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Chapter Text

The sweet taste of the air is cloying on Iruka’s tongue. Humidity curls up around his neck, making drops of sweat bead and drip in endless cycles. The silence in the sky hints at a storm fast approaching. The dark, rolling clouds indicate a fierce thunderstorm that will rattle the roofs through the night. The barn is full of bleating sheep stumbling around in panic. The storm has always unsettled them.

He’s missing two sheep, Manju and Ahi. The wind picks up outside as he takes another count. Lightning flashes in the distance, but he can’t hear the thunder that follows.

Iruka has an hour, maybe less, to find the sheep and get back home. There aren’t any caves or decent cover from storm for miles around. There are only tall trees that sway dangerously in the wind and empty grasslands that lead to the shore. He debates staying in the warmth of his home and searching for the lost sheep in the morning, and then feels like absolute scum.

Iruka quickly grabs the torchlight hanging by the door, in case the sun sets before he gets back, and runs out into the wind.

Manju was hiding in her usual bush north of the farmhouse. Ahi was much trickier to locate and ate up much of the hour. Now that Iruka has both sheep tucked under his arms, the patter of rain is heavy and the wind is strong enough to almost push Iruka sideways as he trudges home.

As the child of shinobi, Iruka knows a thing or two about chakra. His parents had left him a multitude of scrolls that Iruka perused whenever curiosity got the better of him. He had taught himself, over the years, to control his chakra in ways that help immensely in his daily chores. He’d skipped through anything minutely dangerous and focused on things that could help him climb slippery slopes, calm noisy sheep, heal scrapes, and move faster without trouble. The wind picks up even as the farmhouse comes to view, and it is only his chakra that keeps him sticking to the ground step after step.

He considers taking the sheep into the house instead of going to the barn behind the house and then shakes his head roughly. The last time he’d done that, Oden had chewed through his sofa. His eyes glaze over at the memory and the sheer exhaustion he feels at the prospect of walking some more. And suddenly his head snaps up. There are people outside his door. Five cloaked figures (two big, three small) huddled on his patio. That takes precedence, for sure.

As Iruka stomps up the steps to the patio, the sheep resume their bleating, as though prompted by the familiarity of their surroundings. Turning to the strangers, Iruka tries to look firm and intimidating with bleating sheep wriggling in his arms. He comes face to face with three scraped-up children, a tall, slim man whose face is completely obscured but for an eye, and an old, bespectacled man. Iruka cannot, on his conscience, turn children out into a storm. However, he knows how foolish it is to take people in without question.

‘Who are you?’ Iruka shouts over the sound of the wind.

‘Uzumaki Naruto,’ one of the children yells, way louder than the wind could excuse.

‘Konoha shinobi,’ the tall man replies at the same time, at a more reasonable volume. ‘Please let us take shelter in your home until the storm abates.’

‘Ah, Konohagakure,’ Iruka says fondly. ‘The dango shop next to the yakiniku place sells the best dango for miles.’

Uzumaki Naruto fidgets. ‘Nobody car-,’ he grumbles. A hand shoots out from the child-sized cloak behind him and clamps over his mouth.

The tall man, hearing the test for what it is, says, ‘I could’ve sworn that dango shop is on block 22, beside the okonomiyaki stand.’

Iruka quirks a brief smile and shouts, ‘I’ll be right back,’ before dashing off into the barn. He all but throws the sheep in and hurries back to unlock the door. Iruka props the door open as the strangers and Uzumaki Naruto shuffle into the large genkan. The tall man brings up the rear. Iruka slams the door shut behind him. After that, the sudden silence is jarring.

‘Leave your coats and everything wet here and stay here,’ he says as he toes off his shoes and goes to get some towels. When he gets back, the children have emerged from their heavy outerwear to reveal their tired little faces. Uzumaki Naruto has spiky hair the colour of lemons. Beside him are a brooding boy with dark hair and a girl with pink hair. They had dumped their packs by the door and were now extracting ration bars from its pockets. The tall man’s cloak lies neatly folded beside the children’s haphazard pile. Strands of his silver hair glints in the dim light. Even with the hitai-ate and mask, Iruka can see the strong shape of his jaw and an eye that betrays deadly intelligence. Iruka’s breath catches in his throat. The man extends his long fingers and reaches into his breast pocket to pull out a book with a garish orange cover. Icha Icha Paradise—that’s porn, right? That broke the spell. He feels heat rise into his cheeks in mortification. He’d known that shinobi are weird and rude but… Iruka quickly hands out the towels and ushers them all into the dining room. 

Naruto is the first through the sliding doors, poking his head in with a suspicious squint. He catches sight of something that makes him freeze in his tracks and then yell. The grey-haired man is at his side in an instant, peering into the room.

‘Aaah, is that- Is that a kotatsu?’ Naruto spins around, exhaustion all gone. He doesn’t wait for a reply and shoulders past grey hair, who follows silently. The rest follow after them, pooling at the doorway in the dining room. Naruto stops in front of the kotatsu, watching it with reverence for a long while. The girl’s face is bright with restrained excitement. Iruka breaks the silence first.

‘Go on, sit in the kotatsu,’ he says to Naruto, walking away without a backward glance to put a kettle on the stove.

Once everybody is seated with steaming cups of tea in front of them, Iruka decides the introductions ought to begin.

‘I’m Umino Iruka,’ he says, dipping his head.

‘Hatake Kakashi,’ the silver-haired man says, flicking his gaze up from the book. ‘Thank you for letting us stay.’

Ah. It finally clicks. During her frequent unwelcome visits, Anko likes to tell him about Konoha. She rambles on and on about the dango shop, the juiciest gossip, who to be careful around and who’s the biggest softie despite appearances. Hatake Kakashi is one of the village hotties, she said once, and one of the people she’d considered in her long and fruitless quest to end her singledom. Sharingan no Kakashi, master of a thousand jutsus, a legend almost as outstanding as his father, Konoha’s White Fang. A moderately-sized softie inside who believes in teamwork over all else. His strange obsession with Icha Icha makes Anko think he might be a beast in the sheets, but she’d never had the chance to find out. He is solitary and unapproachable at best. Iruka’s grip on his cup tighten for a moment.

She had told him about Team 7 once, about the Uchiha survivor and the container of the Kyūbi.

‘Our mission,’ Kakashi says after everybody’s introductions are done, ‘is to escort Tazuna-san to Wave Country.’

‘We were attacked by missing nins earlier!’ boasts Naruto.

‘Really? How did you fight them off?’

Sakura pitches in to explain and a blush steals up Naruto’s face. He hides his hand under the table and moans, ‘I froze up!’

Iruka knows that shinobi children have a different kind of childhood from civilians. Once upon a time, he could’ve been one of these children, freshly graduated and sharing stories about a recent battle. He feels an odd mixture of regret and relief in his gut, and drinks more tea to drown that out.

Kakashi is content to let the conversation pass him by. The silence that crops up is not uncomfortable, but the wind is howling madly outside and Iruka wants to distract himself. Luckily, Naruto is set off by the simplest questions like someone starved of attention. Which he probably is, being a container of the hated Kyūbi. Iruka asks the children questions about their recent missions. They answer animatedly (with the exception of Sasuke, whose answers are variations of an annoyed grunt) and Iruka listens as Tazuna sips his tea and Kakashi reads his book. After a while, the children begin to ask him questions, too.

