Chapter 5: The Storm
The evening had been quiet, almost unnaturally so.
They'd put Karu down at seven, his small body already curling into sleep as soon as his head hit the mattress. Sakura had stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers twitched in his sleep. A year old. A whole year of this tiny person, and still, every time she looked at him, she felt like she was seeing him for the first time.
Kakashi had found her there, his hand settling on her lower back. "You're doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you stare at him like he's going to disappear."
She'd laughed, but it was hollow. "I can't help it."
"I know." He'd pressed a kiss to her temple. "Come on. Let's give him some space."
They'd settled on the couch, a movie playing on the TV that neither of them was really watching. Sakura had her legs draped over Kakashi's lap, a book open in her hands that she'd read the same page of three times. He was grading essays, the red pen moving in slow, deliberate strokes.
The first rumble of thunder came at nine-forty-seven.
Sakura felt it more than heard it—a vibration in the floorboards, a tremor that ran through the walls. She looked up, frowning. "Was that—"
"Storm," Kakashi said, not looking up from his grading. "Forecast said it might hit around ten."
"You checked the forecast?"
"I check the forecast every day. I have a toddler. I need to know when we're going to be trapped inside."
She laughed, but it was cut short by another rumble, closer this time. The windows rattled in their frames, and the lamp on the side table flickered.
"That's not funny," she said.
"It's just thunder."
"I know it's thunder. But—" She trailed off, listening. The wind had picked up, whistling through the cracks in the window frames. The curtains stirred, even though the windows were closed. "I don't like it."
Kakashi set his pen down, giving her his full attention. "Are you scared of storms?"
"No. Karu is."
"He's asleep. He'll sleep through it."
The words had barely left his mouth when the sky split open.
Lightning, bright and violent, flashed through the curtains, illuminating the room in stark white. The thunder that followed was deafening—a crack that seemed to shake the very foundation of the house. Sakura flinched, her book falling from her hands.
And then, from down the hall, a scream.
---
Kakashi moved before he'd consciously decided to.
The sound of Karu's cry cut through him like a blade, sharp and primal, triggering something deep in his chest that he still wasn't sure he'd fully adjusted to. He was on his feet in an instant, the essay forgotten, the red pen clattering to the floor.
Sakura was right behind him, her footsteps quick and urgent on the hardwood. They reached the nursery together, Kakashi's hand hitting the light switch just as the power flickered and died.
Darkness.
Karu's screams intensified, his small body thrashing in the crib. Kakashi crossed the room in three strides, his hands finding the warm, trembling bundle of his son. Karu's arms went around his neck immediately, his little fingers digging into Kakashi's shirt with a grip that was surprisingly strong.
"Hey," Kakashi murmured, his voice low and steady. "Hey, I've got you. I've got you."
Karu's sobs were ragged, his chest heaving against Kakashi's. The lightning flashed again, illuminating the room in harsh white, and Karu screamed, burying his face in Kakashi's shoulder.
"Shh," Sakura said, her voice shaking. She was fumbling for something—a book, a blanket, anything. "Shh, baby, it's okay. We're here."
Another crack of thunder, closer this time. The whole house seemed to shudder. Karu wailed, his cry muffled against Kakashi's shirt.
"He's terrified," Sakura whispered.
"I know." Kakashi started to move, pacing the room in long, slow strides. He bounced Karu gently, his hand pressed flat against the baby's back. "I know, buddy. It's loud, right? It's scary. But you're okay. You're safe."
The words felt useless, too thin to penetrate the wall of fear. But he kept talking, kept murmuring nonsense syllables, because it was the only thing he knew to do.
"Dadada," Karu hiccuped, the word mangled by tears.
"Yeah," Kakashi said. "Daddy's here. Daddy's got you."
Sakura appeared at his side, her face pale in the intermittent light. She wrapped her arms around both of them, her cheek pressed against Karu's back, her breath warm against Kakashi's chest.
"Mommy's here too," she said. "We're not going anywhere."
---
The storm raged on.
