Chapter Text
Memory is a fickle thing, Kakashi has come to learn in all his years as a shinobi. Despite the eidetic memory his (stolen) gifted sharingan has given him, he can only see in perfect clarity all who he has killed. The sharingan is draining, so with rare exceptions, the only time it remains open is in the heat of battle. Seals, carefully crafted by his sensei and Nee-chan lay inside the lopsided hitai-ate to protect Kakashi from burning out prematurely, a treasure he has guarded with his life (Not his sensei’s life, nor his teammates, either. All of them, dead).
Regardless, the sharingan can only capture so much, so the space between one mission and another becomes blurred at times, moments slipping from his grasp like sand between fingers. When he is particularly bad, when the Anbu he, personally, has trained shadow him like bad memories as speaks for hours to those who cannot respond, there is no real conception of time. He drifts from one moment to the next until Gai - or more recently, Tsunade - comes to shove his equilibrium back into place.
Perhaps that can explain how Kakashi has ended up here, in the middle of a sparsely wooded area with no recollection of how he arrived, and a pounding in his skull like an ice pick being driven into his brain.
His (not his, stolen) eye itches. Kakashi resists the urge to rub it.
The jounin spurs chakra through his body, attempting to take stock of injuries that don’t exist. Perhaps he drank himself into a coma, and managed to escape the village walls? It doesn’t seem likely; the Anbu watch him too closely when he’s like this. They can’t risk him hurting (himself) anyone, he is a far too valuable asset to the village. Besides, he doesn’t feel hungover.
Sitting up, Kakashi allows his eye to scan his surroundings in depth, still uncertain of where, exactly, he is. It takes a moment for his memory to overlap with reality, a crystal sharp vision of stumbling back to his village, brand new eye bleeding tears that certainly weren’t his own.
Kusa country then, south of the Kannabi bridge. If memory serves (of course it does, he hadn’t learned to keep it covered, yet ), there should be a village not three kilometers south of where he is. Kakashi staggers to his feet as he pulls down his mask and inhales, sensitive Hatake nose picking up the subtle scents of smoke and human musk even from this distance.
Glancing down as he pulls his mask back in place, Kakashi starts as he realizes he’s in his Anbu blacks, sans grey vest and arm guards. His arms are bared and the skin tight, sleeveless compression shirt does little to hide anything. He feels vulnerable, not used to having any part of him visible besides his fingers and feet. (Has he really gotten that skinny? When was the last time he had eaten?)
Reflexively, Kakashi’s hand twitches up to check his hitai-ate, ensuring it is firmly in place. His fingers brush against smooth fabric, the metal plate with Konoha’s insignia absent. Wrestling it from his head reveals smooth black fabric, familiar seals inked nearly imperceptibly on the inside.
Kakashi only owns one headband with those seals. It is blue, scuffed, and has protected its owner through a war and two decades as a shinobi. It is not this one.
(Kakashi had fainted twice since being discharged from the hospital. It didn’t matter what he did, it was like the eye was swallowing his chakra whole. Even experienced Uchiha struggled to keep their sharingan active for more than a few hours at a time, but Kakashi couldn’t turn it off. Eventually, Minato-sensei had dragged him back to their apartment, and Kushina had pressed a shaky kiss to his forehead with tears in her eyes as she wrapped Kakashi’s hitai-ate back around his forehead, pulling it securely over his left eye. “I know you’ll figure out how to use it soon, ‘ttbane, but until then, Minato and I made something for you to help keep it under control. You’re the smartest kid I know, Kakashi-kun, so we have faith!”)
Kakashi blinks as he shoves old memories aside, stuffing them into a box and shoving it into the furthest corner of his mind. Tossing his hair, Kakashi firmly reties the headband in place before hopping into the nearest tree. Kusa’s forests have nothing on Konohagakure, the trees few and far in between, but Kakashi is able to stay under a modicum of cover until he hits the road.
He casually reaches into his weapons pouch, senses open and watching for threats as his fingers skim an unfamiliar book. Eyebrows furrowing slightly, Kakashi pulls the leatherbound out and stills entirely as he takes in the cover.
It’s a bingo book, assuredly, but not his own. The pages are crisp and brand new, the binding tight and without a crease to be seen. Kakashi flips it open, habitually flipping pages until he lands on the S class bounties. He is met with sky blue eyes and sunshine bright hair, flee on sight orders staring back, mocking. Kakashi shivers, a bolt from his aching head down to his numb toes.
It must be outdated. Kakashi licks his lips as he flips to the next page and sees Orochimaru with a Konohagakure insignia listed next to his name. He flips it again, this time to Jiraiya.
