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“Don’t forget to keep me updated,” Shigaraki grumbled into his headphones, watching the door to the Shinsou family home. “I want to know the moment they’re here.”
“Yeah, yeah boss,” Dabi’s voice crackled through the line, sarcastic and unamused. “He hasn’t managed to get them together yet.”
“Hurry it up,” Shigaraki griped. “I’d hate to have gone through all this trouble for nothing.” He isn’t even overstating; when Haburashi had approached them to join the league, he initially had dismissed the man. What was the purpose of a teleportation quirk that sent you back to the first place you called home? Kurogiri was far more useful.
Then he was shown just how long a distance the quirk worked from and exactly how it could be used, and he saw the potential. Haburashi could separate the UA kids, and they’d only have to be ready to fight the ones they really wanted, with hours of distance between them and the heroes that were trying to protect them.
Of course, he doesn’t just want one kid; the white-haired fuck caused trouble for him, so he’s on the hit list, but they need the angry explosive kid to make a point about this hero-focused society, so Haburashi has to wait until he can catch the two of them with one hit.
“Why is it taking so long? Didn’t you say they were both there?”
“Their teacher is there too,” Dabi replied, watching over the action from afar and ready to help Haburashi withdraw, if necessary, just as instructed. Shigaraki muses that the cremation villain may be sassier than he’s worth, but at least he knows how to follow orders. “Haburashi can’t get just the two kids alone.”
“We can handle one teacher. Tell him to just do it. Most of the vanguard squad is here, and Kurogiri can get you here too after they arrive.”
“Got it,” Dabi said, and then his mic went silent again. Shigaraki scratched at his neck, watching the building in front of him for any changes. The line crackled to life again. “Haburashi got the Shinsou kid – all four of them should be there now, the two you wanted, the teacher, and one extra kid.”
Shigaraki gestured and Magne knocked down the door, storming into the building and looming over the drunk man inside, who immediately began screaming at her. Spinner was climbing in through a window near the roof, and Shigaraki followed them in as his vanguard squad cleared the house. Dabi and Haburashi appeared in the street shortly afterward, looking at the building with confusion as Shigaraki dusted the open door in his irritation.
“They’re not here! ” He glared around, looming over the still-alive woman weeping quietly next to the corpse of her husband, who had met his abrupt end when Magne’s fear response leaned more fight than flight. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know who you’re looking for!” She protested, cringing back into the corner.
“Your son!” Shigaraki growled, dusting a lamp behind her head, casting his face further into shadow as the light guttered out. “He’s supposed to be here! Or are you so incompetent of a mother that he never even called this place home?”
Mustard’s voice crackled through their earpieces. “If she is, then he wound up at the hero’s apartment. The halfway house doesn’t have any new visitors.”
Shigaraki expressed his displeasure at this news by permanently shutting up the sobbing woman in front of him. It wasn’t the blow they wanted to strike against hero society, but it would have to do for today. “Kurogiri, bring us back. We’ll need a new plan.” His fingernails dug into his neck. Why did things go so wrong?
That Haburashi guy’s quirk was useless after all.
The first thing Hitoshi sees when he opens his eyes are tatami mats, one section of the floor noticeably newer than the rest. Minato-sensei had had them replaced once he realized that Kakashi had never gotten around to it after... well, after. The Hatake home may have been sitting empty, but Minato always wanted to make sure it was ready if Kakashi wanted to move back in.
Oh Shit, the Hatake house.
"Nobody move," Hitoshi says, looking around frantically. When were they? How long did they have until—
The door slams open. "I second that," Minato sensei says, his voice pleasant but his stance aggressive, multiple hiraishin kunai in his fingers. "After all, if you move, I'll be forced to assume that you're hostile and react accordingly." His gaze falls on Hitoshi, who is awkwardly winking to keep the sharingan hidden, and he squints. "Now, how exactly did you get in here?"
Aizawa holds up his hands disarmingly. “We were displaced due to the effect of a villain’s quirk. I promise the intrusion wasn’t intentional.” Minato’s eyebrow raised, and Hitoshi realizes that that explanation was never going to be sufficient for him. Villains were the thing of civilian storybooks, and quirk had a very different meaning. He wished once again that he knew when they were; clearly before Minato’s death, but is the man hokage yet? What is the proper form of address here?
When in doubt, avoid the problem. Just don’t address Minato by name. “Pardon his unusual vocabulary – we were targeted by an unfamiliar jutsu that resulted in our being sent here. We mean no harm.”
Hitoshi ignores the confused look that Aizawa is sending him, but it’s harder to ignore Bakugo’s irritation as the boy vocalizes a “Haaah?”. Of all his classmates, why did he have to be sent here with Bakugo ? At least Jirou had the sense to stay quiet. “What the fuck is a Jutsu? Do you know this guy, huh?”