Lightning strobed, thunder crashed, and the rain came down in sheets, lashing against the windows like it was trying to get in. Karu's screams had softened to shuddering sobs, but he still clutched Kakashi with a desperate grip, his small body trembling with each new boom.
Kakashi kept pacing. He didn't know how long they'd been at it—minutes, maybe an hour. Time had lost its meaning in the darkness. He hummed, the melody from a lullaby he'd learned somewhere, and the sound of it seemed to cut through the noise.
"That's the song you sang at the wedding," Sakura said, her voice barely audible.
"Is it?"
"The slow one. When you danced with Karu."
Oh. He hadn't realized he'd remembered it. But the melody was there, surfacing from somewhere buried deep.
He kept humming, his voice rough but steady. Karu's sobs began to slow, his breath hitching less violently with each passing verse. The shaking eased, inch by inch.
"S'okay," Karu said, the words muffled and slurred.
"Yeah," returned Kakashi, his own voice cracking slightly. "It's okay."
He looked down. Karu's eyes were closed, his lashes wet and spiky against his cheeks. He was still clinging to Kakashi's shirt, but his grip had loosened, his body finally starting to succumb to exhaustion.
Sakura let out a shaky breath. "He's falling asleep."
"He's exhausted. All that crying." They continued pacing, didn't stop, because stopping felt wrong, felt like a jinx. "I think the storm's passing."
She moved to the window, her silhouette limned in the faint glow of a distant streetlight. The rain had softened from a roar to a patter, and the thunder was a distant grumble now, a receding memory.
"Yeah," she said. "It's passing."
---
Kakashi lowered Karu into the crib with a gentleness he hadn't known he possessed.
The baby stirred, his face scrunching, but Kakashi's hand on his chest was steady, and he settled, his tiny fingers wrapping around Kakashi's thumb. His eyes opened, just a sliver, and he looked up at Kakashi with a trust that made something in Kakashi's chest ache.
"Stay," Karu mumbled, though it came out more like "staaaay."
"Always," Kakashi said.
He pulled his thumb free slowly in one fluid movement, waiting for a protest that never came. Karu had already drifted off, his breathing deep and even, one arm flung above his head.
Sakura was in the doorway, watching. Her hair was a mess, her face pale, and she was hugging her arms to her chest like she was trying to hold herself together.
"You're good at this," she said.
"I don't know about that."
"You are. You're the one who calmed him down. I couldn't—" Her voice cracked. "I couldn't handle seeing him that scared."
Kakashi crossed to her, pulling her into his arms. She collapsed against him, her forehead pressing into his collarbone. He held her, letting her shake in a way she never let herself do in front of anyone else. Her hands were cold against his skin, her fingers digging into his back.
"You washed his fear away, too," he murmured. "For the both of us."
---
They stood there, swaying in the near-darkness. In silence, their arms around each other. A quiet hum of the fridge from the kitchen and the patter of rain—the only sounds filling the space between them. And in the crib, Karu slept, his chest rising and falling steady, a rhythm that had become the soundtrack of their lives.
Sakura had eventually pulled away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I think we deserve a drink."
"I think we deserve several."
They'd retreated to the living room, a single candle flickering on the coffee table—the only light they had, since the power hadn't come back yet. Sakura had found a bottle of wine in the kitchen, and they were drinking it straight from the bottle, because glasses felt too formal for this kind of night.
"That was terrifying," she said.
"Fatherhood in a nutshell."
"No, I mean—" She hesitated, staring into the flame. "Seeing him like that. The way he screamed. I thought something was really wrong."
"There was something really wrong. He was scared, and he couldn't tell us why. That's the worst kind of wrong."
She looked at him, her eyes red-rimmed but steady. "You didn't panic."
"Inside, definitely."
"But on the outside, you were calm. You knew what to do. You acted, and you fixed it." She paused. "I couldn't have done that alone."
"Good thing you're not alone, then."
---
The moment stretched between them.
Kakashi looked away first, reaching for the candle, adjusting the wick with his fingers even though it didn't need adjusting. He was still processing what she'd said. The weight of these two people he loved more than anything else in the world.