It’s nice to have visitors that aren’t half-dead shinobi or crazies like Anko. The few shinobi he is friends with like to use his house as some sort of free rest stop. He doesn’t mind, because it’s nice to have some company, even if Kotetsu and Izumo are always eating through his fridge and Raidou sits in silence for most of his visits. 

As the night wears on, the children’s speech begins to deteriorate, words slurring together as their heads droop onto the table. One by one, the children begin dropping off to sleep, tucked to their shoulders under the kotatsu. Tazuna excuses himself to use the guest room. Only Kakashi seems unaffected by the passing of the night, flipping through the pages at the same sedate pace. He has to keep watch, of course. Iruka’s eyes are already drooping.

When he wakes up, it’s morning, there’s a blanket draped over his shoulders, and the visitors are nowhere to be found.

Chapter Text

The tree's hanging boughs make a stippling of shadows on the grass. Iruka watches them sway with vacant eyes. It strikes him suddenly, as it often does, how alone he is here. The grazing fields stretch out till as far as the eye can see, and there is nobody in sight, only his bleating sheep. The nearest village is half an hour by foot in the opposite direction. Not far but not convenient, either. Maybe this weekend, he'll ask the grocer's daughter to watch his sheep. Chiaki loves the sheep and made it a point to memorise all 43 of their names. She told him once that watching the sheep is the closest she ever gets to a break from all the chores her parents hoist on her. She'll appreciate it. Then, on Saturday, maybe, he can swing by Anko's apartment.

Insufferable as she may be, Iruka loves the distraction she provides. And, just maybe, Iruka misses the way she nags him about his love life, the way she scolds him for needlessly sequestering himself so far out. The way she loudly points out attractive people at the bar until Iruka's ears turn red and people start leaving or buying him drinks. It doesn't hurt that the sheep are almost ready to be sheared. Anko and the other shinobi are wicked with a kunai and can make any skilled farmhand cry.

An unbidden thought floats into his head. It is Kakashi, with that aloof expression on his face, draping a blanket over Iruka’s shoulders. Iruka has no evidence but… who else can it be? The man seems like a contradiction, indifferent and gentle at the same time. Iruka isn’t afraid to admit to himself that he’s hoping Anko might know a thing or two about Hatake Kakashi.

Saturday night, Iruka finds himself outside Anko’s apartment, pointedly banging on the door. His civilian clothes are out of place at the Tokujō dormitory and he really wants Anko to hurry up.

‘Five minutes,’ Anko yells, as if she hasn’t said the same thing five minutes ago. Iruka continues his banging with a lot of determination. Half an hour later, she slams the door open and Iruka has to push chakra into his feet to leap out of the way.

‘Okay,’ she says good-naturedly, slinging an arm around Iruka’s shoulders, ‘time to go.’

The Hanging Garden is always full on a Saturday, but Anko knows somebody who knows somebody, so they’re practically always guaranteed a seat. They find a nice booth with a clear view of everybody in the bar, which means that anybody Anko torments with her lewd comments will get a clear view of her and Iruka’s face. It’s a warmly-lit establishment with tasteful wall hangings and wine-coloured sofas. Other people in the bar are shinobi, most of them still in their standard-issue vests. Izumo and Kotetsu come five minutes later, sliding cheerfully into the booth. When Raidou comes at last, he brings Genma and Aoba whom Iruka has met once or twice.

‘It’s a special occasion,’ Kotetsu cheers. ‘It’s always a special occasion when Iruka is here.’

‘He lives like a hermit,’ Izumo confirms. Iruka sputters.

‘I just saw you yesterday!’

Kotetsu laughs unrepentantly. ‘Yeah, but if we don’t visit you, you’ll wither and die all alone in that huge house of yours.’

Raidou nods sagely and purposely brushes against Genma’s arm as he sips his sake.

Iruka supposes it’s Kotetsu’s way of telling him to come join them more often. He always gets swept along by life at the farm that, before he knows it, it’s been a whole month since he’d gone drinking with everybody. Still, it feels good to be wanted.

‘The sheep,’ Iruka says later, ‘are almost ready.’

Aoba perks up. Iruka suspects that Aoba only started tagging along with their group for the sheep and not the personalities. Anko groans and Kotetsu whoops. The last few times, Izumo and Kotetsu insisted on holding some kind of competition to see who can shear the most sheep. Anko hates it because she always loses to Raidou. Izumo and Kotetsu are unfailingly optimistic each time.

‘Two weeks from now, on Wednesday,’ Iruka says.

‘If you need more help, I’m free on that day,’ Aoba says immediately, with a careful air of cool nonchalance.

‘I miss Manju,’ Izumo says fondly, ‘She’s a very good sheep.’

‘Sorry, Iruka. I’ve got a thing,’ Genma says mournfully.

‘What thing?’ Raidou asks, trying to affect the same cool nonchalance that Aoba did, but the words came out sharper than he’d intended.

‘Bodyguard duty,’ Genma says with a hint of a smug smile at the corners of his mouth.

‘Get a ro-,’ Kotetsu says. Izumo quickly tugs his arm.

‘We’re getting the next round,’ Izumo says. In a snap, Izumo’s dragged Kotetsu to the bar, his hand a vice around Kotetsu’s arm.

At some point in the evening, Genma, Aoba, and Raidou have gravitated towards another group of shinobi. Iruka only recognises Kurenai among them. Izumo and Kotetsu are whispering and laughing at the bar, gossiping like bored housewives. Perfect, Iruka’s drunk mind says, Perfect time to ask about Kakashi.

‘What about Kakashi?’ Anko groans out. She slams her fist on the table with a resounding crack. ‘That beautiful, annoying man. I’m done trying to figure him out.’

When Iruka tells her about the whole thing from two weeks ago, she hums thoughtfully. Iruka wants to know about the mask, which she’d never mentioned before. He wants to know how Kakashi is as a teacher—if he’s more distant or approachable. Anko has absolutely nothing to contribute.

'Rumour has it,' she whispers to him conspiratorially, ‘the mask is so that other people don’t get distracted while on missions with him. He’s so handsome that it’s become a liability.’ Anko’s face and neck are red and her arm is thrown possessively over Iruka’s shoulder.

Iruka buries his face in his arms and sighs.

On Monday two weeks later, like some sort of trusty sixth sense, Iruka feels the air pressure drop. The night gets warmer as it wears on. By dinnertime, there’s lighting flashing periodically in the distance and Iruka is reminded very strongly of what happened last storm.

Genma told him that the mission that Team Kakashi was sent on was far above their paygrade. He’s not too worried, he says, because it’s Kakashi. They’re expected back any time this week.

Iruka still worries about the children, because they’re children and he’s gotten to know them enough. There are plenty of shinobi children, of course. Plenty of untimely deaths for the sake of everybody’s safety. That’s a whole other can of worms that Iruka refuses to open, but now that he knows those three children in particular, he prays that they’ll make it home alive.