Bakugo takes a step toward Hitoshi and a single explosion pops in his palm, then Minato is suddenly behind him with a kunai to his neck. “I believe I told you not to move,” he says, and the pleasant tone he had affected earlier is gone. Hitoshi only saw Minato-sensei this cold a few times, and always when dealing with threats to his students. He can’t risk that. There’s enough killing intent in the air that Bakugo freezes, suddenly totally still despite his earlier bravado.
“Do you believe in reincarnation?” Hitoshi calls out. It’s a desperate play, but it has the advantage of being the truth. He just has to get Minato-sensei to hear him out. The man looks up at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Convince me,” he says flatly, and Hitoshi’s mind spins, attempting to think of what he could offer as proof that wouldn’t just make things worse. He keeps his left eye shut; revealing Obito’s eye before proving the reincarnation thing would just add accusations of bloodline theft to the flaming shitstorm this situation was devolving into. Minato’s raised eyebrow slowly lowers and Hitoshi realizes he has to say something or the man’s going to act.
“I would, but I’m still trying to place when we are,” he says, tensely. “Clearly before your son was born, given that you’re alive, but are you the hokage yet, or is the war still going? Has the wedding happened? How much of our team is still alive?” He runs a hand through his hair. “I can tell you things I remember that I wouldn’t have a way to know without having been there, but that’s only useful if you were there to verify that they’re true, and given that I died some 16 years or so in the future and don’t know when we are that won’t be helpful .”
“Hitoshi?” Aizawa asks, looking at him with something unreadable in his expression. Hitoshi isn’t sure if it’s grief, or suspicion, or horror. He doesn’t want to dwell on it, turning away from his foster father to focus his attention back on the man who was as good as.
“You’re claiming to be a member of my team,” Minato says, “who died 16 years in the future, got reincarnated, and then was sent back in time due to an unfamiliar jutsu.”
“ Roughly 16 years in the future,” Hitoshi repeats, “given that it could have been more. I died roughly 16 years after you did, which happened the day your son was born and the kyuubi was released.”
“The chances of the kyuubi getting loose-“
“Don’t matter in the face of sabotage.” Hitoshi takes a deep breath, meeting Minato’s gaze with his one open eye, still keeping the sharingan closed. “I never quite forgave you for calling the shinigami yourself. You should have prepared someone else to do it. The village needed you.”
Somehow this is what gets through to Minato, who lowers the kunai and takes a step back, confirming Hitoshi’s long held suspicion that the man had begun plotting the seal to contain the kyuubi well in advance of the actual attack. “Let’s say I believe you,” he says, standing beside the far wall where he can see all four of them even as his focus remains on Hitoshi. “Why do you remember all this despite being reincarnated?”
“Because I’m fate’s favorite punching bag?” Hitoshi hazards, pushing down his hurt that Minato really had prepared the seal that killed him in advance before sighing and allowing his eyes to fully open for the first time in the conversation. “I think it has something to do with this.” He gestures to Obito’s eye. “To my knowledge, at the time of my death I was still the first and only person to have a successfully transplanted sharingan. For some reason it stuck around.”
“Ah, so you are claiming to be Kakashi. Alright. Tell me something that only you and I would know, hmm?”
“You don’t even really like Ramen that much; you just pretended it was your favorite food to try and impress Kushina.”
Minato blinks a couple times before laughing aloud, his posture relaxing dramatically. “I did tell you that,” he says.
“Oh, good,” Hitoshi says, relaxing equally. Minato had only confessed that little tidbit when trying to convince Kakashi to share a bowl of Ichiraku’s with him after he’d joined the hokage’s guard rotation on Team Ro. Now he has at least some idea of when they are. “I was wondering whether I was lurking in the rafters already.”
Minato raises an eyebrow before casting his gaze around at the other 3 in the room – Bakugo, who still looks murderous but has quieted down in favor of watching the byplay. Aizawa, whose gaze is still inscrutable as it picks them apart. Jirou, who just looks overwhelmed and confused, but is remaining ready in spite of that. Hitoshi shrugs at him. “You’re being very open,” Minato comments.
Hitoshi hums. “They won’t understand most of what I say regardless, and it won’t come back to hurt Konoha.” he says flatly. “Insofar as I can tell, I was reincarnated into an entirely different world. They don’t know what Chakra is, there aren’t any Shinobi villages, and despite their ages these two” he gestures at Bakugo and Jirou, “just started their first year of that world’s academy equivalent.” Minato blinks, looking astounded.
“That late?”
“Classes prior to age 14 don’t have a combat focus, and even after age 14 it’s a very small subset of the population that receive combat training. There hasn’t been a war in over a century.”
