Sizheng: Looks like the average chapter length for this story will be about five thousand words. Eh-heh-heh-heh… I hope you can hold with me for that long each time! Anyhow, the last bit of this chapter was finished pre-e-etty late… so forgive me if the ending isn't quite so fantab.

This fic isn't getting much response. Genderbending isn't so popular—I can understand why. But I want to write a good gender-bending fic (and get response), because a female Kakashi is just so scadliciously fun. Anyhow! Shall stop making up new words and let you read on now. The chapter dedication goes in scads to Novocain and Verna Jast. Thank you, loves! As usual, tho, this fic is written for the one and only Falling Right Side-Up.

It also celebrates my moving out at last! W00t! 'Scuse, tho, for the ridiculous amount of fluff in this chapter. It's sorta insubstantial, I know, but hey! You get Sakumo and Jiraiya, and... what more could you really ask for? Really?

Artemis Arrant

An Alternate Reality Naruto Fanstory by Zhang Sizheng

For Falling Right Side-Up

Part Two—Achilles Inversed

Ironically enough, the Land of Fire was prone to obscenely powerful summer downpours that flattened crops and tore the roof tiles off buildings. The winds rent at the forest, stripping leaves and bark; the accompanying deluges were the reason most of the domestic and administrative buildings in Konoha were built on stilts and elevated at least a metre off the ground.

Flash floods. Lightning.

In his younger days, Sakumo and the other foolhardy boys of the village would crouch in gullies by the Hokage Mountain to wait for the floods and the opportunity to swim against the rain-currents that came pouring down off the Hokage mountains. Sometime in his late teens, he and his jōnin compatriots (usually Jiraiya or Dan-kun, or both) had begun to scorn death by drowning, and would instead risk their idiotic necks playing the Thunder Dance amongst the trees—in essence, tempting lightning during an electric storm.

Except now, Sakumo hated thunderstorms.

Mostly because the aforementioned floods would flush out the homes of every helpless, furry, big-eyed young stray in the damn village, and his precocious little bleeding-heart of a daughter would somehow get a hold of them—all of them—and bring them home.

"Damnit, Kakashi," Sakumo gritted quietly, faced with two pairs of huge, pleading eyes. "Not—another—one!"

"She's hurt," his little girl lisped defiantly back at him. "See?" The puppy was missing its right forepaw. "She won't make it if we put her back out there."

Not for the first time, Sakumo vowed torture and disembowelment on the bastard who'd taught his little girl the word 'no'. He rocked back on his heels, fixing a stare to the farthermost corner of the ceiling. "Yes, she wouldn't stand much of a chance," he agreed when he thought he could speak without punching a hole in the wall. "But we already have two-dozen animals prowling the house." With something resembling a plea— "Your mother will kill me."

"She won't know." His own eyes, dark and solemn, looked back at him from his daughter's face. "Unless… unless you tell her?"

Dropping his gaze from the ceiling, Sakumo sighed and reached out to scratch the mewling pup behind a ragged ear. It was cute—they all were, in a ragamuffin, whimpering sort of way—but… "Kakashi, your mother has a nose like an Inuzuka. She'll smell them."

"But they're already here," Kakashi reasoned. "So she'll smell them even if we throw them out now—and they'll all drown and it'll be a big mess to clean up and Mama'd be even angrier."

She had a point.

'Geniuses,' Sakumo thought plaintively. 'Why did it have to be genetic?'

A cat with only half an ear nudged up against his knee, smearing its wet fur against the linen bindings wrapping his left leg. "Look, Kakashi… everything's a mess," he said, reaching down and rubbing it gently beneath its chin. Eyes closing in pleasure, the feline tolerated this for several moments before skittering away to partake in some of what Sakumo only now recognised as the premium-quality beef fillet he'd been saving for a special occasion—namely, his wife's return. 'Right, that's it.'

He straightened with a sigh and shot a reproving look at his unrepentant daughter. Where was Haruka when he needed her? "A mess," he repeated, trying to sound stern. "Just like you—covered in mud. Take a bath." At least she'd the foresight to spread newspapers across the floor; several of the younger pups had defecated in the corner. "Kakashi, are you listening to me?"

"Yes," she said. "But… just this once?"

"You said that the last fourteen times," he snapped. "And now we've got over twenty cats and dogs crowding up your bedroom!"

