Jiraiya ran a hand through his hair as he rushed through the building. People dodged him with practiced ease, not even pausing their conversations. Everyone was busy; too busy to pay him any mind. The village had to be rebuilt, the injured had to be healed, alliances had to be reaffirmed—none of that mattered to him, though. The village had long since become less his home and more a nebulous entity which occasionally made demands of him in exchange for more freedom than most shinobi even dared to dream of. He was old and intelligent enough to acknowledge his loyalty was little more than a habit left over from his youth, but one that formed too much of his identity to be abandoned. As easy as it was to pretend he wasn't Jiraiya of the Sannin, a legendary shinobi of Konoha, he didn't have the courage to just throw it all away the way Tsunade had. If he wasn't Jiriaya, then who was he?

That wasn't an issue, anymore, though. He had a new identifier, now, one he would wear proudly if only he could find that stinking brat!

"Kakashi," he said as he slammed the door to his late sensei's office open. "Where are you hiding my grandchild?"

The Fifth Hokage looked up from the scroll he was reading. Miserably tall piles of paperwork sat on his desk and Jiraiya once again offered up a silent prayer of thanks to whichever god or spirit had decided to let Kakashi take the hat instead of him. The newfound responsibility was already getting to the Copy Ninja, if the oversized robe he was wearing was any indication. Bundled up from ankles to chin, the poor man looked like he'd crawled out of bed and taken most of it with him.

"Mah, whatever do you mean?" His one visible eye closed in that infuriating fake smile of his.

Jiraiya crossed the room in a few long legged strides and took one of the available seats with a huff. "Don't play with me, Kakashi. I've looked everywhere in this village for her and no one has seen her. She's not at the hospital and all of her little accomplices are worried, and, yet, here you are, doing paperwork. There's no way you'd be this calm if you didn't know exactly where she was, so spill."

His glare bounced off Kakashi's smile like so much air. "Mah, you make a good point, but are you sure you looked everywhere?"

"Of course, I'm sure," he snapped, frustration finally getting the better of him. "Would I be here if I wasn't?"

Kakashi's expression didn't change, but the atmosphere in the room shifted and he knew, he just knew Kakashi was laughing at him.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Really, really?"

"God damn you, Kakashi, where is she?"

"Shush," the damned brat had the nerve to raise a finger to his masked lips, smile never fading. "You'll wake her up."

Jiraiya watched as Kakashi pulled his arm out of the sleeve of his robe, lifting the thick fabric from the inside. Doing so revealed a child curled up on his lap, her head resting on her father's chest as her slender shoulders rose and fell in her sleep. A small brown and white dog lay nestled in her arms, snoring contentedly. She recoiled unconsciously from the light, burying her masked face in Kakashi's flack jacket in a bid to escape it. The Hokage chuckled quietly as he covered her in his robe again, cutting off Jiraiya's line of sight.

"I don't think you looked everywhere."

Jiraiya's face twisted in a sneer, but he kept his grumbling at a minimum. The anxious knot that had tied itself around his heart loosened now that he knew where she was. It was a new feeling, that anxiety. Every moment he spent apart from her was a moment she could disappear, never to return. He knew he had no one to blame but himself. If he had paid more attention, had stayed with her instead of abandoning her, then she would never have returned like that.

Was this what remorse felt like?

He hated it.

"I need to speak with her," he said. "It's urgent."

Kakashi raised his silver brow in a slow, condescending question. "Is that right?"

"It is."

Kakashi held his gaze for a long moment before defaulting back to his saccharine fake smile. "Well, I guess you'll just have to wait. I'm not waking my kiddo up just for you."

Jiraiya was almost tempted to argue about it, but the memory of Hanako's haggard face as she lay comatose in the hospital froze his tongue in his mouth.

"Fine!" He got to his feet and turned to leave the office. "I expect you to be at your home tonight, then."

"Paperwork willing," was Kakashi's blasé response.

Brat.

🐶🐶🐶

Many years had passed since he last set foot on the Hatake Clan compound. It was the oldest one in the village, predating its formation by hundreds of years and somehow surviving every catastrophe to strike it since. The Kyuubi and Orochimaru alike left no marks on the ancient buildings that stood in stark contrast to the modern apartment complexes that rose up around it. It was practically a village in its own right, capable of housing hundreds if necessary.

How sad that only three humans called it home, now, only two of which had any claim to it.

Scratch that. One. Only one of them had any claim.

