Fic: Success
TitleSuccess
Summary: Minato wishes he hadn’t done such a good job in training Kakashi.
Rating: worksafe, just full of angst
Minato wishes he hadn’t done his job quite so well.
A perfectly crafted weapon stands before him now, slender, with lean muscles hiding a surprising strength, silent and pale as a ghost. The only color that dots Kakashi is the blood dripping steadily from his eyebrow. The red rolls down snow-white skin, soaking a silver eyebrow and staining a carmine trail down his face. Minato notes the dark stain spreading across the soft blue of Kakashi’s mask and knows that his student’s mouth had gotten lacerated as well.
He’s only thirteen for god’s sake.
“Kakashi,” He ventures, “Are you ok?”
Cold blue-grey eyes stare up at him and Kakashi carefully wipes down his tanto before sheathing it. Minato, after all, taught him to always wipe down his weapon, otherwise the blood would rust and ruin a good blade. All Minato gets in response is a short, terse nod.
Shinobi need to be strong, weakness is not an option.
Perfect, just like he was taught, and Kakashi was always a quick study.
That’s not what I meant. Being strong and being cold are two different things. You’re allowed to feel and have strength. Minato’s anguished thoughts twisted painfully in his mind like some wounded animal.
“Alright.” Minato said trying his best to smile at, for his student. For a moment Minato thought he saw a spark in those dead eyes, a sign of life, but it was gone so fast that he must have imagined it.
Success had never tasted to bitter.
Summary: Minato wishes he hadn’t done such a good job in training Kakashi.
Rating: worksafe, just full of angst
Minato wishes he hadn’t done his job quite so well.
A perfectly crafted weapon stands before him now, slender, with lean muscles hiding a surprising strength, silent and pale as a ghost. The only color that dots Kakashi is the blood dripping steadily from his eyebrow. The red rolls down snow-white skin, soaking a silver eyebrow and staining a carmine trail down his face. Minato notes the dark stain spreading across the soft blue of Kakashi’s mask and knows that his student’s mouth had gotten lacerated as well.
He’s only thirteen for god’s sake.
“Kakashi,” He ventures, “Are you ok?”
Cold blue-grey eyes stare up at him and Kakashi carefully wipes down his tanto before sheathing it. Minato, after all, taught him to always wipe down his weapon, otherwise the blood would rust and ruin a good blade. All Minato gets in response is a short, terse nod.
Shinobi need to be strong, weakness is not an option.
Perfect, just like he was taught, and Kakashi was always a quick study.
That’s not what I meant. Being strong and being cold are two different things. You’re allowed to feel and have strength. Minato’s anguished thoughts twisted painfully in his mind like some wounded animal.
“Alright.” Minato said trying his best to smile at, for his student. For a moment Minato thought he saw a spark in those dead eyes, a sign of life, but it was gone so fast that he must have imagined it.
Success had never tasted to bitter.