Chapter 3: The First Night
The week that followed was a blur of sleepless nights and stolen moments.
Kakashi had never known exhaustion like this—a bone-deep weariness that made his eyelids feel like sandpaper and his thoughts move through molasses. But he'd also never known anything like the feeling of Karu's small body curled against his chest, the weight of that tiny head nestled in the crook of his neck, the soft puff of breath against his collarbone.
Sakura was a natural. She woke at every whimper, moved on instinct, her body attuned to rhythms that Kakashi could barely perceive. She breastfed with a quiet focus, her eyes locked on Karu's face like she was memorizing every detail. She sang to him in a low, off-key voice, songs she half-remembered from her own childhood, and Karu would stare up at her with those impossibly blue eyes, as if she were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.
"You should sleep," Kakashi said, leaning against the nursery doorway. It was three in the morning, and the apartment was dark except for the soft glow of the lamp in the corner. Sakura was in the rocking chair, Karu cradled against her chest, her pink hair spilling over her shoulders like a river of silk.
"I know." She didn't look up. "I will. In a minute."
"That's what you said an hour ago."
"That's because an hour ago, I meant it." She finally looked at him, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but she was smiling. "He just ate. He's almost asleep. I don't want to move and wake him up."
Kakashi crossed the room, his bare feet silent on the hardwood. He crouched beside the rocking chair, reaching out to brush his fingers over Karu's cheek. The baby stirred, his mouth making small, reflexive movements, but he didn't wake.
"He's so tiny," Kakashi murmured. "I keep expecting him to disappear."
"He's not going anywhere."
"I know. But I can't seem to convince my brain of that."
Sakura reached out with her free hand, finding his. Her fingers were warm, slightly calloused from hours of holding her son—their son—and they fit against his like they'd been made for it. She squeezed, a gentle pressure that said more than words could.
"Can you get the bassinet ready?" she asked. "I think he's down."
Kakashi stood, moving to the corner of the room where the bassinet waited. The sheet was soft, pale yellow, with tiny stars printed across the fabric. He smoothed it down, fluffing the edges, making sure everything was just right.
"You know that's not going to make it more comfortable, right?" Sakura said, a teasing edge in her voice.
"I'm being thorough."
"You're being obsessive."
"There's a difference?"
She laughed, a quiet huff of air, and carefully rose from the rocking chair. She crossed to the bassinet, her movements slow and deliberate, and laid Karu down with the tenderness of someone handling something infinitely precious. The baby barely stirred. His small hands curled into fists, his lips puckered, and he settled into sleep with a soft, satisfied sigh.
Sakura stood there, staring down at him.
"He's perfect," she whispered.
Kakashi came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her against his chest. She leaned into him, her head falling back against his shoulder, and they stood there together, watching their son sleep.
"I can't believe we made him," she said.
"I can." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "You did all the hard work."
"We did the hard work. You held my hand through all of it. You talked to him every night."
"That was just me practicing my monologues."
She laughed, a soft, tired sound. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously reliable," he reminded her.
---
They collapsed onto the couch in the living room, too exhausted to make it to the bedroom. The apartment was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the faint sound of a lullaby playing from the old radio in the corner. Kakashi had turned it on earlier, hoping the music would soothe Karu, and they'd left it playing in the background.
Sakura curled into his side, her feet tucked beneath her, her head resting on his chest. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and even. Kakashi thought she might be asleep, but then she shifted, nuzzling closer.
"I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop," she said quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"When I was pregnant, I kept waiting for something to go wrong. And then when he was born, I kept waiting for the doctors to tell me there was a problem. And now he's home, and he's healthy, and he's perfect, and I keep thinking—" Her voice cracked. "I keep thinking this is too good to be true."
Kakashi's arms tightened around her. "It's not too good to be true. It's just true."
"how do you know?"
"Because I'm here. I can feel you. I can hear him breathing." He glanced toward the nursery, where the baby monitor sat on the coffee table, a faint blue light blinking in the dark. "And I've never done this before, so I don't have a lot of experience with good things lasting. But I've also never wanted one to last as much as I want this one to."
