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In the mind of the target, there is nothing out of the ordinary. There's no thrill of the chase. No adrenaline pumping through veins. No quick gasps or fast heartbeats.
The mission briefing was simple. Easy even. A perfect reintroduction into its past. A perfect test of its mind. Its strength. Its will. A tracking mission fit for a Hound. A mission it could not fail.
Muscle memory and chakra stiffen its footfalls when it lands on a new branch. Its armor conforms to its body long remembering its command of silence. There's no stray breath that escapes its lips. Its eyes dare not drift from the man on the road.
Its target is noisy prey.
The shinobi walks carelessly along a merchant path. His sandals forcefully crunch over dead leaves. The metal of his forehead protector glints in the moonlight like a lighthouse signaling home. He frequently checks the inner pocket of his vest. When he's not being obvious, he fidgets with the velcro, the sound puncturing the stillness of the forest.
Hound crouches in the shadows of branches and leaves observing intently as the shinobi sets up camp for the night. In a manner akin to a civilian child, he drops his bag with a sigh of relief. He stretches his arms high above his head, cracks his neck, and fumbles with the clasp on his bag. Reaching his hand in, he tugs out spare kunais and chakra wire. He ties the chakra wire to the hilts of the kunais, pulling it taut with his teeth. He then firmly attaches the two kunais to parallel trees, tugging on the wire to ensure its security.
Reaching back into the bag, a roll of cloth and a sleeping bag is brought into Hound's view. The shinobi drapes the cloth over the chakra wire. It weighs the chakra wire down enough that the edges of the cloth pool on the forest floor. He hums slightly as he shakes out his sleeping bag, laying gently underneath the makeshift tent.
Hound emerges from the shadows.
The shinobi barely turns around when there's sudden crescendo of chirping of birds.
His gasp is a mix of a shallow breath and the gurgle of liquid in the back of one's throat. Hound gently lays him against his death bed. Lifeless eyes peer up at it, hoping to sear the face of his killer in his memory. He'll find nothing but an equally lifeless creature staring back at him.
Hound tugs its claws out with a squelch of blood and flesh. The shinobi's life drips off its nails leaving splotches of red on the sleeping bag. Those same dirty claws pull back the shinobi's vest and take its mission from the inner pocket. A scroll sealed with the swirl of Konohagakure.
Hound towers above the body. The shinobi's mouth faintly opens gasping in his final breath. It escapes with a breathless sigh. A weak attempt to curse his killer.
But, there's no final words of anger, sadness, or revenge. Just pure, uninterrupted silence.
Iruka's been teaching long enough to know that his student's sudden silent interest in chakra pathways wasn't a miracle but an omen of destruction and a raging migraine.
"Konohamaru," the boy's neck snaps straight at attention. Iruka crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes. His foot taps in a syncopated rhythm against the hardwood floor.
"What chakra pathway, when overused, can greatly affect our balance?" Konohamaru's eyes flicker back and forth. Iruka impatiently taps his pointer finger against the crook of his elbow. A bead of sweat drips under Konohamaru's scarf.
"Um… uh…" his eyes frantically meet Moegi's who mouths an answer behind her palm.
He lights up and puffs out his chest, "the static pathway!"
"You mean the Sciatic pathway?" Iruka drops his arms to rest his hands on his hips.
"Yes! the Sciatic pathway!" Konohamaru cheers with a smile that could rival the sun on a cloudless day.
Iruka takes a deep breath through his nose the releases it in a forceful puff out of his mouth. He grits his teeth and claps his hands twice, "Attention!" he calls out. Twenty-one confused and dazed eyes lock on to his presence.
"Now," he begins, "because your classmate has proudly demonstrated his knowledge of the chakra pathways in our legs, I'm assigning an essay on the Vestibular pathway." He turns to glare at Konohamaru, "Which, if you had been paying attention Konohamaru, controls our balance as shinobi and was today's topic."
The classroom erupts in groans and pleads but, he merely spins on his heel and begins to write the prompt on the chalkboard. "You'll have until the end of class to identify where the Vestibular pathway is, common symptoms of injuries, and the effects of long lasting damage." There's a rustle of parchment being placed on desks and slow start of pens scribbling.
