The blow he'd braced for never landed. Instead, the sound of fists clashing filled the air.
Naraku felt the weight pinning him vanish. Genya was yanked off, followed by the scuffle of bodies hitting grass.
"You—how dare you…!"
"Genya-sama, let's get out of here!"
"Next time, he won't be so lucky!"
When Naraku opened his eyes, Genya and his lackeys were retreating in a panic. A shadow stretched across the trampled grass before him.
He looked up.
A tall boy with silver hair stood there, sheathing his blade. Even at this age, Kakashi's features carried the promise of striking adulthood. Backlit by the evening sun, his hair glowed gold around the edges, a halo that made Naraku's breath hitch.
Of course. My boy crush. Still gorgeous, even as a kid.
So this was what "saved by the hero" felt like. No wonder Kushina folded.
Naraku forced himself to snap out of it, scrambling upright and brushing off his clothes—then hesitating halfway through, as though embarrassed to be caught.
After a long pause, he muttered softly, "Thanks, Hatake."
Kakashi's brows rose. Naraku Uchiha almost never spoke to anyone, let alone with manners. Completely different from Obito's loud, overeager nonsense. Maybe he wasn't arrogant after all. Just… quiet.
"Your wrist," Kakashi said bluntly. "Leave it untreated, and it won't heal right."
Naraku ducked his head, hiding the wrist behind his back. His eyes shimmered faintly, voice so quiet it nearly disappeared.
"There's… no medicine at home."
Not a lie. With a drunk for a father, even food was scarce, let alone medicine.
"Come with me."
Kakashi walked a few steps before realizing the boy hadn't moved. He glanced back. "Leg hurt too?"
"N-no." Naraku hurried after him, falling into step behind.
Inside, Naraku could barely contain his glee. Plan successful. Finally got screen time with Kakashi. Best friends (boyfriends?) incoming.
At the Hatake house, Kakashi grabbed a box of salves and gauze, then gestured for Naraku to sit.
Naraku obeyed, but when Kakashi tugged up his sleeve, he flinched too late. The bruises stretched in ugly splotches across his arm.
Kakashi's frown deepened. This wasn't training. This was abuse.
"Take off the shirt. All of it. Anywhere you're hurt, I need to see."
"It's fine. Just the wrist—"
"Now." Kakashi's tone left no room for argument.
Naraku hesitated, then peeled off the loose shirt, revealing a bony chest mottled in bruises and cuts.
Kakashi's jaw tightened. Way too much. Who lets this happen?
Naraku panicked under the scrutiny. "It's not—these, I just… I fell! All of them!"
Yeah, right. Even rolling off a mountain wouldn't look this bad. Uchiha pride—always denying, even when bleeding.
Kakashi rolled his eyes but said nothing, methodically applying ointment and wrapping bandages with steady, careful hands.
Naraku stilled. Warmth spread under the salve, easing the ache. He found himself watching Kakashi's focused expression, the deft way he tied knots. Gentle. Skilled. Soothing.
Miracle ointment. I need a stash of this. Dad's beatings are brutal.
His stomach betrayed him with a loud growl.
Naraku froze, mortified. He ducked his head so low his bangs nearly brushed the floor.
Kakashi almost laughed but swallowed it, covering with a cough. "Stay put. I'll make food."
Naraku trailed him into the kitchen, eager to help. He rinsed vegetables and hacked meat into pieces, though his clumsy knife work made Kakashi twitch. Still edible. Good enough.
Soon, steam rose from bowls on the table, the warm scent of miso and rice filling the small space.
Strange. A few hours ago, Kakashi barely knew this classmate. But sitting together now, sharing a quiet meal, felt… natural. Comforting. Different from meals with his father. Warmer.
Naraku ate slowly, forcing himself not to devour everything in seconds. The broth slid down, hot and soothing, thawing the cold that had clung to him all day. His throat tightened. Steam blurred his vision. A tear slipped, splashing into his soup.
"Why are you crying?"
"Huh?"
Naraku jerked upright, startled. Kakashi's gaze was steady, confused. Naraku wiped at his face, horrified to find it wet. He dropped his bowl, swiping at his cheeks with his sleeve.
Shit. Guess I'm method acting now.
Even knowing it was partly a performance, the embarrassment was real. He stammered, "I-I'm not crying. I—It's not—" His voice cracked smaller and smaller.
Kakashi watched him quietly. The bruised boy across the table, bandages stark against pale skin, holding back sobs he clearly couldn't stop. He must've lived through things Kakashi couldn't imagine.
"…Here."
Kakashi handed him a towel. Naraku accepted it, wiping clumsily before stacking bowls and carrying them to the sink. "I'll wash. Thanks… for the meal."
Kakashi let him. He leaned against the counter, watching the boy work. Long black hair curtained his face again, hiding the damage. Maybe that was the point. Maybe he'd always been hiding.
Naraku turned. "Hatake, I should go."
Kakashi snapped from his thoughts. The kitchen gleamed, spotless. Naraku stood by the door, half in shadow.
"Wait." Kakashi retrieved a fresh jar of ointment from the box and pressed it into Naraku's hands. "Take this. Use it whenever you're hurt."
Naraku blinked, eyes shimmering again before settling into calm.
"…Thanks."
Inside, he was screaming. Hell yes! Free loot from my crush!
He clutched the jar like a priceless treasure.