Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Myrtle

(Love in a Marriage)

When I first saw my husband, it was on a battlefield, but we did not speak for many years, not until the day at the river, where he broke my brother’s heart into a thousand pieces.

It was that day at the river that wove our fate, in a sense. It was that day that I first met his brother in combat; our blades dancing together in explosions of sparks.

I remember his brother's gaze well, and for a long time, it was all I cared about, because if I could strike him down, if I could best him, I would protect my clan. I would protect my last brother. I would protect myself.

I spent hours every night researching and learning, and filling diaries with notes on how to kill someone who seemed unkillable. I knew he was stronger than me, but I was faster and meaner, and I had my wits.

I told my ancestors I would strike him down; I swore it on the lives of my baby brothers, who never got to grow up and whose bodies were never returned to our clan avatar.

But when I did get him down on the earth, my sword in his stomach, a killing blow, I had never felt so much regret in my life. His blood soaked my hands, and I was violently reminded of my little brothers, who I had cradled like I was their mother, and whose bodies I never got to bury.

I couldn’t curse another with such world-shaking guilt.

So despite my father’s teachings, I got on my knees in the dirt and I healed him. I wove his broken bones back together before stretching flesh over those same bones and then forcing his blood to cycle through his heart; I made it beat with nothing but sheer will.

I do not remember what happened after that, I was at the beginning of my healing journey, and I had no idea of my limitations, let alone how to push them safely. I collapsed over his broken armour, and my future husbands’ hands cupped my head, cradling us together; or maybe he was just holding me upright because he thought that’s what he owed me.

I woke in my room, alone with the crushing realisation of what I had done.

My brother spoke of peace. I told him it was a foolish thought because there were two clans on the table who had spent an eternity vying for the other's blood. He begged me to be at the peace talks. I thought of the battlefield, of striking down the clan heir, and I told him it wouldn’t be a good idea. Then, my brother told me I had been requested to join by the very family I almost killed the youngest son off - ̶th̶e̶i̶r̶ ̶I̶t̶a̶m̶a̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ ̶K̶a̶w̶a̶r̶a̶m̶a̶

I expected to be killed, my life for peace, so I packed no weapons.

I packed nothing but my diary and my will, which I wrote at six years old, using the light of the moon as my guide; it said all my belongings went to whatever family remained, and if none remained, not even my cousin Touka, then everything was to be burned. Nobody except my family knew how to read my writings, how to read my notes; if someone saw those notes, then they would most likely die horribly attempting to recreate a jutsu they didn’t understand fully.

When we entered the peace summit, I was stunned to see that Uchiha Tajima was still alive, even though he had not entered the battlefield in over three years. He looked old, and his face was carefully neutral, but the way he looked at his sons with nothing short of pride made my heart clench with a selfish want.

I always wanted my father to look at me like that, but he never did. I was never good enough.

Is it weird to want for your enemy’s life? But not even their life, just the love between a father and a son. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it isn’t. I do not think it is my place to think on.

The boy I had tried to kill - because that’s what he was, a child, like my brothers - still looked pale, more so than usual. Even with my intervention that day on the battlefield, he would not live long. Another two years, at most, maybe a little longer, if he was as tenacious as his clan were.

He met my eyes across the table, and I looked away, ashamed. At myself for saving him, or at him for surviving, I didn’t know.

The peace talks were short, simple; the Uchiha would join the Senju in building the village, but they demanded a life for their son’s own; seeing he is dying due to my error.

My brother went to speak, but I stopped him, pressing the seal into his hands before kneeling and bowing my head low to the ground. I said my life was theirs, whatever they wanted to do with it.

I could sense their surprise, but I knew this was the only way for peace to be made. It was not like I had much to live for beyond my brother's dream; and I was willing to die to accomplish it.

But I did not die. They did not kill me. I had caught their attention, and that was the first time I met my husbands’ eyes without fear.

--❀--

Hazashi glanced over his son carefully before nodding and indicating for him to try again; his hand resting against the tree as Neji carefully put his foot against it. His sandals clicked quietly as he slowly wobbled his way up the tree; brow furrowed with focus.

Across the field, Naruto’s arms flailed and he fell backward into Lee’s waiting arms; the two boys falling to the earth in a tangle of limbs and shouts. Kakashi looked over at them with a bored expression, but he did pull them to their feet by their collars and sent them to try again.

Neji paused halfway up the tree, knees trembling with the effort it took to keep himself up right. Then, the bark crumbled and he fell backwards. Hizashi stepped forward and easily caught his son in his arms, placing him back on his feet.

”Well done, that’s the highest you’ve gotten so far, ready to try again?” He asked once Neji re-orientated himself.

With a determined look, Neji nodded and placed his foot back against the tree. His knees wobbled a little, but with a quiet word of affirmation from Hizashi, he straightened up and kept walking.

Back across the field, Naruto managed to just crest the middle of the tree when he lost concentration and fell with a shout, landing back on Lee who had once again, attempted to catch him. Kakashi glanced sky high, as if asking for patience, before reaching over and dragging Naruto off Lee by the back of his shirt, holding the two boys apart.

Hizashi could hear the last Hatake calmly telling Naruto to focus on his chakra, not on the tree or the pull of gravity. To which Naruto responded, “You can’t ignore gravity!” To which Kakashi raised an eyebrow, put the boy back on his feet, and then placed his foot on the tree, easily walking up its large trunk to the top branches where he promptly balanced on the underside of the largest branch.