Iruka takes a swig of tea and lets the scalding liquid soothe his mind before scratching out a sentence in vibrant red. He pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves. Based solely on the amount of red notes he's left in the margins of these essays he knows he'll have to reteach the subject. The only problem is finding where to fit that in.
He taps the capped end of the pen against his teeth in time with the soft pitter-patter of rain on his windows. He glances between the latest essay and his lesson plans for the next two months scanning for tiniest bit of spare time.
I nor the kids will enjoy this but if I shave off 15 minutes from hands-on training I could squeeze in a mini lesson, he circles the time slot with the same red pen he left critics on student's papers. He flickers his eyes back to essay in front of him. The next sentence already has him pinching the bridge of his nose and wishing he could have something stronger on school nights. He reaches for his ceramic mug only to find it devoid of liquid.
He stands from the kotatsu with a small groan. There's a sudden pinch and his lower back seizes up. He hisses in pain and grips the wall with white knuckles.
"Damn storm…" he grinds his teeth together and the scare on his back. He shuffles bent forward into his kitchen. He grabs the kettle, fills with water, and places it on the burner. He's reaching for his tea bags when his wards pulse with an unfamiliar chakra. Instantly, he crouches low, pulling a kunai from a discarded weapons pouch. There's a strike of lightning followed by deafening thunder.
He takes a step. The floorboard creaks under his weight.
Something taps erratically against his window.
Another bolt of lightning. The thunder that follows inches closer than the last.
Another step.
More taps.
The newest flash touches down on his balcony. It flickers and extends out towards Iruka as if begging to be let it. A foreign ANBU stands on his doorstep. It's illuminated by the burst of light. Its figure seems to welcome the surge of electricity that travels through its nerves. Iruka's hold on the kunai falters briefly, but the ANBU pinpoints the movement the instance it happens. When he was a child, barely even a genin, he was a grade A menace. His pranks caused enough chaos to warrant the attention of some glitter-covered ANBU. But, the look this one gave him was nothing like the ones from his youth.
Soulless. It's a repeated word in the mouth of people who dare speak about the shadows in Konoha. But, to be truly soulless one must of have had a soul in the beginning. This creature… no this abiotic thing moved as if it had never known what a soul was. It observes him as if to categorize him as friend or foe, predator or prey.
There's a fleeting flicker of red against the abyss like eye holes of the ANBU's mask. Something snaps out of place inside his mind. There's pressure behind his ears and a roaring ringing. He can vaguely make out the shrill of the kettle, but something keeps him stuck in place. The kunai slips from his fingers and his arms slump unnaturally against his side. Warning bells are ringing in his head, fight back fight back fight back run away run away run away get out get out get out FIGHT.
The ANBU raises a bloody clawed hand. It rests it against the glass window.
Another flash of lightning flickers among the storm clouds.
The thunder in its wake sends low vibrations through his feet up into his teeth, knocking him out of balance. His knees hit the ground. He rams his palms against his eyes until he feels the beat of his own heart against his eyelids.
He snaps out of his daze by the sound of leaves and branches beating against his window. He jerks his head up expecting the eyes of a nobody.
What stares back is simple nothingness.
With barely a wink of sleep, an entire day with children who notice the smallest hint of weakness, and crazy Jōnin who think it's funny to torture "paper-pushing Chūnins" is he really to blame for snapping?
A pebble. Smooth from constant weathering, yet so sharp against the inside of his sandal. Or at this point it might be inside his foot. He can't tell. All he knows is that if this fucker doesn't get out he might breakdown in the middle of the village and he'd rather not deal with a psych eval today.
A shadow looms behind him. A slimy feeling slithers up each vertebrae of his spine, yet it's strangely comforting.
"Iruka-kun!" tan sleeves snake their way onto his shoulders, "whoa you look like shit."
He turns to face the purple haired woman, "Thanks I feel so much better, Anko." Her response is a simple shit-eating grin.
"Well I know the perfect remedy!" She spins him around before marching off into the heart of the village.
If Iruka had been in a better mood he would have noticed the obvious red flags of Anko's supposed "remedy." But no matter how many sleepless nights he spends wishing to change the past, he can only focus on the present.