"How do I know you won't just throw them all out while I'm taking a bath?" she challenged. "It could be just a die—die-version."

"A diversion." Sakumo corrected. He almost smiled at her impudence. Almost. But he was Hatake Sakumo, White Fang of Konoha, and would not be outmanoeuvred by his four-year-old daughter. "How about this? I won't throw them all out by the ears and tails if you do as I say. Now."

Her lips formed a visible pout under the mask. "But—"

"I've heard enough out of you." It was always like this when it stormed. The farmhouse would become some sort of motel for the Lost and Half-Drowned Souls of the Wild. Haruka managed their daughter just fine. Was he just a bad father? Kakashi seldom listened to him anymore. It was true that he'd often left the parenting to Haruka, instead preferring to spoil his baby girl rotten in between thrashing her into shape on the training fields. Maybe the gods didn't like people who threw exploding tags at their four-year-old offspring. That must be it.

Shaking his head a little wildly to clear it, Sakumo pointed. "Go and bathe. You know how to run the water yourself."

Kakashi's only response was a startlingly lupine snarl before she stomped off.

He knew he'd been letting her spend too much time around Fuyubi and Fuyuzora: his baby girl was clearly picking up on some of their less-savoury habits…

Closing his eyes, Sakumo covered them with the flats of his palms, grinding them into the sockets in a futile attempt to forestall the inevitable headache. What happened? Kakashi had been a child eager for his attention, ready to obey and smile sweetly and generally be a little treasure.

When had she turned into such a little terror?

"Girls," he sighed, and went to see who had just entered the house. "Please let it be Haruka, please let it be Haruka, please let it be—hello, Jiraiya. Minato-kun."

"You always sound so happy to see me nowadays," Jiraiya grumbled, shaking the raindrops from his eyes. "What's got your tits in a tangle?"

"Good evening, Sakumo-sama," Minato-kun murmured, inclining his head and elbowing his mentor in the ribs. "You look a little stressed."

Sakumo dragged a hand through his hair, loosening the leather tie he normally used to keep it back. "Kakashi's being difficult again," he explained. He wasn't complaining. He was just… advertising his unhappiness. Loudly. "She went out and grubbed around in the gardens, fished out all the half-drowned little creatures, and brought them in. And now she's angry because I won't let her keep them."

While Minato-kun looked sympathetic and a little amused, Jiraiya snorted as he squeezed the moisture out of his bristly white ponytail. "That's 'cause she's gotcher twisted 'round her little finger," he shrugged. He wiped his hands on Sakumo's shirt, shed his geta and slipped into the house slippers Minato-kun passed him. "That's the most dangerous sort of thing to happen; if your kid knows you have a weakness, she'll exploit it."

"What weakness?" Sakumo growled, aggravated. "Oh, excuse my manners, Minato-kun—I'll fetch some tea."

The twelve-year-old beamed. "Thank you, Sakumo-sama; that'd be great!"

"It'll drive away some of this chill, that's for sure." Sakumo nodded and led the way to the tea room, combing out his hair with his fingers. "We have matcha and gyokuro and sencha, but I also brought back an amazing mix from Rice Field Country. It's this fantastic jasmine—"

"Spare us your tea connoisseurship," Jiraiya groaned. "I just want something strong and hot—unless you still have some of that berry and almondy stuff?"

Sakumo rolled his eyes. "Tamaryokucha it is."

"Show-off," Jiraiya jibed.

"Sensei!" Minato-kun scolded.

"Papa!"

Sakumo turned, blinked, then blinked again. "Oh, no…"

Naked as the day she was born, and not much cleaner (being caked in mud and fur and what looked like the remnants of a prodigiously-sized hairball), Kakashi fled down the hallway and skidded haphazardly to a halt before him. "Papa, you haven't touched them, have you?"

As he took off his vest, Sakumo counted to ten, pointedly ignoring Jiraiya's grin. "No, Kakashi. I haven't touched your animals." He attempted to drape the heavy cotton over his daughter's body, but she danced gracefully (shamelessly) out of the way. 'I think this is the first time I've ever regretted her being such a good little shinobi.' Sakumo closed his eyes. 'Haruka, where are you?' "Kakashi, come here."

"Won't," said Sakumo's little nudist.

'Ancestors give me strength.'