Minato looks floored at this information, and Aizawa’s expression is growing grim in a way that tells Hitoshi he’s probably said too much.
“At what age do you send children to war?” he asks, and there’s a dangerous undercurrent to his voice that Hitoshi doesn’t like. He steps forward, grabbing Aizawa’s arm to pull his attention away from Minato.
“Do not get hostile,” he warns. “Konohagakure is functionally a military dictatorship, and he,” Hitoshi nods at Minato, “is their current leader.” He can see in Aizawa’s expression that this isn’t lowering his hackles any, so Hitoshi redirects. “He’s also the closest thing I had to a dad after I found my father skewered on his own sword in that room at age 5.” He points toward the room with the obviously newer tatami mats and can see Aizawa pause, the expression on his face the same one he wears when Hitoshi manages a particularly nasty gut punch during training. Satisfied that impending conflict has been avoided, Hitoshi turns back toward Minato.
Minato, who looks like he’s about to cry from joy. Ah. He never really told Minato how much the man meant to him, did he? At least, not until it was too late to make any difference. “Kakashi…” Minato starts, and Hitoshi holds up a hand to signal him to stop.
“Not right now. We need to figure out a way to get the four of us back to our own world.” He takes a deep breath. “Am I here right now?”
Minato raises an eyebrow at him, looking amused, while Bakugo looks moments away from exploding again. “Hound, come down.” Bakugo’s explosion is postponed at the sudden appearance of Kakashi’s younger self, standing at attention just behind Minato-sensei in full ANBU gear, including mask. Hitoshi nods once to his former self before turning toward Minato.
“Then not only do we need to figure out a way to get us back, but I also need to debrief you on everything that happened beyond this point in my timeline.”
“Your timeline?” Minato asks, though Hitoshi can see that he’s already drawn a conclusion and just wants confirmation of his theory.
“I don’t remember meeting a reincarnated version of myself, so this is likely some sort of parallel timeline. I know you’ve already accounted for them possibly existing, given the riot act you read me when trying to explain the hiraishin the one time I made the mistake of asking to learn.” Hitoshi slid his hands into his pockets, adopting a casual slouch. “So, the timeline has definitely diverged, but that doesn’t mean that my information won’t be useful. I figure I should give you a rundown regardless, seeing as how I remember all of it.” He winked his sharingan to indicate its perfect recall, though it's clear that the two visible shinobi had both understood without the additional hint.
Minato smiled, looking every inch the proud father, and Hitoshi ignored the emotions bubbling in his chest. “I think that’s a great idea. Fortunately, we have a couple seal masters available to work on finding you a way home while you write up a full report.” He made a quick motion with his hand that Hitoshi only caught thanks to the sharingan - a handful of ANBU signs to direct his agents. Another 3 animal-masked individuals dropped from the rafters. “Let’s head back to the tower. Tanuki will fetch Kushina and Jiraiya for us.” Genma, behind the tanuki mask, nods and disappears, leaving just a brief breeze and a small pile of leaves in his wake.
Hitoshi squeezes Aizawa’s arm once more, hoping to convey “trust me” and “I’m sorry” and “I’ll explain everything” with that one action, not checking the man’s face to see if he received the message. Instead, he keeps his gaze on Minato. “Lead the way.”
The hokage’s office feels cramped despite being easily large enough to accommodate a group. It might have something to do with the sheer amount of floorspace taken up by scrolls as Kushina and Jiraiya argue in the corner about seals and the multiverse, or it might have to do with the amount of attention focused on Hitoshi. Kakashi, still in uniform as Hound, hasn’t stopped watching Hitoshi since dropping out of ANBU stealth; probably even before that if Hitoshi knows himself as well as he likes to think he does. Minato also seems to be watching him, his expression like he’s looking at something confusing and precious and tragic all at once; it’s far too familiar an expression from the dead man, and Hitoshi is doing his best to ignore it. Aizawa’s attention is similarly focused on him, and Hitoshi doesn’t want to think about whether it’s concern or betrayal or horror or some combination of the above that’s making him focus so directly, and refuses to look over and figure it out. Thus, his attention is focused on the three newcomers instead.
Shikaku Nara, young enough that he’s likely only been freshly appointed as the jonin commander, leans against the wall next to the door, observing everybody in the room but especially the class 1-A members. Inoichi Yamanaka and Ibiki Morino have brought up an extraordinarily large stack of paper from T&I to take Hitoshi’s report on his original lifetime, and though they aren’t treating him as hostile it’s clear that Ibiki wants to.
“Ibiki, great to see you again. I’d forgotten how young you looked back when you had hair.” Ibiki’s eyebrow twitches, and Hitoshi grins beneath his mask.
“Are you certain he’s Kakashi?” Ibiki grinds out, looking toward Minato. “He’s forgotten how to behave.”
