Chapter Text
<Akira>
Intelligence had kept him overnight, given him a surprisingly comfortable couch to sleep on in the office of Yamanaka Inoichi. The blonde man had almost strangled him in a tight hug and regretted it instantly when Akira's chakra reacted and shocked him. The man had thoughtfully looked away as he fought back the way his body shook and drew his sparking chakra back inside himself. He'd felt bad for all of a minute before glaring at Inoichi and snapping out a harsh torture protocol to remind him just where he'd been.
And then he'd had to look away himself as Inoichi apologised profusely.
He'd gotten yakitori out of it though.
The debrief had been long and the questions kept coming back to details he couldn't quite remember in some kind of effort to dredge up a memory that didn't exist. It seemed like knowing he was…is…ANBU made them think that torture and continuous injections of unknown concoctions wouldn't stop him. It wasn't enough to give the name of the prison, the location, a map of the layout, names of most of the personnel.
They wanted her name.
Akira only knew her as the Warden.
He didn't want to speak about her.
He winced as he stepped outside, clad in a new uniform, minus the vest and hitai-ate, and clutching a folded piece of paper containing a confirmation of his psych evaluation for the day after. The sun was high and bright and the village was loud. Not even his elation over finally being clean, free of dirt and old blood, could win out against the sudden noise, overwhelming all his senses.
He heard too much, the colours too bright. Too many people clustered together, muted civilian chakra and developed shinobi cores all swirling together in tight flashes of elements and colours and oppressive weight on his own chakra.
It was too much.
He fled, jumping over roofs as fast as he dared with his body feeling suddenly weak again. Kept moving without knowing his destination, just…desperate.
He landed at the entrance to Konoha's graveyard, suddenly, desperately, wanting his brother and knowing that he wasn't there to lend him strength. No Minato to quietly sit by his side. No Kushina to bully him into helping her with some mindless menial task.
He swallowed and stepped inside, walking past neat rows of square stone slabs, engraved plaques upon them, dried flowers and offerings. He walked straight up to the Memorial Stone, the curling flame design gleaming red in the sun, so similar to the tattoo on his arm. He stared at the long plaque at the base, at the three names etched into it.
Senju Hashirama. Senju Tobirama. Namikaze Minato.
Minato's name was scratched out, deep grooves cutting over the kanji and making it barely readable to eyes used to seeing small clues. They took that away from his brother almost as fast as they put it down.
“I wish I'd taken your place,” he finally whispered after minutes of just tracing the broken kanji with his eyes. “Wish it was really me and not you. I would have given my life in a heartbeat if you had asked.”
The wind rustled the branches of nearby trees, playing with the shoulder length locks of his hair. He could pretend it was Minato, for a small moment, could pretend it was his brother fondly ruffling his hair like he used to do whenever he felt Akira was too serious.
“Your hair has gotten longer. I'm not sure it suits you.”
He blinked at the achingly familiar voice, one he'd followed and respected since he was handed a hitai-ate as an eight year old genin. Lifting his head, he looked to the side and fought down his first instinct to run to the man standing there. Hyuuga Keigo, his old jounin sensei, the retired ANBU agent who had trained him to join the ranks with a single minded focus for five years. The man who had stayed by his side for four years afterwards.
“Shishou,” he greeted, voice worn and hoarse after hours of speaking, sharp in his throat.
Keigo stepped up to his side, looking him over carefully with pupiless pale lilac eyes. There was even more grey hair in his long brunette locks, thick bands of it starting from his temples. More wrinkles in his face but he still held that serene expression so native to his clan, even with the wide scar cutting down his cheek.
Akira was so glad he'd survived the Kyuubi.
“You look like you went a few rounds with one of those civilian boxers,” Keigo said with a frown. “Didn't the medic heal you?”
“I don't think she was concerned with my looks.”
Keigo clicked his tongue and raised his hands, pausing. “May I?”
Akira nodded silently, watching the man flick through seals before his hands lit up in a gentle green glow. The soothingly cool touch of his chakra was like a gentle river, flowing against the raw edges of his own. His face and neck grew warm, the tightness to his skin from the multiple bruises fading away.
