital in my hands. I thought I’d have the day off. I planned for the day off.”
He blinks, still trying to catch up.
“I can’t get a sitter on such short notice,” she continues, sounding more exhausted now than angry. “Normally, I’d ask Shizune, but we both have to keep things running while Tsunade-sama’s off… doing whatever she’s doing.”
She gestures behind her, and Kakashi’s gaze follows it through the now wide-open doorway. A small figure lingers a few feet back.
Sarada. Young, round-faced, dark eyes wide and curious beneath the fringe of black hair. She stares up at the masked man and the two ANBU behind him.
Kakashi’s shoulders drop as the tension that had knotted his spine slowly starts to unwind. His heart, which had been thudding against his ribs the entire way over, finally begins to ease its pace. The rush of adrenaline still hums through his limbs, stubborn and lingering, but at least he can breathe now.
No blood. No injuries. No enemy attack.
Just… a babysitting emergency?
He turns his head slowly to Sakura, leveling her with the kind of stare he usually reserves for students who’ve just blown up a training dummy. Again.
His voice is flat. “You sent an S.O.S. to babysit?”
Sakura’s eyes spark hot. “This is important!”
His brows rise, the visible part of his face stretched. She’s serious.
“I can’t just leave her by herself,” she says, stepping toward him, voice tight. “It’ll only be for a couple of hours—I was eventually able to find a sitter, but she’s not available until later.” Her finger points accusatively. “And unlike you, I don’t like to be late to work.”
Kakashi sighs, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He’s calmer now. Rational thoughts are returning. Still, he’s aware of the two ANBU standing stiffly beside him, their masks unreadable, but the tilt of their heads—just barely—suggests they’re glancing at each other.
Awkward.
He lifts a hand slightly without turning, a subtle gesture, and the ANBU vanish with twin flickers of movement, leaving a whisper of wind behind.
Now, with more privacy, Kakashi glances back at Sakura, “So… you woke up and thought, ‘Who would be perfect to babysit a toddler?’ And your first thought was me?”
Behind Sakura, Sarada tilts her head, still watching, fascinated.
Sakura crosses her arms, unbothered by his look. “Well, you were able to make it here, so obviously you weren’t that busy.”
Kakashi stares at her, mouth parting like she just slapped him with a mission scroll. “I’m the Hokage, Sakura. I had to leave my office with two anbu escorts to come here.”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “They follow you around wherever you go. And Naruto and Shikamaru are perfectly capable of holding down the fort.”
“That’s not the point,” he says, frustration creeping into his voice. “Naruto is still in training—”
“Don’t act like I’m the bad guy here!” she snaps, jabbing a finger in his direction. “You, of all people, should know how close I am with Naruto—and he’s told me all about the times you left him and Shikamaru to fend for themselves for hours. Especially now, with his inauguration a few months away.”
Kakashi freezes like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Because… yeah.
She’s right.
His eyes dart to the side, suddenly very interested in the foundation of her house.
Sakura folds her arms tighter. “At least this time you can be useful—and with an actual excuse to give Naruto and Shikamaru instead of one of your usual ridiculous ones.”
Kakashi opens his mouth, one finger lifting like he’s about to make a very clever rebuttal—half-formed words ready to tumble out—but nothing makes it past his throat.
She gives him a sharp, knowing stare, and it only reinforces what he already knows.
There is, apparently, nothing he can say to that.
He exhales through his nose, resigned. “…You can’t ask any other friends?”
She huffs. “They all have their own kids to worry about. You, on the other hand…”
And that’s when it hits him.
He has no kids. He has no experience. He doesn’t even have a plant.
He glances at Sarada again—small, curious, very much a living human being with needs and routines and questions he won’t know how to answer.
What am I supposed to do with a kid?
He can feel the panic begin to set in. Shoulders tense, eyes a little wider, his breath hitching just slightly under the mask.
Kakashi shifts on his feet, searching for something—anything—to say that might get him out of this without sounding like a complete jerk. “Well… maybe I shouldn’t be gone for hours at a time,” he starts, trying to sound reasonable but only coming across as sheepish. “Shikamaru and Naruto will definitely be mad if I just disappear all morning—”
Sakura cuts in before he can even finish.
“Oh, don’t decide to turn over a new leaf now that it’s suddenly convenient for you,” she snaps.
Kakashi stands there, unmoving, his mind whirring a thousand miles a minute. He doesn’t say anything—can’t. Because what is he supposed to say?
He doesn’t want to watch a kid?
He’s terrified of watching a kid?
His eye flicks to Sarada, who’s now crouched by the wall quietly fiddling with the laces on her little sandals, completely unaware of the inner storm behind his mask.
He glances back at Sakura, and his expression falters. His whole posture is pleading now—shoulders drawn, hands twitching like he’s about to raise them in surrender. His gaze is a silent, please don’t ask this of me.