Jiraiya stepped through the gate, shuddering as the ancestral wards that guarded it assessed him before allowing him entry. It was like stepping into a different world. The architecture was a throwback to the feudal era, painstakingly maintained by generations of the Hatake Clan. Though Kakashi was hardly the best example. Jiraiya knew the Hatake to be a family which valued tradition. Why else would Sakumo resort to such drastic measures to 'preserve the Clan's honor'? Really, the Hatake had more in common with samurai than shinobi, in some aspects. Right down to their kenjutsu...

His footsteps echoed in the ghost town as he made his way to the home Kakashi had claimed for himself and his brood. It wasn't hard to find. It was the only one with the lights on.

He knocked on the door and it opened to reveal an angry little Uchiha. Jiraiya returned the boy's masked scowl with one of his own. They stood in the doorway like that, glaring at each other until someone cleared their throat.

"Mah, squirt, just let him in."

The boy had the gall to suck his teeth as he stepped aside. Jiraiya had to duck his head to enter, the doorway not built with Senjus in mind. Kakashi's home was surprisingly modern, given its ancient exterior. Just beyond the entry way was a large living area with couches and lots of dog beds strewn across the floor, many of them occupied by the slobbering beasts. Jiraiya followed his unwilling guide a short distance to the dining room, beyond which was a kitchen almost entirely hidden behind shoji doors. Kakashi and Hanako were both seated at the table, papers strewn across its surface as they discussed something in low voices muffled even further by their masks.

Three eyes looked up from the papers to level identical looks his way. Then, to his horror, they curled into too sweet smiles at exactly the same time.

"Yo, Jiraiya-sama," his grandchild said with false cheer. "Daddy said you had something to say to me?"

By the sage, she was exactly like him! How was that even possible? What did Kakashi feed her to turn her into his mini-me?

"Yes," he said while glancing pointedly at the men of the house. "It's not really something for prying ears, so—."

"I know what you're going to ask me," she said suddenly, her expression still painfully fake. "And my answer is no."

Jiraiya's heart stilled in his chest before he convinced himself she must be mistaken. "What do you mean? I haven't even said anything, yet."

Her fathomless black eyes met and held his gaze, staring into his very soul and finding him wanting. "My answer is no, Jiraiya-sama."

He grit his teeth. "Can we please talk about this? Privately."

The Uchiha looked like he might say something, but Hanako stood from the table. She placed her hand on her foster brother's shoulder, calming him as she stepped out of the dining room.

"Follow me, then. My answer won't change, though."

That remained to be seen.

He followed her down a hallway where she pushed aside another set of shoji doors and stepped out onto the raised engawa porch overlooking a large, well maintained garden. He stepped out after her and opened his mouth to speak.

"You want me to join the Senju Clan," she cut him off. "Or, at the very least, to add me to the Clan registry as you grandchild. My answer is no."

He shut his mouth with a painful clack. "Why?"

She didn't answer him right away. An evening breeze tugged at her brown hair, the curls fluttering around her face as she tilted her head back. Her black eyes swallowed the light of the moon, their reflectionless depths sending chills down his spine as she turned them on him.

"It's too troublesome."

...

What.

She laughed, the sound dry and mirthless. "Why would I want to be a Senju? It's not like I have the Mokuton, or anything. I don't even look like one, aside from these markings you gave me." She shrugged. "The only thing adding me to that register would do is paint a target on my back and, I'm sorry, but, your ego isn't a good enough reason to risk that."

He bristled at the implication, but she cut him off again, her tone as flippant as Kakashi's.

"Be honest, Jiraiya-sama. You don't actually care about me. You've made that abundantly clear since the moment you realized we were related. The only reason you're going out of your way like this is because you feel guilty. Don't. I don't need that kind of halfhearted affection."

He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. "Tsunade—."

"Doesn't care about me, either," she said with utmost confidence. "All I am to her is a vague, symbolic continuation of her family, not an individual. Although, to be fair, that's more than I am to you."

The cold fingers gripping his heart restricted. He couldn't even say anything. She was right, wasn't she? He didn't want children—didn't want grandchildren—but here he was, trying to get her to do something she didn't want to do. And for what?

His own absolution.

He sighed, a weight he didn't even know he was carrying leaving him all at once as he tilted his head back to look at the sky. "Is there anything you do want from me?"

"Of course." He looked down at her in surprise and was met with the first genuine smile he'd ever seen her wear. "My fuuinjutsu mastery."

His laugh was harsh, barklike thing. "Alright. I can do that much, at least."

"I should hope so. That's the whole reason I looked for you in the first place."

It was, wasn't it. Was that really only a month ago?

Damn, he was getting old.