slip of the tongue | rxssengan
Evenings in which the others went off on their missions, leaving Kakashi to his own devices, it never seemed to stay that way. While he would absolutely love to spend his evening in solitude, a certain blond would always have other plans.
Really, he ought to talk to someone about their mission placement, they always so conveniently leave he and Naruto off on the same time, don't they? Often, he'll ask himself; can't I just tell him no? Well, of course he could, but he always found himself caving when it came to the boy. It made sense, why. Was he not the embodiment of the two people most important to him second his father who took him in and cared for him? Was Naruto not the son of his sensei? Kakashi contemplates this, while Naruto chows down on his third (or is it fifth?) bowl of ramen, letting his mind wander back to them-- to Kushina, all fiery hair and personality. To Minato, who once upon a time he may have held an infatuation with in the time before his Hokage candidacy. How they were so ingrained in his life upon the death of his father, how he missed them-- How when he looked at Naruto he saw the spitting image of his father. How he'd grown.
A thought crosses him, just a general inquiry as to the the status of his last mission, and he opens his mouth to speak;
"Maa, Minato-sense--" It's cut short, and eyebrows knit as he catches himself. "Naruto. How was your mission the other day?" Though, his voice trails off at the end, as he knows he can't simply recover from something so drastic as that.
