By the time Kakashi was seven Sakumo had developed a sort of ritual. When he knew his son would be returning from a mission he would sit up waiting for him to get home. Depending on his mood, Kakashi would talk to his father about the mission, or he'd sit and brood. Either way, Sakumo made sure he was there as often as possible so that when Kakashi's questions needed answers he could have them.

It was a cold, sharp night when Sakumo saw his son change. It was one of those painful parts of life reserved for ninjas.

He knew something was wrong when Kakashi tossed his Wolf mask onto the coffee table. It slid across the table and onto the floor, making a "chick" sound as it hit the wood. Kakashi didn't even glance at it.

Kakashi always took care of his equipment religiously. The family had a history of OCD, but it didn't seem to be causing any trouble, so Sakumo let his son have his eccentricities.

The mask lay on the floor, neglected. Kakashi removed his hitai-ate and vest, placing them on the table with more respect. He pulled off his many weapons and put them on the table without saying a word to Sakumo. Kakashi glanced down at the mask and walked away from it toward the bathroom.

Sakumo heard water running in the bathroom, and he went to the mask. It flashed its alabaster face at him from the floor. He'd never liked his son joining ANBU so young, but he hadn't said anything. Kakashi was determined to be the best, and it helped Konoha to have him gain so much experience so early.

Sakumo picked up the mask. He rubbed a bit of blood from the edge with his thumb. He hadn't noticed any injuries on his son, but he would ask when Kakashi got out of the shower. The boy was already notorious for neglecting his body on missions. Several medic nins had grudges against him, and he'd been asked to speak to his son on multiple occasions. He had spoken to him, of course, but such things would be learned in their own time.

He placed the mask with Kakashi's other things and made some tea. Kakashi came out, and Sakumo looked over him quickly. He was just wearing boxers, and Sakumo saw with relief that there weren't any bandages. Still, he felt the need to ask.

"I saw blood on your mask," he said. "Were you injured?" His heart beat a little faster. It was silly, and he knew it. Kakashi was tougher than most adult ninjas, and he didn't need his father fussing over him. Sakumo couldn't help it. No matter what his son became, he would always be his little boy.

"It's not my blood," Kakashi said.

"That's good," his father said. He waited for his tea to cool a bit. He knew by now that pushing Kakashi to talk would just make him quiet. He would speak when he was ready to, and more than likely it would be a flood of observations and questions.

By the time Kakashi decided to speak they had both finished their tea and begun on a second cup.

"Dad, did you ever think about refusing an order?" Kakashi asked. He looked at the table, his wet hair obscuring his face.

"Every ninja has missions that test his loyalty. I've had them. What happened?"

"I barely finished the mission," Kakashi said. "I thought I might not be able to carry it out."

"But you completed the mission. That matters in the end," his father said. "You were a tool that was used for its purpose."

He saw Kakashi's hand tighten around his cup. "I killed a little girl," he said quietly. "I had to."

Oh fuck, Sakumo thought. He took a long drink of tea to stall for a bit of time before he answered. It was a delicate time in his son's life, and he wanted to make sure he had the right answers for him.

"Was it the goal of your mission?" his father asked.

"Yes," Kakashi said. "She was an heiress, and her uncle was next in line to take over the family when his brother dies. He's first in line now, and his brother is ill."

"I see," Sakumo said. "And you considered refusing to kill her?" He wanted to tell his son how proud he was that such a young child would question authority at that age instead of blindly following orders, but he wanted to get more information first. He didn't want to speak too quickly.

"She was so little and pretty," Kakashi said. "We opened our orders right before we went into the village. I had to do it."

"Why did your team let you do that?" Sakumo asked. "Why didn't one of them kill her?" What sort of demented fuck lets his seven-year old teammate kill a child when he could take that burden from him?

"They didn't want to let me do it," Kakashi said. "They argued about it, but the intelligence folder said that she was well guarded, and the only way into her room was a heating grate I could barely fit through. It was the only way to get to her, and I was the only one small enough to do it."

"We can't judge the morality of our mission. You know that," Sakumo said.

"I know," Kakashi said. "That's what I kept telling myself."

