Barely making it to day 2 of @narutoocshipweek ! Literally saw the prompts and I couldn’t help myself with some Sasori/Rei content. 😭 Totally am in the ballpark of headcanons where I legit think that Sasori would spoil and love the hell out of his kids. (Albeit after learning how to be human again lmao 😂)
So, since one of today’s prompts for @narutoocshipweek was Role Swap... (More chatter beneath the cut)
Did I spend most of today working on this? Yes. Was it worth it? HELL YEAH. I knew immediately that I wanted to do something with Yasumi for this prompt, since... look, even though his longstanding and ill-advised crush on Sasori only actually pans out in maybe 2 of 20 AUs, it still made for such fun art!
Some background on Yasumi, since I haven’t talked about him as much - he’s Kiki’s cousin on their mother’s side, a member of the Puppet Brigade in Suna and also a relative of the deceased Third Kazekage. He mostly uses puppets that he makes with his father, a ceramics artisan, but he also did inherit the Third’s magnet release - because of his flare for the aesthetic, Yasumi specifically uses cobalt sand for his jutsu.
Since he’s younger than Sasori, I imagine that in this role swap scenario, he wouldn’t have defected from Suna until much later than Sasori did in canon - likely shortly after Gaara’s birth. I also decided to give Sasori Yasumi’s favored puppet in this art - it’s called Kujaku!
Fun fact: the main AU where this ship actually pans out is one where Kiki accidentally averts the Fourth Shinobi War by converting the Akatsuki to a theater troupe one member at a time. It’s a very dumbsilly idea but also I’m very fond of it.
Also I had a lot of fun with the color on this one.
Sakumo is called away for a mission on the eve of his child’s birth.
Word Count: 2,229
Warnings: pregnancy, character death
#
Takane is awoken by the clinking of kunai. In the dismal shadows of her bedroom, she can just make out the outline of her husband. Sakumo looks frenzied, his silver hair reflecting the minimal light of the moon which manages to seep in through the curtains.
“Sakumo, what’s going on?”
His eyes shine when he looks at her, pupils wide and alert.
“I’ve been summoned for a mission. I have to leave immediately.”
Takane shoots up too quickly and she’s dizzy by the time she’s fully upright. Sakumo is there in an instant—arms around her shoulders to steady her. It’s become a common occurrence; the closer she comes to her due date, the more easily she is lightheaded.
“Not so fast, my love.”
Takane shakes her head. She doesn’t care about dizzy spells right now. All that matters is what he’s just told her.
“You’re leaving.” It’s not so much a question as an accusation. She places a soothing hand on her belly where her baby is kicking in angry protest at the unusual movement at such an hour. Sakumo joins her, laying his palm on the protrusion of her stomach and then bending down to give it a quick kiss, murmuring something vaguely reassuring before his lips find Takane’s forehead. All too quickly, his lips are gone and he returns to his pack to continue sorting through his equipment.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “I don’t have a choice.” He snaps open a scroll, eyes scanning the parchment in the dark before he rolls it back up and shoves it into his pack. “You know if I did there’s nowhere I would be but here.”
Taken stands, worry drawn taut between her eyebrows, the corners of her mouth turned down. The baby kicks again and she rubs soothing circles over her stomach as she wanders out of the room. It feels too stifling, the scent of soldier pills and weapons oil too potent.
The air is clearer in the main part of the house, once she makes it down the hallway—pointedly walking past the room intended for their coming baby because she knows the sight of it now will only make her cry. It’s brighter in the kitchen—moonlight streaming in through the large window over the sink and the sliding doors that lead to the garden, the thin paper translucent enough it glows almost like a lantern.
“Takane.”
When she turns to look at her husband, he’s already got his pack slung over his shoulder and the sight of it—the realization that he is really leaving; that he may not be here when she goes into labor as he promised—pulls a choked, mournful sound from her throat. She covers her mouth with a hand to try and stifle the noise, but it does nothing to tamper the effect it has on Sakumo.
He moves quicker than any shinobi she’s ever seen, crosses the house in less than half a breath to wrap her in his arms, to tuck her face against his neck where her warm tears dribble beneath the neckline of his uniform to gather in the dip of his collarbone.
“It’s okay,” he whispers against her hair, but she shakes her head.
“You don’t know that.”
Takane knows she is being too emotional—that her hormones should not outweigh her duties as a shinobi, even if she is on leave. But the thought of losing Sakumo now, of giving birth to his child without him present, is overwhelming. It makes her feel like she is trapped in a water prison, lungs caving in as they try to hold on to the last precious molecules of oxygen remaining to them.
Sakumo smooths her dark hair back and drags his palm over her cheek, the pad of his thumb resting against the beauty mark at the edge of her lip.