At the present moment, he's three too many shots into what started as a drinking game and is now just a competition to see who will pass out last. Izumo and Kotestu went out at the same time and are slumped against the other's shoulders. Anko cackles wildly as she downs another. She beckons Iruka to hand her his glass. He grumbles something about "having a massive hangover for tomorrow's shift" before he languidly hands it over. She fills the glass and slides it back over.
"Now, now, Iruka-kun," she lays her chin in her palm, "what had our favorite sensei all wound up?"
There's a flash of white. A memory of a bloodied hand. An empty gaze.
"I couldn't…sleep," Iruka grips the glass and glances into the crowd. He recognizes some of the frequent patrons—not that he's one to frequent bars.
Someone shoves past him.
A jolt of electricity expands through his nerves. It buzzes in his teeth and sends pinpricks all the way down to his toes. His shoulders tense and he hunches forward into himself. There's thunder roaring in the back of his mind and a fear that keeps him frozen in place.
"Oi, Kakashi! Watch'ere you're going!" Anko hollers at the white haired Jōnin.
"Maa…My apologies, Sensei," Kakashi dips his head and Iruka nods back lamely. He gives the chūnin his infamous eye smile before disappearing into the crowd. Iruka's gaze follows his back until it's one with the mob of people. A feeling unknown to his drunken mind sits heavy in his stomach.
Is it apprehension? Fear?
No. Curiosity.
It's a month later that Iruka is met with another unwelcome visit. Fortunately, there's no storm this time.
He's dicing some vegetables, when the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly bristle up. He tightens his grip on the knife and slowly peers around his shoulder towards his balcony window.
The same dark figure stiffly stands on his balcony. Its cloak covers its entire body leaving only its mask visible. Now that he isn't being scared shitless, he can finally make out the shape of the ANBU's mask. It's a hound.
It meets Iruka's gaze with its own empty one. He swivels his head back around and forces himself to continue cooking.
If anyone questions him, he'll say it was because of the ANBU standing on his balcony that resulted in him burning his dinner. And if they say that most of the homemade bentos he brings are also burnt he'll deny all charges. Or maybe he'll just defect. Find a nice place in Yugakarue. Maybe he'll go blond.
No. He wouldn't do that to Naruto.
The visits continue sporadically for the next month.
The ANBU never knocks, just stands on the balcony observing Iruka's day. He'll be honest, it's creepy. Yet some part of Iruka doesn't mind it. Some part of him feels as if he knows this ANBU, not as a shadow in the village but as a human being.
The kettle is nearing its boiling point when the flare of —now familiar— chakra thrums through his wards. As on cue, there's the silent flutter of a cape and the ANBU appears on his balcony. The nights have been getting colder as Konoha prepares for its Autumn. Iruka has started carrying a scarf to his shift at the mission desk just for his walk back home. He can't help his next move when he sees the wind ruffle the ANBU's.
"Hound-san," Iruka slides the door open. The ANBU straightens slightly. He can't help but stare. There's not much to see yet so much to discover. The porcelain mask glitters in the moon light, the red accents popping because of it. Iruka's eyes fall to covered shoulders. There's a sliver of armor visible from under the cloak that reflects the same moonlight as the ANBU shifts his weight.
Iruka clears his throat, "would…would you like to come in for tea?"
What follows can't exactly be called silence, especially with the still bustling village in the background. Iruka rocks back on his heels, the awkwardness making him restless. He scratches at the scar on his face then moves to fidget with his sleeves.
This silence has stretched on for too long, Iruka rubs the back of his neck.
"Ah sorry. It was a stupid suggestion," He starts to turn around. Suddenly, there's a firm hand on his wrist. He slowly peers over his shoulder at the ANBU who is now clutching onto him.
"Hound-san?" This gets the attention of the ANBU.
Affirmative it signs.
Iruka's eyes widen, "Oh!"
The ANBU's so close he swears he can see the flutter of white lashes.
That's how he finds himself with one of Konoha's top officers sitting at his kotatsu with a cooling mug of tea.
The reflection of his orange-tinted apartment lights embeds a new image in his mind. For the past month he imagined the ANBU as an enigma that stalked him. Now, it's a person who sits before him. One whose presence is so familiar yet so strange. A man who just wants tea.
