Chapter Text
Kakashi blinks languidly. The Hokage meets his gaze, lips curled into a genial smile.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine, Kakashi.”
“Sure,” he replies, not bothering to keep the skepticism out of his voice.
Sarutobi blows a puff of smoke, appearing vaguely amused when Kakashi’s nose wrinkles under his mask. Surely, it’s a form of vengeful schadenfreude.
“I’ll support you,” the man assures, sliding the file forwards with a faint twinkle in his eye. “Regardless of your decision.”
In other words: Neither of them believe, even for a moment, that this team is going to pass. He almost feels sorry for them, though that alone won’t be enough to change his mind. He doubts anything will be.
Instead of pointing this out, Kakashi allows his eyes to curve upwards as he finally takes the file. “Of course, Hokage-sama.”
A pause.
“There’s a door,” Sarutobi reminds him.
“There is,” Kakashi agrees, pleasant as can be.
(He slips out the window.)
Kakashi knows, full-well, that he’s the last person who should be a teacher. Much less to three newly-graduated twelve-year-olds who barely know the difference between the handle and the business end of a kunai.
(Or he assumes as much. He doesn’t exactly have a great frame of reference to go off of, which certainly earns him no points in the ‘relatability’ category.
He’s known a few shinobi that might’ve been considered normal, or at least close to it. But in the midst of a war, normal doesn’t generally survive.)
Regardless of his presumed genius, Kakashi is not—and never has been—a people-person. He cannot inspire awe merely by flashing a smile, nor can he form bonds as easily as one might breathe. Even Gai’s tried-and-true method of pestering someone until he finally grows on them like a particularly-resistant fungus will never truly work for someone with a personality (or reputation) like his.
Kakashi has already had three teams handed to him, so far. The council’s determination to saddle him with a group of brats might be admirable if it wasn’t utterly exhausting to deal with.
Yes, he can fight. Yes, he can follow orders. But in no world does that mean that he’s suited to ‘pass his knowledge onto the new generation.’ Training ANBU—who already know what they’re doing, for the most part—is difficult enough; Kakashi strongly doubts he has the patience to watch a bunch of kids stumbling around like newly-born pups.
(He would know. And as much as he appreciates his summons, he never wants to deal with anything quite so dependent [and/or small enough to squish if he happens to miss a step] ever again.
He swears he can still smell their waste in the floorboards, sometimes. And he still has nightmares about the time Akino had decided to hitch a ride to the training grounds, and almost got skewered within one of Kakashi’s kunai for his trouble.
Pakkun can roll his eyes all he wants, but neither of those are something he can forget. Ever.)
The point is, he already knows, before he even thinks about leaving to meet the newest batch of genin, that he’s going to fail them. He thinks the council must know that too, since they’d given the ‘Golden Combo’—the Rookie of the Year, the Top Kunoichi, and the Dead Last—to Gai, while he’d been handed a round of ritual sacrifices.
They are, without a doubt, exceedingly average.
Two village orphans and a Nara. None of them with any particularly interesting skills, save for the possible clan jutsu from the latter, or even with the smarts or chakra reserves to make up for it.
He knows it’s not entirely fair to dismiss them outright. While it’s unlikely that they’d make it to the history books, they might not be entirely hopeless in the hands of someone who knew what they were doing.
It’s too bad for them, then, that Kakashi has no interest in being a sensei.
Kakashi ducks into the room, unimpeded. He’s promptly greeted by the sight of three prospective genin, all in varying states of alertness; Pink-Eyes notices him half a second after Teal-Hair, and the Nara doesn’t stir at all.
“ Maa …” he draws out slowly, causing the aforementioned Nara to peel a single eye open, “My first impression of you all… is that you’re disappointing. Meet me on the roof in five minutes.”
Chagrin, vague exasperation, disgruntlement. He disappears in a swirl of leaves.
If there’s any consolation about this whole ordeal, it’s that none of them dawdle.
“Right,” Kakashi says, leaning against the railing behind him, “Now that we’re all here, I’d like you to tell us all a little about yourselves.”