“Maa, don’t be like that!” Hitoshi protests, wisely keeping his hands to himself because, being without chakra, he won’t be able to dodge quickly enough if Ibiki reacts poorly to a shoulder pat. “I just loosened up a little bit as I got older.”
“Right, as you got older,” Inoichi cuts in. “Focus on that.” He pushes the stack of paper toward Kakashi, indicating that it’s time for him to actually write up his promised report.
“Ah, ever the professional. Fine, I’ll focus, because this is important.” Hitoshi pulled a sheet of paper off the stack, moving over to the desk and beginning to write out a loose timeline as quickly as he could, after which he’d write up more detailed reports on any incidents or missions that were deemed important. His younger self sat down across from him, observing the paper as Hitoshi wrote, and he didn’t protest the scrutiny. He would want to know what was coming up as well, and he would feel entitled to the knowledge given its source. He may have loosened up as he got older, but he didn’t change at his core.
“I don’t know whether or not I believe you,” Hound told him, and Hitoshi is momentarily surprised at the fact that conversation is happening at all before he processes the statement.
“Are you asking for further proof?” The conversation about sealing in the corner of the room dies off, Minato and Kushina clearly eavesdropping.
“Minato could have told someone else about his food preferences,” Hound tells him bluntly. “Anyone with sufficient sealing knowledge could hypothesize an effective method to contain the kyuubi. You could be an imposter with lucky guesses and too much knowledge of a dangerous technique.”
“Wow, I really was a paranoid kid.” Hitoshi ignores Aizawa’s snort of amusement. He really has no idea.
“I’m not a kid,” Hound says across from him, and he’s not even protesting so much as stating what he sees as an objective truth. It makes Hitoshi realize that he’s started adopting the thought process of modern Japan regarding childhood and age rather than Konoha’s skill-based designation, and it’s a startling thought, but he manages to keep his surprise contained and simply hums in acquiescence instead.
“Well then I suppose we’ll have to find something only we know so that I can prove it to you.” Hound simply tilts his head minutely to the side, the subtle body language a clear prompt to elaborate, not providing any helpful advice. So Hitoshi does elaborate. “Did you ever tell anybody Rin’s actual last words to you?”
It’s cruel of him to bring this up. It’s also one of the few things he is 100% certain that he never told anybody .
“You don’t know-“
Hitoshi meets the eyes of his younger self as best he can through the mask. “She said Thank you.”
Kakashi flinches . It’s a full-body motion, subtle to most yet visible despite the mask to anyone who knows what to look for. Rin’s death had still felt painfully recent at 14; He hadn’t lost anyone else he was close to until the kyuubi attack. Hitoshi just watches his younger self, waiting for another accusation. None comes.
“Fine,” Hound says instead, and his voice is smooth and unbothered despite the tension in his frame. “You’ve made your point.”
He rises from their low table, stalking toward the door. Minato rises from the corner where the seal masters are discussing and follows the boy out of the room. Hitoshi simply resumes writing his report, knowing that they’ll be back eventually. Probably after Minato gives up on trying to get Kakashi to talk about his feelings.
Hitoshi has finished outlining a rough timeline of events and a more detailed account of the kyuubi attack, having moved on to outlining the Uchiha massacre and surrounding political climate, when Minato returns. Kakashi isn’t with him, and the man approaches Hitoshi instead of returning to the sealing corner. Hitoshi does everything he can to keep the tension out of his frame and expression – he’s had far more practice than his 14 year old past self, and thinks he succeeds rather well – and continues writing as though none of this is a bother to him at all.
“How do I help him?” Minato asks, and he sounds so defeated that Hitoshi finally raises his gaze to meet Minato’s head on.
“Survive,” he says, and then he lets his gaze drop into a glare. “Don’t go killing yourself with a seal you can teach to somebody else.” Minato looks at him, disappointment in his expression, and Hitoshi feels something desperate writhing in his chest. Maybe it’s everything he wishes he’d gotten to say to his Minato, after the man had left him alone. Everything he’d had to say to the memorial stone instead, to the collection of names of people who had made the mistake of caring about him and paid the price in blood. “He’ll blame himself, and even when he forgives you he’s never going to forgive himself.”
“You have to know that wasn’t your fault,” Minato says, his gaze earnest and concerned and Hitoshi scoffs, turning back to the report in front of him.
“You didn’t trust me,” he said, and there’s more bitterness in his voice than he meant to let through. He shouldn’t be antagonizing anyone but he’s been carrying this bitterness for a lifetime, and beneath all the self-loathing there’s anger that wants to be directed at the man in front of him. “You knew that I’d lost one father figure to suicide already and you didn’t even give me a choice- “
He shuts up, clenching one hand tightly enough to cause pain where the crescent moons of his fingernails connect with his palm, focusing on that instead of the words that want to bubble up out of his throat.
