Chapter Text
Kakashi stared at the missive stuck to his locker door at the Jōnin Standby Station. He was halfway out of his flak jacket when he noticed it, and tried not to sag as he read the bold black text, stamped by Lady Tsunade’s seal. An urgent summons.
He only got back thirty minutes ago. This was his first stop after submitting his report to the Mission Assignment Desk, and afterwards, he was hoping to grab dinner and sit down for a solid three hours. After running back to Konoha with chakra-enhanced speed, his reserves were partly empty, and there was nothing he wanted more than rest. Alas, duty called.
Tenzō looked over his shoulder to read the notice . He was already stripped of his tools, down to his standard-issue uniform blacks, and looked just as tired. “You would think your missions would slow down after leaving ANBU.”
“It ebbs and wanes,” Kakashi shrugged, ripping off the missive and burning it with a low-grade fire jutsu. “It’s worse now because the chūnin exams are coming up, and a lot of our workforce is focused on that.”
“You still need to rest,” said the active-duty ANBU soldier who was taking standard A-ranks on the side.
It got like this every year, though he usually had a bit more recovery time between assignments. Once the chūnin exams were over, the jōnin applications would begin, and after that, Kakashi could go back to lounging around the village, reading his adult fiction and taking naps at every hour of the day. This particular brand of exhaustion was seasonal, and knowing that kept up his morale.
When he answered the summons, Lady Tsunade handed him the mission scroll without more than a short greeting, and he read through it carefully. “A bodyguard assignment?” he asked incredulously, eyeing the S-rank label at the top of the page as though it were a lie.
“For the eldest son of the Fire Daimyō, yes.”
If the client was so high-reaching, then the ranking made sense. But the estimated duration on the scroll was listed as unknown, which nagged him. “I’ll be protecting the heir apparent, then.”
“Not quite.” Lady Tsunade folded her hands one over the other and leaned forward on the desk. “He’s not eligible for the throne.”
“Why not?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Personally, I’ve never met him, and I think that’s by design. It seems his father is ashamed of him. Either way, the court is looking for a chaperone and requested our best talent.”
Kakashi should be flattered. Instead, he can’t help but feel he’s missing something. “If it’s a chaperone they need, I can’t see why they would outsource to Konoha. It would be more beneficial to appoint one of the guards already assigned to the court.”
“That’s what I thought,” the Hokage agreed. “But from what I hear, they’ve tried that, and every bodyguard has quit. Make of that what you will.”
Kakashi stared at the scroll and tried not to sigh. So, he was either incredibly pompous and no one could stand to be around him, or incredibly spoiled and caused more trouble than he was worth. Either way, this mission promised to be miserable, terrible, horrible, and long. Unlike a normal guard, shinobi couldn’t quit their assignments unless specific circumstances were met: if the client lied or withheld information that compromised the team, or if carrying on with the mission would jeopardize Konoha. Kakashi couldn’t turn tail if the prince was rude or nasty or caused him a headache. And unlike those who came before him, Kakashi couldn’t decline the job, either.
“Understood.”
The mission was labelled urgent only because the daimyō deemed it so. Kakashi bitterly ate ramen with Naruto that evening while looking over his client’s documents, listening to the boy prattle on about his training with Jiraiya. It was jobs like these that made Kakashi miss his days as a jōnin instructor, when his students followed him around like ducklings and the missions they took were easy enough that he never had to put away his copy of Icha Icha. Now, his students were returning to the village for the chūnin exams and his assignment would have him in the capital, far from where he could cheer them on. Ah, well. Such was life.
The prince’s name was Obito. He was thirty-one, unmarried, with no children. There wasn’t much provided on him, so Kakashi’s first task when he arrived in the capital would be to make a profile. He guarded numerous nobles throughout his career, as well as prominent families with great fortune, and knew generally what to expect. This was his first time guarding royalty, but he doubted it would be very different.
“Hey, Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto called.
“Mm?”
“You gotta leave soon, yeah?”
“Tomorrow,” he affirmed, returning the thin pile of paper to his back pouch. “I’m afraid I’ll miss the exams.”
“Aw, that’s okay,” Naruto said with a grin. “There won’t be anything to see, ‘cause me an’ Sakura are gonna dominate.”