“There. Much better.” Keigo lowered his hands, chakra sliding back away. “When Sarutobi sent a message telling me my lost apprentice had returned home, I almost thought he had finally lost his mind. But your chakra was here, louder than I've ever felt it before. Are you struggling to contain it again?”
Again. Because this man was the only one alive now who knew how hard it had been for him to contain the storm in his blood. He'd spent the first two years of his time with Keigo learning to tame his lightning, direct his wind and coax out his water.
He'd almost lost all of that hard won control.
“No,” he answered quietly. “There's just…more, now. It's not the same.”
“How so?”
Akira winced and shifted his feet. “They did…things that made it overflow my network. Kept injecting me with new concoctions to see what element reacted first, whether they could control it themselves.”
Keigo frowned. “They were trying to make you into a weapon.”
“Yeah. It…didn't work out well, at first. More than a few of their researchers died.”
“At first?” An elegant eyebrow arched up, his mouth twisting in distaste. “What changed?”
“I…she did.”
“She?”
“The…Warden. I don't want to talk about it,” he said quickly, shaking his head and clenching his trembling hands into fists.
“You're going to have to at some point, Akira.”
“My evaluation is tomorrow. I'll…talk about it with them and hope I don't lose it when they push too much.”
“Do you want me to accompany you?”
“No. I have someone. Hatake,” he explained quietly. “He said he'd wait outside the room. His chakra…it calms mine.”
“Lightning always calls to lightning,” Keigo said sagely. “Strange for the boy to offer, but then again he has been a vocal supporter of your loyalty within ANBU these past years.”
Akira blinked, a little shocked at that. “What?”
“There were a few who claimed you were a coward during the Kyuubi's rampage. Others wanted to remove your mask from the wall, tried to desecrate it. Hatake didn't take kindly to their actions. Stone Cold Kakashi is a name not just used for his success in assassination.” Keigo hummed and stepped forward, kneeling and brushing his fingers over a name on the Stone. Akira stared at his own name, carved amongst thousands more. “He often visited this place, although the secondary Stone is more his scene. More than once I heard him utter apologies to you.”
“He's different to what I remember,” Akira murmured.
“He grew up. Hatake has matured. Although, he still holds his guilt and grief like a shield against the world. It's simply sharper now.”
Akira sighed and looked up at the clear sky, feeling himself calm down with the whisper touch of Keigo's chakra beside him. He didn't want to focus on the bad. “I finally managed to combine my water.”
“Oh?” Keigo stood back up and glanced at him. “It merges smoothly?”
He hummed and cracked a small smile. “It does. Just like you said it would.”
“Show me.”
He wrinkled his nose and sighed, lifting a hand and gesturing up. His chakra rose, a painful burn, shaky and willful, forming a small grey cloud that darkened until it was nearly black, lightning flashing in tiny jagged lines. Keigo gazed up at it, head tilted thoughtfully. The veins in his temples bulged outwards, the faint outline of a pupil appearing in his eyes as he activated his Byakugan.
“There is certainly water-natured chakra in this construct, far more than you previously managed to hold,” he mused. “You once said water was hard for you unless you were taking it directly from the source. Whatever has happened has finally allowed you to create it yourself.” He glanced over, a pleased smirk on his lips. “I told you it was possible.”
Akira scowled and made a shooing gesture, the cloud dissipating. “Please don't start on that again. Minato and I were very clear the last time you brought it up.”
Keigo shrugged. “I will stand by my insistence that you two were somehow related to Tobirama. Albinism aside, you both had much in common. For example,” he gestured at Akira and then the air where his cloud waa fading away.
“Shishou.”
“Yes, yes. Fine. I will refrain. I'd rather address the mess that is your chakra network. What did they do?”
Akira blinked, reflexively looking down at his own body. He shrugged and slid a hand into his pocket, clasping his arm with the other. “I was never really…with it enough to even try to listen to them. I mostly just, well, tried to ignore everything. Injections meant tests and after the tests…”
Keigo's activated eyes met his. “And then this Warden woman, I assume.”