He held his arms out, maintaining eye contact with the boys on the ground. He radiated both nonchalance, and smugness.

Naruto muttered something that would have his mouth washed out in any other clan, except maybe the Inuzuka clan, and Lee gasped loudly and dramatically, prompting another tussle in the grass. Kakashi’s shoulders slumped slightly and he sighed quietly before simply deciding to let them get it out of their systems. He sat cross-legged on the branch, still upside down, and pulled the journal out.

Hizashi knew very little about the journal, Kakashi seemed very protective off it, something about the more dangerous seals contained inside and that he didn’t want the kids to try something they shouldn’t.

The journal was old, and all identifying information had been worn off the leather. Rumour around the estate said the book had been left at the gate by the mysterious book-leaver who had been haunting Kakashi for years. The mystery librarian was able to avoid every and all traps Kakashi set out, and the escalating tricks prompted everyone to simply shushin around the gate, but of course, to enter the property you needed to enter the rigged gate, so it was an interesting game of poison capsule roulette.

Hizashi turned around just in time to see Neji crest the top of the tree, his hand gripping a sturdy looking branch which he used to pull himself up, straddling it with steady hands, although Hizashi could see his arms shaking slightly with exhaustion.

”Well done,” Hizashi called up, placing his own foot against the trunk and beginning to walk up to his son. “Do you reckon you can make it down again?”

Neji frowned slightly, “Can I wait a moment?”

”Of course, take your time. This is an advanced technique for someone your age, your chakra coils are still developing. I’d recommend only practicing when an adult is around.”

”Who counts as an adult?”

”Everyone on the estate but Guy and Torune.”

Neji frowned a little harder, “Why not Torune?”

“Because he isn’t a teacher.”

”Guy’s a teacher.” Neji indicated over to Lee who was cheering on Naruto who was stubbornly attempting to scale the tree.

”Yeah, but we’re not so sure he’s entirely human. We think he’s about half green leotard.”

Neji snorted before clapping a hand around his mouth, looking around wildly as if Guy would emerge from the nearby trees like some kind of spirit. (“A spirit of youth.” his traitorous mind whispered before Hizashi kicked it back into the box.)

--❀--

My student screamed at me today that I had let myself be infected by the Sharingan gaze. That my love for him has weakened me, that my husband has gotten into my head and placed me under one of his clans Genjutsu.

His rage is not something I ever wanted to deal with; I am not equipped to handle such hurt. I never had to use these skills for my brothers; two neither lived to have such rage, and one could never hold onto it.

He broke one of my vases and yelled at me that I’ve been blinded by love. That it has made me weak. That I’m not the sensei he once knew, if he ever knew me at all.

I did not say anything while he raged, as again, I did not know how to handle his fire.

If it were not for my husband scaring him off by coming home early from meeting with his brother, I don’t know what he would have done.

I am almost afraid to wonder.

--❀--

”What are you doing?” Lee asked, shuffling a little closer to Kakashi who was kneeling in the middle of their training ground, although it wasn’t really a training ground, it was more a concrete court.

”Practicing seals,” Kakashi murmured, not wanting to lose concentration on his chakra and burn the seal into the ground. “You can watch, but you can’t touch, and you have to stay three feet away.”

Nodding excitedly, Lee took four or five big steps backwards and knelt cross legged on the floor, absently picking at the lose threads of his legwarmers: his breath appearing in the cold air in front of his face.

He remained quiet while Kakashi finished off one of the larger loops, his eyes darting carefully between the journal balanced in his lap, and the chalk outline he was carefully laying down. Since he couldn’t use Obito’s sharingan, he was forced to rely on the journal, which he was worried about damaging from a failed seal, so he was only using chalk.

”What does it do?” Lee asked as Kakashi stood and stepped outside the circles.

”It’s a protection seal. A very complex one.” Kakashi explained, sitting down beside the younger boy, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the journal. “It wouldn’t work even if I had used the proper equipment, since I don’t have the key.”

”I didn’t know you needed a key to use seals.”

”You don’t, if you know what the seals do,” Kakashi indicated to the journal in his lap before indicating to the complex array he had drawn out on the stone. “But this seal doesn’t have a key, so I can’t put any chakra into them. I was hoping drawing it out would help be decode it-“ A trick he learned from Kushina. “-but so far all I can gather is that it provides protection. I just don’t know what against.”

Lee cocked his head curiously, “Are there different forms of protection seals?”

”A couple hundred. The more specific a seal, the stronger it is,” Kakashi indicated to the ward line that shone quietly along the outer property line. “Clan Compound Seals are incredibly specific, so they’re considered some of the strongest seals in the world, behind the Uzushino wards. Think of them as an incredibly complicated locks with multiple keys and multiple ways to get in. Most of them are warded against assassins, against flash floods, flash droughts, plagues, and siege.”

The boy’s eyes lit up with interest. “How much Chakra do you need to write seals?”

Kakashi hid his wince carefully; “Quite a lot,” He murmured apologetically. “Especially the more complicated you want to get with them.”

Lee’s shoulders slumped slightly, and his head bowed regretfully, but he didn’t seem disappointed; just sad he couldn’t master another skill aside from Taijutsu, which Guy had been drilling him on for hours every day. The boy had gotten stronger, faster, and was quickly picking up on more complicated moves despite his lack of chakra. He and Naruto were alike in that way; once they set their mind to something, they learnt fast and they devoured all the knowledge about it they could find.