She was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly, "That's the most romantic thing you've ever said."
"It's not romance. It's just honesty."
"Same thing, in your case."
He laughed, a low rumble in his chest. "Sakura, can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
He hesitated. The words were heavy in his throat, and he wasn't sure how to shape them. But he'd been thinking about this for weeks, and the thought had only grown stronger with time.
"What happens now?"
Sakura lifted her head, looking at him with a puzzled expression. "What do you mean?"
"I mean—" He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture nervous and uncertain. "We have a son. We have a house we painted together. We have cranes hanging over his crib that I folded in secret because I wanted to give him something made by hand. And I'm in love with you. I have been for a while."
Her breath caught.
"But we've never actually talked about it. About what this is. About where we're going. We just—fell into it, and I need to know if you're on the same page."
She was staring at him, her green eyes wide and unreadable. The silence stretched, thin and fragile.
"Sakura?"
"I'm sorry." She blinked, shaking her head slightly. "I just—I didn't expect you to say that. I didn't expect you to bring it up."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No." Her voice was firm. "No, it's not a bad thing. It's just—" She swallowed. "I've spent so long expecting you to realize you don't want this that I don't know how to handle you actually saying you do."
Kakashi reached up, cupping her cheek. His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, gentle and tender.
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," he said. "And I don't know what the future looks like. I don't know how we're going to handle the sleepless nights or the terrible twos or the teenage years. I don't know how we're going to pay for Karu's college or what we're going to do when he inevitably breaks his arm falling out of a tree or gets his heart broken by someone who doesn't deserve him. I don't know any of that."
Her eyes were shining.
"But I know I want to figure it out with you. I know I want to be there for all of it. And I know—" He paused, his voice dropping. "I know I want to marry you."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and fragile.
Sakura's lips parted. She looked at him, searchingly, like she was trying to find the catch.
"Y-you want to marry me?"
"I do. I'm not proposing right now—I don't have a ring, and we're both exhausted, and I want to do this properly. But I'm telling you that's where I'm headed. That's where I want to go."
She didn't say anything. She just stared at him, and then her eyes welled up, and she began to cry.
"Sakura—"
"Sorry. Sorry." She wiped at her face, laughing and crying at the same time. "I'm not—I don't know why I'm crying. I'm just—" She took a shaky breath. "I've always imagined having a family. Growing up, I used to picture it. The house and the kids and the person who came home at the end of the day and wrapped their arms around me and made everything feel safe."
"That sounds nice."
"It was—it is. But I stopped believing it would happen. After my ex, after everything that happened with him and the pregnancy, I stopped believing I'd ever have that. I was ready to do it alone. I was ready to be enough for Karu by myself."
"You are enough," Kakashi said. "You're more than enough."
"But I don't want to do it alone." Her voice cracked. "I want you. I want this. I want to wake up in the morning and see your face. I want to watch Karu grow up with you. I want to build a family with you."
He pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her in a fierce embrace. She buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and he held her through it.
"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured into her hair. "I promise you. I'm not going anywhere."
They stayed like that for a long time, tangled together on the couch, the lullaby still playing from the radio. The night pressed against the windows, dark and quiet, and the apartment was warm with the soft glow of the lamp and the weight of their shared breath.
Eventually, Sakura pulled back, her face blotchy and damp, but her eyes were clear.
"When you do propose," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips, "you need to make it good. I've been waiting a long time for this."
Kakashi laughed, the tension in his chest finally loosening. "I'll do my best."
"Your best better be spectacular."
"I'm a literature teacher. I know a thing or two about romance."
"Then you should know that the romance comes from the details. The little things. The thing that makes me feel like you see me and want me and won't ever let go."
Kakashi reached up, brushing a strand of pink hair from her face. "I see you, Sakura. I want you. And I'm never letting go."
Her smile widened, real and bright. "Good."
He kissed her then—deep and slow and full of promise. Her lips parted, and she sighed against him, melting into the embrace. It was a kiss that tasted like tears and hope and the quiet certainty of something new beginning.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you too."