His chakra rolled, flaring, sparking visibly along his skin. Akira grimaced and tried to pull it back under control, shame a sour taste in his mouth. His chakra trembled and then spiked out to his left, reaching. His eyes widened as his senses snapped out, recognising the sparking chakra heading through the village in their direction. He yanked his chakra back, wrapping it around him in a comforting cloak.
Keigo shook his head and pointed at several areas on his body. “You have several blocked tenketsu, and more than a few are swollen, out of shape. Several lengths of your coils seem burned, scarred, especially along your arms. I presume they were attempting to somehow speed along the evolution of your emerging ability. Fools.”
Akira couldn't help the amused snort he made. It was like listening to the man as a child, hearing him casually dissect other shinobi's techniques. It was familiar and comforting. He'd missed this.
“I can work with you to unblock and fix what I am able to. I wouldn't trust the medics to correctly fix this damage and I trust my own clan even less. I'm sorry I can't offer you accommodation but I'm sure you still remember what my clan is like.”
“Pretentious assholes?” Akira quipped.
“Quite.”
“Don't worry, shishou. Hatake offered me his apartment since he doesn't really use it. Despite our past…I need to be somewhere that doesn't feel like a dozen other people.”
Keigo released his Byakugan and carefully drew him into a hug. He kept his arms loose to allow Akira the opportunity to easily escape but all he did was grip the man's haori and bury his face down into a shoulder he used to compare his height to as a kid.
There was no one else left to hug him.
No Minato to clasp him tightly and tell him it was okay to not feel anything when he took a life.
No Kushina to flop over his back and strangle him to remind him he wasn't too strong to not be human.
No Biwako to lovingly pat his head as she hugged him and hummed songs to calm indignant anger.
No Momo to snuggle up next to when the darkness of cold nights and warm blood made him disassociate.
Just Keigo and the warm comfort of the only adult who saw all of him and pushed him to do and be better.
“I'm not okay,” he whispered, feeling the trembling begin his muscles.
Keigo tightened the hug and hummed. “You don't need to be, not right now. You're allowed to feel and crack.”
“But I can't,” he stressed, gripping the cloth in his hands tightly. “I need to be fine so I can have my life back, so I can give my nephew the life he should have had for years.”
“Naruto-kun can wait a few more days.”
Akira froze, pulling back and staring at the older man. “You know?”
Keigo rolled his eyes, an odd look on a Hyuuga. “Please. The civilians may be blind and half the shinobi willfully ignorant, but that boy is most definitely a Namikaze. Seeing as I know very well that you didn't have a secret woman stashed away, the logical answer is your brother did. Although, not so secret to anyone with eyes.”
“He really looks like one of us?” Akira asked wistfully.
Keigo eyed him and smiled. “Yes. Namikaze colouring and his mother's face. I've yet to see him truly smile, but the one he has now is very much your brother's.”
Akira closed his eyes and sighed. “Sandaime-sama said I can meet him as soon as I pass my evaluation. I'll have help if I need it, but he won't keep me from him. Won't make me lie either, but I can't say Minato was the Yondaime.”
Keigo made an irritated noise and he opened his eyes to see the man sporting a fierce scowl. “I've seen Sarutobi make mistakes over his tenure but none as large as this whole mess. Making it illegal for anyone to speak to the boy, letting the village treat him with scorn. Sending you into Iwa territory. I've made sure he's well aware of my thoughts on the matter but it never seemed to make a difference. I'll be glad to watch you walk the streets with Naruto. Wear that scary face you always used when someone insulted Minato.”
Akira laughed and blinked, shocked at the sound. He hadn't laughed because of humour for years. He'd laughed when researchers died, a hysterical sound that hinted at insanity at times. He'd even laughed once or twice after the Warden was done collecting from him and threw him back to the tiny cell…
He shook his head and turned towards the carefully flared chakra that crackled towards him. “I'll keep that in mind, shishou.”
“You keep looking over there.”
“Hatake is almost here. He's being kind enough to warn me.” He glanced back at Keigo and frowned at the amusem*nt on his face. “Has Hatake needed to handle a lot of trauma cases?”