Iruka drums his fingers against the wood of the kotatsu.
This is awkward… He scratches his scar. Beneath the mask, he feels the ANBU track his movements with calculated precision. He shifts uncomfortably under the gaze. His eyes flicker to everywhere but the ANBU in front of him. Suddenly, he lands on the pile of essays he was grading.
"Uhm…Do you mind if I continued grading?" Iruka asks.
The ANBU stares back blankly.
Right silent killer, he picks up his discarded pen and begins scribbling corrections.
The ANBU leaves as silently as it came. All that's left in its wake is room temperature tea.
He can't stop it. The urge. It takes control of his body. Burrows itself in his stomach. Slips into the cracks of his ribs. Seizes his heart and mind.
It somehow weaseled its way past Hound.
The urge to protect and feel is embedded far into Kakashi's very person. He can get close to others. He is the reason for destroying the relationships he holds dear. Kakashi can make mistakes.
Hound is the perfect machine. Hound serves its orders perfectly. Hound feels nothing. Hound's sole purpose is to get any and all jobs done correctly. Hound kills not to protect but because he's order to. Hound shouldn't feel.
Then why does it keep going back to him?
Iruka is the embodiment of the Will of Fire. He greets every parent on the street and every shopkeeper. He is surrounded by an air of warmth that calms people in his vicinity. Yet that same warmth can turn to flames of anger.
Kakashi finds more comfort in his anger than his calm. He can deal with flushed faces and stabbing words. In fact, he encourages them. Quips and teases and innuendos are all he needs to rile up the chūnin.
But, Iruka's kindness is something he can never accept. Kakashi has witnessed the sensei's bright smile first hand. It's a dangerous thing that leaves him yearning for more. Pleading for something he can never have.
He vowed he would keep his distance after the chūnin exams.
But, a piece of the sun said no.
Naruto is physically just like his father. Blond hair that defies the sun's rays. Kind, blue eyes that have seen far too much for his age. However, his personality is an exact replica of his mother's. Loud and brass. Talkative beyond belief. Headstrong. Yet, under all that personality is a kind and gentle kid who would do anything to protect his friends and family.
He couldn't say no when Naruto asked him to check in on Iruka whenever he could. He's failed Naruto too many times already. He wasn't there to protect him when he was a dirty orphan fighting for his life on the streets. Wasn't there to stop Sasuke from defecting. Wasn't there for Sakura.
Sakura.
Out of all three of Genins she had the most potential. Despite that, he never gave her the attention she needed to grow. The attention she deserved. He was too busy dealing with the last surviving member of the Uchiha clan and the Jinchūriki to remember to train the civilian born child. He's glad she has a better sensei now.
There's the small clink of a mug being placed before him. Through the eye holes of his mask, he watches the cloud-like streaks of steam dance from the tea. He tilts his head up towards Iruka.
The teacher is sitting on the other side of the kotatsu with his own mug of green tea. His hair is tied into a braid that rests loosely on his shoulder. There are two stacks of assignments next to him: one has pristine white parchment, the other has the sheen of red pen marks. Plaster on his face is…
That goddamn smile.
Compared to what people believe a perfect smile is, Iruka's would be classified as a toothy grin. But, that doesn't make it any less beautiful.
The soft lighting and warmth of Iruka's presence does nothing to soothe his nerves.
He's a filthy fraud.
He sits before Iruka physically as Hound, yet mentally as Kakashi. He cares for a soulless being with utter ease and kindness. Pours it tea. Lets it in his home. Smiles at it like it's human. But something darker lurks underneath it.
A man.
A man who gives and gives only for it all to be taken away. A man whose every breath could be his last. A man who holds the stolen eye of his friend. A man who put a hole in his teammate. A man that treads carefully around personal relationships for fear of harming others.
A man who hides behind his hound.
Hound stands abruptly. It bows before leaving Iruka's apartment in a swirl of leaves and a flutter of its cloak.
Iruka's gotten used to the silent shadow that he welcomes into his home. The ANBU keeps its cloak and mask on, sits in the same spot at the kotatsu, and never speaks. It always leaves in a flash, never staying more than an hour or two.