"You know," he said, his voice carefully neutral, "I never thought I'd be good at this."
"What?
"Being a dad. I didn't have a great example growing up. I kind of figured I'd be a disaster."
Sakura shifted closer, her shoulder pressing against his. "What made you think you'd be a disaster?"
He shrugged, a dismissive gesture that didn't quite land. "I don't know. I'm not exactly the warm, fuzzy type. I like my space. I like my alone time. I thought I wouldn't know what to do with a tiny person who needs me every second of the day."
"Clearly you were wrong."
"I'm starting to realize that."
He said it lightly, but he saw her expression change—saw something soften and shatter at the same time. She reached up, touching the bare skin of his scarred cheek.
"The thing is," she said, "you didn't have a great example. But you're building your own. You're building a family that works. That's not a disaster, Kakashi. That's a miracle."
---
The storm had passed completely by midnight.
The rain stopped, the wind died down, and the power flickered back on with a hum that was almost startling. The living room flooded with light, harsh after the candle's warmth, and they both blinked, adjusting.
"We should probably go to bed," Sakura said.
"Yeah."
Neither of them moved. The candle guttered, then went out, leaving only the soft glow of the lamp.
"I'm going to check on Karu," Kakashi said, rising.
He made his way to the nursery, the familiar path second nature by now. He pushed the door open softly, his eyes finding the crib in the dim light filtering through the curtains. Karu had sprawled onto his stomach, his face smooshed against the mattress, his small back rising and falling with sleep. One of his hands was clutching a stuffed rabbit Sakura had bought at the farmer's market—a sweet little thing with floppy ears and a stitched patch over one eye.
Kakashi stood there, watching. He thought about how he'd never wanted this. How he'd always imagined his life as a solitary one, with his books and his essays and his quiet evenings. He thought about the moment Sakura had told him she was pregnant—the way his world had tilted on its axis, the way the future had suddenly looked like something he couldn't predict. He'd never considered that this could be the life he'd be living. Half the time, he still didn't believe it was real.
But here he was.
In a house with a toddler and a wife and a garden that was going to need weeding in the spring. In a life he'd never asked for but couldn't imagine giving up.
"Hey," Sakura said softly, appearing in the doorway. "You coming to bed?"
"Yeah." He turned, crossing to her. "I was just—thinking."
"About what?"
He looked back at the crib, at the small shadow of his son. "About how lucky we got."
She followed his gaze, and a small smile pulled at her lips. "He's perfect, isn't he?"
"He is. The perfect storm."
He saw her face inch into a grin. "That was terrible."
"Terrible puns, yeah. It's a dad thing."
"Please don't."
"I'm just getting started. Wait until we need to tell him about the birds and the bees. I've got a whole routine planned."
"Please stop."
"I will never stop. This is my purpose now."
She laughed, the sound stretching the silence, filling the dark of the house with something warm and alive. She stepped into him, her arms sliding around his waist, her head resting on his chest.
"I love you," she said.
And the words were—different, somehow. Emphasized by the night's scare and by the dimness all around them, by the sound of their son breathing in the next room. They felt like a promise, like a vow they'd made in the dark and were still keeping.
Kakashi pressed his lips to her hair, murmuring, "I love you too." The phrase was worn and true, a single, steady heartbeat of words. He held her there, in the doorway of their sleeping son's room. Waiting out a quiet moment, in a quiet house, in a quiet life he'd never imagined.
The storm had passed. The night was calm.
And they were still there. Still together. Still in love, in the aftermath.
Still in love, in the aftermath.
The morning came soft and grey, the kind of morning that made the world feel hushed, like it was still recovering from the storm. Kakashi woke to find Sakura's head on his chest, her pink hair spilling across his arm like a ribbon of dawn. He didn't move for a long moment, just listened to the sound of her breathing and the distant chirp of birds testing the air. The house smelled like rain and coffee, a quiet domestic ritual that had become his favorite kind of poetry.
