Fanning the Flames

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Your beloved Minato sensei, do you know who his father was?” Zetsu asked with a smirk. “Of course not. He didn't want you to ever find out. But you're a grown man now, there's no reason to hide the unpleasant facts from you.”

“And they are?” Kakashi urged. “Just tell me already, this build up is totally unnecessary.”

“You may be surprised to hear that you and the Yondaime are related. His father is your Uncle Jiraiya.”

“That's impossible,” the copy-nin said flatly. “He would have told me if we were related.”

“He didn't want you to know. Neither of them did. They didn't want to get lumped in with you and your loser father,” Zetsu taunted.

“Sensei would never have kept something like that from me,” the jounin insisted. “He took me in after my father's suicide. Why would he do that if he wanted to distance himself?”

“They needed to keep an eye on you. Make sure you didn't disgrace the clan any further. You know I'm right. Yondaime didn't even use his clan name, he called himself Arashi after his mother.”

“But . . .” Kakashi trailed off, desperately trying to come to terms with the thoughts tumbling through his brain. He had always thought that he was important to Minato-sensei at least, even if the rest of the village had no love for him or his clan. If it was all just a trick, then what could he really believe in? “I refuse to accept your word for something so serious,” the copy-nin finally ventured. “If you want to convince me I'll need some kind of proof.”

“How about a birth certificate?” Zetsu offered. “Notice the father and mother's names.”

Kakashi accepted the piece of paper and studied it curiously. Sure enough under father it read Hatake Jiraiya, while the mother was a woman named Arashi Aoi. “This doesn't prove anything,” the copy-nin stammered. “You could have printed this yourself.”

“No, see there.” The green haired man pointed to a small seal in the bottom right corner. “Isn't that the official stamp of Konoha? That isn't something I could fake, now is it?”

“Even if it's real, that doesn't mean either of them knew about it. Jiraiya should have had his doubts, true. But sensei may not have known at all.” The copy-nin rushed to find a valid excuse as he refused to believe something so dastardly of the man who had been like a father to him.

“Believe what you like. He was the Hokage of the Hidden Leaf, surely he had access to his own birth records, even if they had been kept from him before.” Zetsu eagerly tore away at the jounin's rationalization. “Still, you say you knew him best. I suppose you feel you could trust him not to deceive you. That's really very sweet.”

“I will not sit here and let you speak badly of sensei when he can't defend himself,” the silver-haired man insisted stubbornly. “If there's nothing else I think you should leave.”

“Oh, you haven't heard the best part.” Zetsu was grinning from ear to ear and practically rubbing his hands together in glee. This confrontation would certainly please his lover. Kisame had been grumpy and disinclined to play ever since he'd left the Otokage's headquarters. Now maybe things could get back to normal.

“And that would be?” the copy-nin asked distractedly.

“Did you ever wonder why Morino-san's rescue was so important? After all, he was just a raw chuunin, not one of the village's elite.” The green haired man didn't wait for a response, continuing relentlessly. “Sandaime was awfully worried about his well-being, wasn't he? The old man didn't hesitate to send you in exchange for Ibiki's release. That was your first time being used like that, was it not? Kisame believed that it was. True, he met you a few months later, still, he had some reason to think that was the case.”

“What, exactly, is your point?” Kakashi gritted out.

“Your husband is Sandaime's son. I'm surprised you don't see the resemblance to his other children. He and Asuma are built alike, although Ibiki is much larger overall. Maybe it's because you don't remember how he looked before. His hair was much like the Rokudaime's. Yes, I know about that too. I hold many secrets.” Zetsu whispered.

“Ibiki is nothing like Sarutobi-san. He is the kindest man I've ever met,” the jounin insisted.

“Ah, but didn't Sandaime treat you kindly up until the moment he took what he wanted. Perhaps Ibiki plans to do the same,” the green-haired man hissed urgently. “After all, he is a master of psychology. What better way to gain your cooperation than to pretend to adore you. It's really kind of funny, watching you fall for the same act over and over again. Who would have thought someone of your abilities would be so blind?”

“You need to leave now,” the copy-nin pressed. “I have a commitment for dinner this evening. Tell Kisame he'd do well to remember I was on his side.”

“I'll do no such thing,” Zetsu retorted. “I'm not your messenger boy. If you have something to say to Kisame you should go and tell him yourself.”

“Believe me, I'd love nothing more.” Kakashi took a deep, calming breath and focused on the tiny spark of chakra pulsing inside him. “I'm afraid I'm not able to travel at the moment. Tell him or not, as you wish. I will be coming to visit once my restrictions are lifted.”