At the start, he was worried that his ramblings annoyed the poor shinobi behind that mask. Yet after the fifth visit, he safely assumed that the ANBU must find some sort of comfort in his rants.
Who's he to judge? It's nice to have someone just listen. No unsolicited advice or judging looks. No jokes to lighten the mood or pats on the back. No "keep your chin up, Iruka" or pity smiles.
He supposed that he should be concerned that he's being monitored. Anko said that when he drunkenly told her about his mysterious yet frequent guest. She sobered up quickly and warned him to stay cautious around "that ANBU."
However, "That ANBU" has done nothing to prove it wishes any harm or is gathering any information on Iruka. The only real crime is that it never drinks the tea he makes. Iruka is then forced to drink two cups of green tea and ends up needing to piss twice before he sleeps.
Naruto would do the same thing. He would never drink his tea yet, would always ask for a mug when Iruka would light the kettle.
Oh, how he misses that kid.
He thinks Naruto would be happy he isn't sitting around moping about his absence. He can thank Hound for that.
"Oi! Iruka-kun, feeling extra cheerful today are we?" a gruff voice hollers from behind his stand.
"Ah, Shogo-san, it's nothing," Iruka approaches the stand, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. He rubs the back of his neck.
"Mhm," Shogo-san crosses his arms and his sleeves bunch up revealing scarred forearms.
"Well, anyways, I got some new products," He squats under his stand. He rises with a few boxes that he places on his stand. He lifts their lids and underneath are fresh, glimmering shinobi tools. Iruka can't help but stare in awe. He runs his forefinger against the hilt of a fresh kunai.
Hound might enjoy this, the thought rattles around his brain. He freezes.
Something in Iruka clicks. Something he refused to let himself feel after it left him with a sizable scar and chronic back pain.
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. Iruka, get it together, he gently lifts the kunai.
It's for a friend. A friend who is an ANBU, he raises the kunai towards his face, pretending to inspect it.
We, like any good friend, noticed he cleaned one less kunai the last time he visited…a month ago…
"Shit," Iruka drops the kunai.
"Eh?!" Shogo swiftly catches the falling weapon.
"Ah, I meant, uh," Iruka stammers, "oh shit! look at the time, I have some important grading to do! Okay, bye!"
He should get a promotion just for how fast he spun on his heel and sprinted home.
All the signs were there. They taunted him.
The worry that filled his stomach when Hound was gone for longer than usual. The loneliness that crept into his heart when the ANBU left. His constant thoughts about them.
He's no stranger to love. In fact, he would call himself a familiar friend. He was teased for his large heart by his peers. Scolded by commanding officers on missions for sparing an enemy. His friends say he must enjoy collecting strays that are in need of love.
But never had he thought he would fall for an ANBU who's identity remains a mystery.
Kami he's an idiot.
A storm has been brewing since the moment Iruka woke up. He isn't fooled by the clear perfect sky. He can feel a knot of pressure building in between his shoulder blades as the day progresses.
The first clouds begin to form a little after lunch. His students come back from break complaining about the humidity. He has to agree with them, his Shinobi blues have been sticking uncomfortably to his skin since he let them go.
There's the distant roll of thunder and the formation of dark clouds when the school day ends. He ensures all his students get home safely before the first drops fall.
He's barely an hour into his shift at the mission desk when Tsunade bursts through the doors.
"Everyone out," she announces picking at invisible dirt under her nails. She taps her heel impatiently when no one moves a muscle.
"Come on! Scram," she bellows, "get out of here before this storm hits!"
Iruka wants to ask "why?" Why close the mission desk now? The desk has always been open, rain or shine. A little thunderstorm shouldn't warrant a closure.
He barely gets his mouth open before Tsunade is shooting him a glare and raising her eyebrow at him. He takes the hint and packs his bag and hurries out the door.
Iruka's drying his hair in the bathroom when there's a sudden crash of lightning. He pauses when his wards hum with a surge of chakra and his lights flicker aggressively. When nothing else follows, he shrugs it off and leaves the bathroom. He pads over to his makeshift living room, sits at his kotatsu, and ruffles through his satchel for his student's papers.