Speaking off, there was an idea.

Kakashi always knew that Naruto had lots of chakra, he was like his mother in that way, and he would bet a couple thousand ryō that it was in part thanks to the fox. It was a chakra beast after all. That much chakra would make becoming a medic hard, like attempting to pour a sliver of water out of an ocean, but maybe… maybe there was a way to split it.

--❀--

”Ready?” Kakashi asked, kneeling to Naruto’s level, hands nervously fretting over the boy’s bright orange raincoat like he was preparing him to be sent on a mission; “You have everything you need? Lunchbox? Book? Pen?”

The boy groaned and went rag-doll in Kakashi’s arms, which didn’t do a lot considering Kakashi could lift two grown men at once. “I have it Kashi-nii, stop worrrrryinggg—”

”Oh, I know,” Kakashi replied, pulling Naruto upright and putting his bucket-hat on his mostly tamed blonde curls; “But I feel like I’m forgetting something-“

”Kashi-niiii!” Naruto groaned again, “We’re going to be laaateee!”

”Alright, alright,” Kakashi finally relented, standing up and ushering him towards the door, mourning not being able to use his chakra to get across the village; it made purposefully being on time and purposefully being late so much easier. “Maa, Kit, so punctual. Where did I go wrong…”

The door slid shut quietly behind them as they changed into their shoes before Naruto took off towards the gate, Tenzou’s rooster whistle bouncing against his collarbone as he ran down the path; startling the chickens who had been roosting atop the shed, sending them scattering off into the remaining undergrowth.

Kakashi took a slow breath before taking off after him, waving to Torune who was tending to the bees early that morning, then to Guy who was running laps around the main house, and then to Tenzou, who was feeding his summons in the training court.

Naruto was waiting at the gate, bouncing up and down on the spot, eyes wide and eager. “Come on!” He called out again, reaching out and grabbing Kakashi’s hand. “Run!”

Unable to help himself, Kakashi began to laugh. His first day at school was never this exciting, all he remembered was his father ruffling his hair, telling him to be safe and alert, to pay attention, him tucking a small bag of lav-

Kakashi pulled Naruto back by the strap of his backpack, much to the boy’s annoyance. “I figured out what we forgot!” He said cheerfully, reaching into his coat pocket and fishing out something he had been hanging onto for years at this point. “Tada!”

Naruto blinked up at his older brother with wide blue eyes; “Is that from the shrine?”

”Not quite,” Kakashi softened his voice as he knelt, spinning Naruto around and placing the small pouch of lavender into the side pocket of his obnoxiously bright orange backpack. “It’s what my father used to do whenever I left for school. It’s so I can find you if you get hurt or lost.”

Naruto blinked slowly up at him again; “Why would I get lost?”

”Sorry, I meant kidnapped-“

”I think you’re overthinking this, Kashi-nii,” The boy declared swinging open the gate and stepping over the wards, immediately vanishing for Kakashi’s immediate senses. “I’m going to be okay. Neji and Lee are walking me down, and they’re vicious! Nobody will mess with us!”

Kakashi hummed and stepped out over the wards too, keeping his hand on Naruto’s shoulder, not wanting him to walk too far away so soon, even though Neji and Lee were just lingering at the edge of the path. “Do you have your henge?”

Instead of responding, Naruto just tapping the small ink seal tattooed on the back of his neck, and immediately his bright blond hair faded to a light silver, and his whiskers vanished as if they were never there. His eyes darkened to a dull blue-grey colour, and he flashed a grin up at his brother.

Shoulders slumping, Kakashi reluctantly checked his watch, seeing he needed to let his little brother go or both him, Neji, and Lee would be late. “Okay. You come right home, alright? You don’t talk to anybody. You don’t stop for anyone. If you’re even a minute late, I’m sending out the hounds-“

But Naruto was already sprinting off down the path to Neji, who sheepishly waved goodbye before grabbing the younger boy’s hand to stop him from running off down the wrong street; “Bye, Hatake-San! We’ll keep him safe!”

Lee cheered loudly at this, proclaiming a challenge; whoever got to the bottom of the path first won, and whoever was last had to carry their bags. Naruto immediately agreed and took off into a sprint, tugging Neji along with him, and Lee took off after the two.

Before they vanished out of the sight, Naruto spun around and called; “I love you!”

Gathering the last of his steady nerves, Kakashi called back; “I love you too!”

And if he shed a few tears, then that was between him and his ghosts.

--❀--

”Mama, who’s the man in the photo?”

”We don’t know honey; this photo has been kept up on our family shrine for generations. It’s older than your father and I.”

”Why doesn’t he have a face anymore?”

”Our best guess? It’s being kept in a locket. Someone loves him enough to carry him around wherever they go. Isn’t that sweet?”

”He must be loved lots.”

”Mmm, lots and lots.”

--❀--

Naruto tugged gently on Neji’s sleeve, and the older boy knelt in front of him, hands holding his slender shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

The words stuck in his throat, but Naruto pushed them out anyway; “It’s just- what if I don’t like it? What if nobody likes me?”

Neji’s brow creased quietly, but before he could speak, Lee draped himself over Neji’s shoulders and cheerfully said; “You’ll always have us! We’ll always be here, and we’ll be right outside the gate come the final bell, alright?”