“I promise you I will be back in time,” he says, giving her his best reassuring smile. And though she wants to believe him, she can’t—there is a sharp tug somewhere in her chest that reminds her he could die at any moment.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He pulls away, frowning now himself, and Takane misses his warmth immediately, as she always does. The house is always too cold when he is away—the Hatake Estate, though small by the standards of many of Konoha’s largest clans—is too large for one person to wander the halls alone, even if that person has a second small soul nestled safely within them.
The smell of sulfur and flint draws her attention and Takane turns to find Sakumo licking his thumb as he kneels over a scroll, a smear of blood across the page and a small dog sitting in the middle.
“Takane, meet Pakkun,” he says, flashing his wife a warm smile.
Taken has met several of Sakumo’s ninken before. But those hounds had been large and fierce, with sharp teeth and intelligent eyes.
The one sitting in her house now is none of those things. It is small, with a wrinkled face and bored, flat gaze. It looks more like a trinket won at a festival than a ninja hound.
“Pakkun is the newest member of our pack,” Sakumo says. He holds a hand out to her and she walks toward him—drawn to him as she has always been, no matter the circumstance.
“He’s a runt,” she says archly.
Sakumo grimaces, opening his mouth to reply—to defend the small creature’s merits, no doubt—but a gruff voice cuts him off.
“I’m not a runt. I’m a pug.”
Takane scoffs. “And what good is a pug to a shinobi?”
The little dog growls low in his belly. Were he in any way intimidating, Takane might have been scared. Instead, she only rolls her eyes.
“Pakkun, that’s enough.”
The growling stops immediately and Takane chuckles a little, though she stops, too, when Sakumo shoots her a serious look, equally as chastised.
“Sorry,” she and the ninken say in unison.
Sakumo looks up at his wife with an expression that could only be characterized as pure and true affection; love deeper than the Naka River and as blazingly fierce as the Will of Fire itself. “I’m sorry I have to leave, but I promise I will be back as soon as I can.” She nods, though the sharp prickle of tears returns to her eyes, her nose suddenly stuffy. “Give me your hand.”
Takane holds her left hand out and Sakumo takes it between his palms. When he brings a kunai to her index finger, eyes locked with hers, she understands what he means to do, but still gasps gently when he slices it open. After she signs the summoning contract, Sakumo presses his lips to her finger tenderly. When he pulls away, Takane heals herself, her technique casting a soft green glow through the darkness.
“If you need me, you can summon Pakkun and he will find me,” Sakumo says as he pulls his wife into one last embrace before he leaves. “I will return as quickly as possible. I will be here when our child is born.”
It’s a promise made by Konoha’s White Fang—not an assertion to take lightly. Takane is still not sure she believes it as she watches him disappear into the night. But she knows hope is as important a weapon as a shuriken, and so she holds tightly to it.
Now in her eighth month of pregnancy, Takane can no longer wear her wedding band—the intricately carved jade ring instead hangs on a ribbon she ties around her neck. As she wanders back toward her bedroom, she pulls the strand from beneath her yukata. She runs her newly healed fingertip over the carvings as she slides back into bed, but the cool stone surface a poor substitute for the warmth of her husband’s body.
When she feels a slight movement on the mattress, Takane turns to find Pakkun making himself comfortable at her left side, turning in circles against the comforter emblazoned with the Hatake clan crest.
Takane frowns. “I signed that contract so I could summon you if you were needed.” Pakkun’s dark eyes glint in the darkness, but he says nothing. “So you can go, now,” she says.
“When your pup comes, you’ll be too distracted to remember to summon me,” he says flatly, letting his eyes slide closed. “It’s better if I stay.”
Takane wants to tell him to leave if for no other reason than on principle. She is a shinobi of the Leaf and should be strong enough to handle a little solitude. Instead, she sighs and settles back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling as she wills herself not to think of all the exceedingly dangerous situations Sakumo might get himself into before he returns home.
If he returns home.
She wills herself not to cry, cradling her belly with her hands; silently promising her unborn child that whatever happens, she will protect them. She will love them, even if she has to love them enough for two parents—
The gruff voice of the ninken at her side startles her. “If you want,” Pakkun says, “you can pet my ears. They’re very soft.”
Despite her best efforts, Takane laughs. It’s a ridiculous offer—no amount of soft fur could make up for the absence of her husband at such an important and delicate time.
Still, she reaches out in the dark and finds the pug’s wrinkled face, trailing her fingers over to his ears. They feel like velvet between her fingers and she falls asleep stroking them gently.
#
Kakashi signs his summoning contract when he is barely six years old. Immediately after he adds his name to the long line of Hatake men and women, Sakumo wraps a bandage around his barely bleeding finger and Kakashi reads the other names while he waits for his father to finish.
But while Kakashi expects Sakumo’s name to be the most recent one, the one just above his own, instead what he finds are familiar characters between the lines showing their own names.