She looked at Jiraiya and Minato-kun, her chin lifting. "I didn't forget about you two," she said gravely. She bowed politely at the waist, then straightened. Sakumo couldn't help but admire how, even naked, she seemed to stare down her nose at someone easily three times her height—Jiraiya was a tall man. "I'm a better kunoichi than that; I noticed you both straight away." More shyly, "Hello, Minato-san."

"Hello, Kakashi-chan." Minato-kun appeared to be hiding a smile. "I thought I told you to call me 'Niisan."

'When was this?'

Warning bells going off in his head, Sakumo watched with growing suspicion and not a little terror as Kakashi tilted her head coyly to the side so that her long bangs covered half her face. It wasn't quite enough to mask what had to be the world's faintest blush spreading across her pale nose and cheeks. "Well… then hello, Minato-nii."

Minato-kun beamed. "That's better."

Over his student's yellow-haired head, Jiraiya rolled his eyes comically and mouthed 'clueless' to the horror-struck Sakumo, who shook himself out of his daze and chose that moment to lunge at his daughter, successfully netting Kakashi with his vest. Ignoring the shriek of fury and riotous squirming, he swaddled her tightly in the rough material before she disappeared with a pop and he found himself holding the coat rack.

"Kawarimi no jutsu," Minato-kun said, sounding surprised and not a little impressed as Kakashi materialised by his side in a small puff of smoke and displaced air. "She can do substitution already?"

"I told you I was a good kunoichi," Kakashi bragged.

"Kakashi!" Sakumo snapped, disentangling his vest from the coat stand and ignoring Jiraiya's sniggers. "You're being an embarrassment. Is the water still running?"

For a split second, she looked angry, flicking her gaze to Minato-kun. Then the rebellious expression returned, concealing her hurt. "I stopped it. It was too hot, so I came to see if you threw out the children."

"Bollocks the chil—" Sakumo bit his tongue. He bit it very, very hard. "For the last time, your animals are fine. But they won't be if you stay so undisciplined and don't take a damn shower."

"Potty mouth." Her gaze sharpened in a way that reminded him acutely of how Haruka's did whenever she was particularly displeased with him. "I'm telling Mama," she promised, and sprinted back down the corridor, disappearing as suddenly as she had come.

Turning back to his guests, Sakumo ignored Jiraiya's knowing expression. "Tea room's this way."

"We know," Jiraiya snickered. "We've only been here about five hundred times."

"Allow me some dignity, won't you?" Sakumo sighed again.

Shaking his head, Jiraiya couldn't resist having the last word in. "After what just happened? You don't have a leg to stand on."

"If you like this brew so much, you can bring some home with you," Sakumo said as he re-entered the room. He was balancing a tray with three cups and a large pot as well as a bowl of roasted lotus seeds. Jiraiya's belly growled in anticipation—the tea smelled fantastic.

"I might just take you up on that," he said appreciatively. "But it just wouldn't be the same." No one brewed a cup of tea like Sakumo did. Having tended to the same plantation since before Konohagakure was built, the Hatake had been a tea family even before they ever produced a shinobi son or daughter. "One day, you're going to have to tell me how you mix it."

"It's pretty simple, but a family recipe. You'll have to bribe me," Sakumo teased. His rich voice sounded oddly clear to the ear. In spite of knowing what the sudden clarity meant, Jiraiya looked up again and blinked before averting his gaze to a little burl-wood pattern in the table.

With his dark brown mask pooling about his pale neck, Sakumo was an uncommonly—almost disconcertingly—attractive guy. The sort of guy you didn't want within a fifty metre radius of you when you were taking your girl out. Just in case she wondered why she was settling for you when there were men like him out there. (Jiraiya wasn't speaking from experience. Of course not).

Still, in spite of being tempted to stare, Jiraiya kept his gaze on the tea as he accepted it with a murmur of thanks. He wouldn't look. He wouldn't. Looking at Hatake Sakumo's bared face more than twice in a lifetime was like having your ego being kicked in the nutsack fifty times in fifty seconds.

Still keeping his eyes lowered, he reached into the pouch to retrieve several waterlogged scrolls as he heard Sakumo sipped quietly at the steaming tea. "Put that away."

"Huh?"

Jiraiya growled. "Cover yourself up, man. I don't feel like listening to those self-motivational tapes again—not for another few years at least."

"Yeah? Did they work out the first time, though?" Sakumo's wide, pleasant mouth stretched into an easy grin. Jiraiya couldn't help but feel revolted as his cheeks flushed in response.