Karu's voice shattered it, a delighted shriek that cut through the quiet like a knife. "Dada! Dada! DADA!"
Kakashi grinned against Sakura's hair. "He's up."
"Obviously." She didn't open her eyes, but her hand found his, squeezing. "Your turn."
"My turn was yesterday."
"Your turn is every day. You're the fun one."
He extracted himself carefully, pressing a kiss to her forehead before padding down the hall. Karu was standing in his crib, bouncing on chubby legs, his arms outstretched and his face flushed with excitement. His black hair was a mess of cowlicks, and there was a wet spot on his pajama shirt where he'd been chewing on the collar.
"Good morning, little menace," Kakashi said, scooping him up.
Karu immediately grabbed his mask, yanking it down. "Dada face!"
"That's a terrible way to say good morning."
"Dada face! Dada face!"
Sakura appeared in the doorway, bleary-eyed but smiling, her robe hanging off one shoulder. "He's got a point. You do have a face."
"I've always suspected."
---
The next few days were a blur of small moments and quiet routines.
The storm had left the garden a mess, and Kakashi spent a morning wrestling with a fallen branch while Karu supervised from the porch, pointing and offering unintelligible commentary. Sakura weeded the flower beds, her hands deep in the soil, her face turned up to the sun. They worked in comfortable silence, the kind that didn't need filling.
Karu's fascination with walking had grown into an obsession. He'd pull himself up on furniture, wobble, and drop back down with a frustrated grunt. He'd reach for things just out of reach, his tiny fingers straining, his face scrunched in concentration. He refused to hold onto the furniture anymore, releasing his grip and standing for a moment—just a moment—before toppling backward onto his padded bottom.
"Almost," Sakura said, clapping her hands. "You're so close, baby."
"Almo," Karu repeated, and Kakashi's heart did something complicated.
That evening, Karu had a falling-out with a teddy bear.
Kakashi walked into the nursery to find his son red-faced and screaming. The bear was sitting in the corner of the crib, looking deeply offended. Karu was clutching the rails, glaring at the stuffed animal with an intensity that was frankly terrifying for a one-year-old.
"What happened here?" Kakashi asked, eyebrow raised.
"Bear. Bad."
"Bad bear?"
"BAD!" Karu grabbed the bear with both hands and hurled it across the room with surprising force. It hit the wall with a soft thump and slid to the floor.
Sakura laughed from the doorway. "I think he's got a temper."
"He gets that from you."
"I do not have a temper."
"You once threw a pencil at me because I finished the last of your ice cream."
"That was justified."
---
Karu took his first steps on a Tuesday.
Within a quiet moment of pretending not to watch him, they saw him release the coffee table, steady himself, and take one hesitant step. Then another. His knees wobbled so much he looked like a weeble at war with its own physics. Tension held the room until his lips curved into a giddy, tottering grin.
Sakura let out a gasp she'd been holding onto. "Oh my god. He's doing it."
"Dada," Karu said, his voice pitched high with glee. "Dada! Look!"
Kakashi was already crouched low, his arms outstretched. "I see you, buddy. Keep going."
He swayed, his face scrunching in concentration. His little legs pumped, each step a deliberate, fierce effort. Kakashi kept his eyes locked on him, a landing strip of open arms.
And then he crossed the last few feet, all but toppling into Kakashi's arms.
"Got you," Kakashi said, his voice rough with something he refused to name, a tremor of wonder, a pride so big it felt like a heart attack coming on.
"Got me," Karu echoed, his face buried in Kakashi's shirt, a snuffly, proud noise escaping his throat.
Sakura was on them in a second, her arms wrapping around both of them. "He walked. He walked!"
"He walked," Kakashi confirmed. His hand moved to cup the back of his son's head, and Karu's small fist was a weight against his chest that felt monumental. He held them both, the three of them a knot of limbs and laughter on the living room floor. He could smell Sakura's hair, still damp from a shower, and the scent of baby powder on Karu's skin, and he thought: This is the moment I will remember forever.
---
But Karu's obsession with walking took a turn.