Kakashi raised an eyebrow. “Not Sasuke?”
Naruto scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and sticking up his nose. “Sasuke’s not gonna make it past the second round, guaranteed! I bet he won’t even get through the written exam, y’know!”
They were fighting. Good to know. Kakashi smiled as the boy launched into a full-blown speech about all the ways Sasuke was a jerk, knowing that when he was back from his mission, they would be the closest of friends again.
Kakashi had only been to the capital a handful of times. Though the daimyō’s court often commissioned jobs from Konoha-nin, it was rare for an assignment to bring them anywhere near the palace. Most of Kakashi’s experience with the bustling, cluttered streets of the capital’s market was with stopovers on unrelated missions, and he never spent longer than a night there. As he maneuvered through the endless stream of people, a cacophony of voices ringing against his ears, he realized how small-town Konoha’s market rushes were in comparison. There must have been the whole population of Konoha weaving those paved roads, and no one was batting an eye. Of course, with so many people, it didn’t surprise him when he saw bodies moving in the shadows of alleyways, or teenagers draped in ripped and tattered clothing. No village or city was as bright as it appeared on the surface.
The palace was a large, gaudy thing, far removed from Konoha’s humble structures. He’d been there once, too, when he was a boy. The Hatake clan worked beneath the Fire Daimyō as guardsmen in the days before Konoha’s founding, and up until his father’s death, they still maintained a friendly relationship. He remembered how big it looked then, as he latched onto Dad’s pant leg and took stock of the many people watching him. The court treated them to a feast, the royal family seated at the head of the table, most of them children his age or younger, cared for by nursemaids and nannies. Had Obito been at that dinner? Or was he already outcast by his father then, at the tender age of seven?
The guards stationed out front identified him and called for a guide, who led him through the halls to have his audience with their lord. Beyond gilded doors sat a scrawny man in a fancy chair, flanked by advisors. Kakashi had to wait, as there were others speaking with the daimyō ahead of him, and he took in the man’s face curiously. He aged greatly from when Kakashi last saw him, no longer the freshly-appointed lord of only thirty years, age lines marking up his skin. But he still had a jovial air that spoke of a life without hardship, and the laugh that grated Kakashi even at the age of five.
When finally they met, the lord’s eyes lit up and a big smile crossed his face. “Ah, the Hatake boy! My, how you’ve grown. Word is you’re on track to inherit the position from Lady Tsunade, is that right?”
Don’t remind me. “Maa, so it seems. It’s good to see that you’re well.”
“And you, of course. Quite fortunate that my son will have such a reliable guard.”
At the mention of the prince, the atmosphere changed. The advisors, once neutral to the conversation happening without them, turned sour. The daimyō dismissed them all, leaving the two of them alone in the vast, empty room. Kakashi bowed out of politeness when he stepped inside, and sat as directed in the chair across the table.
“Might I ask why Prince Obito is in need of a bodyguard?” Kakashi asked once they got pleasantries out of the way. “Surely the palace’s royal guardsmen are capable of keeping him safe.”
“Yes, well.” The daimyō folded his hands together and heaved a sigh. “Obito is quite difficult to work with, and though he will never inherit the throne, he is still a member of my family, and my court. His… difficulties make him an easy target for any who seek to harm us, and unfortunately, the personnel previously assigned to him have all left.”
The daimyō, by all means, could force his subjects to tend to his son if he wanted. Fortunately, or unfortunately, he decided to foist all responsibility on Kakashi instead. Being a shinobi, Kakashi was used to that.
“Is he frequently targeted?” Kakashi asked.
“More than that, he tends to get himself into trouble and needs a chaperone to keep him safe. You’ll understand soon enough.”
Foreboding. It felt more like they were talking about an easily distractible child than a thirty-one-year-old man. The daimyō was dancing around the subject, and it was apparent that further questioning would get them nowhere, so Kakashi listened as the man rambled about how long it had been since they last met, what a pity it was about his father, and how brilliant a warrior the White Fang once was.
Kakashi didn’t want to hear it.
After their meeting, he was given the uniform of a palace guardsman by one of the waiting staff and told to change into it.
“Prince Obito is particular about shinobi,” he was warned. “It’s best not to share your origins with him.”