Naruto bit the inside of his cheek, feeling the flesh shift between his molars as he worried at it. “Alright.”

Neji’s slender hand tipped Naruto’s head up and tapped his nose gently with the tip of his finger; “Where’s your smile? It’s not like you to leave it at home…”

Unable to help himself, Naruto giggled and grabbed his hand, squeezing his palm. “I got it, I didn’t forget.”

”Okay, so put it on and have a good day, don’t let anybody get in your way of being the world's best medic!” Lee cheered, drawing the attention of some people in the street, but Naruto cheered in response so Neji couldn’t find it in himself to be too embarrassed as he stood and guided Naruto up to the clan gates; the shadows of the bamboo falling over them.

Shikaku was standing at the gates waiting for them, his lips quirked into a very small smile. He held out his hand and Naruto took it, but didn’t let go of Neji just yet, he wasn’t quite ready.

”Would you like to say goodbye?” Shikaku asked Naruto, his voice soft, but not pushy like so many others would be.

Nodding, Naruto squeezed Neji’s hand and whispered; “Goodbye, I’ll miss you.” Then to Lee, “I’ll miss you too.”

Lee sniffed and tears sprang to his eyes, and he reached for Naruto to give him one last hug, meanwhile Neji stood stiffly between them, only to be yanked into the hug and held tight by Naruto’s rain-jacket covered arms which snaked around his waist tight as a vice.

They stood there for a few moments before Naruto pulled away and took Shikaku’s hand again, a small smile now on his lips. “I love you.” He whispered, and Neji silently held up the Shinobi sign for Love, which Naruto then mirrored.

Lee sniffed a little and stared at the ceiling, his throat wobbling and his eyes brimming with tears. “Ooh they grow up so fast-“

Naruto tugged on Shikaku’s sleeve with his free hand and murmured; “We should run now before he bursts into tears.”

Stifling a laugh, Shikaku nodded and escorted him through the gate; “He loves you a lot. I see it in the way they both look at you, little fox.”

”I love him too, lots and lots, even though he keeps jumping from the rafters to challenge me, and even though Neji doesn’t talk to anybody in the morning until he has his tea, and even though Lee keeps trying to challenge Kakashi to a sparring match, which Guy says is ‘very youthful of him’-“

--❀--

”Are you sure this is wise, rival?” Guy asked, rubbing his chin. “Your eye is still damaged-“

Kakashi shrugged and indicated to Itachi, who was perched up on a nearby low wall. “That’s why he’s here.”

”Not because I’m pretty?” Itachi dryly rumbled, flipping a page in his book. “I’m hurt, Kashi-senpai.”

Tenzou chuckled quietly under his breath from his seat between Itachi’s legs, flipping the page in his own magazine, the glossy pages sticking slightly to the tips of his fingers. “Maybe you do have attachment issues.”

Guy threw his head back and laughed while Kakashi turned bright red in the ears, stammering out; “I told you that in confidence!”

Tenzou shrugged lightly before returning to his magazine, although Kakashi has no idea where he got it.

”I need to try small steps,” Kakashi explained, pulling his jumper off and placing it aside. “Besides, I’ve been cleared for light duty-“

”Attempting to perform your signature jutsu is not light duty.” Guy pointed out, but Kakashi promptly ignored him, and continued.

”-and now that Naruto’s at school, I need something to do.”

Itachi raised his hand.

”Yes, Itachi?”

”Don’t you spend all your time cooking?”

”Not all my time, n- yes, Tenzou?”

”Gardening?”

”No- Guy, not you too-”

Guy sheepishly lowered his hand and offered a small grin. “Sorry, rival, I just wanted to ask if you could properly hit me with your Chidori, so I can build up a tolerance-“

”Absolutely not. Are you trying to die-”

--❀–

Suzume’s liked to describe herself as a controlled whirlwind

She exercised excellent restraint over the chaos in her life, while keeping her own chaos under careful control. She knew when to drop the reins, and when to pick them up again, wrangling her clan of hundreds into dead silence whenever she stepped into the room; getting the children fed, the adults liquored, and the relatives with drama carefully separated and kept out of each other’s eyeline.

She handled the shop easily; keeping it stocked, organised, and clean always. Nothing was out of place. Nothing was ever out of stock. Her books were the cleanest anyone had ever seen, and sometimes tax officials wept when they read them.

Suzume prided herself on her controlled chaos. She prided herself on being able to handle whatever was thrown at her.

Sobbing orphans was not one of the things she knew how to handle, and you know what, she can admit that.

In a village of fucking orphans, you’d think she’d have picked up on this skill by now, but she really only knew one sobbing orphan, and that one sobbing orphan was currently having a panic attack under her front counter while she attempted to check out a young man who had only come to buy cooking oil, but was now eyeing her with an odd expression.

Suzume went to try cash him out before the soft sniffles of her shopping boy cranked up a notch, prompting her to ‘accidentally’ knock a coin of the counter; “Oops, sorry, let me grab that for you-“ and dropped to her knees, eyeline with the boy who was desperately trying to hold back his sniffles.

”Hey now,” She murmured, brushing his tears away with her thumbs, attempting to channel her sister-in-law the best she could. “What’s wrong? Did something happen? Why are you crying under my counter?”

The boy, although he was more of a young teen now, sniffled and pulled away from her hands, rubbing his eyes with his palms; “Sorry, I’m so sorry- it’s just, I don’t know-“ He then broke off into hiccups, eyes watering.

