Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, and I don't make any money from this.

Summary: Kakashi's trying to open a new bank account. However, in the process, he discovers a teeny-weeny tiny problem…

Rating: K

A/N: More of a sketch than a real story. I never found the right words to flesh it out.


"So you want to open a new savings account with Konoha's General Bank?"


The clerk looked at Kakashi with doubt in his eyes. "Are you even old enough?"

Kakashi rolled his eyes and pointed towards his head-band. He was a ninja, and all ninja were considered adults in the eye of the law. However, when he had opened his very first account with Konoha Holdings, he'd had to fetch Minato-sensei because everyone had thought he had stolen his dad's hitae-ate. He wondered who he'd have to fetch now if the clerk didn't believe him, because his sensei had been dead for more than a year already.

Fortunately, this time he was quite a bit older, and the clerk didn't doubt his occupation. "Ah, yes, I'm sorry. Name?"

"Hatake Kakashi."


Once again, Kakashi pointed towards his head-band in lieu of an answer, making the clerk's blush a bit deeper.

"Right, shinobi. Rank?"


"Registration number?"




The bank clerk looked up from filling out the form. "Your address please, Hatake-san. We need somewhere to send your monthly bank statements."

Kakashi was honestly stumped, searching his memory for that important bit of information. Of where his apartment was located, street and house number. However, despite all attempts, he came up blank. Blanker than blank.

Taking a card from Gai, he smiled blindingly - not that it could be seen through his mask - and scratched his head. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Annoyance was beginning to seep into the formerly friendly clerk's countenance.

Kakashi kept smiling. "I mean that I don't know. I forgot." The clerk's uncomprehending stare prompted a helpless, slightly embarrassed shrug. "Well, I've only had the apartment for two years. It's not like I find my way home with my address."

Especially not when he spent all his time in ANBU headquarters, in hospital, or out on missions. If he returned to that room three times a month, it was a lot. But that wasn't for the clerk to know.

It took some while for that message to sink in, but slowly the annoyance was replaced by a hint of morbid fascination. The same kind of fascination the clerk would probably show a guy who claimed that straws were there for drinking through his nose: a bit of disgust, a bit of curiosity, and a large part of I-Don't-Want-To-Know,-Do-I? "Then how do you get home?"

"I teleport."

More honest curiosity. "Ninja technique?"


"How does that work if you don't know where you're going?"

Kakashi blinked. "But I do know where I'm going. I imagine what my room looks like, perform the necessary seals, and the technique does the rest."

"And when you can't teleport?"

"I take to the roofs."

The clerk was staring at him in fascination, the tedious paperwork completely forgotten for the moment. "And how do your friends find your home?"

"Friends?" Kakashi parroted the word as if he had no clue what it meant. Which wasn't quite true, but he didn't think he had any. He had comrades and fellow shinobi who he had drinks with somewhat regularly, but they never visited him.

"Well, if anyone needed to find your home, how would you describe it to them?"

"Follow the 05 route to the fifth mark, and then head three streets south."

The clerk blinked. "05 route?"

"Patrol route for guard duty within Konoha."

"I see."

Judging from the tone of his voice, the clerk didn't see, but Kakashi wasn't going to enlighten him. The routes were there for Konoha shinobi during high alert, and they were known only to chuunin and jounin. Only ANBU had to patrol them regularly. And there was no way he was going to tell a civilian where they ran.

But, on second thought, he didn't really need to tell the civilian if he could show him. "Do you have a map?" he asked with renewed enthusiasm.

"Of Konoha?"

"If not of Konoha, then of the area west of the Hokage tower."

Once again, the clerk blinked. "Eh, I don't know. Not here in this office, but let me ask my colleagues…"

Ten minutes later, Kakashi had pointed out his house to the clerk's satisfaction, and the paperwork for his new account was finally done. They were going to send him a copy for his files, and he should expect it within the next week. Whistling through his mask, he pulled out his trusty orange book and strolled out the bank's front door. Except for the small snag with his address, it had gone quite a bit easier than that time when he had been eight. He hadn't needed Minato-sensei after all.

Two days later, a long-suffering groan resounded through Konoha's mail center. Two mailmen looked at a third, the one who had made the noise.

"What is it, Akira-kun?"

Akira sighed. "Mail from a shinobi."

"Oh, come on, ever since that Anthrax scare two years ago, none of their letters has been booby-trapped."

"That's right. And the Hokage has managed to stop most of them from trapping their mailboxes, too."

Akira shook his head. "I know that. That's not the problem. It's the address."

"Can't read it? That why you think it's mail from a shinobi?"

Akira gave him a glare. "No. It's quite legible, actually. But it's addressed to one Hatake Kakashi, Takato Street."

"What's the problem with that? You know him or what?"

Akira snorted. "I don't. But he apparently lives in 'the only house with five antennae, one telephone pole, and three chimneys; second floor down, fifth widow from the east.'"

The other two mailmen looked at each other, then smiled happily. "Have fun delivering that."


A/N: This was a thought that popped into my mind at 3am: Why should shinobi remember their address when they always teleport and roof-hop anyway? I realize that it's full of logical holes (shinobi need to know the layout of Konoha very well in case they have to operate within Konoha's borders), but it was an amusing enough thought to turn into a story. Hope you enjoyed it.