"And now you wonder how you can live with yourself," Sakumo said.

"You know then?" Kakashi asked.

"Of course I know," Sakumo said. "I've done things on missions that might make you disgusted to even know me. There are times when I wake up at night with them on my mind, and all I can think about is how much I hate myself. It doesn't change the fact that I followed my orders, and that's all I can do."

"Is there ever a time you'd disobey an order?" Kakashi asked.

"I don't know," Sakumo said. "I'd like to say no, but there are things I just couldn't do."

"Dad, I think I'm a bad person," Kakashi said. "I don't like that. I wanted to be like you and Sensei. I don't think you two would have killed her."

Sakumo avoided the obvious answer. Of course they would have followed that mission's parameters. If he was just ordered to kill her it wasn't actually a cruel mission. Sakumo had done worse.

"Did you enjoy hurting her?" Sakumo asked.

"God no!" Kakashi said, obviously shocked.

"Did you show her as much kindness as you could?"

"I made sure she didn't know I was there. She died in her sleep. It was all I could do for her."

"A bad person would have woken her to let her know she was going to die. You showed mercy, and that's a sign of strong character."

"I'm afraid I'm going to become the kind of person who could do that and not care," Kakashi said.

"Those exist," his father said. "I hope it doesn't happen."

"How do I keep from becoming that person?" Kakashi asked. He finally looked up from staring at the table, and his father could see the anguish in his eyes. Sakumo's blinked away tears. My poor boy, he thought.

"You make yourself into a person you can be proud of, and you take that person with you wherever you go. When you have to do something for a mission that isn't like who you want to be, make sure you understand why you're doing it. I don't mean the logical reason; I mean the emotional one. Remember that it's mission parameters, not you. When you come home, leave that part of yourself on the battlefield."

"Do you do that?" Kakashi asked.

"In theory," his father said, remembering the many slips of morality he'd had over the years. Things he'd done in the field had changed how he viewed life at times. He'd been bitter for a time when he was younger, but he'd decided to serve his village and try to be the kind of man he wanted his son to be someday.

"There are too many times when things follow me home," he said, thinking of a similar mission he'd had the year before. Political families had no problem hiring ninjas to kill children, and he had bitter about the thing for months. He'd never really resolved those feelings so much as shut them away.

"We're ninjas son. We do horrible things for a living. It's the only way our village survives. If we wanted to be warriors fighting endless battles for good against evil we would have been Samurai."

Kakashi shuddered. Samurai were nobility, trapped in their life of bushido. Ninjas had their own way of the ninja, but bushido was something foreign to him.

"We are tools of the village, not nobles playing with weapons," his father said. "You did the best you could for the girl. Preserve that part of yourself that would give mercy whenever able and you'll be a good person."

He saw Kakashi relax. "Did that help?" he asked.

"A little," Kakashi said.

"Do you want to spar in the morning?" Sakumo asked. "You always feel better after that."

"I do," Kakashi said. "I need to handle something first. Would you be ashamed of me if I resigned from ANBU?"

"I'd be glad," Sakumo said. "ANBU have the dirtiest missions. I didn't want to get in the way of your career, but I'd rather see you just be a ninja for now. It's enough for a boy your age."

"Thanks Dad. I'm going to turn in my mask in the morning."

"I support that," Sakumo said. "Your uncle will too."

"I'm glad," Kakashi said. "I don't want Oji-Jiraiya to be ashamed of me."

Sakumo rolled his eyes. "You don't have to worry about that. You're uncle loves you so much he still annoys people with your baby pictures."

"What?" Kakashi squeaked. "Not the naked ones in the tub?"

Sakumo smiled, glad that he had pulled his son from his funk for the moment. "Yes. Every whore in town has seen those pictures."

Kakashi blushed. "I wish you'd never taken those. I'm going to have to speak with Oji-Jiraiya about that."

"Good luck with that. Maybe if you gave him some current pictures he'd show those around."

Kakashi grumbled about his uncle, and Sakumo let him worry about his silly, normal problem. When Kakashi went to bed Sakumo sat up long after Kakashi's light had gone out, thinking about what it meant to be a ninja, and what it meant to be the father of one.