That was fine for now, but if there happened to be danger and Kakashi needed to protect the prince from attack, it would be obvious in the way he fought and the tools he used. Ah, well. If the issue cropped up later, at least he would know what he was dealing with by then.
Tucking his fatigues into his storage scroll and organizing his weapons into the tool belt on his new uniform, Kakashi removed the hitai-ate from his forehead, and felt naked without it. No matter how many times he worked undercover, he never got used to it.
It was a maid who led him to the prince’s quarters. She had clan markings on her cheeks and darkly-rimmed eyes reminiscent of those never-ending missions known to keep a team on the field for several weeks. When they reached the door, she spun around, hands on her hips, and nodded at the vast hall to their left. “These rooms all technically belong to Prince Obito,” she declared. “But the door behind me is the entrance to what you might consider his home. He has a strict curfew to follow and must be behind this door by ten every night. It’s to prevent him from being a nuisance.”
Unlike the daimyō, she spoke bluntly.
“Understood.”
The woman eyed him, then held out her hand. “Rin Nohara.”
“Kakashi Hatake.”
They shook hands, and she sighed. “He knows you’re coming. If he gets annoying, disassociate. Pretend you’re somewhere else. He’ll get bored eventually. And if he doesn’t…”
“If he doesn’t?” Kakashi prodded.
Rin waved him off. “Just hope that he does. For your sake, and mine.”
Joy.
With a final ‘good luck,’ the maid left, and Kakashi stared at a pair of large doors. This section of the palace was tucked far away from the well-travelled front hall and the audience room, at the very back of the eastern wing. Apart from guards stationed at either end of the hall, no one was around, and it felt abandoned. How fitting for an unwanted son.
He held his hand up to knock but paused, wondering if that was proper conduct when greeting a prince. Rather than risk making his charge irate, he looked to the guard at the nearest end of the hall and beckoned him near. The man ducked his head, pretending not to notice, before finally, he dragged himself over.
“I’m new to this. Can I knock, or should I announce myself?”
“Ah, well, the prince is quite…” His voice trailed off. He cleared his throat, held up his head, and continued, “Regardless of what you do, he might find fault in it. Do what feels best for you.”
With every person he spoke to, he felt more and more that this job was going to be miserable. With a shrug, he settled on knocking, and then announced himself. “Prince Obito, my name is Kakashi, and I’ve been assigned as your next bodyguard. Mind if I come in?”
There was nothing. No sound, no movement, and in the ensuing silence, the guard hurried away as though to save himself from whatever awaited them on the other side of that door. But still, there was no answer.
Once again, he looked to the guard for advice, and the guard pretended not to notice him.
Hm.
Well, he was meant to protect the prince, and if he couldn’t confirm Obito’s well-being, he couldn’t do that. At the same time, entering the private dwellings of royalty without express permission might have been overstepping boundaries. Kakashi shoved his hands into his pockets and waited, head tilted, listening carefully for whatever lay beyond the door. His sensitive hearing eventually picked up the softest patter of feet against hardwood…
Moving away from the door.
Kakashi sighed. Someone was in there, but he couldn’t confirm their identity, having never met the prince. It would take time to learn the pattern of his steps and the way he moved.
Again, he knocked. “May I come in?”
Nothing. Okay, then. Kakashi was never good at flattering nobles, nor did he care to be, so he wasn’t sure what he could say that might favour him to his new charge. Add to that: this one was allegedly difficult. He was at a loss.
Those footsteps moved back. A single piece of paper slipped beneath the door, and Kakashi bent down to pick it up. In terrible handwriting, a single word was written.
He looked up at the door, rising slowly to his feet. Then, with nothing better to try, he asked, “Tobi?”
The door flung open, and he leaned back just far enough not to get clipped by it as it swung out. On the other side stood a tall man in black finery, layers overtop layers, meticulous embroidery only visible in the light, so similar in colour to its silk base. Compared to the gaudy colours used by the daimyō and his court, it was understated, but even then, it was clearly made for a man of wealth. Gloves covered his hands, a high-collared shirt hid his neck, and on his face, a swirling orange mask.
What was he looking at, exactly?
The prince gave Kakashi a thorough glance, his only visible eye raking over the burgundy uniform of the palace guards and the black and gold accents on his lapels. Kakashi had the mind to bow and keep his manners, but sage, what the hell was this?