Iruka wonders if Team 7 is already back in Konoha or if they’re making the journey back at this moment, in the storm.

And then, like a miracle, there’s a knock on his door. It can’t be Team 7, because that’s just too much of a coincidence… right? Iruka walks to the door, his heart thumping oddly in his chest. He’s not apprehensive or excited, just disbelieving.

The sight that greets him floods his heart with relief and more disbelief. It is Team 7, sans drunk old man, looking healthy and drenched.

‘Yo,’ Kakashi says cheerfully.

‘It’s us again,’ Naruto grins.

‘Iruka-san,’ Sakura nods respectfully. Sasuke gives him a nod, too. Iruka can’t help the smile that sneaks onto his face.

‘Hello again,’ he addresses all of them, and then, after they’ve dumped their coats and packs, he steers all of them to the kotatsu.

Conversation comes easier this time because of the familiarity that they'd built last time.

‘We stayed until the bridge was finished,’ Sakura says. She had been the one to explain the huge political and economic effect the bridge would have on Wave Country.

‘They named the bridge after me, you know,’ Naruto says, vibrating with pride.

‘Stop bragging, dobe,’ Sasuke says. His tone is warm.

They tell him all about Inari, about the battle at the end, about Zabuza and Haku. Naruto’s face scrunches up in pain and Sakura’s eyes tear up. Even the sadness that seems to surround Sasuke deepens for a moment.

‘I just wish Haku knew how Zabuza felt, y’know?’ Naruto says. They stay silent for a while, listening to the wind beating against the panes.

Then, like a drenched puppy shaking off water and becoming all spiky again, Naruto shakes off the sad weight that had settled on his shoulders and exclaims, ‘When I’m Hokage, I’ll get rid of people like Gato, I promise.’ His eyes are so seriously determined that Iruka is momentarily taken aback.

This time, Kakashi weighs in with his opinions every now and then, his book a little further away from his face. He flicks his eyes up at them every now and then, and Iruka feels an assessing glance thrown his way once or twice. Kakashi is still unfairly distracting, silver hair looking unruly and soft and his long fingers making Iruka’s mind go… places. In contrast, Iruka knows that he looks positively unkempt, his hair in a messy ponytail and his yukata almost threadbare.

The conversation stretches until almost midnight before the children fall asleep in the kotatsu again. Kakashi's book is shut and tucked safely in his pocket. Iruka had meant to offer them a bedroom this time, but it seems they would decline anyway.

‘So,’ Iruka says softly, trying to seem casual, ‘what are they like, as students?’

Kakashi looks at Iruka thoughtfully and says, ‘Naruto has a lot of stamina but is very weak in the basics. Sakura is smart and learns fast, but she doesn't know why she wants to be a shinobi. Sasuke is… hung up on something and doesn’t want to count on his teammates.’ Iruka nods in understanding, glad to know that Kakashi is a teacher that cares. ‘You are very good with them,’ Kakashi tells him.

‘I used to teach in the elementary school in the village,’ Iruka says, stomach warming at the praise.

‘Why the change?’ Kakashi asks bluntly. Iruka finds that he doesn’t mind. There is a comfortable bubble that envelops all five of them that makes Iruka feel less reserved here than with most people.

‘My uncle fell sick,’ Iruka explains. ‘I quit to take care of him and the farm. After he died, my position at the academy was already filled. I still work there part-time, though. I’m a substitute teacher.’ Kakashi’s gaze on him is intense. Iruka wants to fiddle with his yukata but forces his hands still.

‘How did you know how to channel chakra?’ Kakashi asks. Only his curious tone stops it from feeling like an interrogation.

‘How did you know…?’

Kakashi seems troubled for a moment, as if trying to decide what to reveal. Finally, he says, ‘I can see when people use chakra.’

‘My parents were shinobi. They left me a lot of scrolls about this…’ Iruka tells him, then belatedly realised that there might be some law about unaffiliated shinobi and learning ninja secrets unsupervised. ‘I only learnt the simple ones that can’t be used to attack,’ Iruka adds hurriedly. ‘What about- why the mask?’ He hopes Kakashi doesn’t notice the total non-sequitur. Kakashi probably does, though. Shinobi notice everything.

‘Hm… reasons,’ is the short answer. It’s meant to be aggravating, Iruka knows, but there is also an undertone of a secret that Kakashi guards jealously. It seems, after hours of easy conversation, they are both running into each other's walls.

‘Fine,’ Iruka says, and steers the conversation back to easy topics like Konoha, the economy, and their favourite restaurants.

They talk deep into the night. Iruka doesn’t keep track of the time, only feels himself sinking deeper and deeper into the kotatsu. Kakashi’s slouch doesn’t get any worse and Iruka feels a passing jealousy at the man’s easy endurance. In the end, Iruka is sprawled out on the floor, the kotatsu blanket coming up to his waist. Even as his thoughts are getting increasingly muddled, he soldiers on, determined to tell the story of when Ahi and Ebi had a fight and Ebi took a chunk of Ahi’s rump. The last thing he remembers is the sound of Kakashi’s laughter and that amused tone as Kakashi leans over slightly and tells Iruka to go to sleep already.

Chapter Text

Sitting under the tree at dawn, a gentle breeze keeps Iruka company. The sheep are grazing happily on the dewy grass. The soft light of the sun breaking over the hills creates a gradient of warm hues in the sky. The sight makes Iruka’s heart ache. He wonders if someone out there is seeing the same sky.

He pushes away from the tree to lie down, letting his untied hair make a halo around his head. Cool, peaceful mornings like these are perfect. They remind Iruka of laughing as his father chased him in the woods and, after his parents’ deaths, sitting quietly with his uncle at dawn. The one thing that’s missing now is someone to share them with.

Kakashi’s shock of silver hair floats to Iruka’s mind. The thought jolts him enough that he’s sitting up before he realises it. Iruka wrestles the image away. He’s only met the man twice—Iruka shouldn’t feel like he knows Kakashi, because he really doesn’t. They know very little about each other. Not that logic has ever stopped his heart from hoping.

In any case, it’s pointless. The difference between Iruka, a lowly civilian, and Kakashi, one of the most powerful shinobi in the world, is like… the difference between a servant and a daimyo. It’s unbridgeable and Iruka’s hands really shouldn’t tremble when he thinks about that rude, reticent man. But then it strikes Iruka that one of the Icha Icha books is about a servant and a daimyo and he is definitely not about to fantasise about a world where Iruka, a palace servant, catches the eye of the suspiciously grey-haired daimyo, who arranges a secret rendezvous—

‘Iruka-san!’ a familiar voice shouts. It’s Ayame from Ichiraku, waving vigorously. She has a package the size of her torso wrapped in her arms and a huge pig’s leg strapped to her back.

‘Good morning!’ Iruka shouts, waving back. ‘How are today’s cuts?’

‘Very good! Today, the tonkatsu are going to be the juiciest we’ve ever cooked!’

Iruka pretends he’s not salivating a little. ‘Good! I’ll go if I have the chance; it’s shearing day today.’ Ayame winces in sympathy at that. They make small talk but Ayame is on a tight schedule as always and apologises as she dashes off.

