ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪꜱᴛ | ᴛᴇɴᴛᴇɴ ꜰꜰ|

Chapter 92

It had been a few weeks since Kakashi had started noticing a subtle shift in his apartment's atmosphere. The once solitary space, where he had enjoyed peace and solitude after long missions, had begun to feel different. There were small signs, almost imperceptible at first, but soon enough, they became undeniable.

The dishes in the sink weren't just his anymore. There were scraps of food that didn't match his usual diet, signs that someone—someone—had been cooking or eating things he didn't recognize. The couch, which Kakashi had once kept clear for his late-night reading sessions or naps, was now constantly occupied by the same person: Ugetsu. And of course, there was the little ball of fluff, Mochi, who had become almost as much a fixture in Kakashi's apartment as Ugetsu himself.

Kakashi wasn't blind. He'd known Ugetsu had been staying over more frequently, but he hadn't quite realized the extent of it until he had to make a late-night run to the grocery store for more food—again. The fridge was always emptied faster than it should have been, and every time he turned around, there was Ugetsu on his couch with Mochi sprawled next to him, both of them asleep in a comfortable heap. Kakashi hadn't minded at first. 

After all, Ugetsu was his student, and in some ways, he had become like a younger brother to him. But lately, Kakashi had begun to wonder if there was something deeper behind it. Something more than just Ugetsu's need for comfort.

One evening, after coming back from a mission, Kakashi walked into his apartment to find his once solitary space now even more crowded. Ugetsu was sprawled on the couch, Mochi curled up beside him in a little fat ball. The sight was undeniably cute, but it also made Kakashi pause. He glanced at the kitchen. More empty containers. More food wrappers. He could hear Ugetsu's voice coming from the living room, talking quietly to the kitten, his usual calm tone softer than normal.

Kakashi walked into the living room, his brow furrowed beneath his mask. Ugetsu didn't look up, but Mochi perked up her ears at the sound of Kakashi's footsteps, and Ugetsu followed suit, slowly sitting up and stretching, giving his legs a little shake.

"You're back," Ugetsu remarked, his voice light but with an edge that Kakashi recognized. Ugetsu was always good at masking his feelings, but sometimes the tone of his voice told a different story. Kakashi had known him long enough to pick up on it.

"Yeah," Kakashi replied casually, though his eyes scanned the room for a moment longer than usual. "How long has it been since you've been staying over? I've lost track."

Ugetsu's eyes flicked toward him for a split second before he casually ran a hand through his hair, the usual smile on his face, though it was a little tired. "A few days... Maybe a little longer." He shrugged. "You don't mind, do you?"

Kakashi leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. He didn't immediately respond, letting the question hang in the air as he took a quiet breath. His gaze softened as he looked at Ugetsu—his student, but more like family now. He knew the boy had been through a lot, had faced more than his fair share of trauma. But still, Kakashi couldn't help but wonder: why was Ugetsu coming here so often? And why was he bringing Mochi with him?

"You know, you've been here a lot lately," Kakashi said, his voice quieter now. "Not that I mind having you around... But I think we need to talk."

Ugetsu tilted his head, his blue eyes meeting Kakashi's, and for the first time in a while, there was no hint of deflection, no playful teasing. Instead, there was a quiet understanding. "What about?" Ugetsu asked, his expression more serious than usual.

Kakashi hesitated for a moment, then pushed himself off the doorframe and walked over to sit across from Ugetsu. The air between them felt heavier now, and Kakashi felt a pang in his chest. "I don't mind you staying here, Ugetsu. You know that. But lately, it feels like you've been here more often than not. The couch, the food... Mochi taking over the place." He paused, taking in the stillness in Ugetsu's eyes. "I just want to know why. What's going on?"

For a long moment, Ugetsu didn't respond. He glanced down at Mochi, who was now lazily stretching and pawing at the couch cushions. Then, with a sigh, Ugetsu looked back up at Kakashi, his expression a little worn. "It's just... I've been feeling lonely, sensei" His voice was barely above a whisper. "Ever since... Dad and big brother..."

The mention of the third Hokage, whom Ugetsu had called 'Dad,' and Asuma Sarutobi, his surrogate older brother, made Kakashi's chest tighten. He had known how much Ugetsu had been affected by their deaths, but hearing it from him, so openly, made it all the more real. The weight of Ugetsu's words hung heavy in the air.

Ugetsu continued, his eyes distant, like he was speaking to himself more than anyone else. "I used to come here just to... to get away from the quiet. It's hard to be alone. I didn't want to go back to a house that doesn't feel like home anymore . And with everything going on, I guess I've just been coming here more often than I thought."

Kakashi sat back, absorbing Ugetsu's words, feeling a mixture of guilt and understanding. He had known Ugetsu was struggling, but hearing it like this—so raw and vulnerable—made him realize just how much pain the boy was carrying. Kakashi had always been the type to hide his own emotions behind his mask, but for Ugetsu, Kakashi wanted to be more. He wanted to be there for him the way his sensei had been there for him when he was younger.

"I'm sorry, Ugetsu," Kakashi said, his voice softer now. "I didn't realize you were feeling that way." He paused, letting the words sink in. "You know you don't have to keep staying here just to escape the quiet, right? You're always welcome here."

Ugetsu gave him a small, appreciative nod, but Kakashi could tell there was more that needed to be said. And though Ugetsu seemed to have found a little peace in being there, Kakashi couldn't ignore the practicalities of the situation anymore. It wasn't just the emotional side of things that needed addressing. Kakashi had been growing increasingly frustrated by the lack of space in his apartment—and the constant running out of food.

"I've been thinking," Kakashi said, his voice thoughtful. "Maybe I should look for a new apartment. One with more space. Somewhere that can accommodate you and Mochi a little better, since you've been here a lot."

Ugetsu looked at him with a hint of surprise. "You mean... move?" he asked, his brows furrowing slightly.

"Yeah. More room, more space, maybe a bigger kitchen for all the food you've been eating." Kakashi smiled under his mask, though there was a glint of humor in his eyes. "And honestly, I could use the extra space. You've been eating a lot of my food, you know."

Ugetsu's expression softened, a small chuckle escaping him. "I didn't think I was eating that much..."

"Well, you and Mochi are definitely making a dent in my supplies," Kakashi said, standing up. "But, in all seriousness, I think it's time to find a place with more space—more food, more room for you to crash when you need to."

Ugetsu's eyes brightened a little, but there was a subtle hint of gratitude in his gaze. "Thanks,," he said quietly. "I appreciate it."

Kakashi gave a small nod, though his smile remained behind the mask. He had always wanted to take care of his students, but it felt different with Ugetsu. The boy wasn't just his student anymore—he was family, in a way. And that was something Kakashi would protect, even if it meant finding a new apartment and spending more money on food.

As Kakashi headed toward the door to make the necessary arrangements, Ugetsu called out to him one last time.

"Hey, Sensei..."

Kakashi turned back, raising an eyebrow.

"I... I won't be in the way, right?" Ugetsu asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Kakashi gave a reassuring smile. "No, you won't.  You'll never be in the way."

And with that, the two of them stood in the quiet of the apartment, an unspoken understanding between them, the weight of the past beginning to shift into something a little lighter, a little easier to bear.