Chapter Text
Konoha was months into rebuilding itself after the war. For the first time in decades, there was no direct threat. There was still tension around the two Uchihas that returned but the villagers slowly got accustomed and accepted the fact that without these two the true war against Kaguya would have been lost. Life reshaped around newfound peace and shinobi who lived through constant war slowed down and learned to live without scanning for danger.
The days in the Hokage Tower also became calmer, fewer emergencies, significantly more paperwork.
The first thing Tsunade noticed when she entered the office in the morning was the silence. Which, in the administrative wing of the Hokage tower, usually meant one of three things: a disaster, an assassination attempt, or Kakashi had fallen asleep somewhere inappropriate again. Given the hour and the absence of screaming, she strongly suspected the third.
She shoved open the office door with enough force to rattle the frame.
“Kakashi, if you’re dead from exhaustion, I’m reviving you just to kill you myself.”
She didn't get a response, so she walked in.
And there he was, collapsed over his desk again. Paperwork was spilled around him messily: mission reports, diplomatic drafts, reconstruction logistics, budget requests, and ramen recipes Naruto sneaked in. Somewhere beneath the mountain of documents lurked the silver-haired menace himself, face buried sideways against his crossed arms. A lamp still burned, a mug of cold coffee sat half-filled, his pen remained loosely hooked between his fingers like he had stopped functioning mid-sentence.
Tsunade stared, mouth slightly ajar.
“You absolute idiot!" she muttered, with fondness masked under the anger in her tone.
Kakashi's hair stuck up worse than usual, flattened strangely on one side from sleeping against reports for who knew how long. His mask had slipped enough to partially reveal his flushed cheek.
Tsunade crossed the room without any warning and... Smack! Her hand landed sharply against the back of his head. Kakashi startled and made a deeply offended noise.
“Violence before breakfast, great!” he muttered, voice rough with sleep.
Tsunade glared at him, trying to focus more on Kakashi being an idiot who slept on his desk at night, rather than how ridiculous he looked now.
“There would be breakfast if you remembered food exists!”
Kakashi lifted his head slowly, sleepy eyes blinking up at her, hair flattened to one side, expression soft and unfocused in a way that always brought up memories and feelings Tsunade tried hard to repress. Because there he was, Sakumo’s brat, the same child she used to look after when he still climbed furniture and glared at adults for offering help. Now he was somehow terrifyingly competent and completely incapable of basic self-preservation.
“You didn’t go home, did you?” she glared.
Kakashi stared for a moment, still disoriented from the poor sleep.
“Possibly?”
Tsunade narrowed her eyes.
“Liar!”
Kakashi gave a sleepy smile in response.
“I was busy,” he explained.
But that explanation wasn't good enough. Tsunade smacked him again.
“Ow!” his hands went up to shield his head instantly.
Tsunade tried not to focus much on the flashbacks she was getting with a much younger Kakashi clutching his head with his tiny arms after doing something equally stupid.
“You think I won’t start chaining you to your apartment?” she threatened, leaning against the desk.
Kakashi instinctively leaned back, sensing the danger.
“You say that like it’s a threat,” he muttered.
Tsunade's eyes narrowed again, daring him to say the wrong thing.
“You think I’m joking?”
Kakashi looked at her for a moment, then terribly sincerely said:
“Tsunade-sama, you worry too much.”
And there it was. That stupid thing he always did. Like he was comforting her. Tsunade hated it. And loved it, secretly, because that's what made Kakashi Kakashi. She sighed through her nose and shoved a folder aside.
“You’re impossible,” she muttered.
Kakashi's smile was obvious even through the mask he tried to adjust.
“Says the woman who raised me on emotional violence,” he said calmly.
“I taught you resilience!”
“You threw a sandal at me when I was six,” Kakashi reminded.
A smirk appeared on Tsunade's face, as of course she remembered.
“And you deserved it!”
Kakashi huffed out a faint laugh.
Tsunade folded her arms, eyes narrowing at Kakashi again.
“You have to get breakfast,” she said like giving an order.
Kakashi sighed, too exhausted to think about food and too stressed about the work he still had to do..
“Must I?” he tried.
The answer was immediate and sharp.
“Yes!”
“I had coffee,” Kakashi tried again, knowing pretty well that Tsunade wouldn't count two sips of coffee before collapsing on the desk normal breakfast.
Tsunade looked like she was ready for violence again.
“You are already thirty and are still trying that excuse?”
Before Kakashi could respond, the office door slammed open. And a far too familiar voice was heard.
“Apparently, if I don’t personally take care you, the village collapses."
Obito walked in carrying two paper bags and the expression of someone ready to win an argument. He stopped next to the desk, looked at Kakashi, then looked at Tsunade and paused for a moment.
“Wow. You really do look awful,” he addressed Kakashi.
Kakashi was too surprised by the bluntness to even be offended.
“Good morning to you too,” he muttered after a second.
“Don’t ‘good morning’ me.” Obito dropped the bags on the desk. “Did you sleep here?”