Takane Hatake.
The same name scrawled in his father’s inelegant handwriting on the modest shrine in their living room.
Kakashi knows that Takane was his mother. Even now, he knows he is not supposed to talk about her—that doing so carries with it a dark shadow that pulls itself over Sakumo like a shroud. But seeing her name there, Kakashi cannot help but wonder about her more acutely than he ever has.
“Okay, Kakashi. Go ahead and try.”
When Kakashi uses the summoning jutsu for the first time, he is met by a small dog with a dull, bored expression that matches his own.
“Yo,” the dog says, “you must be the pup.”
Kakashi scoffs, indignant. “I’m not a pup, I’m a ninja. You’re the pup.”
The dog growls until Sakumo scolds him.
“Be nice, Pakkun. This is my son, Kakashi.” Sakumo turns to Kakashi and offers him a thin, weary smile. “Pakkun is one of the best ninken I’ve ever worked with. He…” There is the shroud, though it passes much more quickly than usual. “He even took care of your mother for me once when I had to be away,” Sakumo says quietly. “I’m sure he’ll take good care of you, too.”
Kakashi doubts that very much, and the dubious look he sends the dog’s way makes that much clear.
Still, when Sakumo disappears on his next mission in the middle of the night, Kakashi makes an excuse to summon Pakkun. “Scent training,” he says when prompted, “I want you to help me sharpen my sense of smell.”
They train long into the evening, Pakkun scoffing as Kakashi tries to push chakra into his nostrils, to focus the sense of smell until he can detect which room of the house Pakkun has just visited. He doesn’t get any of them right and he finally has to admit defeat when he starts yawning so wide tears spring to his eyes.
“That’s all for tonight, Pakkun,” he says, “you can go, now.”
Kakashi pads his way to his bedroom, flopping onto his bed heavily.
He had hoped his father might be back by now, but it seems he is meant to spend another night alone in the dark, empty Hatake clan home.
Kakashi feels the pug before he smells him, which is not at all encouraging. Pakkun settles onto the bed as if it is the most natural place for him to be.
“What are you doing?” Kakashi asks, tone flat and acidic. “I said you can go.”
Pakkun ignores him, circling a few times before settling down with a huff.
“Your mother used to like to pet my ears when she was nervous,” Pakkun says for no discernible reason, “maybe you’d like it, too.”
Kakashi has half a mind to send the pug away by force, but the mention of his mother is enticing—too much so for him to pass it up. So instead of dismissing the ninken in a puff of smoke, Kakashi reaches out and lays his fingers on Pakkun’s ears.
They feel like velvet between his fingers and he wonders if Takane might have thought the same.
Spending his weekend at a track meet wasn’t Sakumo’s idea of a good time. There were too many people crowded into the building, some of them chatting amongst themselves making bets on which runner they think would win, some shoving their way through towards the little shops for snacks or school merch.
A weekend relaxing in his apartment playing videogames, or practicing at the basketball court with Jiraiya were things he would much rather be doing, but Sakumo had no real choice. As soon as Dai had started lamenting about having no one to watch his race he knew he was done for.
It would be cruel to leave his friend alone for such an important event, even if track wasn’t something he was looking forward to watching.
“It can’t be that bad,” Tsunade attempted to comfort him while holding out a cup in offering. If he trusted her to be offering him pop, Sakumo would be willing to accept, but he knew deep down there was vodka or rum in that cup. There always was when it came to Tsunade. “One race and we can leave, right?”
“He’s running in the fourth race.” That meant they had to sit through three boring races. Watch three groups of people doing five laps around the track before Dai would finally be up for his race.
“Well…it could be worse?”
She was right about that. He could have invited Jiraiya to join them and then they’d be stuck waiting for Dai’s race while watching Jiraiya flirt with everyone with two legs and long hair.
“Let’s just get to our spot,” he insisted, pushing his way through the crowd in a desperate attempt to get to the bleachers. “We can find a nice spot, settle in and relax.”
Maybe they’d have enough room to breath.
Sakumo was about to make his way past another little group huddled around each other, when out of no where someone smacked right into him. To make matters worse, they collided with him so hard that Sakumo was knocked off balance and sent crashing to the floor.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” a voice called out. “Are you alright?”
Rubbing his chest, Sakumo looked up towards the person who had so easily knocked him down, ready to apologize for getting in their way. Where he expected to find an absolute tank of a human, he instead found himself staring at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
With long brown hair tied back into a high pony tail, brilliant brown eyes staring down at him, and a smile that could kill a man on the spot, Sakumo could only respond with a grunt as all thoughts vanishing from his brain.
“Really?” Tsunade sighed behind him.
“Here,” a hand stretched out towards him. “I’ll help you up.”