'Cocky bastard.' It might have been pathetic to overreact seeing his best friend's face like that, but… words failed to describe it, really. Jiraiya nursed his tea sulkily. "Damnit, Sakumo—"

"It's gone, it's gone," his friend chuckled, mask up again. "The things I do for you, Jiraiya…"

"Just let your tea cool for a while longer before you pull that vanishing trick of yours," Jiraiya responded. He wasn't a small or insecure man by any means, but Sakumo's face had that effect on every person he showed it to. Except for Haruka, maybe. Which was, of course, why he shacked up with her.

Nevertheless, with the sweet scent of Sakumo's tamaryokucha brew filling his nostrils, his hands warmed by the hot porcelain, the kotatsu toasting his toes and his best friend sliding his cold feet in over his, he couldn't help but feel altogether content as he jabbed his feet at Sakumo's shins in revenge.

This prompted a return sally on Sakumo's part, both shinobi keeping their faces carefully composed as the absurd battle was waged beneath the table.

It ended in a stalemate, with Jiraiya twisting one of Sakumo's toes almost to the breaking point between two of his own, and the ball of Sakumo's other foot jabbing a pressure point on Jiraiya's left thigh. Of course, Jiraiya was less preoccupied with the pain and more concerned with the way Sakumo's toes were located dangerously close to his crotch area.

"Aaaand we should stop right there," Jiraiya said flatly.

"Coward," Sakumo jeered. He withdrew his feet (now warm, Jiraiya noted) and tucked them under him so that he sat on his heels. "Oh? Where did Minato-kun go?"

"Took you long enough to notice," Jiraiya said, as if he hadn't had forgotten his student's absence as soon as the foot war had begun. "'Minato-kun' got uncomfortable after having a few dozen holes stared through the back of his head." Jiraiya grinned fiercely. "So he went to Kakashi's room to play with her strays." Helpfully, "He likes cats."

The peace in Sakumo's expression evaporated. "He went where?" The silver-haired jōnin shouted, almost flipping the table in his haste to rise. Jiraiya managed to save the contents of his cup and the tea left in the pot, but Sakumo's cup sloshed tea all over the table before rolling ponderously off the edge. It landed on the tatami matting with a delicate tink. Sakumo didn't look as if he'd noticed. "D-Does this mean… I have to—what if she walks in naked from her bath—"

"What, again?" Reaching across the table, Jiraiya dragged his excitable friend back down. 'He's gotten even crazier since Kakashi was born. So much for settling down.' "Look, if Kakashi did walk in naked, she'd have to be at least ten years older before it made any sort of impression on… well, anybody. So cool it, you idiot."

Sakumo mumbled something rude and used his sleeve to mop at the spilled tea. "I don't know," he sighed. "I guess I'm just…"

"Paranoid. Overcompensating," Jiraiya scolded. He felt a little slighted on his student's behalf, and more than a little amused. This was why he liked to drop by Sakumo's—his friend was a riot and a half. All the time. "Minato's safe, as far as first infatuations go. He doesn't have a clue."

"I don't know…"

Jiraiya felt a twinge of sympathy. "Sakumo, the kid practically lives with me to get away from his asshole father, so he's pretty alone as far as family goes. And he still managed to come out with a mothering streak a mile wide." 'Sort of like yours, come to think of it.' Jiraiya shifted. His wet clothes were beginning to itch. "He was just happy to get someone to call him 'big brother'. The only thing you'll have to worry about if Minato does spirit Kakashi away is that he'll try to smother your brat to death with protectiveness and affection. He's like that with his pets."

"Kakashi's not a… not a pet." Sakumo sniffed. "My daughter isn't—won't… humph. She'll get over it soon. Maybe… maybe this is why she's been so awful lately!"

Protective Father Sakumo made Ridiculously Amused Jiraiya do a little dance. "That's a little far-fetched," Jiraiya pointed out. "She was a quiet kid a couple years back, right? Maybe the terrible twos took a little longer to come along and became the fearsome fours."

"Does this mean I'm not her favourite anymore?" Sakumo asked the ceiling plaintively. "I thought I had a few more years, at least… stop grinning like that; it isn't funny."

"I beg the contrary. It's very funny." Jiraiya smirked. "Just stop glaring holes into my student. It's not his fault your little exhibitionist of a daughter decided she likes blonds."