And she sees it.
Her irritation softens—not into guilt, but something quieter, rawer. She looks down, shoulders tight, her voice losing its earlier bite. “Please… I wouldn’t ask if I had another option.”
He notices the shift in her, the way her eyes dull and her frame droops like something heavy finally sank into her chest. His fingers twitch again, about to reach out. “Sakura…”
Her head snaps up to meet his gaze, and his hand freezes mid-motion out of reflex from the sudden movement. He catches the shimmer in her eyes before she can blink it away—the raw emotion etched across her face. It catches him off guard.
Her voice trembles when she speaks again, softer than before. “I don’t know if you even remember… but this past year, while I’ve been struggling to manage Sarada on my own, trying to find a balance ever since Sasuke left and hasn’t even bothered to check on us—or visit—or even send a damn letter…”
Her voice shakes, and she looks down again, tears beginning to fall freely now.
“You found me… that night I broke down crying. And you promised me you’d help. In any way you could.”
The words sting more than she probably means them to, and it shows in the way she grips her own arm now, holding herself still. “I know you’re busy being the Hokage, and that you’ve already done so much by sparing Shizune the time she’d usually spend assisting you so she can help me instead.”
She takes a breath. “But with Tsunade-sama stepping down and me stepping up to take over the hospital… even Shizune’s stretched thin. I don’t want to keep burdening you, but I also can’t keep putting my life—my career—on hold just because Sasuke can’t figure out his damn priorities. It’s just been getting harder and harder to—”
She doesn’t get to finish.
Kakashi crosses the distance between them in two quiet steps and pulls her into a tight, grounding hug.
No words. No hesitation.
Just his arms around her, solid and steady.
Sakura’s breath hitches against his chest, her hands fisting lightly in the fabric of his sleeves. For a moment, she just stands there, tucked in his arms, as if she’s not sure whether to cry harder or finally exhale.
Kakashi lowers his head slightly, his voice a gentle murmur near her ear. “Of course I remember.”
She looks up at him, startled by the softness in his tone. Her eyes are wide, glistening, tears still tracing slow paths down her cheeks, though, she doesn’t seem to notice them now.
He gives her a small smile. Calm, lopsided—a little reluctant—but real. “I’ll watch Sarada.”
Her breath catches again, and she sniffles. “You will?”
“Yes.” Then, after a brief pause, his brows furrow beneath the hitai-ate. “I don’t have to change any diapers, do I?”
Sakura lets out a small, sudden laugh. It’s watery but genuine. She steps out of his grasp, and he lets his arms fall back to his sides as she wipes her face, brushing away the tears with the back of her hand. “She’s four, not a baby,” she says, half-amused, half-exasperated. “She’s potty trained. She can walk, and she can even cook a few things—”
She pauses, narrowing her eyes meaningfully at him. “With supervision, of course.”
He lifts both hands in mock surrender at the look.
“She’s a smart kid,” Sakura continues more gently, smoothing her hair back as she glances toward the hallway where Sarada still waits. “I just need you to make sure she doesn’t accidentally hurt herself. Or, you know… burn the house down while I’m gone.”
Kakashi exhales slowly. “Right. No fire. No injuries.” He glances sideways. “I can handle that… probably.”
Then his gaze drifts towards Sarada again.
She’s standing back up again, dark eyes occasionally flicking up to him with quiet consideration. She doesn’t look afraid of him—just thoughtful, observant, the way kids often are before they decide if they like you or not.
And suddenly, he’s not in Sakura’s doorway anymore.
He’s in his childhood home. Empty. Quiet—too quiet. He remembers being just about Sarada’s age when his father died. When the world stopped pretending to care. There were no doors flung open, no ANBU escorts. No frantic mothers begging for a few hours of help. Just silence. A heavy, choking silence that left him alone in a too-big house with grief and ghosts for company.
He blinks.
It’s different now.
Now, people try. People like Sakura fight for their kids’ well-being, build clinics for mental health, shelters for orphans—things that hadn’t even been whispered back then. People care now, enough to ask for help. Enough to trust others with the most important thing in their lives.
The thought settles somewhere strange in his chest. A little uncomfortable. A little warm.
“Great!” Sakura chirps, breaking the moment.
Kakashi flinches slightly as she reaches just inside the doorway and grabs a small pink bag stashed by the corner—clearly pre-packed, like she’d been expecting him to say yes all along.
“The babysitter will be here at one,” she says in a rush, slinging the strap over her shoulder. “Thank you again, Kakashi-sensei!”
“Wait—what? One o’clock?” He stiffens. “That’s—five hours from now—!”
But she’s already halfway down the street, tossing him a grateful wave over her shoulder as she disappears in a blur of purposeful chakra-enhanced speed.
Kakashi stands there, stunned, until the two ANBU return from their watch posts and come up beside him.