There's a loud crack and his vision is filled with blinding white light. His eyes are finally starting to adjust back to his apartment lights when the wind abruptly picks up in speed. Leaves spiral through the air. Branches strike and scratch his windows. Slivers of déjà vu trickle into his mind.
Another burst of light welcomes the slumped figure on his balcony. It leans forward and presses a bloodied hand on the glass. The lights of Iruka's apartment illuminate just enough to make out the familiar red markings of Hound.
Iruka's suddenly racing towards the door. He throws his door open and Hound falls against him. The pungent smell of metal covers every inch of the ANBU. He immediately clocks the notably large gash on Hound's side that's trickling blood. It's placed in the opening between the ANBU's front and back pieces of armor. The ANBU's cloak had been discarded or destroyed on its journey home. The ANBU's skin is frozen to the touch. Its head is limped against his shoulder.
Iruka tries to think back on his minimal fist-aid knowledge. Hound grunts in pain when it is jostled and forced to lay against Iruka's wooden floors.
"I know. I know. it'll be okay," He soothes. He rushes towards his bathroom. He rustles through the cabinets until he finds his med-kit.
Back in the living room, Iruka is about to cut away Hound's undershirt when a clawed hand grips his wrist.
"Iruka…" the ANBU's plead is spoken barely above a whisper.
His eyes go wide. He had spent many nights dreaming of hearing Hound's voice. More than he spent dreaming of learning the ANBU's true identity. Now, even with the sound modulator in the ANBU mask, he can still make out the low and raspy timbre of its voice.
He's snapped back into reality by Hound struggling to push itself up. Iruka forces the ANBU back down, "Please, let me help," he pleads.
The ANBU tightens its grip on Iruka's wrist. The abyss-like eyes calculate Iruka's expression. He stands his ground and stares back at the ANBU.
With a sigh, Hound releases his wrist and lies back down. Iruka gives the ANBU the tiniest smile before returning to his previous task.
Once the cut in the undershirt is wide enough to properly assess the wound, Iruka opens a sterile stitching kit. Hound hisses when he begins to clean the wound. He mutters an apology under his breath.
The ANBU tenses when he inserts the needle into its skin. As he adds each stitch Hound jerk and shifts restlessly.
"Stay still, idiot!" Iruka hisses, "You want more stab wounds?!"
This forces Hound to finally sit still until Iruka closes up the gash.
A new chakra signature pulses through his wards as he's trying off his final stitch. Hound rises on to its elbows to properly identify the stranger. Iruka tilts his head towards the balcony. A new ANBU stands just outside the range of his wards, silently regarding Iruka's presence.
Iruka quickly unlocks his wards to let the new ANBU through. Cat bows its head in thanks before crouching next to Hound. There's some silent conversation between the two before their gone in a flash.
Iruka can finally observe his surroundings. There's a trail of red droplets starting from the balcony entrance that ends in a pool of drying blood in his living room. His shirt is stained with red, he sighs knowing it won't be salvageable. He dares to peak at his hands.
His palms to the tips of his fingers are crusted over with crimson. Bile burns the back of his throat. He scrambles to his bathroom before emptying his stomach into the trashcan. He gasps as the acidic smell scrapes at his nose and eyes.
He faces himself in the mirror. His face has gone pale and he has drop of salvia stuck in the corner of his lips. He clamps his eyes shut and shakes his head. He keeps his gaze down as he scrubs the blood off his hands.
Iruka's unfortunate encounter with Hound last night made him realize he had yet to replenish his med-kit since before Naruto left.
Iruka only splurges on two things: ramen and his medical supplies. There's a popular store on the outskirts of the village that supplies the hospitals around konoha with all their needs.
"Ehh?! Iruka-sensei!?" a feminine voice, one he hasn't heard in a long time, calls out to him from behind.
"Sakura-chan!" He grins at the pink-haired girl, her hands full of gauze, bandages, and packaged syringes.
She rushes up to him, "Sensei! What are you doing here?"
"Just replenishing my med-kit," he scratches his scar, "I assume you're doing a supply run for the hospital?"
She huffs and nods in annoyance, "Kakashi-sensei is a pain for the Medical-nins to deal with! Anytime he visits we always run low on supplies!"
He forces a laugh, Kakashi's also in the hospital?