"My daughter is not an exhi—" Sakumo began with heat. Then slumped, staring dolefully into the bottom of his ceramic cup. "She is, isn't she? I bet she gets it from Haruka; she has to get it from Haruka—"

Denial was funny. The truth was often funnier. "Remember the time you flashed Homura-sensei to distract him so he didn't notice you putting the genjutsu on him? Or the time you mooned the dignitary from Suna? You're just lucky she liked your lily ass more than her dead brother-in-law, else the peace treaty might never have gone through. What about when Tsunade—"

"Fine!" Sakumo looked amusingly anguished. "Fine. She gets her nudist tendencies from me. I admitted it. Are you happy?"

"I am. And I'll stay that way too, if you keep them to yourself," Jiraiya hid his smirk in his tea.

Sakumo looked appropriately outraged, though whether by the suggestion he would do otherwise or the idea that Jiraiya wouldn't enjoy it remained to be seen. You could never tell, with Sakumo. "I'll have you know that Haruka—"

"Good for her," Jiraiya said hastily. "Look, I have the forms you asked for." He retrieved the scrolls from when they had fallen during Sakumo's little anxiety attack. "Lazy. You could've sent Fuyubi or Fuyuzora to get them."

"You know they don't like civilians," Sakumo said, accepting the scrolls. "Thanks—and it's not like I can leave the farm right now, since I have to stay here to maintain the chakra net keeping the worst of the storm out. The workers aren't too happy, and—"

"Spare me the excuses," Jiraiya couldn't help the fond smile. "It gives me a reason to visit."

"Since when have you ever needed a reason to visit?" Sakumo eased his long legs out from beneath the table, rolling lazily into a standing position. "I'll be right back; I just need my brush set."

"No need," Jiraiya waved him back down, pulling a slender, cylindrical shape from the hip-pouch that was his constant companion. "This is something that I picked up!" He uncapped it with a triumphant grin, displaying the gleaming brass nib. "It's a pretty cool new invention I got on my last mission."

Over the course of roughly half a minute, the look on Sakumo's face went from uncomprehending to sceptical as he realised what it was. "It's one of those newfangled pens from Grass, isn't it?" He grimaced. "Ah, no. I think I'll just go for the brush set—"

"No, it works pretty well—"

"I've seen what those Grass barbarians write with," Sakumo muttered. "They rip feathers off dead birds and dip the tips in vegetable dye."

Jiraiya couldn't help letting out a snort. "You're just sore 'cause they have you down for the psyche ward."

Sakumo bristled comically. "They have me classified as clinically insane!"

"So do six other countries. S'your own damn fault—I mean, one? That's a fluke. A katon jutsu in the wrong place at the wrong time. Two or three? An international incident, maybe a few buildings blown up and some maniacal laughter caught on tape. But four? Seven?" Jiraiya shook his head. "You don't have an excuse."

"You say that like you haven't been banned from all the bathhouses in the neighbouring countries. And some others besides," Sakumo sniped back. "The last onsen I went to in Lightning Country had little caricatures of your face stamped with big red 'X's spaced out about fifteen metres from each other all around the perimeter wall." Sakumo kicked him gently under the table. "Pervert."

"Oh? And did you make this observation from the women's side of the bath or the men's?" Jiraiya kicked back. "Like you're such a saint. The point is to stop being so racist and just use the damn thing—you'll be surprised. These things're great 'cause they let you write without having to prepare the ink or the brush or wash up afterwards. You just write."

Sakumo sighed and took the fountain pen, shaking it before scratching experimentally at a corner of the parchment, grunting in satisfaction as his actions produced a thin, dark blue line after the initial blot of ink. "I'll have you know I disapprove of this."

"Don't shake it. And I know you do. You're such a stuffy old conservative—"

"Traditionalist," Sakumo interjected. "And I'm only two years older than you!"

"Still a conservative," Jiraiya said. He liked being difficult, and if it meant riling his friend, so much the better. "Though, I have to say, you're the most weird-ass conservative I've ever met."

"That's because I'm a traditionalist," With a sigh, Sakumo began to fill out the Academy admissions form. "Kakashi will be glad to go," he said as he inked in the date of birth. Jiraiya noticed that although Sakumo had started out with a bizarre (and incorrect) grip on the pen, he had instinctively shifted his fingers for better stability and control.