One of them, tall and broad-shouldered, with a deep, amused voice, mutters dryly, “I didn’t realize you were the fatherly type.”
Kakashi doesn’t even glance at him. “Shut up, Genma.”
He brushes past the surely smirking ANBU—mask or not, Kakashi just knows—and steps fully into the apartment.
He barely has time to take off his sandals before he’s greeted by the tiny figure of Sarada Uchiha standing in the hallway.
She blinks up at him. “Who are you?” she asks plainly, tilting her head, voice high and curious.
Kakashi freezes for a beat. “…Uh. A family friend,” he offers awkwardly. “Just call me Kakashi.”
“Kakashi-san,” she says, almost too politely, with a small nod.
“Just Kakashi is fine,” he tries again, scratching the back of his head.
But she’s already looking past him now, dark eyes narrowing with interest at the two ANBU who’ve followed him in.
“Kakashi-san—” she starts again.
Guess she didn’t care for what I had to say.
“—who are they? Why do they wear the same outfits with masks and weapons on?”
Kakashi sighs, glancing briefly over his shoulder. Gemma stands stiffly, as if this is a formal mission. The other ANBU, a smaller figure, simply stands silent like a statue.
“Oh, uh… ignore them,” Kakashi says, waving a hand. “They’re just—”
He falters mid-sentence. Do I even tell a four-year-old they’re assigned to protect me from possible deadly threats? Not exactly comforting bedtime talk.
He clears his throat and straightens. “They’re just some other family friends—friends of friends. And, uh… they’re dressed like that because…”
He stalls, eyes scanning the room like the answer might be floating somewhere in the air.
“…because they’re playing pretend.”
He nods as if that seals it.
Kids do that stuff, right?
Sarada blinks up at him again.
“Is that why you also wear a mask?” she asks, head tilting to the side.
Kakashi’s face doesn’t move at first—then his eye twitches. Just slightly. His whole expression twists into that perfectly exasperated blend of embarrassed, so done, and please someone end this. He pinches the bridge of his nose.
Behind him, Genma snorts loudly.
Kakashi glares back at him like a dagger. “Well, what was I supposed to say?” he mutters through gritted teeth.
Then finally, the other ANBU speaks—a softer, clearly feminine voice, smooth and familiar. “Sure, honey.”
The woman reaches up and removes her mask with a quiet click, tucking it under her arm.
Yugao.
She steps forward from her formal stance and crouches slightly in front of Sarada, her tone gentle. “What do you like to do?”
Sarada doesn’t hesitate. “I like to read.”
Yugao glances over her shoulder at Kakashi, subtly elbowing him in the ribs with her armored arm.
He raises an eyebrow.
She gestures toward Sarada, signaling for him to say something.
Kakashi shoots her a dry look before taking a moment to consider his words. Suddenly, he recalls what she had just asked Sarada about—her interests.
That’s it, he thinks, I’ll just have her keep busy with that.
“Well, if you have any books you want to read,” Kakashi says, turning back to Sarada, “you can go ahead and do that now. It’s going to be a while before your mother comes back.”
Sarada gives a quiet, “Okay,” then spins on her heel and walks off down the hall.
Kakashi sighs, loud and drawn out, as if he’s just survived a mission and is unsure whether it’s truly over or only just begun.
Definitely the latter.
Not even a minute passes before the soft padding of feet returns. Kakashi glances up, expecting maybe a children’s picture book or a toy—something age-appropriate.
Instead, Sarada toddles back into the room clutching a medical textbook the size of her torso. She plops down unceremoniously into a spot near a table where a large rug spans the area, opens to the bookmarked page, and begins reading, finger following along the tightly packed kanji like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Kakashi stares. That exasperated look creeping right back onto his face.
“…That’s what she likes to read?” he mumbles under his breath, too stunned to be judgmental.
Behind him, Genma just lets out a sharp bark of laughter. “You’re in over your head already, Hokage-sama.”
Kakashi gives him a sharp look at the use of the title.
Yugao smiles softly. “She’s a lot like her mother.”
Kakashi looks toward her, then sighs as he rubs the back of his neck. “I guess…”
She straightens a bit before putting her mask back on and casting a glance at Genma. “Fox,” she says, using his ANBU codename, “we should head back to our posts. Spread out. There’s no indication of an immediate threat anymore.”
Genma groans halfheartedly, already stretching. “Yeah, yeah, I guess…”
They both pause at the threshold and glance back at Kakashi for confirmation. He nods silently, and with twin flickers of chakra, they’re gone.
Kakashi’s alone again, save for the four-year-old genius reading up on cellular regeneration techniques like its light afternoon material.
He sighs.
Awkwardly, he glances around, then lowers himself into the couch across from her. It squeaks under his weight. He pulls out his well-worn copy of Icha Icha Tactics from his pocket, flips to his page, and settles in.
Just five more hours… he thinks grimly, and this’ll all be over.