He went from refusing to walk at all to refusing to stop. The boy roamed the living room like a tiny, unsteady explorer. He wanted to inspect every corner of the house on foot. He wanted to walk to his toys. He wanted to walk to the kitchen. He walked his way to the front door. He pounded his small fists on its surface.
"Red," he said, pointing at the door. "Red. Moo."
Whatever that meant, Kakashi didn't know, but he didn't try to stop him. He just followed behind, his hands ready to catch him when the wobble overtook him.
Karu's little thighs burned out fast. He'd take maybe ten steps, then his knees would buckle. With a small, indignant grunt, he'd plop onto his bottom, one minute determined and the next defeated.
"Sit," he said, crossly, as if he'd chosen to sit. Then, immediately, he'd push himself up and start again.
" He's relentless," Sakura said, watching him from the couch.
"He gets that from you."
"It's ten in the morning and he's already walked the equivalent of a marathon."
"Like mother, like son."
She tossed a pillow at him, and he caught it one-handed. Karu saw the pillow, and his eyes went wide. "Puh! Puh!"
Kakashi placed the pillow down, and Karu shuffled over. He picked it up, struggled with its weight, and then let go, flopping the pillow down. He looked at it with immense satisfaction. He tried to climb on it, but his foot caught on the edge. He toppled forward with a startled "oof," and lay still on the soft fabric, blinking.
Sakura's laugh was a burst of pure joy. Kakashi let himself laugh too, until his sides ached.
---
Rin came over on Saturday.
She arrived with a bottle of wine in one hand and a cardboard box in the other. The box was tied with a red ribbon and had a suspicious number of air holes punched into the sides.
"Don't tell me," Sakura said, her eyes narrowing. "What did you do?"
"Relax. It's not a puppy." Rin set the box on the kitchen counter, and it wiggled. "It's a duck."
"Rin."
"It's a rubber duck! Not a real one. For the bath." She pulled off the ribbon, revealing a slightly worn, antique-looking rubber duck with a hand-painted flower on its back. "I found it at a flea market and thought of Karu."
Kakashi peeked into the box. "It's staring at me."
"He does that," Rin said, grinning. "Runs on vibes."
Karu was in his playpen, trying to stand. He'd gotten his feet under him, but his hands were gripping the rail, and his face was set in a look of fierce concentration. He saw Rin and let go, taking a shambling step before grabbing the rail again.
"He's walking now," Rin said, delighted.
"New development," Sakura said. "The boy's an athlete."
Karu, hearing "walking," dropped to his bottom with a loud plop, so fast he startled himself. His mouth opened, a little O of surprise. Then he looked up at Rin, and his face split into a gap-toothed grin of recognition.
"Aunty!" he shrieked.
Rin scooped him up, spinning him around. "Hey, sweet boy. You're getting so big!"
"Big," Karu agreed. "Big. Walk!"
"Walk, huh?" She set him down, and he immediately took off, his little legs pumping. He made it about four steps before his knees gave out. He landed with a solid thump and a grunt that was half frustration, half pride.
"Oof," he said, seemingly at peace with it.
"Oof," Rin echoed, laughing.
---
They spent the afternoon in the living room, Rin sprawled on the floor with Karu.
She had brought a box of old toys, which turned Karu's fascination away from walking and toward whatever it was she was pulling out. Wooden blocks, a set of nesting cups, a plush cat with a bell inside. Karu's attention span was short and scattered, but he approached each toy like it was the most important thing in the world.
"Your mom and dad tell me you had a big adventure with a storm," Rin said, blocking Karu's path with her hand.
"S'orm," Karu said, his face serious. "Boom."
"Boom?"
"BOOM!" He clapped his hands together, then looked around, alarmed by the sound he'd made.
"Scary, right? But you were brave, huh?"
"Brave," Karu repeated, puffing out his chest. Then he lost his balance, toppling into a stack of blocks. The tower crashed, and Karu stared at the mess, then burst into tears.
"Strong feelings," Rin said, scooping him up. "He's a passionate one."
