Naruto Shippuden: girl from whirlpools

Twice Shy

Chapter Twenty-Five: Twice Shy

"Kakashi, come with me."

Dark, bleak eyes shifted to Minato's outstretched hand, regarding it as something strange and foreign to him. After a moment he dismissed it and returned his gaze to his father's motionless form in the middle of the living room floor.

"You can't sit here forever, Kakashi," Minato said gently, "and we're only going to the kitchen."

Ever so slowly, Kakashi relaxed a little, lifting his hand to place it into Minato's. It was cold and crusted with dried blood, but Minato held it tight and pulled the boy carefully to his feet. Never before had a simple trip to the kitchen felt like such an important journey, and almost at once Kakashi stumbled dizzily and dropped back to his knees. A moment later, he was throwing up on the floor.

Minato waited for the wretches seizing his small body to subside and just as Kakashi looked ready to sink back to the floor in a daze, Minato scooped him up beneath the arms and carried him into the kitchen. He kicked the door shut to the living room and planted Kakashi on the counter beside the sink. There were no clean glasses in the cupboards so he rinsed one out and filled it with water. "Wash your mouth out with this," he said. "Then drink it slowly."

Kakashi obeyed mechanically, holding the glass in one hand as the other remained tightly fastened around the hilt of the bloody dagger. When Minato reached out to try and relieve it from him, Kakashi jerked it closer so violently Minato feared he would cut himself.

"Did you take that off your father?" he asked him, easing back.

The boy stared guardedly. "It's mine."

"Yours?" Minato tilted his head questioningly. "It looks like your father's sabre."

Kakashi looked at it as well, silent for a moment. "Dad said it used to be his father's and his grandfather's, and that one day it would be mine," he looked stolidly at Minato. "So it's mine now."

"The police will probably want to have a look at it," Minato warned him.

A touch of uncertainty pinched the corners of Kakashi's eyes. "I didn't do it."

"No, I know." Minato smiled slightly and rubbed a hand over the boy's head. "How long were you sitting there?"

If Kakashi knew the answer to this, he didn't give it; instead he returned his gaze to his father's sabre, or perhaps it was the blood that held his attention. It wasn't right for a child so young to be sitting there with hands covered in his own father's blood, but if taking the weapon off him would only cause distress, Minato didn't know what else to do. He filled the sink with warm water and handed a bar of soap to Kakashi. "Use this," he said, hoping he would. "Where does your dad keep his note paper?"

He realised he had used the present tense and he wondered if Kakashi noticed or cared. The situation felt far too surreal. He needed paper to send a message reporting the incontrovertible fact of Sakumo's sudden death and he still spoke as if the man was only momentarily absent.

Regarding the soap bar impassively, Kakashi pointed to a drawer in the kitchen table. Inside were all the pens and notepad paper Minato needed and he sat down to scratch out a simple message. Oddly, he felt no rush. None whatsoever. It didn't matter if help came now or in an hour or in ten hours. Sakumo was already gone and nothing was going to change that. He could sit there and choose his words carefully, mull over them once, and twice, and realise that once this message got out there would be no turning back. Right now it was just him and Kakashi sitting in the kitchen, and once he sent this message the house would soon be swarming. As far as the rest of the village was concerned right now, Hatake Sakumo was still alive... Minato almost felt like keeping hold of this note might even make it true for a little while longer.