Obito turned with a flourish and stepped back into the room. “Close the door.”
Kakashi peeked up from his bow and stepped inside, shocked by how heavy the door was and how strong the prince must have been to throw it open like he did. Most nobility lacked the strength of labourers and shinobi. Granted, he was tall and somewhat broad, so it might have come naturally.
Sealed alone in the room, Kakashi looked around. It opened to a sitting room, and on either side were additional doors that led to what must have been a bathroom, bedroom, and study. It was practically its own house, save for a kitchen, and Kakashi marvelled at the high ceilings and expensive furniture. What a way to flaunt their wealth. Seeing it, all he could think of were the poor families he noticed on his way there and how they would burn with hatred if they saw how the daimyō’s court lived.
It wasn’t his business.
Obito kicked off his boots and jumped onto the sofa, crossing his legs. Kakashi noted the mud on his boots and the way it tracked along the plush rug under the sitting area. There were large windows at the back of the room, cream-coloured curtains draped over them. The path led straight to that back wall, but none of the windows could open.
Kakashi stood where he was, waiting for a sign. It came in the form of a gesture to the seat across from the prince, and as he walked past, the prince’s hand snaked around the hilt of his tantō and pulled. Kakashi stiffened, watching this stranger handled his father’s blade, and stamped down the momentary rage that bubbled in his chest. He returned his hands to his pockets, where they wouldn’t inadvertently choke the disrespectful prince before day one of his mission ended.
Obito held up the blade to the light, tilting it as it reflected back the finery of his lavish room, and let out a strange, curious sound. “O-ho, what’s this? How pretty. Tobi doesn’t have one of these yet.”
If Obito expected to keep that tantō, Kakashi may very well have to defect and become a missing-nin, because there was no way this encounter would end in anything but blood.
On the surface, Kakashi remained calm, lazy eyes observing his client. His voice was high, nasally in a way his first words were not, and there was that name again. Kakashi wondered if he was referring to another member of the court at first, but no, he was giving that name to himself, speaking in third-person. On the wall behind the prince, several swords were mounted, mostly katana. He favoured pretty, ornate weapons that would only ever remain on display.
The more he looked, the more he found the room garish. One of the tapestries on the wall could probably buy a house.
“Maa, not to be rude, but might I have that back?” Kakashi held out his hand expectantly. “I can’t protect you while unarmed, Prince Obito.”
“Tobi,” the prince corrected stubbornly, pointing the blade at his bodyguard and gesturing with it. “You should learn Tobi’s name if you’re gonna work for him.”
“Right…” He understood now why Rin looked so defeated. “My apologies, Prince Tobi. That was wrong of me.”
Tobi huffed, his mask tilted up as though he were looking down on Kakashi, even though he was seated and Kakashi was still standing. “Don’t let it happen again. Tobi doesn’t enjoy being cheated on.”
Kakashi stared long and hard at the man, trying to understand what he was on about, and gave up. “Wouldn’t dream of it. May I have my tantō now, please?”
Tobi looked at the blade, tilting it again, and handed it over. Only once it was back in its sheath did Kakashi’s rage subside, and he kept a protective hand over the hilt as he sat on the sofa across from the prince. “That’s what it’s called? A tantō?”
“Have you never seen one before?” That made sense, actually, since it wasn’t the flashy, elegant sort of blade nobles fancied.
“Tobi might have when he was very small,” Obito said, crossing his arms over his chest, “but he isn’t sure. Are you a swordsman?”
“Something like that.”
“Tobi’s father hired lots of swordsmen, but they all left.”
“Maa, I won’t leave,” he assured. Even if I want to. “I’d like to discuss our relationship going forward, though. So we don’t step on each other’s toes, so to speak.”
Tobi—Obito gasped, a hand over his heart as though he were a school girl getting a confession from her crush. Then both hands went up, covering his masked cheeks, and he turned away shyly. “Oh, dear. Tobi didn’t know Mr. Bodyguard felt so strongly about him…”
Oh, dear sage.
“But Tobi can’t accept your feelings. His heart already belongs to Rin!” He gasped, a sobbing sound echoing from within his mask, and—
He was taking the piss, right? But as Kakashi watched the prince squirm in place and thought about their interactions thus far, something nauseating settled in the pit of his stomach.
