Chapter Text
The Hokage’s office always smelled faintly of ink and wind. Scrolls lay half-open across the desk, paperweights shaped like dogs holding them in place.
Kenji stood at attention, posture straight, while Kakashi leaned back in his chair — one eye half-lidded, the other hidden behind his forehead protector, as though even he found paperwork too exhausting to fully look at.
“You were assigned to the Hyuga compound three months ago,” Kakashi said, his voice light but not careless. “I trust there have been no security breaches.”
“None, Hokage-sama.”
“Good. And Lady Hinata?”
“Efficient. Diligent. Cooperative,” Kenji replied, every syllable clipped to regulation tone.
Kakashi hummed, the sound suspiciously close to a chuckle. He set down the scroll he’d been reading and looked up at him, silver hair catching the morning light. “Cooperative, hmm? You make it sound like you’re writing a field report on a kunai.”
Kenji stiffened. “I meant no disrespect, sir.”
“None taken. But you’ll forgive me if I’m curious about the details you’ve omitted.”
Kenji blinked. “Sir?”
“Oh, come now,” Kakashi said, waving one hand lazily, “a man doesn’t stay on domestic assignment this long without… observations.”
The phrasing was deceptively casual. But Kenji had served long enough under him to know the trap when he heard one.
Still, he fell for it.
“Lady Hinata is… capable,” he said slowly. “Her leadership is measured. Her focus is—”
Kakashi tilted his head. “And her smile?”
Kenji faltered. “...Sir?”
“Her smile,” Kakashi repeated, and though his tone was mild, the eye visible above the mask gleamed with unmistakable amusement. “I’ve heard from certain reliable sources—namely Sakura—that she smiles more often lately. Some might even say it’s because a certain ANBU captain has been spending too much time in her courtyard.”
Kenji felt heat crawl up the back of his neck. “With respect, sir, those rumors are unfounded.”
“Of course they are,” Kakashi said with mock seriousness. “As are the ones about a certain three-year-old who refuses to let anyone else carry him to bed but that same ANBU captain.”
Kenji inhaled slowly, exhaled even slower. “Hisaki is—”
“—a child who likes you. I know.” Kakashi leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk. “But tell me something, Kenji. Do you like them?”
The question hung in the air, quiet but impossibly heavy.
Kenji opened his mouth, but the words failed him.
He could feel the weight of duty pressing against his chest — the thousand reasons he shouldn’t answer, shouldn’t even think about it.
And yet, beneath it all, the truth whispered stubbornly.
“I… respect them,” he managed.
Kakashi’s visible eye crinkled. “Respect. Right. And when you stand under the moonlight with them, when you look at Lady Hinata holding that boy, when you realize you’ve stopped sleeping properly because of it… that’s respect?”
Kenji’s throat tightened.
He wanted to deny it, to hide behind the discipline that had carried him through years of shadow work.
But Kakashi’s tone wasn’t mocking anymore.
It was gentle. Almost sad.
“You’re not the first ANBU to come back from a mission and forget how to live,” Kakashi said softly. “But you might be the first to remember because of someone else’s peace.”
Kenji said nothing.
“She’s been through enough ghosts,” Kakashi continued quietly. “If you’re going to stay in her orbit, be certain you’re not another one.”
Kenji bowed his head, the only reply he could manage.
Kakashi smiled faintly, pulling another stack of papers toward him. “Dismissed, Captain. Oh, and Kenji—”
He paused at the door.
“Next time you submit a report,” Kakashi said without looking up, “try not to sound so… emotionally constipated. Makes the paperwork dull.”
Kenji almost smiled. Almost.
He stepped into the sunlight outside the office, the words another ghost echoing in his mind.
He’d thought duty was simple: protect, obey, endure.
But now…
He wasn’t sure where duty ended and something deeper began.