“You think yourself so broken yet you acknowledge yourself so easily,” Keigo murmured. “Not necessarily. There was an agent transferred from Root into the general ranks, placed under Hatake's care. The boy seemed to exhibit signs of trauma. It's possible he's using that and his own experiences as a way to gauge how to approach you.”
“It's strangely comforting,” he admitted. “I never imagined we would get along. But, then again, maybe once I'm not like this we'll go back to before.”
“Back to insults and competitive idiocy? Please don't.”
“I mean more like when he joined ANBU. We weren't that bad as kids.”
Keigo gave him a flat stare. “He was the only one you ever bothered to acknowledge. And you were the only one he actually had to work to be better than.”
“Well. He beats me in rank?”
“If Sarutobi hadn't been a fool, you'd already be a full jounin, ANBU captain and a wielder of a brand new kekkei genkai, or kekkei tota as the case seems to be. Which is debatable. I firmly believe that you simply have a natural affinity for all things related to storms.”
“Three elements,” Akira pointed out tiredly. They'd had this argument far too many times when he was younger. “That's technically a kekkei tota.”
“Technicalities are bullsh*t.”
He blinked and let out a small laugh. “True.”
“You have an affinity and three hopefully now even elements that you can weave together. That is what most intelligent shinobi will call a kekkei tota. But we will simply call it a kekkei genkai. Much simpler. I do look forward to seeing you spar, seeing how it has changed. You couldn't make a cloud, before.”
Akira shrugged. “I'm not even sure of what has changed. I know I created a lightning storm at some point, and a storm inside a room but my memories aren't clear.”
Keigo glanced over him, lilac eyes shifting down and up. “Find me the day after tomorrow. We'll begin fixing your chakra network. What they have done to it,” he sighed and shook his head. “It's no wonder you're struggling with your chakra.”
Akira grimaced and nodded. Crackling lightning flared again and then Kakashi was there, standing just a few metres away, one grey eye looking him over carefully. “Hatake.”
Kakashi inclined his head. “Namikaze. Keigo-sama.”
Keigo snorted, a completely un-Hyuuga sound that Akira had always secretly enjoyed hearing. The man was, at times, nothing like the rest of his clan. His long years in ANBU, almost from its inception, had shaped him in a way no other Hyuuga ever experienced. The wars he'd experienced had, in his own words, made him appreciate life a little more.
“Do remember Akira has experienced something few come back from, Hatake. I expect you to keep any lingering animosity to yourself. I would hate to have to spend time with you in Training Ground 46, wouldn't you?”
Akira winced and contemplated whether or not he could get away with smacking the older man's head. He would have gone with his old habit of sending a small shock but with his chakra the way it was, he didn't want to risk overloading and ending up electrocuting him.
That…wouldn't be ideal.
Neither would Keigo dragging Kakashi out to the ANBU-only, trap infested training ground.
Kakashi merely stared blankly at Keigo, inclining his head. “I will be perfectly polite, I assure you.”
Keigo hummed and turned his attention back to Akira. “Find me,” he reminded gently. “We'll get you back to strength soon enough.” He turned and began walking away, calling back over his shoulder, “and eat something!”
—---------------------------------
<Kakashi>
If Kakashi was any less in control of himself or if he hadn't bothered to see who was standing with Akira to prepare himself, he was fairly certain he would have found a way to escape the second pale lilac eyes found him.
Hyuuga Keigo had been awe inspiring as a small child watching Minato spar against him. The man moved in calm, effortless ways, almost lazily. He flowed from one move to the next, never expending more effort than needed, never tense. He'd beaten Minato, every time, imparting ideas for improvements without ever expecting anything in return.
Watching him train Akira though, had been like a man trying to break a punching bag filled with cement. He'd been relentless, harsh, barking orders with a scowl on his face, beating the younger of the blondes down to the ground. Kakashi had been gleeful, at first. And then he'd realised that Akira stayed up longer, hit harder, moved faster, stepped lighter. The chakra that had crackled alongside him grew muted, carefully hidden until one day it was just gone in a way Kakashi hadn't managed. Akira's training moved faster than his, especially since he had never gotten a team, he stayed solo and jumped ahead and kid Kakashi had hated it.
He'd been so painfully, angrily, jealous.