Sakura is none the wiser and laughs with him.
They spend a few more minutes talking about her training before waving goodbye when Sakura mentions she needs to hurry back to Tsunade.
Iruka's walk home is silent except for his rapid thoughts.
Against his better judgment he finds himself at the door to Kakashi's hospital room.
They aren't even friends. At least, not anymore.
There was a time where Team seven would occasionally bring him along to their team dinners. At first Kakashi and him would talk about the team's progress. Then, it went to inquiring about the other's day. Which led to waves, hellos, and invites to dinner whenever they saw each other.
That all ended with Naruto's departure.
Now he hesitates to open a door that's been closed for so long.
He raises his hand to knock.
There's a crash and a string of curses from inside the room before Iruka's fist even reaches the door. He pushes through to find an unruly sight.
Kakashi has one of his legs is tied up in his IV drip and the other is tangled up in the hospital bedding. His hospital gown is barely keeping him decent while he's sprawled on the floor. His usual black mask and forehead protector are replaced with a sterile blue mask and a white eye patch. He looks up at Iruka with slightly flushed cheeks.
"Maa…Sensei, it seems I've fallen for you," he drawls seemingly not bothered by his current predicament.
Iruka clears his throat as heat rises to his cheeks. He crosses his arms and taps his foot in annoyance. He levels him with the same gaze he directs at his misbehaving students. Kakashi gives a sheepish eye smile and rubs the back of his neck.
He sighs and approaches the white-haired Jōnin, "Come on, let's get you back to bed."
Iruka extends his hand and Kakashi clasps their hands together. He's helping maneuver Kakashi back into his hospital bed when he catches a glimpse of dark stitches on the older man's side.
Iruka's blood runs cold. He'd recognize his messy medical work any day of the week. Especially, the frantic sutures he made last night.
Iruka meets Kakashi's eyes.
"…Hound?" he murmurs under his breath.
For the briefest moment, Kakashi's grasp stiffens. His eyes flicker away from Iruka's.
Iruka steps back to observe Kakashi from afar.
His eyelashes are white, something clicks inside him. He's brought back to the night he invited Hound into his home. When the ANBU pressed forward Iruka swear he saw a glimmer of white from within the mask. At first he blamed it on the moonlight. Now he understands.
Iruka wishes he could voice all the thoughts that are swarming his head. But, all he can do is whisper a simple, "Why?"
Kakashi's eye widens. He scans Iruka face. He must find whatever he was looking for as his shoulders sag with a sigh.
"Umino Iruka, I don't deserve you," He smiles sickly.
Iruka's not allowed to process Kakashi's words as Tsunade barges into his room.
"I'm tired of seeing you in here, brat!" she announces. She realizes that another presence is in the room.
"Ah, Iruka-sensei visiting hours are over," she hurries Iruka out the door.
He doesn't remember the walk back to his apartment.
I don't deserve you.
Those four words loop inside his head until he slumbers.
It's almost been two months since Iruka's last seen Kakashi or Hound.
His friends had originally joked about the size of his eye bags. But as they continued to grow as the weeks progressed their jokes turned to genuine concern. It got to a point that Tsunade threatened to suspend him from the mission desk if he dissociated on the job again.
It's almost been two months since loneliness crept back in to haunt him.
He's stopped accepting invites to grab drinks with the other teachers. Anko had to drag him from his home to a bar just to have him hang out with their friends.
He's scared he fucked up his only chance of a friendship? Relationship? with Kakashi.
Utterly terrified that Kakashi no longer exists.
Completely and utterly afraid of the gentle knock against his balcony door.
It's been almost 2 months since Hound…since Kakashi has been inside the village. He's required to report immediately to the Hokage after returning from a mission of that length. But when has he ever been known to be on time?
He doesn't need Hound to lead him this time. He ends up on a familiar balcony all on his own. He hesitates when he see Iruka grading at his kotatsu. He looks so beautiful. His hair is removed from his usual spiky ponytail and now drapes behind his ear and onto his shoulder. Kakashi could just stand and admire. But he came here for a reason.
He taps his metal claws against the window. Iruka's head snaps towards him. He stifles a laugh as he watches the Chūnin scramble to open the door.