Suzume squinted slightly, desperately trying to find a way to calm him down. “Easy now, deep breaths, you’re alright. Do you want to take a minute down here? I have some water-“ She turned and grabbed her drink bottle from her side bag, the ice clinking as she passed it over, “-take five minutes, get your breathing under control, and then we can talk, yeah?”

He sniffled and nodded, taking the drink bottle in his shaking hands. Suzume nodded and patted his knee, attempting to be reassuring before plucking the coin off the floor and standing back up, flashing a smile and handing the coin to the Shinobi who arched an eyebrow as he took it. “Thank you for shopping with us today, we’ll be seeing you soon!”

The shinobi hummed and took his cooking oil and change, quickly leaving the store and giving Suzume some time to drop back down and check on her employee.

He had calmed down slightly, but his uniform was rumbled and he had deep eyebags under his tired, red-rimmed, doe-brown eyes. He capped the water bottle, and Suzume placed it on the floor.

”Do you want to talk about it, Iruka?” She asked, wrapping her arms around her knees, attempting to stave off the winter cold. She had gotten used to Suna’s heat in the few weeks she was there, but being back in Konoha during the winter month was a freezing-cold change of pace.

The newest addition to the family had come during the night, which was the coldest Suzume had been during her time in Suna with the temperature being in the negatives, but even still, it had nothing on Konoha’s winters.

Iruka sniffled and rubbed his eyes, looking exhausted; “I’m sorry, I just- My apartment block is upping rent again, and I can’t afford to stay there anymore, e-even with my job and my shifts at the front gate, and I just- I don’t know. I don’t qualify for benefits because I have an aunt somewhere, although I’ve never met her and I doubt she even knows I exist-“ He cut off as his throat closed and his eyes began to water again. His voice was hoarse and watering, weak as a fawn’s legs, as he whispered; “-I just don’t know what to do.”

Suzume wasn’t quite sure what to say, she didn’t think anything she said would help in this situation, but she thought she might as well try. She was good at stopping her little cousins from spiralling, surely stopping a slightly older, not at all related to her person, was just as easy, right?

”Well, I know someone who’s renting out a room in their apartment? Super cheap rent, I might be able to swing a meeting- WHA-“

Iruka’s arms tightened around her and he gasped out; “Thank you, thank you so much, Suzume-san-“ She held back a laugh at that, still, nobody knew her last name. “I’m so grateful, thank you!”

Awkwardly, Suzume stroked Iruka’s hair, smiling softly. “It’s no problem, none, I’ll set up the meeting the quickest I can, alright? I’ll even get my little cousins to help you move, if you don’t mind lots of yelling.”

He laughed wetly against her shoulder, and she gently pet his hair a little longer before pulling away and handing the water bottle to him, “Take a moment then I’ve got some crates for you to unpack round back. Sound good?”

”Thank you, Suzume-san.”

As she stood, Suzume continued, ”No trouble at all, kid, take your time- oh hey, Genma, just the person I wanted to talk to!”

--❀–

My husband wanted our wedding to be quiet, and I agreed since marriage was never something I wanted, let alone expected to be on the receiving end of, not to mention his brother was still recovering, (the guilt ate me alive).

I let him choose the shrine, since the Senju did not have any shrines outside our clan grounds, and I let him decide the guest list. But I insisted I pick the flowers, to which he hesitated, but agreed.

The flowers were grown by my brother, who carefully wove them together and placed them in my hands the hour before I went to meet him.

Aloe for Affection.

Borage for my Directness and Bluntness.

White Clovers because he was thinking of me.

Black Eyed Susans for Justice in our marriage.

Anemone because we were forsaking War.

Mangolia because of the Uchiha clan’s Nobility, and the Senju clans love of nature.

Basil, because he was wishing us both good wishes.

Chives in hopes this marriage will be useful to us both, our clans, and our future.

Ferns for my scientific fascination, which admittedly made me laugh.

Hydrangea because he was grateful I understood his dream.

Purple Hyacinthus’ were for sorrow, because he was losing his last brother in a way. Although not losing me not to war or bloodshed, but to distance and time, even if it wasn’t forever.

Red Carnation because his heart aches to lose me, but he knows my soon-to-be husband's heart aches to wait for me.

Red Chrysanthemum’s because he loved me, and hoped my future husband would too.

Chamomile for patience in adversity; perhaps a warning for me to hold my temper in the coming times.

Coreopsis for an always cheerful marriage.

Goldenrod for Encouragement and Good Fortune.

Angelica to offer inspiration for my future scientific projects, since he could no longer offer them to me in person before the village was built.

A bundle of Holly was tucked in my robes for domestic happiness.

Lemon Balm for Sympathy, because he knew this was not something I was prepared for, let alone wanted.

And finally, he cupped my head and wove a Myrtle flower into our mothers Kazanshi, which he had hidden years and years ago after her death; the flower was to wish me Love in my marriage, the Kazanshi was something I hadn’t expected, and admittedly, I wept quietly over it.

I told him I wasn’t going to die, but I wasn’t so sure about my own words. He smiled sadly and kissed my temple before promptly bursting into tears, apologising that this had to happen like this; that this was the cost of peace.

But he promised me that Uchiha Madara would be a good husband, he swore it on his life, and I had no choice but to believe it.

--❀--

”Boy, come here.”

”Grandfather, what is it? What’s wrong?”