“Kakashi,” Minato starts, and Hitoshi shakes his head.
“I haven’t been called that in 14 years,” he says bluntly. It's not quite true; he'd chosen his hero name to tie him to a past he wasn't ready to move on from. Minato doesn't know that yet, though, and Hitoshi feels the need to remind the man that he isn't the same kid the hokage had just attempted to comfort.
“You haven't told me what else to call you,” Minato points out sensibly, and the ball of anger in Hitoshi's chest doesn't want to be sensible right now. He swallows the irrational thought.
“Hitoshi,” he says. “My name is Hitoshi.”
“Hitoshi, then,” Minato says. “You have to know I wasn't going to let you sacrifice yourself in my place—”
“It was my job!” Hitoshi says, because he understands. He knows why Minato would never consider teaching Kakashi that seal. He hates that he wishes he'd been taught it anyway.
“Don't say that,” Minato says. He can't deny Hitoshi's point; part of the ANBU oath is to protect the hokage at all costs. Hitoshi can see that this conversation is going nowhere, so he takes a deep breath and redirects.
“It doesn't have to be you,” Hitoshi says, sounding much calmer than he feels. “If you're all that concerned then it doesn't have to be Kakashi either. But don't you dare expect me to be okay after my dad chooses death for the second time.”
“I just want you to live,” Minato says, plaintive. “And you do, another 16 years-”
Hitoshi huffs. “I threw myself into missions,” he says, his voice flat. It's the tone he uses when doing a mission report to the hokage, entirely without inflection. “Any job that was available, especially the worst or most dangerous. I spent practically all my time outside the village for damn near a decade. My time in the village was spent at the memorial stone unless Gai physically dragged me away; hours at a time, even more than Kakashi spends there now. I only left ANBU when I was forced to retire because Hiruzen wanted me to be a Jonin instructor to your son's genin team. That's not living .”
“You were my son's jonin instructor?”
“Don't get your hopes up. I'm not you. I was terrible at it.”
“I think most teachers feel that way,” Minato says.
“Most teachers don't have their protégé turn traitor immediately after learning their signature assassination technique.”
Minato grimaces. “Touché.”
They fall into silence for a moment, Hitoshi continuing to write out his report. It's only when he reaches for another piece of paper to start outlining Orochimaru's various crimes that Minato speaks again.
“I won't teach the seal to Kakashi, but I'll find another way.” Hitoshi looks up, meeting Minato's determined gaze, and it feels like all the anger drains out of him at once, leaving only the guilt and grief that he thought he'd moved past already.
“Thank you.” He isn't sure what else to say. Minato just nods at him seriously, before smiling fondly and reaching out to ruffle Hitoshi's hair.
“When did you get all emotionally mature on me?” The man asks, and Hitoshi shrugs, running a hand through his hair self consciously as though that would make it lie any flatter.
“Blame Aizawa-sensei,” Hitoshi grumbles. “He's always trying to get me to communicate about my emotions more.”
“He seems to really care about you,” Minato says, clearly digging for more information.
“I guess.” He hopes that will still be the case when they get back to Japan. He's spent the last several hours actively avoiding his foster father's gaze, unwilling to face whatever judgment he might find there for all the secrets he's kept and everything he's done in the lifetime Aizawa had no way of knowing about.
“Is he your Dad?” It's an astute question, but Hitoshi freezes like a deer in headlights anyway, eyes widening as he looks up to meet Minato's gaze. He finds no judgment there, just earnest curiosity, and it helps him calm down enough to answer.
“He's my Dad the same way you were. I'm just… better at acknowledging it, I guess.” Minato's expression does that odd almost crying from happiness thing, and Hitoshi resolutely turns back to his reports rather than confronting any more emotions than he already has. “Don't you have a seal to be working on?”
“Sure,” Minato says, blessedly standing up to give Hitoshi some space. “I'll let you focus on those reports.” He ruffles Hitoshi's hair again as he walks away. Hitoshi doesn't bother trying to fix it this time.
Hitoshi doesn’t keep track of the time; he has to get as much information across as possible before they get sent back to Japan, for the sake of everyone he cares about here. His own exhaustion is secondary. Still, he’s aware of Shikaku escorting Aizawa and his two classmates out of the tower to someplace they can sleep; He notices that Minato pulls Kushina away at some point during the night so she can get some rest as well.
He takes a brief nap on the floor by the desk, and is grateful that nobody makes him move someplace more comfortable. When he wakes up stiff, he stretches and gets right back to work.