"Kakashi," oh how he missed that voice. It says his name so breathlessly.
"Iruka," Kakashi's voice is distorted by his mask.
Iruka's face contorts in a way Kakashi's never seen him do before. His nose scrunches, his lip quivers, and his eyes are pinched shut. Next thing he knows he being pulled into Iruka's apartment and into a soul-crushing hug.
Filled with indecision, his claws hover over Iruka's shoulders.
"I missed you," the words are whispered next to his ear and trigger a burst of a feeling he thought he lost long ago. Kakashi grips onto the back of Iruka's shirt and buries his masked face into the crook of Iruka's neck.
Iruka pulls back and Kakashi misses his warmth. He sits Kakashi at the Kotatsu. He's grinning like a mad-man but it's the most gorgeous thing Kakashi has ever seen. It's something Kakashi doesn't deserve.
He remembers his self-appointed mission. Clear the air around Hound and never return.
"Iruka-"
"Do you want tea? I have some green tea already brewed," Iruka interrupts him.
"Iruka," he tries again.
But his plea falls on deaf ears, "Or unless want something else, I'd be happy to brew you something!"
"I have Genmaicha, Oolong, Mugicha,Soba-"
"Iruka!" His claws dig into his thighs. He can't tell if Iruka is purposefully ignoring the elephant in the room or if he doesn't care.
Both options are equally bad.
"Iruka," he continues, "why aren't you questioning me?"
Iruka's face drops. He joins Kakashi at the Kotatsu. He takes a deep breath and releases it in a quick puff.
"Well besides the fact it's an act of treason to ask an ANBU their identity…" he pauses, "I didn't want to ruin what we already had."
"Well I'm giving you permission," Kakashi interjects.
Despite his previous hesitation Iruka doesn't wait long before asking, "How long have you been ANBU?"
Kakashi closes his eyes to count mentally, "Around 10 years before the Sandaime discharged me and made me a Jōnin sensei. Tsunade reinstated me less than a year ago."
Iruka's quick to follow up, "Why would she do that?"
He shrugs, "We lost many in Orochimaru's attack, Tsunade needed to fill as many holes as she could with the limited resources she had."
Iruka nods, digesting what the information he's been giving. Kakashi watches as he drums his fingers in a syncopated rhythm against the wood of the Kotatsu.
He suddenly stops mid-tap and clenches his fists. "Kakashi?" the white-haired man hums, "can you take off the mask?"
He tenses. The average person who asks that question ends up leaving filled with disappointment. But for once, for this one man, he doesn't want to disappoint.
He reaches one hand behind his head and another to the bottom of the mask. With one fell swoop the porcelain Hound is removed. And what's left behind is a man.
"There you are," Iruka whispers. Kakashi's cheeks flush and he shifts his gaze away from Iruka's.
"Kakashi, look at me" and like a good soldier he follows.
"Kakashi," Iruka continues, "why don't I deserve you?"
The question is a stab to the heart. He still doesn't know why he let that slipped in the hospital. Now he reaps the consequences of his actions.
"I've failed you too many times, Iruka," he begins. He fiddles with the straps on his armor, "I let Naruto's situation get out of hand. I couldn't stop Sasuke from defecting. I couldn't give your brightest student the attention she deserved. And worse of all, I led you on as Hound, " Kakashi keeps his gaze focused on the individual grain patterns in the wood.
The silence is suffocating. It drowns him in dread. Smothers him with fear.
"Oh Kakashi," Iruka crosses over to join the Jōnin on the other side of the Kotatsu. He pulls Kakashi into his space. He wraps his arms around the man and presses his face into the scraggly white hair. Kakashi feels the delicate pressure of a kiss to the crown of his head. He fits his head in the crook of Iruka's neck and just breathes. Breathes in the scent of Iruka, relishes in his warmth as it surrounds him.
"No matter how hard might try, some factors of life are uncontrollable," Iruka whispers into his hair, "nothing you could do could make me stop treating you with kindness."
"Believe me when I say I will love every part of you," Kakashi's breath stutters, "even the ones you hate."
Kakashi relaxes into the embrace. He'll never know what the future will bring. Maybe he'll lose Iruka t omorrow. But right in this moment. Right this second. He is where he needs to be.