”There is something I must tell you, before I pass.”

”Grandfather, can you not ask the Zet-”

”No, this is a family matter.”

”I- yes, of course. What do you need?”

”Take that locket there, bring it to me. It has been so long since I allowed myself to open it.”

”Grandfather- wait, is that…?”

”He’s beautiful, isn’t he? The first and last man I betrayed.”

”... I don’t- you and him? He’s your husband?”

”Do not sound so surprised, boy. What do you think gave our clans peace?”

”We were always told he murdered your brother, and that's how you got his eyes-”

”Murdered? No, child. In a sense, perhaps, he did. But it was this world that forced his hand. It is this world that is corrupted. His soul was pure, like his brother’s, and like you, before tragedy.”

”Grandfather-”

”It was his blade that wounded my brother, but it was his hands that let him live despite it. I saw it in his eyes that day, child; the crippling realisation of what he had done. My father even let him hold Izuna’s hand the day he finally passed.”

”...”

”He would have liked you, Obito.”

”I…”

”Now promise me, you will fix this world, by any means necessary.”

With a weak, dying hand, Madara curled Obito’s fingers around the silver locket, the lid clicking shut against the younger man’s palm. “Do not repeat my mistakes, child.”

Eye half lidded, Obito ran his thumb over the front of the locket; tracing the curled flower carved into the soft metal with a reverent touch.

The silver reminded him of Kakashi’s hair. (Friend killer, dead man walking, eye-stealer, grief-stricken child forced to grow up too fast, broken soldier who is piecing himself back together day-in day-out).

”I won’t,” Obito whispered, folding his palm over Madara’s wrinkled hand, examining his scars and grazes from the years long past him now. “Goodnight, Grandfather.”

--❀--

”Brother, it is done. Forgive me.”

I weep.

--❀–

There was something dangling from the fence post when Kakashi returned from the markets, although this time, it wasn’t a letter or a book, or a parcel.

Hanging from the fence post, was a long silver chain from which a locket hung, glittering with raindrops and dew. The metal looked old, worn, and well loved. The flower carved on the front of the locket, which looked like lavender, was smoothed down from years of someone rubbing their thumb over it.

Balancing his basket on his hip, Kakashi reached out and picked it up carefully. Doing a quick check to make sure it wasn’t dangerous, Kakashi then pressed the tip of his nail under the clasp and flipped it open.

The locket was an unusual make, with more than one place for photos, like a book made of paper-thin metal. The first thing he noticed was an orange spiral, carefully drawn onto the metal with an ink Kakashi didn’t recognise.

The next thing he noticed was the small, old black and white photo pressed into the first ‘page’.

The photo was of a little boy with black hair, grinning widely at the camera, revealing the gap in his front teeth. He looked like he was laughing; the ink of the photo dark around his nose as if he was blushing from the cold. He was wrapped up in a cloak and scarf, but there wasn’t much else to see because of the way the photo had been cut.

The next photo was of a young man wearing armour from the time of the warring states; the armour looked well used, and a large katana hung over his shoulder. It looked to be a formal photo, like how a Shinobi’s photo would be taken for their file, with a plain white background that looked like the wall of an old-fashioned home.

His hair reminded Kakashi of Sasuke, Itachi’s little brother, who he had only seen in photos up until this point. Maybe one day he’d greet the boy in person, and him and Naruto would be friends. But the young man’s face from the locket was oddly familiar above his resemblance to Sasuke, Kakashi just couldn’t put his finger on it.

So he flipped to the next photo slot, and blinked in surprise, fingers clenching around the locket tightly out of reflex; not wanting to drop it as he took in the next photo.

The photo had been neatly cut in the shape of an ova to fit the locket perfectlyl, revealing a handsome young man with stark white hair and red eyes. He wasn’t smiling in the photo, but his lips were curled up slightly at the edges like he was happy, like he was in love, and he was leaning slightly to the side, as if leaning into someone’s touch. He looked almost like a Hatake, if it weren’t for the red cuts in his cheeks, which he immediately recognised as belonging to the Second Hokage since nobody had taken those seals in Konoha after Tobirama Senju’s death, and the leaf emblem was visible on the corners of his robe alongside the Senju family crest.

He looked peaceful in the photo, nothing like how Kakashi had imagined him. He looked more human, less like an immortal figure that his stone carving on the side of the mountain would lead you to believe. His eyes were falling closed almost, peaceful enough to let down his guard.

Running his finger over the photo, Kakashi felt his heart clench with realisation.

Without thinking, Kakashi pushed the basket he was carrying through the wards, trusting someone would pick it up and bring it inside, before he quickly shushined across the village, feeling his chakra strain with jump.

He landed outside the Uchiha estate, racing past the guards and up the road, dodging the exclamations from the shinobi manning the gates, and up to the main house. He knew where Itachi’s room was, and he slammed the door open, finding Itachi meditating in the back by his scroll shelf.

”Kakashi-senpai?” Itachi asked, unfolding his long legs and standing, looking surprised as Kakashi quickly kicked off his sandals and raced through the house, past a stunned Fugaku who had probably left the kitchen to examine what the noise was all about, and to the shrine.

Kakashi knelt, searching for the photo he knew this locket connected with, and he lifted the locket up, holding it level to where the second man’s face had been cut out.

He heard Itachi’s breath hitch as the torn edges lined up perfectly.