“Is that a threat, Hatake-san?”

“Merely a message for you to pass along as you see fit. I trust you have no further information for me? I would hate for you to have to seek me out a second time.” The copy-nin let the implied threat sink in before fixing the slight figure with an acidic glare. “I assume you can see yourself out. If you wish I can call a guard to escort you.”

“No, I'm going. No need to put yourself out. I wouldn't want you to have a miscarriage on my account.” Zetsu chuckled at the astonished look on the silver-haired man's face.

“How did you know?” Kakashi murmured.

“It's obvious,” his antagonist declared with a shrug. “Guess you really are just a bitch, huh Hatake. So much for your fierce reputation. It's a good thing you retired, it certainly wouldn't be much fun facing off against a weak piece of shit like you.”

“He's not a bitch,” Kurenai growled from the doorway. “Who the hell are you anyway?”

“He's Kisame's lover and he was just leaving.” The last thing the copy-nin wanted was to have Kurenai coming to his defense. “I'll be seeing you soon. Make sure you tell Kisame I'm coming.”

“Even women have to come to your defense Hatake, I'm sure Kisame won't be too worried.” Zetsu turned and headed for the door, stopping just inside to throw back a parting remark. “By the way, congratulations on your marriage. I'm sure you and your owner will have many cozy years together.”

“The nerve of him, coming in here and speaking to you like that.” Kurenai was ranting full steam and never noticed the pained look crossing her friend's face.

“It's alright, no harm done,” the copy-nin assured her, although he wasn't sure he believed the words he was saying. No matter how he tried to rationalize them, Zetsu's words were rattling around in his head like little bullets.

“You look very pale 'shi-san. Get back in bed while I call Fujiko-san to come check you over.”

“I'm fine Kurenai, really,” Kakashi hastened to assure the suspicious kunoichi. “See, I'm getting back in bed. Ibiki will be back soon, he'll get me some food then. I'd rather wait so we can eat together.”

“You aren't fooling me 'shi-san. That man said something to upset you. We need to make sure your blood pressure isn't up again.” The dark haired woman looked the jounin over carefully. He was pale and his eyes had a trapped look she hadn't seen since his release from the hospital after his breakdown. “Maybe I should call Ibiki and ask him to hurry back.”

“No,” the copy-nin protested. “I won't be able to rest until I know Itachi and the baby are okay. He'll be back as soon as he's checked up on them. He really wasn't happy about going at all, to be completely honest about it.”

“Is that why you're so upset? Ibiki would do much more than that for you silly. You don't need to tiptoe around him.” The dark haired woman continued to extoll the interrogator's virtues, not noticing the cloud that settled over her friend's normally placid features.

“I'm a burden, aren't I?” Kakashi asked suddenly. “Ibiki would be better off without me.”

“How can you possibly think that?” the dark haired woman lectured. “Ibiki loved you enough to marry you. He loves you enough that he wants to raise children with you, even though they may not be his. You're doing both of you a disservice by doubting him so 'shi-san.”

“No, I'm doing him a disservice by agreeing to marry him in the first place. I'm way too used to be worth the effort.” Kakashi slid lower in the bed, turning away from Kurenai and shutting his eyes before continuing. “Why don't you get back to the twins, I'll just rest here until Ibiki gets back.”

“If I found out you tried to do anything stupid,” the kunoichi threatened, “I swear I'll strangle you myself. Please, do everyone a favor and stay put.”

“I'm not one of the twins Kurenai. You don't need to order me around all the time.” The copy-nin swiveled to face his friend, determined to force her away from him as quickly as possible. He needed privacy to make sense of all the things he had learned from Zetsu. “Just go back to your own family. I'll be just fine without you fussing over me. Call me tomorrow.”

“I still think you need to have your blood pressure checked.” Kurenai had no intention of being dissuaded from her goal. “Let me call Fujiko-san, then I'll gladly get back to the kids.”

“If I feel the need of a doctor I can call her on my own,” the silver-haired man stated icily. “You're meddling, Kurenai. Go bug Asuma for awhile. He signed up for it, I certainly didn't.”

“Fine, I'll go,” the kunoichi declared, pursing her lips tightly and fixing the copy-nin with a withering glare. “I will be back in the morning though, whether you like it or not. I'd advise you to lose the attitude. We aren't going to let you go, no matter how obnoxiously you act.”

“I'll see you tomorrow morning.” The jounin waved a hand in dismissal, guilt washing over him as she stormed out of the room, slamming the door in her wake. Alone at last, the copy-nin thought wearily, just what I deserve.