Ryouma had swung by earlier in the day to pick up Kakashi’s reluctantly completed paperwork and drop off a pair of clean jounin blues in the process, because even he understood the indignity of trying to escape a hospital in flimsy pyjamas. Well, perhaps not understood, since shame was foreign territory to him, but someone had probably explained the concept.

Naruto trotted back over with jounin blues trailing from his arms. “That old lady last time liked your butt,” he said thoughtfully.

The one in the ER pit who’d wanted to sell tickets for Ryouma-viewings, Kakashi recalled, and might have warped Naruto for life.

“Adults are strange,” Kakashi said. “When you get older, you should look for inside things first.”

Naruto’s brow crumpled. “Like intestines?”

“Like personality,” Kakashi said. “And good shinobi skills.” He changed quickly, leaving the pyjamas in a crumpled heap on the bed, and staggered upright to achieve socks and shoes and whatever might pass for acceptable hair. The tiny mirror in the room’s adjoining bathroom suggested there was probably no hope.

Naruto sat on the closed toilet seat lid, kicking his feet. “When I grow up I’m gonna be the best shinobi ever. I’ll fight everybody first and then if they’re good I’ll say ‘Okay you can be my friend!’ And then they’ll join my crew like Captain Seaweed and First Mate did. Is that how you got your team, niisan? Did you have to fight them all? How do you tell if they have a good personality, too?”

Kakashi paused midway through raking water into his hair. “That would probably work,” he said, after a beat. “I got assigned to my team, and I did fight three of them.” Well, Ryouma had punched him in the ribs. Katsuko had crossed swords with him under sleepless moonlight. Raidou had grappled him down by a riverbank. He just needed to arm-wrestle the lieutenant and he’d be four for four.

Now that he thought about it, he’d lost all three of those fights.

He turned and looked at Naruto thoughtfully. “Fighting’s a good way to see what people are really like, so long as you don’t just pick random fights on the street. How do you tell if you like people now?”

Naruto’s face went blank. “I just… like them? I like you and Dad and Rin-neesan and I didn’t decide that. Oh, but I like Ogata-san and Turtle and Shikamaru-kun and Kiba-kun and Tousaki-san, too.” He thought about that for a moment, chewing the corner of his lip. Something shifted in his expression, and just for a second Kakashi could see an edge of what Naruto might look like as an adult, when the baby-fat had melted into strength and training, and the nascent instinct had truly bloomed. “They’re funny,” Naruto said at last. “And they don’t act weird ‘cause Dad’s the Hokage. And Shikamaru-kun lets me eat his lunch and Kiba-kun let me play with his toy dog. And you like Tousaki-san so I knew he was okay.”

Kakashi felt his mouth twitch. He crouched stiffly down in front of Naruto, bracing one hand on the sink for support. “You’re already better at people than I am, Naruto-kun.” He poked Naruto gently in the stomach with his free hand. “Just keep looking at more than butts and you’ll be fine.”

Naruto’s nose wrinkled. “Butts are weird anyway. Fight everybody instead.” He nodded, short and satisfied. “I fought Kiba-kun already.”

A warm, amused tenor from the door to the main hospital room made Kakashi twitch, startled. “Did you? Is there where that rip in your shirt came from?”