He hadn't understood everything until he, himself, joined ANBU.
Keigo was a legend amongst ANBU, one of the few surviving founding members, someone who had been brought in by Tobirama himself not long before the Nidaime died. ANBU were trained to be single target fighters, assassins at their core, despite the use of teams larger than the general forces. But Keigo had adapted his clan's techniques and forms to be useful against groups and had trained Akira in a similar way, focusing on entire fields rather than single targets.
That was what Team Tou had been, a team who excelled in large scale combat, made up of members who wielded devastatingly powerful techniques aimed at destroying armies.
He still remembered being on a battlefield, ordered to stay near Obito and Rin as they protected a platoon of injured Konoha nin against an advancing Iwa force. Minato had been zipping about, focusing on keeping everyone back but they'd been out in the field for weeks, his sensei was as exhausted as they were. They were running on the fumes of Soldier Pills, scraping the bottom of their chakra and the only thing keeping Iwa at bay had been the growing fear of Konoha no Kiiroi Senko, the Yellow Flash.
And then ANBU had arrived.
He remembered staring at the smallest on the team, a hood shadowing the black and grey design on their mask, watching as they calmly flipped through a dozen seals and then there was raging wind around them, a sharp wall of protection. He remembered the lightning that slammed into the earth, piercing the tunnelling Iwa nin beneath. He remembered the literal wave of fire that moved over the area, directed by another ANBU with a fierce black and gold cat design. Remembered the tidal wave that came after from another with a black and brown otter mask.
An entire battalion of Iwa, destroyed in minutes.
He'd been almost starstruck by the small falcon masked ANBU and told Minato he would be as strong as them, one day. He'd only been ten and he hadn't understood why Minato laughed.
Realising Akira was that ANBU once he joined was a shock, but somehow pleasant. Because now he knew why the other teens' training had been so harsh and why he never had a team. He wasn't trained to rely on others. He was trained to be a force all on his own. By a legendary ANBU himself.
Who had just not so subtly threatened Kakashi.
Clearing his throat, Kakashi watched as Keigo left the graveyard before he stepped up next to Akira. He trailed his eye over the Stone in a familiar route. Obito. Rin. Minato. Akira.
He paused on the last name, barely even there, before glancing at the silent blonde. “Must feel odd to see your own name here.”
Akira hummed and tilted his head. “A little? It's almost surreal.”
Kakashi watched him for a moment. “You didn't expect to get out.”
“No.”
Sighing, he slipped his hands into his pockets and stared down at the Stone. This was a familiar place for him to stand, although usually at the secondary Stone in a barely used training ground, alone and filled with guilt and grief and a heavy weight in his chest. He didn't want Akira to linger here, blue eyes focused on Minato's name. He wanted to get the man beside him somewhere safe, somewhere he could heal and prove he was whole so he could care for Naruro because Kakashi…
Should feel guilty.
He wanted to use Akira so he could be close to Naruto, the only thing of Minato and Kushina remaining in the world. He was willing to do whatever he had to so he could get that.
He didn't feel guilty. Not…really.
“I got new sheets and pillows for you, and dusted my apartment,” he said wryly. “There's some basic food as well. It has protection and privacy seals so you won't be bothered by people and no one in the building will be bothered by any sound.”
Akira glanced at him and nodded, blue eyes oddly shadowed by something he couldn't quite name. “Thank you. I appreciate you being willing to let me stay there. No idea where I would have ended up otherwise. Sandaime-sama didn't mention providing accommodations. Suppose the others were more important than me.”
Kakashi didn't like the odd tone in his voice, didn't like how it reminded him of himself. How it sounded like a man weighed down by the knowledge he was expendable, not expected to survive. “This is better. You'll be able to heal.”
Akira snorted and turned away, beginning to leave the graveyard. “Not heal, no. Just be good enough for Naruto.” He looked over his shoulder and flashed a pained smile at Kakashi. “You'll get what you want with that, as well.”
“What?” Kakashi hurried to catch up, matching his pace and frowning. “What's that meant to mean?”
“Just me figuring out why you're being so nice, is all. Don't worry, Hatake. I'll be the perfect image of fine and you can finally be by Naruto.”