She pulled him into another kiss, and then another, until they were lost in each other. The lullaby played on, soft and sweet, and somewhere in the nursery, Karu slept, dreaming of whatever newborns dream of.
They fell asleep on the couch, tangled together, their hands intertwined. The lamp cast a warm glow over them, and the night wrapped around them like a blanket. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them needed to.
In the morning, they would wake up to Karu's cries and the chaos of another day. They'd figure it out as they went, making mistakes and learning as they grew. But for now, in this quiet moment, they had everything they needed.
The silence was a promise. The future was unwritten.
And they were exactly where they were meant to be.
The morning came too fast, a gray light filtering through the curtains and a thin wail cutting through the quiet. Kakashi's eyes snapped open, his body moving before his brain caught up, stumbling toward the nursery with the precision of someone who'd done this a hundred times in six weeks.
Karu was already red-faced, tiny fists flailing, his cries sharp and demanding. Kakashi scooped him up, cradling him against his chest, and the crying softened to hiccups.
"Hey, hey, easy there." His voice was rough with sleep. "You don't have to yell. I'm right here."
Karu's blue eyes blinked up at him, wet and confused, and then his small face crumpled again. Kakashi bounced him gently, patting his back in the rhythm he'd learned through trial and error.
"It's okay. You're okay."
Sakura appeared in the doorway, her hair a wild mess, a thin blanket wrapped around her shoulders. "Is he hungry?"
"Probably. He's got a set of lungs on him, that's for sure."
She crossed the room, taking Karu from his arms with the ease of someone who'd done this a thousand times. Her movements were automatic now, practiced, and Kakashi watched her settle into the rocking chair, watched her guide Karu to her breast, watched the way the baby's cries dissolved into contented suckling.
"Go back to sleep," she said. "I've got him."
"I don't think I can."
"Then make coffee."
He nodded, padding toward the kitchen. The apartment was still dark, still quiet, but the rhythm of it was familiar now. The coffee maker gurgled in the corner. The radio hummed static.
---
Six months passed like water through fingers.
Karu grew. It happened in fits and starts, in moments that seemed infinitesimal until they weren't. Suddenly, the newborn who'd barely fit in Kakashi's arms was holding his head up, rolling over, reaching for things with a determination that was almost alarming.
He laughed now. That was the thing that got Kakashi every time. Karu would be playing on his mat, a soft, quilted thing covered in stars and moons, and something would catch his attention—a toy, a shadow, Sakura's face—and he'd let out this gurgling, joyful laugh that made Kakashi's chest ache.
"You're going to be a heartbreaker," Kakashi told him one morning, lying on the floor beside him. Karu was on his back, his feet kicking at the air, a plush crane clutched in one fist. He'd started dragging it everywhere, the one Kakashi had folded during those quiet months before he was born.
Karu babbled at him, a string of nonsense syllables that sounded almost like a question.
"Really? You don't say."
Another babble, more insistent.
"Interesting. And then what happened?"
Karu's face scrunched up, delighted, and he kicked his feet harder. The crane waved in his fist like a flag.
Sakura appeared from the kitchen, a mug of coffee in one hand. She leaned against the doorframe, watching them with a soft smile. "He's trying to have a conversation with you."
"He's very opinionated."
"He gets it from you."
"No, he gets the opinionated thing from you. I'm just the funny one."
She laughed, crossing the room to crouch beside them. She reached out, tickling Karu's belly, and he squealed, squirming with joy.
"Who's my happy boy?" she cooed. "Who's my sunshine?"
Karu grabbed at her fingers, pulling them toward his mouth. She let him, laughing when he gummed at her knuckles.
"Hungry again?" She glanced at Kakashi. "He just ate."
"He's a growing boy. He needs fuel."
"You're basically describing yourself."
"I'm a growing boy too."
---
The return to work felt like stepping into a different world.
Kakashi stood in front of the full-length mirror in their bedroom, adjusting his tie, his mind a thousand miles away. The school semester had started again, and he'd been dreading this moment for weeks. He wasn't worried about teaching—that was muscle memory. He was worried about leaving them.