The prince was unwell. He needed a chaperone not to protect him from others, but to keep him safe from other things. This massive, isolated home the court made for him had only one exit. He didn’t have a kitchen to himself, the windows didn’t open, and there were guards stationed at all hours in the hall outside his room.
This was a very different job from what Konoha was led to believe. On that alone, he could call off the mission, return to the village, and explain to Tsunade why they would have to turn away the hefty reward money the daimyō offered them.
Tobi jumped up, leaning over the table, a black eye staring through the hole in his mask. “Hey, hey, are you from the capital?”
“Northern Fire Country,” he answered vaguely. He was told to let Obito believe he was local, but didn’t see the harm. Now that he had the capability of walking away, he didn’t feel that he needed to. Not yet. The reward was larger than what Kakashi earned even while on assassination missions, and if all it entailed was babysitting a rather exhausting, unwell prince, then maybe it was worth it. Obito wasn’t the pompous, haughty bastard Kakashi expected him to be—not that he could have ever expected this. He had an attitude, but at least so far, he seemed harmless. “Have you ever been up that way?”
The prince leaned back, slumping in his seat, and shook his head. “Tobi isn’t allowed to leave anymore. Not since he was very small.”
“I see, that’s unfortunate.” He wondered how far reaching that ban was. As fancy as his rooms were, they were little more than a plush prison if he couldn’t choose when to leave and where to go. At least with a bodyguard, perhaps he would be allowed out onto the streets… Unless, of course, the daimyō’s court didn’t want him known to the public. It wouldn’t be the first time a noble hid family members they thought of as unsavoury.
Suddenly, he was mad again.
“About that relationship…” Tobi sank even further into the sofa, like a wilting flower. “Tobi’s heart is taken, sorry. But we can still be friends.”
Kakashi sighed. “I meant a work relationship, not a romantic one. How we should conduct business. You’re my client, and I’m your employee. My job will keep us close, of course, but I’d like to establish boundaries early on so that we don’t make one another uncomfortable. Does that make sense?”
Obito looked up, his eye settling once more on Kakashi, barely visible through the shadows behind his mask. “Oh. Well, okay, then. You should have just said so.”
Dear sage.
Obito scratched his mask as though scratching his chin, hemming and hawing, then pointed to one of the closed doors on the far wall. “Don’t go in there.”
Kakashi nodded. “Right, good. That’s a start. For my part, I would like it if you didn’t touch my tantō without asking. Is that okay?”
Obito groaned, crossing his arms like a petulant child. “Fine.”
“How would you like me to announce myself when I arrive? Is knocking alright?”
“Fine, fine,” Obito said, curt in his delivery, as though he were still miffed that he couldn’t steal Kakashi’s family heirloom on a whim. “What is the north like?”
“Prince Tobi,” Kakashi called, firm yet calm, “I would like to finish setting boundaries first, please. Then we can talk.”
Another loud groan, and the prince was back to sulking. “Okay, okay. Tobi will set boundaries. Even though it’s boring.”
“Thank you.”
They spent the better part of an hour hashing out the boundaries that Obito was so dismissive of at the start. It wasn’t as straightforward as asking Obito to share his preferences; rather, Kakashi had to coax him by presenting scenarios and seeking his opinion on them. If he hadn’t done so, Obito would have stopped at stating that one room was off-limits and been done with it. But the more they talked, the easier it was to get a feel for the prince. He didn’t mind his servants coming and going, and was actually used to random people in uniform wandering in and out throughout the day, and Kakashi was okay to do so, as well. Knocking was required only for the rooms built off of the main sitting room, and if he got no response, he was allowed to enter then, too, in case of emergency. He didn’t like his things touched without permission, so they agreed on that front, and Tobi didn’t like being touched unless he initiated it, which was fine. Kakashi didn’t like people in his personal space, either.
“Can you tell Tobi about the north now?” Obito whined, practically hanging off the side of the sofa like a deflated balloon. He was melodramatic, and lacked the decorum of his stature. “He’s bored.”
Kakashi arched his brow, almost amused, and obliged, “What would you like to know?”
Obito perked up, and asked, “Who’s winning the war?”
Kakashi understood, then, just how sheltered this man was.