Chapter 77 – Morning at Kakashi's House
The soft, pre-dawn silence of Konoha was broken only by the chirping of crickets and the quiet rustle of the wind through the eaves.
Akira blinked his golden eyes open, stretching out on the futon placed beside Kakashi's low bed. The earliest sliver of light hadn't even broken the horizon, but his mind was already buzzing with singular focus. He turned his head—Kakashi was still curled up in his blanket, a silver mop of hair peeking out, face buried in his pillow, breathing steady and deep.
"...Kakashi," Akira whispered, nudging him lightly with his foot.
No response. The mound under the blanket merely shifted, settling deeper.
Akira leaned closer, whispering louder, his voice a conspiratorial hiss. "Wake up. Come on, today's the day—the Ichiraku ramen shop opens!"
Kakashi let out a muffled, frustrated groan, shifting just enough to pull the blanket completely over his head. His voice was thick with sleep, lazy and resistant.
"What's so important about a ramen shop opening? Shops open all the time… Akira, let me sleep. It's a bowl of noodles."
Akira pouted, sitting up and tugging determinedly at the edge of the heavy quilt. "It's not just any shop! This is the legendary ramen shop, moving to a bigger spot! They'll have new specials, I bet! If we go later, everything will be sold out. And besides, I want to bring some back for Uncle Sakumo, Uncle Fugaku, and Aunt Mikoto. They deserve the first taste! So get up already!"
That earned him nothing but another guttural groan of protest.
Kakashi finally peeked one grey eye open, staring with monumental effort at the clock on the wall. His expression went flat, his trademark dead-fish eye locking onto Akira.
"...It's four in the morning. Are you trying to go to the shop opening... or make the ramen yourself? The chef probably hasn't even woken up yet."
Akira just grinned, unfazed. He hopped off the futon, pulling on a light jacket. "Ever heard the saying 'the early bird gets the best, fluffiest wheat noodles'?"
"I'm one hundred percent sure you just made that up, and that the expression is about worms," Kakashi muttered, rolling onto his back. "It's a fool's errand."
Still, Akira had lived with him for three years now—he knew all of Kakashi's habits like the back of his hand. Including the fact that Kakashi's protests were half-hearted at best, mostly fueled by his desire for more comfort.
"Alright," Akira said slyly, picking up a scroll and tapping it against his palm, "if you don't come with me, I'll tell Uncle Sakumo . I'm sure he'd love to double your training. From four in the morning to ten at night. No breaks. Just punishing, non-stop drills."
That got him. Kakashi visibly stiffened, a full-body shiver running down his spine at the thought of his father's relentless regimen.
"...You fight dirty, Uchiha," he grumbled, begrudgingly dragging himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. "You know my father has no mercy before breakfast."
A little while later, the two boys stepped out into the cold night air. The village was quiet, the only illumination coming from a few glowing street lanterns that cast long shadows. The air was crisp and carried the scent of dew-damp earth.
Kakashi shivered, rubbing his arms exaggeratedly.
"Ugh. I'm going back. My chakra control is fine, but my circulatory system is protesting this temperature. It's too cold."
Akira raised an eyebrow, not buying his dramatic display for a second. Shinobi training, mastery of all five elements, dense chakra … and he's pretending to lose to the weather?
"Kakashi," Akira said dryly, zipping his jacket up, "you just want more sleep. You can endured worse cold than this."
He crossed his arms with a confident smirk.
"Besides… think of this as our first date."
That stopped Kakashi in his tracks. He'd already started walking, but he froze midway.
He slowly turned his head, fixing Akira with the flattest, most utterly dead-pan stare imaginable. The corners of his visible eye seemed to drop.
"...Really? We are sacrificing five hours of sleep, walking through a freezing village, to potentially stand in line with a handful of other desperate villagers for instant-style noodles... and you are calling this a date?"
Akira only shrugged, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, you're here, aren't you? And I'm paying. It fits the criteria."
Kakashi sighed deeply, letting the air rush out in a cloud of condensation. The teasing was ridiculous, but for some reason, the word—date—echoed in his mind.
He wouldn't admit it out loud, not even to his internal self, but as he stood there in the cold, observing Akira's infectious, determined grin, something unspoken flickered warm in his chest. An odd, completely uncharacteristic anticipation. The thought of this ridiculous, 4 AM ramen "date" made him… oddly happy. He quickly shoved the feeling away, classifying it as a temporary side effect of sleep deprivation.
"...Fine. But I'm ordering extra pork and a side of Gyoza if we get there first," he muttered, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he walked quickly to keep up with Akira. "You brought enough money for a feast, I assume."
"Of course!" Akira called back, already skipping ahead slightly.
The night was cold, but the mood between them was light and warm, a quiet prelude before the coming storm of the mission.