Sakura appeared behind him, Karu on her hip. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and there were dark circles under her eyes that hadn't been there a year ago. But she was smiling.
"Going somewhere?"
"Work." He turned to face her. "I don't have to go. I could take another week off. They'd understand."
"Kakashi, you've already taken three weeks off beyond your paternity leave. The school is going to start wondering if you're coming back at all."
"Maybe I'm not."
She laughed, but there was something soft in her eyes. "You love teaching. You've told me a hundred times. The kids, the books, the way you get to talk about symbolism for an hour and call it a lesson."
"That's true."
"So go. I'll be fine."
"You're sure?"
She shifted Karu to her other hip, her arms strong and sure. "We'll be fine. I've got a whole list of things to do today. Tummy time, some sensory play, and I'm going to try to get some work done while he naps."
Kakashi looked at them—his son, his partner, this strange and beautiful life he never expected to have. Karu babbled at him, reaching out with sticky fingers, and Kakashi took his hand, pressing a kiss to the small, warm palm.
"I'll be home by five," he said.
"We'll be here."
He bent down, pressing his forehead to Sakura's. "I love you."
"I love you too. Now go teach some teenagers something."
---
The school was the same as he'd left it. The same hallways, the same faces, the same smell of floor wax and stale coffee. Kakashi walked through it on autopilot, his mind still back in the apartment, still watching Sakura's face and Karu's reaching fingers.
His first class was seniors. AP Literature. Bright, anxious kids who were already thinking about college applications and final exams. They looked at him with the same mixture of reverence and boredom they always did.
"Mr. Hatake, you have a baby now, right?"
He looked up from his desk. A girl in the front row—Yuki, he thought, with her purple-streaked hair and perpetually curious eyes—was watching him expectantly.
"Did you hear about that in the tabloids?"
She laughed. "No, I heard it from the faculty lounge. Mrs. Saito won't stop talking about the ultrasonogram you showed her."
"That—" He cleared his throat. "That was supposed to be private."
"As if anything in this school stays private."
He sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, I have a son. Karu. He's six months old."
"That's so cute. Do you have pictures?"
And then, somehow, he was showing them his phone. Karu's first smile. Karu's first tummy time session. Karu wrapped in the yellow blanket Sakura had bought from that little store downtown. Karu in Kakashi's arms, laughing at something invisible.
"Okay, okay, that's enough." He pocketed his phone. "We have a test to review."
But the warmth that spread through his chest lingered long after the class ended. He was a father. He had a son. And he caught himself smiling at odd moments, thinking about small hands and tiny feet and the way Karu's whole face lit up when he walked in the room.
---
The days fell into a rhythm.
Mornings were chaos. Sakura would wake with Karu, feed him, change him, while Kakashi stumbled through his own routine. They traded off the early shifts, taking turns sleeping in, swallowing coffee like it was the only thing keeping them upright. The apartment was a battlefield of toys and burp cloths and half-empty bottles.
But there was a sweetness to it, too. The way Karu would reach for him when he came home, face splitting into a grin that seemed too big for his face. The way Sakura would meet him at the door, exhausted but happy, leaning into him with a sigh that said she'd been waiting for this moment all day.
"I've got him," Kakashi would say, and he'd lift Karu from her arms, feeling the small weight settle against his chest.
And Karu would nestle in, like he'd been waiting for this exact spot all day.
"You're his favorite," Sakura would say, a hint of jealousy in her voice.
"He doesn't have favorites. He's six months old."
"Then why does he always want you?"
"Because I'm more interesting than you."
She'd swat his arm, but she'd be laughing. And then she'd lean in, kissing the side of his neck, her hand slotting into his like it belonged there.
---
But the guilt stayed, a low hum in the back of Kakashi's mind.
He'd catch himself watching Sakura in those quiet moments. The way she'd bounce Karu on her knee while trying to sketch, her laptop balanced precariously beside them. The way her hair would be pulled back in a hasty ponytail with pieces falling loose, and how her eyes would be fixed on their son, alert and sleepless.
"You look tired," he said one evening. The dinner dishes sat in the sink, Karu was down for the night, and Sakura had collapsed onto the couch with no ceremony.