He’s written detailed reports on a half-dozen major incidents before anyone except the on-duty ANBU return in the morning. Orochimaru’s experiments, the sand-sound invasion, everything he knows about the Akatsuki and their activities, everything he remembers about Danzo’s ROOT. He even has a detailed report written up about the wave mission he took his genin team on, because if things go to plan Kushina will remain the kyuubi jinchuuriki, and if Naruto isn’t the kyuubi jinchuuriki then he might not survive wave with only Kakashi and a couple fresh genin as backup, and Hitoshi has failed enough of his precious people for two lifetimes.
Minato and Kushina arrive together, bringing Aizawa, Bakugo, and Jirou with them. Bakugo is still eyeing Minato distrustfully, but he doesn’t seem to be jumping to attack the man, so Hitoshi decides not to worry about it. Jirou looks at him like he’s a puzzle, and he wonders what about him she’s trying to figure out. He still doesn’t meet Aizawa’s gaze. That is one conflict he can put off for another day.
Kakashi arrives a little while later, this time in a regular jonin uniform rather than his ANBU blacks, bringing breakfast for the group. Bakugo scoffs audibly when he sees Kakashi.
“You really don’t have a single original thought huh?” he says, and Hitoshi grins at him because he knows it’ll rile him up even more.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Bakugo glares daggers at him, but doesn’t bother to elaborate beyond glancing between Hitoshi and Kakashi petulantly. Hitoshi simply lifts his eyes into crescents to simulate a smile before returning to his reports, Kakashi taking the seat across from him and picking up one of the finished documents to read through. None of the adults protest, so Hitoshi doesn’t protest either.
Behind him, Minato sidles over to Aizawa. "So you're one of Kakashi's Dads too, huh? How's that? Are you adapting alright?"
"He's a good kid," Aizawa replies. Hitoshi’s writing pauses for a moment. That sounded genuine . He takes a breath to collect himself and focus back on the report instead of the happiness rising in his chest, but he doesn’t stop listening to the conversation either.
"The best," Minato agrees, quickly enough that Hitoshi is certain he’s aware of his eavesdroppers. "Doesn't stop me from worrying about him sometimes."
"I'm not sure whether to be more worried or less worried, with this new context," Aizawa says, gesturing around at the hokage's office. "It explains a lot about him."
"Oh? Like what?"
"Like the knives," Aizawa says, and from the corner of his eye Hitoshi can see Minato nodding along knowingly. "And the porn."
Minato freezes like a deer in headlights. "The porn?"
Aizawa raises an eyebrow at him. "Our son has an obsession with literotica."
Hitoshi can see Kakashi stiffen across from him, incredulity openly crossing his face, and he stifles a giggle, instead sitting up and joining the conversation with as much eager earnestness as he can inject into his voice. "Speaking of, do you think I could bring a copy of Icha Icha back with me? I've missed it."
"Icha Icha?" Minato asks, his voice faint. "Hitoshi... Jiraiya's book? That's not even good literotica!"
"And what would you know about good literotica?" Kushina's voice drifts over from the side of the room where she's still working on the seal to get them back home.
"Nothing!" Minato says, aggressively cheerful. "Nothing at all."
"Exactly," Kushina says, adding another line to the seal. "Your taste is shit." Minato lets out a bark of startled laughter. "He's right though," Kushina continues, this time looking up to make eye contact with Hitoshi. "Jiraiya's book is awful. Why in the world would that be the series you picked?"
Hitoshi hums noncommittally. "Just because none of you have good taste in fine literature doesn't mean I cannot appreciate it for what it is."
Kakashi across from him scoffs. " Fine Literature, " he grumbles, disgusted.
“Fine literature?” Jiraiya’s voice pipes in, and moments later the man appears in the window frame, climbing in from the outside of the tower. “We wouldn’t happen to be discussing my work, would we?”
Hitoshi grins, “In fact-”
“Absolutely not,” Aizawa and Minato say together, and Kakashi huffs a laugh across from where Hitoshi is sitting. In response to Kakashi’s smug amusement, Hitoshi just sighs dramatically, drooping over the report he’s currently working on.
“No appreciation for the finer things,” he bemoans, and Jiraiya comes over to slap him appreciatively on the back.
“Truly,” he confirms. “Tell you what though; we’ll get you a copy of Tale of the Gutsy Ninja for the road.”
Hitoshi blinks, and simply nods in acceptance. “I would appreciate that.” It wasn’t Icha Icha, but Jiraiya’s earliest work had always had a special place in his heart regardless, even if he never could quite bring himself to read it again after Minato’s passing. In the corner of his eye he can see Minato nodding approvingly at Jiraiya, and Aizawa looking between the three of them suspiciously.
“Tale of the Gutsy Ninja?” he asks.
“Jiraiya’s earliest work. It’s a story about a heroic shinobi seeking world peace.” When Aizawa’s expression doesn’t really clear up at all, Minato adds “Perfectly age appropriate.”