"He gets that from Sakura," Kakashi said from the kitchen, where he was making tea.
"I do not have a temper!" Sakura called from the hallway. Her protests were muffled by the sound of a drawer slamming shut.
Rin looked at Kakashi, one eyebrow raised. He shrugged, and she laughed, bouncing Karu gently until his sobs subsided.
"Let's test these new legs somewhere interesting," she suggested. "The park's nice today. You know, since the storm cleared everything out."
---
The park was a patch of green squeezed between two streets.
There was a pond at its center, complete with a family of ducks. Looking at them, Kakashi reflected that they were grumpy-looking creatures, with iridescent green heads and a permanent expression of mild disdain. The bench by the water's edge was cracked but mostly functional, and the sun was out, a rare gift in the lingering chill of the season.
Karu's attention zeroed in on the ducks immediately.
"Bird," he said, his voice reverent. "BIRD!"
"Those are ducks," Sakura corrected. "Can you say duck?"
"DUCK!"
"Yes! Duck!" She clapped, and Karu looked at her. Then he began to move, his chubby legs pumping.
First step, then two, then three. Then he was running—or the closest approximation a one-year-old could manage, a sort of shambling, determined waddle that carried him directly toward the water's edge. Sakura's heart lurched, and she scrambled to her feet.
"Karu, slow down—"
But the ducks had noticed him, and they had no intention of being investigated. They rose as one, flapping their wings and waddling away with a series of indignant quacks. Karu, undeterred, chased them across the grass.
"DUCK!" he shrieked, his voice full of joy.
"DUCK! DUCK! DUCK!"
He was laughing, his little body shaking with it. His arms were outstretched, reaching for the birds. The ducks quickened their pace, moving in a tight cluster toward the water. Karu followed, his steps growing more unsteady the faster he moved.
Sakura was on her feet now, her heart in her throat. Kakashi was beside her, both of them hovering just behind Karu, ready to catch him.
"Let him chase," Kakashi said, his hand brushing her arm. "He's fine."
"He's going to fall."
"Probably. But he'll get up."
Karu was giggling, a sound so pure it made her chest ache. Each laugh was an explosion of joy, and it sang through the trees. He lunged for the nearest duck, his fingers brushing against its tail feathers. The duck squawked, flapping its wings, and Karu howled with laughter.
He was too fast. His legs tangled, and he pitched forward with a startled yelp.
Sakura caught him just before he hit the ground, her hands under his arms. Karu looked up at her, his face bright red, his eyes wide with surprise and glee. Then he laughed, a sound that started small and grew until he was wheezing.
"Soft," he said, patting the grass.
"Soft," she agreed. "But still, careful. Don't hurt yourself."
"More ducks," he said, craning his neck to see where they'd gone.
The ducks were at the edge of the pond now, watching him with unimpressed expressions. They looked like they were judging him, this tiny human with the pink-haired mother and the masked father. Karu pointed at them, his finger trembling.
"Birds," he said, with the gravity of someone delivering a terrible prophecy. "Mine."
Sakura laughed, the sound catching in her throat. She pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead. "They sure are, baby. They sure are."
---
They stayed at the park for another hour, until the sun began its slow descent.
Karu chased those ducks until he dropped. He made it back to the bench, one hand clutching Sakura's for balance, and collapsed into her lap with a sigh so heavy it was almost comical. His eyes fluttered, his cheeks flushed with exertion. Within seconds, he was asleep, his mouth slightly open, his fingers curling around the edge of Sakura's shirt.
"He's gonna be sore tomorrow," Sakura said, stroking his hair. It was limp with sweat, plastered to his skull.
"He's probably going to be a professional athlete," Rin said, dropping onto the bench beside them. "I've never seen anyone chase a duck with that much dedication."
"He gets it from his father."
"Do you chase ducks?" Rin asked, turning to Kakashi with an innocent expression.
"Only when they threaten my territory."
Rin laughed, and Kakashi smiled beneath his mask. He was tired. More tired than he'd been in a while, the kind of tired that settles into your bones and invites you to ignore it. Spending the day watching his son try to hug birds was a different kind of exhaustion, but it was the best kind.