The sky is still orange by the time Ayame disappears over the hill. Iruka lies back down, looking at the sky listlessly. No more thinking about Kakashi, his logical mind yells. Slowly, Oden wanders over and grazes next to Iruka. She bleats loudly in his ear every now and then, probably trying to tell him to roll over so she can get to the yummy stuff that Iruka is crushing with his unworthy ass. Iruka doesn’t move, not even to swat her away when she starts nibbling on his slacks. He just looks up at the sky and sighs.

‘Hey, Iruka. Hey, hey, Iruka.’ Something slaps his face repeatedly. Iruka’s hand shoots up and grabs the offending object as his eyes crack open. It’s Kotetsu’s hand. Of course, it’s Kotetsu’s hand.

‘Good, you’re alive,’ Kotetsu huffs. ‘You sleep like you’re dead.’

‘I wish you were dead.’

‘It’s touching how much you miss us already,’ Izumo says, unruffled.

‘It’s not safe to sleep out here, Iruka,’ Raidou asserts worriedly, looking around as if trying to spot enemy nin in the bushes. ‘Anything could happen.’

‘I’m a civilian wool farmer,’ Iruka levels him with an unimpressed gaze, ‘Nobody is targeting me. And I can take care of myself, thank you very much.’

‘Here’s the onigiri we promised.’ Kotetsu places a huge bento filled with maybe fifty perfectly-shaped onigiri, glittering in the sunshine. He shoots Iruka a proud smile, like he’s expecting to be praised. His face drops when everyone moves on with the conversation immediately.

It’s seven, an hour before they were supposed to meet up, yet the four of them are chatting languidly on the grass. Iruka wonders if Konoha shinobi really have nothing better to do on a regular day. But then, listening to the chirping birds and rustling grass, Iruka can see the appeal.

When Aoba strolls over the hill into view an hour later, Iruka is stunned into silence.

‘Guess who I bumped into,’ Aoba mutters.

‘Heeey, Iruka-niisan!’ Naruto calls, grinning.

‘Yo,’ Kakashi says over Aoba’s shoulder. ‘We were just minding our own businesses in Ichiraku when a little bird told us it’s shearing day.’

‘I told you it’s shearing day,’ Aoba complains. Iruka’s heart is in his mouth. He wonders if this is some kind of divine punishment for wanting what he can’t have.

‘A little bird invited us to come along, and we just couldn’t resist,’ Kakashi says cheerfully.

‘They invited themselves. I swear, Iruka-san,’ Aoba insists crossly. ‘Plus, I didn’t know you guys knew each other.’

‘We brought you ramen!’ Naruto crows. ‘It was Ayame-neechan’s suggestion, though.’ All of a sudden, Iruka doesn’t mind their presence at all.

‘It’s okay, Aoba-san. The more, the merrier,’ Iruka declares. It’s not the ramen talking. He’d be just as happy to see them if they hadn’t brought ramen. Really. He smiles up at Kakashi and Naruto as they settle down beside him. Naruto snatches up an onigiri hungrily as if he hadn’t just had ramen for breakfast.

‘Ungh, this is so good,’ he moans.

‘Right?’ Kotetsu grins cheekily.

‘Iruka-niisan, have you seen the sky today?’ Naruto asks. ‘It’s so pretty.’

‘A good sign,’ Raidou says, looking up appreciatively. Tiny clouds float like a thousand sheep ambling across the sky.

‘It’s called a mackerel sky,’ Iruka explains. ‘Or sheepback clouds. Usually comes before rain or storm.’

Izumo hums and lies back to watch the clouds.

‘I feel like I’ll win today,’ Kotetsu states. He lifts his arm up and closes his fist as if to catch a cloud. ‘The clouds are telling me I’ll win.’

‘Naruto won’t stop talking about you,’ Kakashi confides later, as Naruto munches happily on another onigiri. ‘It was getting sad.’ Beside him, Naruto spits some rice as his face turns red.

‘Well, you’re nice, unlike Kakashi-sensei,’ Naruto says to Iruka, shooting a scowl at Kakashi, ‘Kakashi-sensei is weird, perverted and always late.’

Kakashi mock swoons and Naruto’s scowl deepens. His ears are still burning as he quickly grabs another onigiri and runs off to join Izumo in petting the sheep. Kotetsu gets up and chases him. Aoba had pulled Raidou away to talk about some Secret Mission Stuff earlier in the morning, so that leaves just Kakashi and Iruka sitting on the mat in companionable silence. It’s enjoyable, sitting in the morning breeze with company. Iruka can almost forget he has a weird sudden-onset crush on the other man.

‘You treat him like the other kids,’ Kakashi says quietly, out of the blue. It takes a moment for Iruka to remember what they were speaking about.

‘He is just another kid,’ Iruka murmurs, ‘and I don’t know how people can’t see that when they look at him.’

‘People are blinded by fear and hatred,’ Kakashi shrugs, but he gives Iruka a warm look. Iruka’s insides do somersaults in response.

‘Oiii!,’ Anko shouts as she strolls over the hill with Chiaki in tow. ‘Guess who I found!’

‘Our esteemed referee,’ Izumo bows deeply to Chiaki, ‘Thank you for always making sure Anko doesn’t cheat.’ Which, as usual, triggers an outburst from Anko and then a very loud argument that ends, somehow, in laughter.

Chiaki squirms in Anko’s grasp, and finally breaks free with a panicked expression on her face.

‘You’re like a magnet,’ Kakashi chuckles to Iruka. ‘How do you know everyone when you live in the middle of nowhere?’

Iruka shrugs. ‘I… don’t really know. Chiaki is the grocer’s daughter and babysits the sheep sometimes. Anko was camping in the rain one day, so I offered shelter. I still regret it, you know. Anko told Izumo and Kotetsu about the nice free shinobi rest stop she’d stayed in, which my house is not, by the way, so don’t get any ideas.’

Kakashi looks at him sidelong. ‘Hmm, I’ve got some already.’

Wh… what? Iruka laughs a little, but he’s hysterical inside. He decides to ignore what Kakashi said in case it was just his imagination. It is entirely possible that he had just misheard Kakashi. Then, without a verbal response because his brain can’t manage one at the moment, he nods at Kakashi jerkily and gets up to find Daifuku for a demonstration.

Iruka insists on having a demonstration each time, not only for the sake of the newbies, but also to remind his friends very nicely that he would skin them alive if they so much as scratch any of his bab— any of his sheep. Daifuku happily goes limp in his arms during the demonstration, which is why Iruka loves her so much. She makes the shearing look deceptively easy, which Aoba will find to be disgustingly misleading.

Iruka points out five different sheets he had laid out under trees where they could put their wool so that the wool will be sheltered from wind and debris. Chiaki is around to pet sheep and make sure nobody cheats. When asked to take part, Kakashi declines, saying that he’ll just win anyway. Anko asks him to fight her. Iruka has to patiently explain to a stubborn Naruto why he cannot come near any of Iruka’s precious sheep with a pointy kunai. Not because Iruka doubts his skills as a shinobi, but because Kakashi said his dog is better with a kunai than Naruto.