”Holy shit.” Kakashi muttered, eyes widening, and he pushed his headband up with his free hand, Sharingan swirling to life to copy the sight before him, not caring about the strain.

The journal!

Immediately Kakashi’s free hand darted down to his side bag, flipping it open and grabbing out the journal, flipping it open to the pages he had yet to put in order, riffling through them until he found the page he was looking for, and he began to read.

--❀--

I told him I wasn’t going to die, but I wasn’t so sure about my own words. He smiled sadly and kissed my temple before promptly bursting into tears, apologising that this had to be happen like this; that this was the cost of peace.

But he promised me that Uchiha Madara would be a good husband, he swore it on his life, and I had no choice but to believe it.

--❀--

Kakashi’s fingers lingered on the last line; his eyes darted up to the locket which he was still holding in front of the photo.

”Holy shit,” He muttered again, voice breathy and his eyes widening further if that was even possible. “Holy shit.”

"Holy shit." Itachi agreed, looking as stunned as Kakashi felt. Like his whole world had collapsed out from under him. (If Kakashi had looked closer in this moment, he would have seen Itachi’s fear).

"Holy shit." Kakashi concluded and they knelt in silence for a long moment, staring at the photo and the locket with quiet, confused reverence. The eyes of Uchiha Madara, and Tobirama Senju, staring down at them quietly. And for once, the ghosts didn't feel overwhelming, like they too were sitting back; honouring the scene.

"What does this mean?" Itachi asked after a moment.

Kakashi swallowed. "I don't know." He whispered.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Not Kakashi, not Itachi, not Fugaku who was lingering in the doorway, and not Mikoto who had appeared from the shadows; a sad look on her face.

”Boys,” Mikoto said gently, “Why don’t you come for some tea? I think there’s something we need to discuss.”

--❀--

After Fugaku calmed down the guards and sent them away, the four of them gathered in the kitchen for tea. A special blend of the Uchiha, one that had a subtle spice to it that lingered on Kakashi’s tongue.

They took their time, gathering their thoughts, before anyone thought about talking.

Unsurprisingly Mikoto took the lead.

”Did I ever tell you about my brother?” She asked, glancing between Kakashi and Itachi with gentle eyes, teacup held gently between her hands.

”No, I don’t think you ever did.” Kakashi said softly, accepting his cup with a quiet bow of his head. Itachi simply shook his head.

”Shisui, of course, is his son; Kenshin adopted him after… after his death,” She said, voice soft; reminiscing. “I wanted to, but at the time, I was injured, and your father was slowly transitioning into becoming clan head. Our household had no place for a child at the time.”

Kakashi knew this, he had heard it from Itachi when they first met outside the ANBU masks.

Itachi was born a year after Shisui; a year after Mikoto had been forced to resign from her Shinobi duties due to a horrible accident on a mission that resulted in her leg being crushed. Even today, she still walked with a slight limp. It was also around the time Fugaku had really found his stride as head of the Uchiha clan.

He was unsure what this had to do with the fact that, apparently, the Second Hokage had been married to the man who supposedly hated him for killing his younger brother. And, yeah, according to Tobirama’s journal, he technically did, but Izuna died almost three years after the fateful battle where, according to every single history lesson Kakashi had to attend in his youth, he had died.

”Well, as you know, Itachi,” Mikoto glanced towards her eldest son, before looking back to Kakashi; “Shisui’s father is Uchiha Kagami.”

... Kakashi can’t say he didn’t guess. But the revelation is surprising.

”Kagami was very close with Madara-sama, and Tobirama-sama both.” She explained, tracing the lip of her cup, “So, when Kagami died,” Her voice broke slightly, and Kakashi pretended not to see Fugaku’s hand rest on her knee, “Tobirama-sama came to my home, and he apologised to my mother for failing her son - my brother.”

Fugaku then took over the story, his voice firmer, more steady, allowing his wife to collect herself, “As you know, Tobirama-sama died not long after. He was ambushed, and it was there he declared his successor, before turning and facing off against their attackers.”

One of the most famous stories in Konoha. Kakashi knew it well.

”A month after the funeral, the Third Hokage-” He spoke with venom, “-placed the Shinobi clans under a gag order. He ordered us never to speak about Senju Tobirama’s death, life, or marriage. Uchiha’s Izuna’s death was rewritten to paint a narrative against our clan; painting Uchiha Madara as crazed by hate.” He took a slow breath, “We were made to watch as history was rewrote around us.”

The tea suddenly tasted like ash on Kakashi’s tongue.

Betrayal, of the highest order. Such disrespect for one of the bravest people in Konoha history. The council, the current Hokage included, were hypocrites, each and every single one of them.

Rage was too kind a word for the mix of emotions Kakashi was feeling deep in his chest.

”So Madara-”

”Married Tobirama-sama,” Mikoto confirmed, “And, I think, loved him greatly. If not in the beginning, then definitely by the end.” She nodded towards the shrine at the end of the hall, where the cut photo was sitting, then down to the locket sitting between them on the table, “He could have taken anything to that final battle with Hashirama-sama, but he took that locket.”

Kakashi reached for it, and flicked it open, turning the small metal pages to look at the faces of the three people Madara loved the most; the son he never had, his treasured younger brother, and Tobirama, Second Hokage, and his husband till the end.

”If it means anything,” It probably didn’t, but Kakashi was going to say it anyway, “Tobirama-sama wrote about Madara-sama very often. He… I think, quite loved him too.”