The silence he got as a reply was an answer enough. Obito narrowed his eyes.
“Kakashi!”
Kakashi looked at him with the innocence of someone who had no idea what this was about.
“Define sleep,” he said with a small smile, hoping it would distract Obito.
That didn't work.
“Oh my god." Obito rolled his eyes.
Tsunade, who now looked pleased to have backup, turned to Obito and pointed accusingly.
“See? See what I deal with?”
Obito leaned on the desk and looked at Tsunade, as if Kakashi wasn't in the room.
“Why are you acting surprised?” he said. “He was like this since he was thirteen.”
Kakashi sat up a little straighter.
“I was perfectly responsible!”
Obito turned to him sharply, like he was offended at Kakashi defending his unhealthy habits.
“You literally ate soldier pills instead of meals.”
Kakashi noticed the serious tone underneath the bickering. He sensed the worry in Obito's tone.
“They were efficient,” he shrugged, his voice now quieter.
Obito looked unimpressed.
“You passed out in a river once,” he reminded.
Tsunade laughed out loud at that, even though she never witnessed it but could clearly picture a thirteen-year-old Kakashi trying to be all serious in front of Minato and collapsing mid-training in the river. Obito didn't look as amused, as he personally witnessed Kakashi's self-destructive tactics since they were kids. The river incident was only one example of dozens. You'd think the war would have changed him at least a little.
“No, seriously, what is wrong with you?”
“You died,” Kakashi shrugged, like his bad habits were rooted in Obito's death.
Obito stared in disbelief. This idiot really wanted to blame his fake death for his own neglectful behavior. Tsunade burst into laughter, especially after seeing Obito's offended face.
“You know,” Obito said, “normal people usually become softer after trauma.”
Kakashi tilted his head, not even slightly sorry.
“I became delightful.”
Tsunade snorted. Because that was the thing. Underneath the exhaustion and the impossible workload and the alarming tendency to treat himself like village property, Kakashi had actually softened. The war had carved grief deeper into him, yes. But somehow, his gentleness had survived and resurfaced even more. Clerks lingered near his office because he remembered their names. New shinobi stopped panicking after one conversation. Children adored him. He even apologized to furniture when he bumped into it. Last week Tsunade had caught him giving his lunch away to a medic who looked tired, then forgetting to replace it. Idiot.
Obito tried his hardest to still look offended and shoved the take-out bag into Kakashi’s hands.
“Just eat, idiot.”
Kakashi looked down. Warm rice, grilled fish, water. His expression softened immediately, defensive humor changing into appreciation. Obito pretended not to notice.
“You’re welcome,” he muttered.
Kakashi gave a tiny smile as he shyly adjusted his mask to eat.
“I didn’t say thank you,” he mumbled.
“You were about to.” Obito rolled his eyes, unable to hide the fondness behind it.
Kakashi looked pleased about being known that well.
Tsunade narrowed her eyes.
“You two are becoming disgustingly domestic.”
They turned simultaneously.
“No, we’re not!”
The synchronized answer only made it worse.
Tsunade smirked at them.
“Very convincing.”
They both rolled their eyes at the same time. Kakashi quietly opened the food. Obito leaned against the desk, arms crossed, watching. Something about it made Tsunade soften. Because Kakashi let very few people stay close. And somehow, after everything, Obito had become one of them again.
Kakashi took one bite slowly.
“This is good.”
Obito looked surprised.
“Of course it’s good!”
Kakashi stared at him.
“No, I mean...”
“You thought I’d poison you?” Obito asked, acting well enough to make it sound like a real question.
Kakashi glared at him and leaned back into his chair.
“You have threatened me,” he reminded. “Repeatedly!”
A small smile appeared on Obito's face, as he remembered the times he threatened Kakashi for every small inconvenience, simply because Kakashi being perfect at everything annoyed the hell out of him.
“You deserve it,” he shrugged.
Tsunade pinched the bridge of her nose.
“You are giving me a headache,” she groaned.
Kakashi looked up from his breakfast, still looking exhausted and hair too messy to take him seriously.
“You say that every morning.”
Tsunade exhaled sharply.
“Just eat your damn food, brat.”
He obeyed immediately. Obito blinked in surprise.
“You listen to her?”
Kakashi shrugged and continued eating slowly.
“She hit me with sandals when I was a kid,” he explained half-heartedly, like he has already accepted it was normal.
Tsunade crossed her arms proudly.
“That was fear-based conditioning,” she confirmed.
Kakashi didn't even look up from his breakfast.
“That was child abuse,” he corrected.
Tsunade rolled her eyes with the confidence of someone who never questioned their disciplinary methods.
“Respect your elders,” she ordered.
“Yes, auntie,” Kakashi grinned with theatrical innocence.
Tsunade threw a folder at him, which Kakashi ducked, laughing under his breath. And for just a second, with the sunlight slipping across the office windows and Obito standing nearby complaining and Kakashi half-awake with food in his hands, it felt strangely peaceful. Like maybe, after war and grief, something soft had survived.