Kakashi snaps the book closed, shoving it back into his weapons pouch and instead brushing his fingers over kunai and shuriken. He is well stocked in both, it seems, and he appears to have no shortage of explosive tags, either.
He doesn’t take the time to check.
Deftly, Kakashi’s feet take him in the direction of the village. It’s more of a hamlet, really, a place for mercenaries to trade secrets and restock their weapons in relative peace. Kakashi licks his dry lips under his mask, touching down outside the settlement in under 15 minutes. Biting the inside of his cheek, Kakashi slouches into his default, unflappable demeanor as he moves through the dilapidated gate. Moving at a lazy pace, Kakashi moseyes through the door of a bar Tsunade had reportedly frequented.
He easily steps over the creaky board set delebritely in front of the door, but still manages to attract every eye in the establishment. Kakashi supposes his hair does stick out, being an untamed silver native to the Hatake. Placidly, Kakashi slumps down into a barstool on the far left, closest to the window and with the fewest people between him and the door.
It takes less than ten seconds for the gruff looking bartender to have a glass of what appears to be dangerously potent whiskey in front of Kakashi, no words exchanged as the copy-nin slides a couple of ryo his way. Conversation has all but halted as Kakashi casts a subtle genjutsu, appearing to take a swig of his drink right through his mask.
Damn, but does it burn. Whoever this bar buys its liquor from, they certainly don’t hold back. Kakashi can physically feel as the tension drains from the room, shinobi and freelance mercenaries alike relaxing as they realize the stranger isn’t here to cause trouble. Kakashi slouches into his seat as he channels a minute amount of chakra into his ears, listening in on the conversations around him.
“-hat I’m saying is, the Hokage is definitely out for blood. He’s already had both Oonoki and A in the village in the past month, and from what I understand, the Uchiha have taken up a semi-permanent residence in Suna. There’s something big coming, and I’ll bet you anything it has to do with the disappearance of the Mizukage.”
(Kakashi ignores the use of improper pronouns. Tsunade has been Hokage for years now, but people are still used to Hiruzen.)
“Look, I know you think I’m crazy, but I’m telling you. My cousin owns a restaurant in Konoha, and he’s seen Namikaze entertaining other Kages. This is big, Subaru.”
Kakashi doesn’t hear anything else as the bartender comes by and pours him another glass of paint stripper. Kakashi downs it numbly, fingers twitching back to his weapons pouch.
He can feel as the others in the room reflexively do the same, but Kakashi ignores the warning look from the bartender as he pulls his bingo book back out, flipping back to Konoha’s Yellow Flash. Minato looks older than he had in his original entry, having only been in his late teens the first time his face had graced this book, and his early twenties by the time his moniker took hold.
(Kakashi pointedly doesn’t remember being handed a brand new bingo book, Konoha’s section shrinking overnight, and Minato’s bounty being written out of history.)
Flipping through a couple of pages, he lands on another familiar face. Uchiha Itachi stares back at him, a Konoha insignia next to his name as well. Kakashi hesitates to flip the page, wondering if maybe he can hope…
Uchiha Obito stares back at him, filled out in all the right places while still being slight enough to pass as an Uchiha at first glance. A Katon specialist, according to the book, with a strong mastery in Kenjutsu as well if everything is to be believed. A student of the Yondaime, with a bounty on his head as large as Kakashi’s own had been. Is.
Ignoring the panic building behind his teeth, Kakashi flips through the book and categorizes both familiar faces and new. His own face remains starkly absent, and after another half hour, Kakashi flips his book closed. Subtly, Kakashi gestures for the bartender, despite his glass remaining more than half full.
The man stops in front of him, crossing his arms and glaring.
“Maa, no need to be hostile,” Kakashi says with a lackadaisical wave of his hand, tipping his head to the side. “I was merely curious if you’d heard anything particularly interesting recently.”
“I’m afraid most of what I hear could be considered interesting, shinobi-san. You’re going to have to be more specific,” the man rumbles, holding a hand out.
Sighing, Kakashi reaches into his pouch and pulls out a stack of ryo, tucking them into the man’s palm.
“I hear Konohagakure is getting itself tied up in other peoples’ business,” Kakashi elaborates. “Have you seen or heard of anyone particularly notable coming or going from there?”
The man shifts his weight, counting out the stack of bills in his hand before nodding.
“I’m sure you heard what the kids behind us were saying. It’s all hearsay, right now, but Jiraiya of the Sannin did stop by a little over a week ago. I can’t quite seem to remember what he was looking for, though,” the man replies with a pointed look to Kakashi’s pouch.
Kakashi levels him with a flat stare and shifts his weight. It’s not threatening in the outright, but he can see the moment the bartender realizes that Kakashi has enough bartering experience not to be pushed around.