Jiraiya sniffed. 'Geniuses.' It had taken him a week to figure out how to use the darn thing properly. "She's still young. How do you think she'll interact with her classmates?"

"I don't know," Sakumo admitted. "But I've already taught her how to do the basics; proficiency will come with practice, and I'm too busy to give Kakashi any real supervision. Now that she knows them, she's not going to stop, and might hurt herself if she tries doing things alone. At the Academy, they'll be able to keep an eye on her, and—"

"Whoa, whoa—watch it!" Jiraiya warned, grabbing Sakumo's hand. "Damn… Sakumo, whose form are you filling out, anyway?"

Sakumo blinked, his pale brow furrowing in mute annoyance. "Kakashi's, of course. What do you—"

"Then why did you just circle 'male', you idiot? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"What?!" Sakumo looked down wildly. "I didn't… circle… the right one, oh, shit."

Jiraiya couldn't help but find his friend's predicament nothing short of hilarious. Sakumo was just so hapless sometimes. You'd never know he was a genius shinobi by the way he acted so scatterbrained. "This is official crap, Sakumo, you can't submit it all crossed out like that. Yoshino-sensei will have your ass on a pike if you dare."

"He wouldn't," Sakumo looked smug. "Couldn't."

Jiraiya rolled his eyes. "But the old man's anal like that. And since you're trying to get on his good side to let Kakashi in at such an early age…"

"Well, damn," Sakumo muttered again. He paused, then pulled down his mask to turn a blindingly handsome smile on Jiraiya, who was… not looking.

"That was dirty," Jiraiya reproached, his eyes squeezed shut. "Lucky for me, I know you too well to fall for it again."

"You won't even look at your friend when refusing his desperate request?" Sakumo said. Jiraiya knew from experience that the tiny wobble in his friend's voice meant that Sakumo's lower lip was trembling, too. "That's inconsiderate of you, Jiji…"

"And like I said, you're a dirty guy. That genjutsu of yours doesn't work when I'm not looking at you."

The pout was almost audible. "But I can't leave the farm—"

"And the office is closed until tomorrow in any case," Jiraiya shrugged, eyes still closed. "By the way, Minato and I are hunkering down in a couple of your empty rooms. We're not going back out into this storm. Unless you're going for drowning me as well as bewitching me in one go—"

A rustle of cloth. Jiraiya peeked. His friend had re-masked himself, and what was visible of his face looked profoundly miserable. "You can stop with the guilting now. Just help me think fast because the application deadlines are in three days and Haruka will slit my throat if I mess things up for Kakashi."

Jiraiya winced. She would, too. When provoked, Kakashi's mother was a fearsome, if beautiful woman. And Sakumo always provoked her in some way. "How about—"

"Papa?"

The look on Sakumo's face was priceless. "Fuck," he said, almost dazedly. "She's not behind me, is she?"

"If you're talking about your daughter, maybe you'd like me better if I lie." Jiraiya hadn't enjoyed himself this much in a long time. "Hello, Kakashi. Minato. Enjoyed your bath, Kakashi?"

Dressed in a tiny, pale blue yukata patterned with clouds, Kakashi nodded politely as she stepped into the room. "I did, Jiraiya-sama. And Minato-nii wants to tell you something." The almost indulgent look on her face looked oddly out of place on a four-year-old's features.

'Minato-nii' ran to Jiraiya, a tiny grey tabby clinging haphazardly to the side of his yellow-haired head. It looked as if the kitten was digging all of its little claws into Minato's scalp, but the blond didn't so much as wince. "Sensei!" he shouted, his face lit with glee. "Kakashi-chan said I could keep this one!"

That gave Jiraiya pause. 'Just who is the four-year-old here?' "That was nice of her. Have you thought about where you're keeping her?"

The excitement in his student's face crumpled. "I… well, I thought maybe she'd stay with you? I… I can't bring her home."

Minato was a good kid, Jiraiya decided. He wouldn't let any animals that weren't toads into his apartment, otherwise. He nodded his assent, and was rewarded with a smile as beaming as Sakumo's. "You won't regret it, Sensei!"

"Don't give me any cause to," Jiraiya warned. "I'll throw the lot of you out to the curb, else. Be sure you have someone keep an eye on it while we're out on missions, though."

"I will!" Minato laughed and joined Kakashi at her father's side, looking down at the application form.