And finally, finally, Iruka sets the corner of an exploding tag on fire, throws it on the ground and it goes with a bang. All five shinobi disappear and Iruka settles down beside Kakashi, content to watch his friends doing his job for free.

Iruka uncaps the takeout bowl and takes a deep breath of the still-warm ramen. Gods, Teuchi’s ramen skills are divine. He snaps the wooden chopsticks with a quickly muttered ‘Itadakimasu’ and his surroundings fade away as he inhales the noodles like a man possessed.

When he’s done, he looks up to see Kakashi’s eye curved in mirth.

‘What?’ Iruka demands.

‘You look exactly like Naruto eating that.’

‘Then Naruto has good taste,’ Iruka says decisively, casting a glance around to spot the boy. He finds Naruto cross-legged in the middle of the mad wriggling cacophony of shinobi vs sheep, peacefully cradling the month-old lamb, the newest addition to the sheep family. Behind them, Raidou’s kunai strips Tsukumen neatly, going through the wool like a hot knife through butter. Aoba, on the other hand, is struggling to pin a bleating Soba in place with one hand while he fumbles with a kunai on the other.

‘How much do you know about chakra, Iruka-san?’ Kakashi queries. 

‘Er, just the basics,’ Iruka says, feeling silly because chakra is a shinobi’s domain and Kakashi is the apotheosis of the word ‘shinobi’.

‘What kind of things can you do?’ Kakashi seems genuinely curious and Iruka doesn't understand why.

‘I can stick on things, make chakra-activated traps, seals and wards, heal minor wounds,’ Iruka trails off.

Kakashi’s eye looks at Iruka approvingly. ‘And those are all self-taught?’ Iruka nods. ‘Can you walk on water, Iruka-san?’

Iruka shrugs. ‘Maybe?’

Kakashi grins wickedly, grabs Iruka’s arm, and suddenly they are falling forwards, hurtling through the blurred scenery.

As soon as they stop, the loss of momentum pitches Iruka forwards. Kakashi’s arm snakes around his waist, steadying him. The warmth of the contact turns Iruka’s guts into jelly. He turns and punches Kakashi in the arm, then regrets it immediately when his fist smarts as if he'd just punched a wall. Kakashi doesn’t even have the decency to look affected.

‘A little warning?’ Iruka complains. Kakashi just hmm’s in his infuriating manner and points at the sea.

‘Let’s try it out, shall we?’

Iruka’s first try is shaky and his foot goes down almost immediately. His second try goes much better. He needs to discharge constant amount of chakra that can support his entire body weight, nothing more and nothing less. Once he figures that out, it becomes much easier to stand but the waves still try their best to knock him over. Finally, Iruka realises the trick is in rolling with the crests and taking steps in the troughs of the waves.

‘You have very good control,’ Kakashi says. And then, presumably for shits and giggles, he wraps a loose hand around Iruka’s arm and the water disappears from underneath Iruka’s feet.

When Kakashi sets them back under the tree, Iruka stomps on his foot, putting chakra into it. The answering wince is somehow also irritating. Iruka refuses to speak to Kakashi as they sit back down on the soft grass.

‘So, what seals do you do?’ Kakashi asks. When there is no response, he waves his hand in front of Iruka’s face, which is stoically turned towards the sheep. ‘Iruka-san. Iruka-saaan. Heey. Iruka-san,’ Kakashi persists. He gets up and squats in front of Iruka, close enough that if Iruka leans forwards far enough, he can rest his forehead on Kakashi’s chest. Iruka stares over his shoulder like Kakashi doesn’t exist, both to be petty and because he just can’t look anywhere else.

‘Oh, no. Behind you!’ Kakashi says unconvincingly, ‘There’s a wolf. Wolves eat sheep, Iruka-san. Aren't you concerned?’ Iruka doesn’t budge. ‘Iruka-san, you’re cute when you’re angry,’ Kakashi says, poking Iruka’s cheek. Iruka keeps frowning, but a blush steals up his face. ‘You know, this is like page 211 of Icha Icha Paradise, when Mikoto-chan is hiding in a cave and a wolf comes up to her–.’ Oh. Iruka remembers that chapter. It's absolutely ridiculous. Mikoto falls in love with the wolf who transforms into a man that turns out to be the enemy-nin all along. Just as he is coming up to the naughty part, Kakashi stops. 'Would you like to hear more, Iruka-san?' 

‘No. Just warn me next time,’ Iruka says with an exasperated smile he can’t seem to repress. His face is burning hot.

Kakashi curves his eye in assent and Iruka doesn’t believe him for a second.

‘DONE!’ Anko yells as she dumps the last of the wool onto her pile. ‘Now if you boys can stop flirting for a second, we have wool to weigh.’

Iruka rolls his eyes and gets up briskly, walking up to Anko’s sheet. He ties the corners together and easily hauls the bag up to hook it onto the weighing scale on a branch.

’42 kg,’ he announces. They measure 17 kg from a dirt-streaked Aoba, 26 kg from Izumo who was more content to talk to the sheep than shear them, 43 kg from Raidou and, surprisingly, 44 kg from Kotetsu.

‘Yesss,’ Kotetsu pumps his fist into the silence as Izumo looks at him in wonder. Anko demands a rematch with fists and the usually unflappable Raidou looks at his hands in dismay.

‘Alright,’ Iruka shouts, clapping his hand to get everyone’s attention like it is elementary school all over again. ‘Time to pack up. I’ll cook lunch.’

Naruto wakes up from where he had been napping with the lamb in a death grip, wiping his drool with his hand and then wiping his hand on his shirt. ‘Ramen?’ he asks. Iruka shakes his head. Naruto sighs plaintively. He doesn't help the others herd the sheep back into the barn.

After the very subpar lunch (the best Iruka can make, really), Anko helps him with the dishes as the rest prepare to leave. That is a blaring sign that Anko is about to say something in private, which Iruka never enjoys. Iruka eyes her warily.

‘Do you remember what you said last time? You said the perfect man eats ramen for breakfast,’ Anko whispers gleefully.

‘Whaaat are you talking about?’ Iruka asks. ‘Aoba-san is a nice guy but I don’t like him like that.’

Anko gives him an unimpressed stare. Iruka stares right back.

‘So what?’ he hedges. ‘A lot of people eat ramen for breakfast.’

‘I knew it, you like him,’ Anko smirks, elbowing his ribs hard. ‘I was wondering why you were asking about Kakashi last time.’

‘He’s attractive, but I wouldn’t say I like him,’ Iruka declares feebly.

Anko ignores him and grins like she’s already won.

Kakashi pulls Iruka aside before leaving with Naruto.

‘You have very precise control over chakra,’ Kakashi says, ‘which Naruto is severely lacking. Chakra control is a time-consuming lesson that only Naruto needs in Team 7, and I'd really prefer to focus on other things with Sakura and Sasuke. This may be too much to ask, but will you help teach him?’

‘But I don’t know many jutsu,’ Iruka blurts through his surprise.

‘Walking on choppy waters like you did is a Chūnin-level skill, and you mastered it in minutes. Naruto has a lot to learn from you,’ Kakashi says patiently, waving off his concern.