"Tired, I can handle. It's the constant work. I love him, but sometimes I pretend I'm getting something done and it's just—" She gestured vaguely. "Nothing. I feel like everything's spinning and I'm barely holding on."
"Then let me help more."
"You're already helping. You're here. You're present. That's more than I ever expected."
"I mean at night. I can take the late shift more often. You could sleep."
Sakura shook her head. "No. You need sleep. You're teaching."
"I can teach without sleep."
"That sounds like a bad idea."
"That sounds like every teacher I've ever known."
She laughed, but it faded quickly. She looked at her hands, where the skin was dry from washing bottles, the cuticles frayed. "I don't want to burden you. That's all I've ever been afraid of. Being a burden."
"Then you should know you never have been. Not once."
She looked up at him, her eyes wet but her smile steady. "You always know what to say."
"I just say what I'm thinking. Which means I'm probably saying too much."
"No, it's perfect. You keep saying the right thing at the right time. It's annoying."
He pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest, letting him hold her.
"Try not to grind your teeth while you're doing it," she said.
"Deal."
---
Months bled together. Winter melted into spring, then summer, then autumn again.
Karu continued to grow. By the time he was six months old, he was a bundle of constant motion—rolling across the rug with the determination of someone trying to cross a room, grabbing at anything orange or shiny—the cat, when he managed to get near it. Kakashi's apartment, once so spare and orderly, was now scattered with the bright clutter of a child. Blocks strewn across the floor, teething rings on the coffee table.
One night, Kakashi came home to find Sakura and Karu in the living room, the old 60s lullaby record playing. Sakura was on the floor, Karu propped against her thighs, their shadows long and low in the lamp light. Her hand moved in gentle circles over his back, and Karu was watching her as if she were his whole universe.
"Mama," he babbled. "Mama."
"Did you hear that?" Sakura's face was a mix of awe and rapture. "He said it. He said 'mama.'"
"That's—" Kakashi crouched beside them, his own chest doing something complicated. "I think he just started making sounds. I don't think he means—"
"Do not ruin this for me," Sakura said, her grin taking the sting out of her words. "My son just said my name."
"He said 'mama.'"
"Exactly."
Kakashi watched them, the warmth in his chest expanding until it felt too big for his body. Karu's small mouth worked, trying to form more words, and Kakashi reached out, brushing his fingers over the fine, dark hair.
"What about me?" he asked. "Do I get a 'papa'?"
The baby looked at him, a complex little wrinkle forming on his forehead, as if the question had real weight. Then he kicked his feet and babbled something that sounded vaguely like "gah, gah."
"A for effort," Kakashi said dryly.
Sakura laughed, but her eyes were soft and sparkling. "He'll get it. You just have to keep talking at him."
"That's what I hear."
He settled onto the floor beside them, leaning back against the couch. Sakura shifted Karu, placing him on Kakashi's chest. The weight of the baby was familiar now, the small hands patting his shirt with uncertain curiosity.
"Did you have a good day?" Sakura asked.
"Same as always. Probably old students, new students, half asleep during my lecture."
"You're better than that."
"I'm learning."
They sat there in the quiet, the song spinning on, and Kakashi felt the tension of the day loosen from his shoulders. Karu's head was tucked under his chin, breathing even and steady. In his chest, he held a litany of things he wanted to say. Instead, he asked, "What if we made it official?"
Sakura turned her head to look at him. "Official how?"
"Married. Soon. Not a big thing. A small ceremony with the people who matter. Something that tells Karu, and everyone else, that we're a family. That we're not going anywhere."
She was quiet for a long moment. Then, in a voice that was quiet and certain, "You really mean that."
"I really, truly mean it."
The space between them seemed to narrow, the words carrying all the weight they'd been carrying for months. She reached across, her hand finding his, her fingers threading through.
"Then yes," she said. "I'll marry you."
Kakashi pulled her close, Karu squished between them, the baby letting out a sleepy protest. And they stayed like that, clinging to a future they could finally touch, her forehead against his, knowing that whatever came next, they would walk into it together.