He sat down on Sakura's other side, his shoulder pressed against hers. Karu stirred, his tiny hand reaching out blindly. It found Kakashi's arm and clung, a small, sleepy anchor.
"Hey, buddy," Kakashi murmured.
"Dadadada," Karu mumbled, still mostly asleep.
Good enough.
Sakura leaned into him, her head falling onto his shoulder. The park was emptying out, the other families drifting home for dinner. A cool breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the smell of cut grass and distant barbecue.
Rin got up, brushing off her pants. "I'm gonna head out. Let you three have your family time."
"Stay for dinner?" Sakura offered, but there wasn't much conviction in it. She was tired too.
"Next time. I've got an essay to grade."
"That's my line," Kakashi said.
"You can borrow my red pen if you want."
"I've got my own, thanks."
She hugged them both, kissed Karu's forehead, and was gone. The three of them sat on the bench, watching the ducks circle the pond in the fading light.
---
The walk home was slow, Karu still asleep in Kakashi's arms.
He was heavier than he'd been a few weeks ago, which was a fact Kakashi was aware of only when he was forced to carry him long distances. The small weight against his chest was grounding. He was a solid, breathing anchor, a reminder of everything he'd gained.
Sakura walked beside him, their free hands intertwined. She was quiet, but it was a comfortable quiet, the kind that didn't demand to be filled.
"He's really growing up," she said finally.
"He is."
"Before the storm, he was still just a baby. Now he's walking, and talking, and chasing ducks." A pause. "It's going too fast."
"From your perspective? Yes. From mine, it's the perfect speed." He squeezed her hand. "I'm trying to enjoy it while it lasts."
"You're getting soft."
"I've always been soft. I just had a good poker face."
She laughed, the sound bright and clear in the quiet street. "I'm glad you didn't keep it up for me."
"Are you? I could have been mysterious and brooding."
"You'd have had to shave your head."
"I think I'm good as is, but thanks for the feedback."
They walked in comfortable silence, shoulders brushing, their son a warm weight between them. They were heading home. Home, which was a rented house with a garden that needed weeding and a kitchen with mismatched chairs and a nursery with a crib that was quickly becoming too small.
They dissolved into the quiet dark of their home, and Kakashi lowered Karu into his crib. He looked down at his son, this boy who had come to him by accident. The boy was sleeping, one arm flung above his head, a duck toy at his side. His lips parted slightly, and his breath came in soft, even puffs.
He was just so there, so impossibly solid and real.
"You did good," Kakashi whispered, his hand resting on Karu's back. Then he turned, crossing to the doorway where Sakura was waiting. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against him.
"We did good," she corrected, her voice muffled against his chest.
---
As always, Kakashi woke at three in the morning.
It was a habit he'd developed since Karu was born. A soundlessness interrupted only by his own stillness. Only now the house was silent, and he was awake for no reason at all. He listened for the sound of crying, but there was none. Only the hum of the fridge and the distant hoot of an owl.
He turned to check on Karu. The crib was empty.
His pulse jumped, a burst of panic that had his feet on the floor before his thoughts had caught up. He crossed the room in three strides, his eyes scanning the dark. And then he saw them—
Sakura, on the floor of the nursery, fast asleep on a blanket. And Karu, curled up in her arms, his head on her shoulder, a hand wrapped around a tuft of her pink hair.
They were both breathing steadily, wrapped around each other like they'd been carved from the same stone.
Kakashi sank down beside them, his knees giving out. He sat there, watching them, his heart still pounding as if he'd been running. He was being ridiculous. Everything was fine.
A small noise escaped Sakura's sleep, a sigh, a murmur. Karu shifted, burying his face deeper into her neck.
He lay down beside them, pressing himself close. Karu's small hand found his arm, and held on. The three of them lay together on a nursery floor, a tangled knot of limbs and breathing.
This was what it was for. This was the whole point.
He closed his eyes, and let himself fall asleep.