Shinobi Isekai!

Puppy Dog Eyes

Kakashi crossed his arms and sighed, staring down his nose at the little girl sitting across from him on the couch. Between them, an old, tattered scroll lay unrolled across the coffee table, his name and his father's standing out on the faded, yellow parchment. Not for the first time, he actively questioned his decision to take in the kid. Giving her a home and feeding her weren't a problem, but giving her his name? Adding her to the scroll?

Sometimes, he found himself regretting bringing an end to his self-imposed solitude. There was only so much socializing he could do before it wore him down to the quick and he had to lock himself away to recharge. Luckily, his kid was the same way, and they had no issues avoiding each other even in his little apartment.

The fact that Pakkun knew her better than he did stung a little, but he couldn't help his workload. The kid never complained, though, and she was far from the only one in the village to have a parent away on missions.

His eyes refocused on her unmasked face. As flattering as her mimicry had been, he couldn't understand why she'd want to hide her face. It was obvious she'd be gorgeous one day, just like her mother, and he knew the academy's kunoichi classes cultivated physical awareness in their students. One day, a sensei or a mission would force her to remove it, and he hoped she wasn't too attached to it when it happened.

Her dark eyes met his and he realized he'd zoned out.

"Ah, sorry," he leaned forward onto his knees, running a gloved hand through his hair. "I'm still a bit out of it, I guess."

She offered him a small smile. "It's ok. I know you're probably tired." She glanced down at the scroll before looking back up at him, concerned. "Are you sure about this?"

No. He wasn't. Pakkun had insisted, though, and Kakashi valued the pug's opinion more than most humans'. As little time as he'd spent with her over the past year, he felt like he knew her pretty well from the little dog's anecdotes. He also knew that having a ninken companion could mean a world of difference for a lonely kid with an intellect beyond their peers'. Maybe he was just trying to assuage the festering guilt the thought of her alone inspired, but he could honestly say that it would do her good.

"Why?" He asked in return. "Don't kids like dogs?"

She leveled a withering glare on him, rolling her black eyes with a scoff. "These aren't normal dogs, dad." The warmth welling in his chest froze over with her next question. "It's just...don't you want to save this for your real kids?"

Oof.

He laughed awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck as he tried to salvage the situation. "Mah, well, you know...You look pretty real to me, kiddo."

Nailed it.

"Besides," he continued over her incredulous snort. "I already jumped through all the hoops to make you my official heir. As far as the village is concerned, you've always been a Hatake, and you'll always be a Hatake until you decide otherwise." He gestured at the scroll. "This is a perk of the job."

She bit her lip. "You won't regret it?"

"No." And he meant it. As many things as he regretted, taking in a child and giving her a life worth living would never be one of them.

Hanako sighed, slumping in her seat. "If you're sure."

"Great! So, here's what you do," he guided her in writing her name in blood—her grimace made him laugh—and showed her the summoning jutsu's hand signs. "Give it a try. It's fine if you don't get it the first time, I know you haven't had much practice with chakra, yet."

She nodded, her slender fingers going through the motions slowly. "How much chakra do I need?"

He shrugged. "As much as you think feels right. We'll tweak it from there."