He knew.
“I…” Kakashi trailed off, wincing and slouching down. “Sorry.”
Akira shrugged. “I'm not bothered. I want to be by Naruto just as much as I'm sure you do. Besides, it makes more sense than you caring about me all of a sudden. The world feels more stable now.”
There was the guilt, but not guilt for wanting and planning to use Akira. Guilt for the man being correct and guilt for knowing that he's still, somehow, jealous of him. Jealous of a man who was imprisoned and tortured.
Kakashi sighed and wished he could push up his hitai-ate and see Akira's stormcloud chakra again, use it to gauge his emotional state because the strange serenity in his acceptance felt wrong.
Obito's eye burned.
“Keigo-sama going to help you with your chakra?”
Akira raised an eyebrow, an amused tilt to his lips. “Yeah. My network is screwed up apparently. I can't fully control my chakra, it leaks out when I don't focus and my senses are constantly thrown out around me.” He winced and raised a hand to press the heel of it against his temple. “I can sense everyone. It's…a lot.”
Kakashi hesitated and looked him over. “Do you…want me to blanket you? It seemed to help yesterday.”
Akira shook his head sharply and dropped his hand. “No. We'll keep this professional.”
Well, that hurt in a way Kakashi hadn't expected. “If it helps stabilise you-”
“Drop it, Hatake.”
That tone, hard and sharp and cutting was one Kakashi hadn't heard in years. Not since before he joined ANBU and found some kind of even ground with the blonde. He sighed and closed his eye. “I don't just want you to be stable enough to be cleared for Naruto. Yes, it's a big part of it, but I also want you to be able to…breathe.”
“Breathe.”
He opened his eye and met confused and wary blue ones. “Yeah. Breathe. Be able to exist in the world for yourself and not just for others. My actions and words yesterday were honest. If my chakra helps calm yours, then it's free for you to ask for it. It doesn't cost me anything, but it makes me feel as if I'm helping.”
“Why do you want to help me? If it isn't so you can be someone to Naruto, then why?”
Kakashi stayed quiet a moment as they moved along the quiet side streets, trying to find the words to put his feelings to. “There's…a lot. You and Naruto are all that's left of Minato. That's a big part of it because the rest…doesn't make sense. I was an ass as a kid to you because I saw you getting stronger faster than me and no one called you a genius or a prodigy. You have a kekkei genkai with no history attached to it. You were trained specifically for ANBU while I was just dragged into it because Minato saw no other option. You never treated me as anything other than another kid, another shinobi, another ANBU.” He drew a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “You were the only person who saw this Sharingan as what it is. A gift, a curse. You told me that I had a responsibility to use it right. I lost everyone and all I've managed to do is record jutsu and death. You're the chance to see something good with this eye.”
Akira stared at him, stopping in the middle of the street and simply watching him. “You want to see the sun. The light. Joy.”
“Yes. If I can share that with you and Naruto then maybe I can make up for everything.”
Akira ran a hand through his hair and looked away. “Alright.”
“Alright?”
“Yep. I get it. Life is sh*t,” he said, wrinkling his nose. It made the thin pale scars over it and his cheeks shift and shine in the sun. “Now, your apartment please. My head is killing me.”
“Chakra blanket?”
Akira hesitated before nodding. Kakashi let his chakra unfurl, reaching out and draping it over Akira's. He held back the shiver as his lightning came into contact with what felt like a growing storm. Even without using the Sharingan, he knew the blonde's chakra was slightly out of control. Still tightly held, despite his claims. It was just wild and untameable as it was right now.
That would change, with time and help and whatever healing Konoha could give him before it threw him back into the world of blood and death. Because he saw the falcon mask get taken down from the wall, saw the way the Commander hesitated, body tense. All the team Captains had been briefed on Akira's return, on the fact he'd spent years bleeding and breaking for a dozen lost Konoha nin.
On the fact Falcon would be called back to service when he was ready to wear the mask again.
Kakashi knew that small reprieve was the blade it was. Because Akira had been ANBU long before he got the mask.
Like Kakashi, he wouldn't know how to be anything but the wrath the Hokage wielded.