‘But,’ Iruka starts.

‘And Naruto listens to you, which is a miracle in itself,’ Kakashi remarks.

If he puts it like that, Iruka can hardly say no. And Kakashi’s eye is hypnotising, the way it gazes at Iruka.

‘Sure, Kakashi-san,’ Iruka concedes with a sigh. ‘But it would be better if you were around in case I’m mistaken about anything.’

‘We can do that. Can I bring them to train here?’ Kakashi asks in a louder voice for Naruto to overhear. Naruto bounds over, all smiles and sunshine. 

‘Yes, please, can we?’ Naruto pleads.

That is totally devious manipulation on Kakashi’s part and Iruka feels cheated, but the way Naruto looks up at him, lopsided smile hopeful...

‘Sure,’ Iruka nods defeatedly.

Soon after, Naruto leaves in high spirits, turning around periodically to wave at Iruka until they’re both swallowed by the hill. Only then does Iruka turn around, latching the door behind him. There is a happy buzzing in his blood that stays with him even as the first drops of water turn into heavy rain just shy of a storm.

Chapter Text

Sweat rolls down the side of Iruka’s forehead, dripping off his jaw. He closes his eyes and focuses on the sound of blades of grass shifting in the wind, faraway birds, and a hitch in Naruto’s panting breaths as he tries to focus chakra into a twig one more time. There is a quiet cracking sound, but the twig looks unchanged.

‘It’s not working,’ Naruto almost-whines, but he tries again almost immediately.

Iruka opens his eyes. From his vantage point, feet stuck to the underside of a branch, the upside-down world seems surreal, like the sky is an expanse of green. Kakashi and Sakura are having a taijutsu spar in the distance, Kakashi’s silver head engrossed in an orange novel. Sasuke watches Sakura’s movements closely, one tomoe swirling in the red iris of each eye.

‘Iruka-niisan,’ Naruto howls up at him, ‘Can I have another hint?’

Iruka sighs and rubs his scar. ‘I’ve given you all the hints, Naruto. You need to concentrate.’

Naruto grumbles and goes back to staring at the twig. He flips the twig over and scrunches his eyes shut. Iruka walks upside down towards the tree trunk and brings a hand up to the rough bark. He draws a blade of chakra into his fingertips and uses it to carve a small spiral into the bark, then jumps off the tree, chakra-cushioned feet making two small craters in the dirt. Naruto scowls petulantly, throwing a crushed twig into a pile of similarly crushed twigs.

‘Show-off,’ he complains. ‘If I use too little chakra, nothing happens. If I use too much, the wood gets crushed. Pleease, just one more hint?’

‘Watch carefully,’ Iruka says with resignation. He picks up a twig and slowly splits it into clean halves.

‘You just keep showing me the same thing,’ Naruto whines, frustrated. ‘I don’t get it.’

‘Then you’re not watching closely enough.’

It is only four demonstrations later, done painfully slowly so Naruto can see exactly how the wood breaks, that Naruto yells, ‘Oh, I got it!’ and proceeds to split a twig into ragged halves. ‘It’s the- You have to follow the grain!’

Then he frowns, squinting unhappily at Iruka. ‘Why didn’t you just say so?’

‘Good job,’ Iruka says, ruffling Naruto’s hair. ‘But do you understand why you follow the grain?’

Naruto’s frown deepens in thought. ‘It’s like, if you don’t, then the wood will get crushed?’

‘And why?’

‘Like, I dunno. It’s like cutting dango with a spoon and not a knife.’

Iruka beams, content with the baby steps that Naruto is taking. ‘Exactly. The more resistance your chakra meets, the stronger it has to be. Strong chakra has to be applied precisely to be effective, or the power will radiate outwards. You can’t make your chakra sharp enough to cut through wood against the grain, so find the path of least resistance.’

By the time the sun sets, Naruto is holding a pebble split cleanly into two and Iruka’s heart swells in pride. It feels somehow different to teach a child a potentially lifesaving skill than to see a child writing the same kanji a hundred times. Naruto may be slow, but once he understands something, his intuition easily puts the theory into action.

Yet, for the umpteenth time, Iruka finds himself wondering why shinobi are so happy to lay their lives on the line for a village that has no qualms about sending children into battle. Were they taught that their lives mattered less than the good of the village? If he had stayed, would he still have a healthy appreciation for staying alive?

He is broken from his rumination by a huge growl from Naruto’s stomach. Naruto looks up at Iruka sheepishly and says, ‘I can keep going.’

‘No,’ Iruka shakes his head, ‘It’s time for dinner.’

Kakashi, as it turns out, is a fantastic cook. His hands move almost too quickly to see, and the radish turns into a hundred paper-thin slices within moments. He alternates between the stove and the counter, stirring the light, aromatic soup and preparing ingredients to fry.  Iruka is transfixed, for a moment, by the way Kakashi moves in Iruka’s kitchen, using Iruka’s pot to soak kombu. Then Sakura pulls him into conversation and Kakashi is forgotten for the moment.

Steaming bowls of udon clack into place under their noses, the salty smell of kombu broth mixing with the rich scent of tempura. Iruka’s bowl warms his face and he can’t help but to breathe deeply.

‘Thank you, Kakashi-san,’ Iruka says.

A chorus of ‘Itadakimasu’ is followed by enthusiastic slurping and crunching tempura. The table is silent for a long while, everyone hungry from the day’s training.

Iruka feels closer to Team 7 with every meal they share. This is the first time that Kakashi cooked, though, and Iruka thanks the gods above for it.

‘You know,’ Naruto says conversationally over his second bowl of udon, ‘Kakashi-sensei never cooks when we’re at home.’

‘At home?’ Iruka’s eyebrow rises of its own accord.

‘Yeah, at home.’ Then Naruto slaps himself on the forehead and adds, ‘Oh yeah, I never told you, I have to live with Kakashi-sensei.’ His nose scrunches as he emphasises ‘Kakashi-sensei’.

‘Oh, why?’

‘Not sure… was it because of Mizuki-sensei?’ Naruto squints at Kakashi.

Kakashi nods. ‘You were supposed to stay with me until your injuries healed,’ he says accusingly, ‘but you wouldn’t leave even after that.’

Naruto just complains about Kakashi’s freakishly clean apartment and the fact that Kakashi pays more attention to Mr. Ukki than to Naruto.

Iruka wants to ask about Mr. Ukki, for one, but the other thing caught him off guard. ‘What about Mizuki-sensei?’

‘He’s- Mizuki-sensei was my Academy teacher. He wasn’t very nice at the start,’ Naruto says haltingly, fidgeting with his chopsticks, ‘until he was suddenly suuper nice… and I fell for it.’ Naruto’s voice is bitter now as he continues, ‘Then… um, he told me to get a scroll with forbidden jutsu inside, and I did. Then I asked him why. He just snapped and said a bunch of weird stuff, you know, so I ran to hide and opened the scroll-- that’s when I learnt Kage Bunshin no Jutsu. Mizuki-sensei found me after that. I tried to fight him off but Mizuki-sensei was too strong. Then Kakashi-sensei came.’

Iruka clears his throat. ‘What weird stuff did he say?’