“I’m not sure I trust your definition of age appropriate,” Aizawa gripes, and Hitoshi winces just a little bit. Right. Aizawa had probably had plenty of time to speak to various Shinobi; even if he hadn’t read any of Hitoshi’s reports on what his life had been like, he’d have a much better idea now than when they first arrived. Hitoshi wasn’t sure whether that was better or worse than the disastrous first impression Aizawa had gotten in his childhood home.
“Would you like to read it?” Jiraiya offers, pulling a copy out of a scroll near his waist.
“Do you always carry a copy on you?” Kakashi asks him, eyeing the scroll curiously.
“I keep copies of all my works on me,” Jiraiya assures him, and Hitoshi joins Kakashi in eyeing the scroll with interest.
“No,” Aizawa says, and Hitoshi gamely turns back to the report he’s ostensibly still working on, while Minato informs Jiraiya of the morning’s progress on the send-home seal.
The seal is finished more quickly than Hitoshi had expected; apparently the method Minato had used to account for the existence of parallel worlds when refining his Hiraishin could be reverse engineered to apply here as well. Hitoshi thinks he’s gotten enough information down to prevent the worst of the tragedies that faced Konoha in his time, but he can tell that his foster father and his classmates are anxious to get back to UA and see what’s happened to all their classmates in the wake of the training camp, so he doesn’t protest when Bakugo insists they return the moment the seal’s completion is announced.
He’s most surprised by the goodbyes; Kushina gives him a hug, and Hitoshi sinks into her embrace, knowing that this is the last chance he’s likely to ever have to say goodbye and that he’d always regretted not getting to say it properly before her death in his first lifetime. As she pulls back she hands him a couple of letters and smiles encouragingly. Minato also gives him a hug, passing him a forehead protector and a hiraishin dagger as he pulls away. “A couple of mementos,” he comments, and Hitoshi carefully tucks the hiraishin dagger away from Aizawa’s disapproving gaze. Maybe he could talk his foster father into letting him add it to his hero uniform rather than having to hide it in order to ensure it doesn’t disappear like so many of his illicitly-gotten blades do.
Jiraiya passes him a paper-wrapped book, grinning. “Not enough people appreciate this story,” he says proudly. “I’m glad you’ve always liked it.”
“You have a talent,” Hitoshi assures him. “I would read anything you wrote.”
Jiraiya sniffs proudly, patting Hitoshi on the shoulder. “Flatterer. Finally someone with good taste.” He then steps back, and Kakashi takes his place in front of Hitoshi.
“I’m not going to end up like you,” he says, and Hitoshi can see that he means it as a promise rather than an insult.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, “but if you do, you could do worse than UA.”
Kakashi’s brow furrows minutely before he looks back at Aizawa, Bakugo, and Jirou behind Hitoshi and his expression clears up. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he assures, and then he’s gone.
“Did that fucker just disappear? ” Bakugo asks, aghast.
Hitoshi sighs wistfully. “I miss being able to do that.”
Aizawa huffs a soft laugh behind him. “I am so glad you’re not able to do that,” he says, and Kushina laughs boisterously from the ground to their right where she’s waiting to activate the seal, having the most chakra of anyone present. Jiraiya stands behind her, ready to contribute using senjutsu if necessary.
“Guess this is goodbye, huh?” She says, noticing everyone’s eyes on her. “Have a good life!”
“I’ll do my best,” Hitoshi assures her, and then the seal starts to glow and the Hokage’s office disappears behind its light.
Things are hectic for the first few hours that they’re back in Japan.
A press conference is held to announce that the last of the missing UA students and staff had returned unharmed, having been sent away from the camp location but not put in combat in the process. Hitoshi gamely stands still for the pictures, answering any questions directed at him honestly but vaguely and wishing he’d gotten more sleep than a brief nap the night before.
Aizawa then pulls Bakugou, Jirou and Hitoshi aside. “I’ll handle reporting to the Principal and the authorities,” he says. “You all just get some rest.” Hizashi is there too, and he puts a hand on Hitoshi’s shoulder. “C’mon little listener,” he says, “Let’s head home.”
When the two of them get back to the apartment Hitoshi immediately excuses himself to his bedroom. He doesn’t know how much Hizashi has been informed of the events of the last twenty-four hours, but he knows that a probably unpleasant conversation is coming and he isn’t sure how well he can handle that after the heavy emotions he’s experienced on too-little sleep. Fortunately Hizashi doesn’t protest, and Hitoshi is able to sequester himself away for a while.
It is hours before Aizawa returns to the apartment; long enough that Hitoshi has caught a longer nap, carefully opened and read through both his letters, and opened the paper wrapped book before immediately hiding it in his best-disguised weapons stash even though doing so required relocating several of his nicer knives. Some things are more important.