Kakashi's dawning realisation and subsequent joy lodged something deep in Jiraiya's chest. And it hadn't even been his fault she might miss the deadline. "Papa, is that the letter you're writing to the Academy to tell them I can join?" Kakashi's smile was evident even under the patterned scarf she wore over the lower half of her face. "Thank you, Papa!"

Glancing from the botched 'letter' to Sakumo's face, Jiraiya judged that the amount of anguish in Sakumo's masked expression translated roughly into 'the guilt is eating me alive'. He tried to think of a way to let the girl down gently. "Actually, Kakashi-chan, he—"

"Wants to play a game with you!" Sakumo said loudly.

Jiraiya winced. 'And that wasn't transparent at all. Where's your shinobi finesse?'

Kakashi cocked her head to the side. "Papa?"

"Kakashi," Sakumo said. Jiraiya could see the genius' cogs turning. Whirring. "This is your first mission. I have registered you as Hatake Kakashi—my son. If you can maintain that illusion for more than a week, I will let you keep one of your animals."

'…that was some quick thinking, you bastard.' Jiraiya's mouth twitched. Sakumo had always been good at pulling his—and others'—bacons out of the fire. "I'm curious to see how this turns out," he admitted aloud.

"Sensei?" Minato looked questioningly at him.

"Shhh."

Kakashi appeared to be thinking things over. Her dark eyes were calculating when she finally looked up. "If I can stay hidden for two weeks, can I keep two children?"

Sakumo sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. "The rest will have to find homes after the first week, Kakashi. I can't let you keep more than one."

"But if I let them stay with… say, Soku-san, can I get one back for each week I pretend to be a boy?"

"Kakashi," Sakumo looked as if he were thinking very quickly. Jiraiya wondered why he didn't just stop spoiling his daughter and tell her 'no'. "This is your first test in infiltration and disguise. Isn't that reward enough?"

'Good one,' Jiraiya grinned. 'You can get Kakashi to agree to just about anything if you pretend it has something to do with training.' He felt Minato nudge him.

"Who's Soku-san?" his student whispered.

"Sakumo's old teammate," Jiraiya murmured back. "An Inuzuka. Loves little critters."

Minato looked dubious. "Kakashi-chan," he said, when it appeared she had begun to sulk. "If you want, I can look after the children for you. You can come play with them whenever you want."

"What's with this 'children' terminology," Jiraiya heard Sakumo mutter. "As if they aren't kids themselves…!"

"I'm more concerned about where he thinks he's keeping them. He certainly isn't bringing them to my place…" Jiraiya replied out of the corner of his mouth.

After a long moment, Kakashi nodded. "I'll dress up like a boy. I'll trick them all so well they won't even know! Not for years!"

Sakumo blinked. "You only have to do it for a week," he said urgently. "No more, okay? Your mission will be complete then."

"I'll do it for twenty-three," Kakashi said obstinately. "Then you'll have to let me keep all the children."

"W-Wait, that's not what we agreed on—"

Kakashi wasn't listening. "Minato-nii, are there any things I have to know about being a boy?"

Busy stroking his new kitten, Minato blinked and smiled kindly. "I think it's pretty different from being a girl, Kakashi-chan. But if you just wear boy-clothes and talk like a boy, I think it'll be okay."

"But I'll have to go into the boy's room, too. And boys pee standing, don't they?"

"W-Well. Yes. There's that."

Sakumo let out a strangled noise that might have been a whimper.

"Where's your 'traditionalist' now, Sakumo m'boy?" Jiraiya elbowed him as Kakashi and Minato skipped about the room, whooping and discussing possible strategies at the tops of their lungs. "Congratulations. Your diabolical, four-year-old daughter is a cross-dressing nudist. And leading my innocent student down the path of sin."

Sakumo's shoulders slumped as he cupped his face in his hands, groaning. "Shut up. Just… shut up."

"Haruka-chan's going to kill you. Remind her to send me an invite to your funeral, okay? I want to see if you'd rise from the grave, just to spite—"

"I said, quiet!"

Never let it be said that Jiraiya knew to stop while he was ahead. "Make me," he challenged.

Letting out a wordless roar, Sakumo launched his long body over the kotatsu, tackling Jiraiya to the floor with all the force of a silver-grey thunderbolt.

"Papa? Papa, leave Jiraiya-sama alone!"

"S-Sakumo-sama!"