‘Eh, stuff like, he was gonna take the scroll to become stronger and he was gonna kill me so everyone’ll think I did it. He said, ‘the village will thank me for this,’ you know?’ Naruto is trembling in anger or shame.

Kakashi’s looks on impassively, but his jaw seems to tighten. Deep underneath Iruka’s abject horror (whoever Mizuki is, Iruka will make him pay) Iruka remembers the stubborn way Kakashi always asks Iruka to set up traps around the field, the tense way he sat through the night during their first meetings. Iruka thinks of his own carelessness and curses himself for not seeing underneath Naruto’s smiles. Shinobi are the strongest when they have someone to protect, Iruka’s father had said once. Suddenly, Iruka feels an aching hollow in his chest, accompanied by a sense of helplessness, like he’d lost something precious.

Like every meal so far, this one winds down imperceptibly and they are at the door before anyone knows it. Team 7 leaves a cheerful atmosphere behind them, grass swirling under their feet as they walk into the night. Iruka looks at the moon hanging heavy in the sky, then retreats into the kotatsu instead of going to bed like he sorely wants to. The table has been wiped and the cutlery is dripping above the sink, Naruto’s sloppy work. Iruka drops down to sit next to the kotatsu, lost in thought.

Naruto never complained out loud about how the village treated him, but he was always too happy to be shown any sort of decency, so Iruka knows that the boy isn’t exactly loved. But Iruka never expected this much hatred. He never expected Naruto to be in danger from Konoha’s own villagers. Everyone knows, should know, that Naruto is not the Kyūbi. He’s the hero tasked to keep hold of the Kyūbi. And that familiar name... could this Mizuki be the boy from Iruka’s childhood memories? The possibility just makes Iruka feel odd. Guilty, even. If Iruka had been there, would things be different?

If Iruka had been there as a shinobi of Konoha... could he have protected Naruto? It had been a long time since Iruka went down this path of speculation.

There’s the sound of the front door opening, then quiet footsteps make their way into the dining room. Kakashi walks in, looking wind-swept. He settles next to Iruka and rests his chin on intertwined fingers. Iruka’s shoulders, tense from his earlier ruminations, relax fractionally.

‘I’ve nominated Team 7 for the Chūnin exams next week,’ Kakashi says.

Iruka can’t help it. ‘Are you crazy?’ he blurts, hackles rising. Anko’s horrid descriptions of the Forest of Death floats through Iruka’s mind.

‘No,’ Kakashi says calmly. Iruka wonders for a split second if Kakashi really knows what happens at the Chūnin exams and how many will die. But it’s Kakashi. Of course, he does.

‘They’re not ready,’ Iruka insists. ‘They need more experience. I don’t understand why you’d think they’re ready.’

‘Eh, they’re as ready as they can get,’ Kakashi says glibly. Iruka can feel irritation rising in his chest, the way Kakashi seems so dismissive of his own team.

‘Don’t Jōnin sensei usually wait a year?’

‘I was a Chūnin when I was six years younger than Naruto,’ Kakashi shoots calmly. ‘The choice is between death and growth. If they are capable shinobi, they will choose the latter.’

‘Naruto is different from you!’ Iruka yells. ‘Are you trying to ruin them?’ Iruka can’t help the accusing tone that creeps into his voice and saturates the words through and through. He can see his cutting words hanging in the air, see how he’s making Kakashi out to be a callous bastard, but he can’t help it. Maybe Kakashi is a callous bastard, if he’s so flippant about putting his own students at needless risk.

Kakashi’s eyes are steely now as he replies, ‘They are always complaining about the missions. Some pain might be good for them… Crushing them could be fun.’

‘What?’ Iruka roars.

‘Well, that’s a joke,’ Kakashi says coldly, ‘I understand why you’re upset, but it’s done. Stay out of this. They are not your students. They are my soldiers.’

Iruka grits his teeth. ‘Get out,’ he hisses, glaring at Kakashi straight in the eye, ‘Go.’

Kakashi gets up slowly and nods at Iruka, his face devoid of emotion. Then, without a sound, he is gone.

The day of the Chūnin exams dawned with a chill in the air. Iruka had left Chiaki to deal with the sheep the moment she arrived and rushed off to Konoha. He’d spent the morning with Anko, asking a barrage of questions that Anko had answered readily with her smirk and not a single comment about his behaviour. That was one of the rare times that Iruka had felt grateful to know Anko.

Now, though, Iruka is alone and absolutely useless. Anko’s departure means that the second stage is starting. The Forest of Death. They could all be dying right now. Meanwhile, Iruka is sitting at a teahouse, sipping cold green tea and taking agonisingly slow bites from a sandwich. Ichiraku Ramen is just across the road. If Team 7 had failed the first test, Iruka will probably see Naruto walking home through the open windows.

An hour of no bawling blonds later, Iruka has mostly accepted that Team 7 passed the first stage. Which means that they probably have a fifty percent chance of surviving and Iruka has another five days to wait for them to come out, if they’re lucky. Iruka closes his eyes and slumps onto the table.

The thump of a teapot wakes him up from a doze. Iruka can smell warm, freshly-brewed green tea and wonders how pathetic he must look if the grumpy owner, of all people, gives him pity tea.

‘Thanks, Okawa-san,’ Iruka mumbles. ‘I’ll get out of your hair in a sec.’ Then Iruka lifts his head up from his arms and starts.

Kakashi looks at him with a raised eyebrow, then inclines his head towards Okawa-san, who is giving Iruka a stink-eye from behind the bar. ‘Sorry,’ Kakashi says, ‘Just me.’ Then, without asking for permission, Kakashi slips into the seat opposite Iruka.

Iruka glares at him. ‘What do you want?’ The tension from the morning keeps Iruka vibrating like a tightly-wound spring and Iruka can’t help but feel like Kakashi is the root all of his problems.

Kakashi seems a little taken aback by Iruka’s aggression. ‘Um,’ he says, dithering for a few moments as he pours them both a cup of tea, ‘we should talk.’

There is nothing that Iruka wants less than this. Maybe sometime later, because Iruka is anxious enough as it is. A few terse moments pass. ‘Well?’ Iruka asks.

‘Iruka-san,’ Kakashi says, a strange gravity to his voice. His formal tone sounds unnatural for the both of them. ‘I’m sorry.’ Kakashi bows, bracing his hands against the table and dipping his head lower than Iruka had ever seen before. ‘I said some things I shouldn’t have.’

Iruka watches in shock as Kakashi slowly straightens his back. He never would have thought that Kakashi is capable of such a humbling gesture, or that it would be aimed at him. Iruka’s mind is whirling, the ineffectual anger taking a backseat for the moment. Kakashi is looking at him now, a question in his eyes. Iruka doesn’t know what to say. At the same time, he knows exactly the answer he will give.

It’s not because of the apology—Iruka isn’t that soft. He had done a lot of thinking that night, after Kakashi had left, and gone through their conversation in his head so many times that he could recite it backwards. He understood, though only as the sun began to rise, Kakashi’s reason. Iruka helped train them too. Even though he mostly taught Naruto, Iruka can see their incremental progress and how frustrated the Genin were starting to get. It was the delivery that was a problem… although Iruka was the one who’d started getting angry in the first place. By the time Iruka fell asleep, the tangled jumble had loosened somewhat.