When he hears the door click open, signaling Aizawa’s return, Hitoshi stands up and pads on silent feet out to the living room. Hizashi joins him, ruffling his hair as he goes by, and Hitoshi wonders again whether Aizawa told him anything about everything he’s learned.
Aizawa catches sight of Hitoshi and sighs deeply, but for the first time in nearly twenty–four hours Hitoshi is meeting his foster father’s gaze and he can see that there’s more relief in it than weariness. “Finally ready to talk to me then?” he asks, and Hitoshi nods through the guilt clogging his throat. He’d been pretty obvious about avoiding Aizawa, hadn’t he?
“I’ll get us some drinks,” Hizashi says, darting over to the kitchen. Aizawa simply gestures over at the couch, inviting Hitoshi to join him in the living room.
“I’m sorry,” Hitoshi says. It seems as good a start as any, and it has the advantage of being true. Guilt and anxiety are clawing at his throat, and he needs Aizawa to understand this much at least.
“What are you sorry for?” There isn’t any judgment in Aizawa’s gaze, so Hitoshi is able to meet it head on, thinking as he picks his words.
“I’m sorry for avoiding you while we were in Konoha,” he says, and it’s a good start. “I’m sorry for not telling you the truth about me before. I…” He stops, seeing Aizawa’s hand held up in front of him to ask for silence.
“I understand why you didn’t,” he says gruffly. “And I don’t blame you. It’s a difficult story to believe. I’m not sure how I would have reacted without seeing Konoha myself.”
Hizashi joins them, passing cups around to Aizawa and Hitoshi and sitting down with one himself. Hitoshi looks at the tea he has; it’s herbal and non-caffeinated. Apparently Hizashi is hoping to get them to sleep at some point tonight, and Hitoshi is surprised to find he’s still tired enough to want to despite having only just woken up from a nap. “That’s the ninja village, right?”
Hitoshi nods. Apparently Aizawa had had enough time to fill Hizashi in on at least some of it. “It is.”
“Crazy,” Hizashi says, sounding enthusiastic. “So you were a magic ninja in your former life?”
“I don’t know that I’d call it magic-” Hitoshi protests, but there’s no fire to it. They could call chakra whatever they liked. He’s just off balance, not sure why things are going this well.
“That explains a lot, actually,” Hizashi says. “Like the knives,”
“And the porn,” Aizawa adds.
“Basically everything that led to your child soldier theory, really.” Hizashi says.
“Which got confirmed,” Aizawa gripes, and Hizashi chokes a little. Ah, maybe Aizawa hadn’t really had enough time to fill him in.
“I…” Hitoshi pauses, staring at his cup. “What now?”
Aizawa’s brows furrow, and Hizashi looks up from his cup, gaze darting between the two of them in confusion before his expression abruptly clears. “You’re still our kid, Hitoshi.” Aizawa must see something in Hitoshi’s expression after Hizashi’s statement, because his face relaxes and he offers Hitoshi a small smile as well.
“I don’t care about your former life,” he says, and Hitoshi feels almost dizzy with relief. “As far as I’m concerned you’re still our kid; a reckless delinquent with poor taste in books, but our kid.”
“Ah,” Hitoshi says, and he relaxes back against the couch as he takes a sip of his tea. “That’s a relief.” There’s comfortable silence for a moment before something occurs to Hitoshi. “Speaking of my taste in books, can I borrow Tale of the Gutsy Ninja from you? Jiraiya gave you his copy and it really was one of my favorites. I’d like to re-read it if I could.”
Aizawa squinted at him suspiciously. “Didn’t Jiraiya give you your own copy before we left?”
“Nope,” Hitoshi assured, perfectly sincere. “He did not. He did leave a letter telling me I should ask to borrow your copy though.”
“Hitoshi,” Aizawa said, drawing out the word in a way that meant Hitoshi had done something exasperating again. “Where is the book that Jiraiya gave you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hitoshi said, taking another sip of his tea and meeting Aizawa’s gaze evenly. The staredown ends when Aizawa sighs deeply, rubbing at his forehead.
“Fine. You can borrow the book. But know that if I catch you reading erotica I will confiscate it.”
Hitoshi salutes his foster father sarcastically. “Understood!” Aizawa gets up, sighing deeply but with a smile on his face, and ruffles Hitoshi’s hair as he heads back to the kitchen to wash out his cup. Hizashi, from where he’s sitting on the other side of the couch, offers him a smile before standing up to do the same.
“Goodnight Little Listener,” he says, and Hitoshi is left with a mostly-empty cup in an empty living room, listening to the sound of his family in the kitchen. As he finishes off the last of his tea, Hitoshi smiles.
He’s home.