The wind blows. A cricket chirps. Teal-Hair takes pause at the latter sound, eyes flicking in Kakashi’s direction. He only raises a brow in response.
“...What should we say?” Pink-Eyes eventually asks.
“Maa, you know,” Kakashi replies airily, “Your favorite thing, what you hate the most… dreams, ambitions, hobbies. Things like that.”
The girl leans to one side, waving her hand lazily. “We already know each other’s names,” she points out in the typical Nara drawl. “You, on the other hand…”
“Oh, me?” Kakashi says. “My name is Hatake Kakashi.”
A long pause.
“Akira,” Pink-Eyes provides.
Teal-Hair’s gaze slides towards Kakashi. “Hotaru.”
The Nara slowly pulls her arm back, gesturing to herself with a partially-splayed hand. “Kaho.”
Kakashi hums. “Nothing else to add, then?”
Another pause. He’s almost impressed by the sheer awkwardness that this ‘conversation’ inspires.
“I like art,” Pink-Eyes offers. “I’m an awful test-taker. The pencil and paper kind, I mean. And my goal…” He clicks his tongue, lips curling into a sheepish smile. “I’m not sure, yet.”
“I spend most of my time reading,” Teal-Hair says, eyes flicking between Kakashi and Pink-Eyes. “I also volunteer at the hospital, every now and then. I hate the taste of fish, and I figure I’ll end up as a medic, if not an Academy teacher.”
The Nara sighs. “I’m into literature, I guess. Poetry, stories, whatever. As for what I don’t like… Busywork, I guess. Assholes.” Pink-Eyes chokes. “I don’t really have a dream. I’m sure it’ll come to me at some point.”
Kakashi keeps his expression placid. None of their answers are of particular note, though he’s not surprised. He sees little more than a handful of genin destined for the corps; two running D-Ranks, and one slipping into the position of a paper pusher.
“What about you, Sensei?” Pink-Eyes asks.
He blinks, deliberately slow. “Pardon?”
“‘Your favorite thing, what you hate the most… dreams, ambitions, hobbies. Things like that,’” the Nara echoes, closing one eye and adopting a drawl.
Kakashi hums. “Well, I don’t feel like telling you my likes and dislikes. My dreams for the future are none of your business. And as for my hobbies… I have lots of hobbies.” As the three genin make varying faces at his non-answers, he claps his hands together. “With introductions out of the way, I can tell you about what we’ll be doing tomorrow. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of survival training from your time at the Academy. This’ll be similar. Except this time, you’ll be surviving against me.”
“Scary,” the Nara mutters, blatantly sarcastic. Or he assumes as much, anyway. It’s hard to tell with most members of her clan, even on the best of days.
“Certainly,” Kakashi responds pleasantly, leaning forwards. “You see, of the twenty-seven members of your graduating class, only nine will actually become genin. The rest will have to go back to the Academy. Which means,” he divulges in a low murmur, eyes curving into crescents, “That this test has a 66% failure rate.”
He leans back once again, gaze sweeping over all three of them while they digest the information. They glance between one another, noticeably twitchier than before.
“Furthermore,” Kakashi continues, “I decide whether you pass or fail. If you pass, well, good for you. If you fail… Well, get ready for another year of learning, I suppose.”
Slowly, he lifts himself from the railing, brandishing three handouts. The Nara’s eyes flick up towards him before she reaches out, oddly deliberate. Once it’s in her hand, though, she snatches it swiftly, and the boys follow.
“We’ll meet at the designated training spot at five. Bring your ninja gear.”
“Five in the morning? ”
Kakashi barely glances at the suddenly distraught-looking Nara. “...And by the way,” he adds, “You might want to skip breakfast if you don’t want to throw up.” He offers the group another eye smile, lifting two fingers in a mock salute. “Dismissed!”
Between one blink and the next, he flickers away. Just before his second shunshin, he manages to catch sight of Pink-Eyes patting the Nara’s back as she sputters over the fluttering leaves.