Unable to respond with words, Sakumo simply took the offered hand and gasped when he was pulled to his feet effortlessly. Apparently he had not only met the most beautiful woman in the world, but one who could almost match Tsunade in strength.
What a lucky day.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” She leaned in, examining his face while he stared at her with what he could only assume was the dumbest expression ever based on the way Tsunade was snickering behind him. “I should have been paying attention. I’m sorry.’
“N-no it’s ok,” he assured her. “It’s a rather crowded place. I can’t blame you for not seeing me among all the people.”
“Really?” she tilted his head. “Huh, usually I’d notice someone as handsome as you easily.”
“Sakumo if you don’t flirt with her I will,” Tsunade promised through tears of laughter. “no, scratch that. I’ll flirt with her regardless.”
Seeing an honest threat for what it was, Sakumo placed himself strategically between his friend and the beauty of a woman who had quite literally knocked the wind out of him. “my name’s Sakumo,” he cringed when he realized that Tsunade had just given up his name before him. “I, uh…”
“Yua,” she smiled the most beautiful smile Sakumo had ever seen. Nothing extravagant or brilliant, but simple and delightful. With her mouth curving upwards and her eyes closing, as if the joy was too much for her to keep them open. “Are you here to race?”
“No…”
“To watch then?” she opened her eyes and leaned in a bit closer, excitement evident not in the expression on her face, but in the way her eyes twinkled.
“Ya.”
“Well, that’s a little unfortunate,” the smile didn’t leave her face for even a second. “It would have been fun to see you race.”
“You’re both terrible at flirting,” Tsunade complained behind him, gasping when he reached back and knocked the drink out of her hand. “Sakumo!”
“Sorry,” he smiled back at her, quickly retrieving his wallet from his back pocket and holding it out towards her. “How about you go get us some more drinks?”
Puffing out her cheeks, Tsunade snatched the wallet from her. “If I just lost my drink and you don’t get a date, I’m going to kick your ass.” She warned before stomping off.
A threat he knew better than to underestimate. Tsunade would destroy him as soon as she got the chance.
“A date?” his face felt like it was on fire, heat rising all the way up into his ears as Yua leaned in a bit closer. So close that her face was just a few inches away from his own. “We just met.”
“Well, Ya. I mean…” some days he wondered why he was friends with Tsunade. It seemed like her main goal in life was to embarrass him into an early grave and his anxiety simply did not need that. He suffered enough without having terrible friends making a spectacle out of him in front of beautiful women. “You don’t have to of course. She’s just joking.”
She wasn’t, but Yua did not need to know that.
“Mmm, I’m not sure. She seemed pretty serious,” Yua continued to hover there in front of him, the smell of old books filling his nostrils. As if he was standing in the middle of a library instead of amongst a sweaty crowd of people. “I might have to take you out just to get her off of your back.”
“I-“
“Senpai!” Straightening herself up, Yua glanced behind herself as someone else broke through the crowd. A little shorter than them both, he had long dark grey and sharp eyes that immediately focused on Sakumo. “Your race is next. Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”
“Oh,” Yua chuckled. “Right, sorry.” Holding up a hand, she waved towards Sakumo. “I really shouldn’t be late for my race. How about we meet at the Dango stand after?”
“the dango stand,” he nodded, captivated by that smile once again. “I’ll be there.”
“See you then.” Turning her back to him, Yua began making her way through the crowd once more, her friend hot on her tail. Though, he did stop long enough to look back at Sakumo once more. Not with a look of anger or hatred, but with curiosity. As if he was examining Sakumo.
Then, in the blink of an eye they were both gone. Vanished amongst a sea of people.
“Yua,” the name tasted sweet on his tongue. Like a treat he hadn’t known he needed until this very moment. “maybe this weekend isn’t such a bust after all.”
If he was quick he could get to the bleachers in time for Yua’s race so he could cheer her on. It wouldn’t be going against Dai, since his race wasn’t for a while still. All he had to do was make sure Tsunade didn’t follow him to the dango stall after.
The last thing he needed was competition. Anyone with a brain would choose Tsunade over him, and he wanted this to work out in his favour for once. It was him who ended up on his ass after all.
He deserved a date with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“Legend says if you dance on the fountains water base and your heart is pure, your wish will come true. A beautiful tale, don’t you think?”
“How many wishes have you had; granted; may I ask?” Shino asked in a tone that Tenten heavily assumed meant he was incredibly sceptical. [Shino x Tenten] [Shibi x OC]
@narutoocshipweek - Day 2 Prompt: Parents
Warnings: Mild Swearing.
Alternative Chapter Link: [Ao3🔗]
Read From The Beginning: [Ao3🔗]
Ao3 ✨ |Story Request Bingo Cards 📖 | WIP Game Always Open ✒️| Hot Chocolate ☕