Mikoto smiled softly at him, and Kakashi smiled back through his mask, hoping he conveyed his sincerity properly.

”So, Izuna-sama didn’t die on the battlefield?” Itachi asked, sounding oddly numb. It caught everyone's attention, and even Fugaku looked a little worried by his tone, “He didn’t… cause Madara-sama’s hate?”

Fugaku shook his head, “No. It’s all lies.”

Itachi didn’t lift his head as he stood from the table; “Excuse me, I need to be alone for a moment,” He murmured, looking a little ill. He then turned and slipped out the engawa doors.

Quickly, Fugaku stood and followed after his eldest, one hand resting gently on Mikoto’s shoulder, before he too vanished outside.

Kakashi watched after them for a moment; saw Fugaku kneel and cup Itachi’s face, speaking to him gently in a voice too low to understand from this distance. Itachi was shaking his head, but Fugaku gently persisted.

Eventually, Kakashi turned his head away; it felt wrong to pry. His friend needed his father, not a second set of eyes on him. He knew how much Itachi detested being seen in his weak moments. So he pushed down the urge to go and comfort him, and turned back to see Mikoto; she hadn’t moved, gazing at Kagami’s photo in the locket with a soft look in her normally reserved eyes.

”Forgive me,” She told him, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a photo of him looking so happy.”

The Uchiha Matriarch ran her thumb over the lid gently, like Kakashi had done barely an hour ago, and how someone, (presumably Madara), had done for years. The metal, he realised, was worn with love.

”Was Madara at all like how we were led to see him?” Kakashi found himself asking, the words coming loose before he could stop them.

Mikoto paused, then murmured; “Parts of the stories are true, yes. He was an excellent tactician, fighter, and was strong enough to match Hashirama-sama in combat. But he was also kinder than you’d think,” She smiled softly at a distant memory, “He was very good with children and animals, but you could practically feel that he had a soft spot for Kagami.”

Kakashi found he could imagine it; the feared Uchiha Patriarch kneeling amongst a gaggle of children, giving them his attention and time easily with a smile on his face.

People always forgot that he was a person; someone who lived and loved and cared. He existed on the same earth, walked the same roads, and spoke the same language. He wore the same fabric, wore his clan’s crest, smiled, laughed, cried, and felt just as much as anyone else did.

Madara Uchiha was a product of his time; shaped by war just like how Kakashi was, how so many Shinobi are. He was a product of a cycle, vicious as it was, and it had shaped his actions; good and bad.

It didn’t excuse everything he did, but it did help explain it.

”Why did he turn on Konoha, in the end?” Kakashi asked Mikoto.

”I believe, in the end, it was his grief,” She told him in return, topping up their cups although neither had sipped from them in a while now. It was more to keep the tea inside hot, than anything else. “War changed him, his nightmares kept it fresh, and his grief became too much.”

She paused, then laughed softly, “It’s funny, but I think his brother's death did have a part to play in his madness. It was inevitable, I think, that Izuna-sama was going to die. His wound, while healed, had damaged him in the long run. He lasted longer than anyone thought, almost five years, but he wasn’t going to last forever.”

Kakashi pursed his lips behind his mask, taking a sip of his tea to keep himself occupied, before speaking again; “Why? The council, the Third… why?”

Mikoto hesitated, before sighing and indicating for him to lean in, which he did; ”Who else? He’s in the Third’s ear, always has been.”

Kakashi supposed it didn’t help that the Third was ancient by Shinobi standards, and by ‘Kage standards. “It always comes back to Danzou.”

Mikoto nodded slightly, leaning back as well, “Indeed.”

Their eyes met.

Mikoto wants to remove Danzou. Kakashi does too. She wants to protect her sons and her clan. He does too. She wants to put history right again. He does too.

Kakashi thought of Itachi, (soft hearted, pacifist Itachi who never wanted to hurt anybody), Shisui (his father robbed from him too early), Tenzou (tortured by a man who could have been brought to justice sooner), Naruto (who was almost tossed to the child-killing machine that was Konoha with no guardianship), and everybody else he knew screwed over by Danzou’s machinations; indirectly or not.

He thought of how good it would feel to hurt that twisted snake; how good it would be for the growth of his gardens to bury Danzou’s corpse in the dirt.

He thought of how Konoha had been broken by his meddling, broken by his ‘ethics’ and his ‘morals.’ He thought of how twisted the village had become in recent years. Of how deep the corruption ran.

Then he thought about everything he thought he knew about Konoha; how much of it was lies? How many of those lies were spun by Danzou to keep his power?

How many children had that excuse of a man sacrificed in the name of ‘peace’? How many children like Rin or Obito had been murdered? How many people had been stolen from raising their own children like Kushina and Minato had? How many bodies elevated his throne? How many times did the Third Hokage look away? How much did the council know and allow? How many friends had Kakashi lost? How many times had Kakashi bled, died, screamed, ached for Konoha?

All Kakashi’s effort had gone to elevating Danzou. Not the village. Not the children. Not the memory of the dead. Not their ghosts.

Every broken bone, every drop of blood, every twist of a knife, or the flare of a jutsu, had gone to one man who had far overstayed his welcome.

Slowly, Kakashi lowered his cup of tea back to the table, and quietly asked; “What do you need from me, Uchiha-sama?”

Mikoto’s smile almost reached her ears, “I’m so glad you asked, Hatake-sama.”