“That’s rather unfortunate,” Kakashi drawls, finger lightly tracing under his chin. “Perhaps if you could think of anything to jog your memory, I would be most obliged.”
The bartender growls out a sigh, but nods anyway.
“He was asking around about shinobi in black cloaks with red clouds. Spoke briefly with the mercenary with the missing leg over there about it,” the bartender finally spits out, seeming reluctant.
“Anything else of note?” Kakashi asks with a too innocent tilt of his head.
“Ask peg-leg about it,” he spits, shooting daggers at Kakashi with his eyes.
“Glad you could remember!” Kakashi chirps, pulling out another, albeit smaller, stack of ryo for the man.
The bartender snatches it from him before turning away. Kakashi blinks in faint surprise as the man returns with a glass filled with a milky sort of liquor.
“Give ‘im this, and he’ll tell you what you want to know. Now no more questions!” the man barks, spinning on his heel and going to attend to the other patrons on the other side of the bar.
Kakashi supposes he could spike the drink, a little something to make sure the man speaks the truth, but he has a feeling getting thrown out of here would be anything but advantageous at this point. The man is sitting in a group of four people, waving his arms around as he dramatically recites an obviously fabricated tale of taking down three Kiri jounin single handedly and completely unharmed.
Crossing the floor silently, Kakashi plops the opaque drink in front of the grizzled mercenary, cutting off the egotistic laughter sprinkling from around the table. Confused, the man’s face twists angrily as he sneers at the new arrival.
“The fuck you want, twink?” the man spits, sparking mocking laughter from his peers.
Kakashi lets out a carefully controlled spike of killer intent, and watches in satisfaction as all four men freeze in their seats.
“Maa, maa, nothing much. A little birdie told me you might have some information I want is all,” Kakashi explains, his too sweet tone clashing violently with the blatant murderous aura seeping out of him.
“Right,” the man replies, licking his lips as he taps the rim of his new glass. Steel that was missing in his gaze before appears, and Kakashi suddenly reclassifies the man in his head as a threat.
“Fuck off for a minute,” he tells the small group around him, taking a mouthful of the milky liquor. “If Masahiro likes you enough to help you bribe me, I suppose a little information trading wouldn’t hurt.”
Kakashi mentally catalogs the bartender’s name as he slips into a newly abandoned seat, cutting his KI back enough to let the man breathe.
“You got a name, kid?” the greying mercenary grunts, swirling his glass.
“I’m afraid I didn’t come here to chat, today,” Kakashi apologizes lightly, taking a sip of his own whiskey.
“I deal in information, brat,” the man snaps, glaring with vehemence. “You want to know something from me, I get a name. ‘S how it works.”
Kakashi sighs inwardly, but hadn’t expected any differently.
“You can call me Gin,” Kakashi says with an eye smile.
“How original,” the man deadpans, taking another mouthful from his glass. “The name’s Ishida Kenji. So tell me, Gin, What is it that you want to know?”
Kakashi hums lightly, tapping a fingernail against the table.
“Jiraiya passed through here a while ago. I have my own sources, but from what I understand, you’ve been in direct contact with him.”
It’s a bluff, but Kakashi had been on enough reconnaissance missions to know his way around information dealing.
Ishida grunts, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “He was asking about a group called the Akatsuki. Apparently he has reason to believe their base is around here. I don’t know anything about it, though, so he was shit out of luck. He didn’t stick around very long after that.”
Kakashi nods, having already deduced as much.
“He didn’t mention anything else? No names, or perhaps locations where he might be headed?” Kakashi confirms, fingers tightening on his glass.
“Sorry kid, ain’t got nothing for ya. Didn’t seem too intent on loafing around,” Ishida responds, taking another hearty swig of his drink and shifting. “Don’t suppose you’re going to stay any longer either, then?”
Kakashi tosses back the rest of his whiskey and stands, dispassionately projecting another eye smile at the man.
“Can’t say that that I am, I’m afraid. Thank you for your help, Ishida-san.”
The grizzled mercenary only grins, draining his glass as well.
“Can’t say that I didn’t get anything out of the exchange myself, Gin- san. I’ll be seeing you around, I hope,” he says with a self-satisfied expression, tilting back in his chair.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Kakashi intones breezily, walking towards the door. “Oh, and for next time, perhaps you ought to keep in mind that jounin from Kiri wear their armbands on the left side, not the right.”
Ishida chokes and crashes back to the ground, wheeling to face the silver-haired shinobi, but the man is already gone by the time he turns.
Outside, Kakashi flips open his bingo book and gazes down at a familiar face on the page.
“Looking for the Akatsuki, huh?” he mutters, pulling a quick shunshin and dropping into a tree. “I wonder if I should help with that?”