Finally, Iruka sighs. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for yelling. I was just worried. I still don’t agree with you, by the way. They still have so much to learn before reaching Chūnin level.’

‘Yeah…’ Kakashi rubs the back of his neck. ‘Okay… And I still think—never mind. I know there’s a real chance that they won’t make it. I believe in them, but I know that things can go south really quickly. But that’s the way it is.’

Iruka sighs again. Kakashi sits with Iruka in silence, periodically sipping on tea with his mask on his chin. Before the sun sets, Kakashi excuses himself, leaving Iruka to stew in his own thoughts.

Walking home soon after, Iruka wonders passingly why Anko hadn’t seen him off as promised.

Chapter Text

At the height of summer, the air vibrates with heat. Iruka sits cross-legged on the tatami with screens wide open, gazing listlessly at the rock at the centre of his garden. The sun is coming down, but the summer air is still thick in his lungs. He has been lost to contemplation since meeting Anko that morning. At that thought, Anko’s haunted eyes flash across Iruka’s mind.

Iruka starts at a soft thud on the floor beside him. It’s a small tray with a steaming teapot and two bowls. Kakashi settles down beside the tray with a low sigh and begins to pour them tea.

‘How much longer until Sasuke wakes up?’ Iruka asks finally, wrestling his thoughts into words.

‘Not long. Maybe two days,’ Kakashi replies, setting a cup in easy reach for Iruka.

‘And the seal—what will it do?’

‘That will depend on Sasuke. If Sasuke gives in to it, it will corrupt him with a craving for power.’

Kakashi then explains the intricacies of the seal as if by rote, tired eyes fixed in the distance. Kakashi moves stiffly to bring his cup to his mouth, back straight for once. His words sound carefully chosen, and it’s almost like they’re back to the initial formality, except for the fact that Kakashi’s mask is hooked on his chin. When Kakashi finishes speaking, there is a hollow silence as Iruka struggles through the information.

In the end, Iruka asks, ‘What do you think he’ll choose?’

‘I don’t know,’ Kakashi says, lips set in a grim line, but there is a sad set to his eye.

The month that passes after that is slow. Iruka sees neither hide nor hair of the boys from Team 7. Naruto has left with Jiraiya, one of the legendary sannin, whom he had met at an onsen. Sakura drops by most afternoons for a chat. She always brings dango when she knows Anko will be around, and speaks to Anko cautiously, the way one would speak to a skittish, highly-venomous snake.

By the time Hayate’s funeral rolls over, Anko has been completely won over and has started to train Sakura in taijutsu and Earth Release Jutsu. They do it on Iruka’s yard, so it often falls on Iruka to patch Sakura up afterwards. Sakura is clumsy at first, but learns incredibly quickly. When they spar, it’s an invisible flurry of wind and leaves, but Sakura loses every time.

Iruka watches them spar while drinking tea under an oak tree. A kick sends Sakura rolling but she drags herself upright. Bruised and bleeding, Sakura raises her arms in her favoured stance and disappears for another round of blows without hesitation. At that moment, Iruka is struck by how much she has grown. Iruka feels the boys’ absence in his chest but, for that moment, he resents them, especially Kakashi, for leaving her in their shadow to fend for herself.

Iruka doesn’t think of Kakashi often, but when he does, there is a twisting pain that zings through his chest, and then an achy yearning. Near the end of the month, the thought of Kakashi is accompanied by excitement. Iruka finally allows himself to examine their relationship closely and finds it frightening, how much he likes the man.

Three weeks later, Iruka is standing on the balcony overlooking the stadium. Naruto’s return the day before had lifted his spirits and Iruka is excited to see Sasuke and Kakashi again. Iruka’s innards do tight flips as Naruto’s fight with Neji begins. The disparity between their skills is immediately evident. Too soon, Naruto is on the ground, immobile. Neji looks down at Naruto with pity in his eyes. Iruka’s hands clench tightly at Neji’s spiel about fate and duty, disappointment already washing over him.

Then, Naruto does the impossible. He stands up, sealed chakra points be damned. Neji looks on in shock. Iruka feels an uneasy stirring in his gut at the feel of a dark, familiar chakra, but that is immediately overshadowed by pride for the boy. Naruto’s vehement speech rings out across the stadium, crystal clear and painfully earnest. He’ll make his own destiny, he says to Neji and everyone else in the stadium. Neji just keeps looking on in shock.

When it is time for Sasuke’s match, Iruka waits with bated breath for a dramatic arrival. Genma’s announcement rings out and the crowd goes silent. Slowly, whispers spread across the stadium, the audience shifting uneasily. A messenger comes and goes from the Kages’ box. When it looks like Sasuke is about to be disqualified, the messenger flits down and whispers something in Genma’s ear. Then, clearing his throat, Genma declares the match postponed. Iruka is confused but relieved. An unprecedented concession—or had Kakashi known beforehand?

When the next match is forfeited, a trickle of unease snakes through Iruka’s stomach.

Iruka is soon swept along by the following match. Konoha’s Shikamaru layers tricks on top of tricks and Suna falls into the role he set out for her too trustingly. It is riveting till the unexpected end. And yet, Kakashi and Sasuke are nowhere to be found. Naruto bounces anxiously on his heels.

Right after Genma’s announcement, Kakashi and Sasuke pop into existence, standing back to back in a swirl of smoke and leaves. Seeing them, especially Kakashi’s shock of silver hair, Iruka can’t help the way his heart jumps. The first thing Kakashi does is lift his head up to scan the crowd. His eye zeroes in on Iruka’s and curves in a smile. Then, he uses a Body Flicker to appear at Iruka’s side. He ruffles Naruto’s hair.

‘Did you get Neji good?’ he asks. Naruto nods brightly but immediately fixes his attention on the match that is already starting.

Sasuke is fast. He moves faster than Gaara’s sand, faster than Iruka can follow. When Sasuke’s palm lights up and the sound of a thousand birds fills the air, Iruka casts Kakashi a sidelong look. Has Kakashi given Sasuke so much—the Chidori!—in hopes that Sasuke would stay? Is there anything more that Kakashi could give the boy to fulfil his hunger for power? Iruka wishes there was something he could do—but he’s weak and an outsider.

The screeching sound of the Chidori disappears with a sick squelch. Blood flows out of Gaara’s cocoon. A horrifying voice hisses from inside, mingling with Gaara’s anguished cries of ‘Mother! Mother!’

A bomb goes off near the Kage, shrouding the entire area in white. Iruka feels drowsy, his mind growing numb and heavy. He lists to the side and falls just in time for Kakashi to catch him.

When Iruka comes to, he sees the sky first, then the stadium roof that obscures half the sky. The sounds begin to register after a long second. It is chaos around him. Iruka shoots up, gritting his teeth against overwhelming dizziness and nausea.

He sees Sakura first, crouching over Shikamaru. Naruto and Pakkun are there too. Kakashi is on Iruka’s other side, jumping up to the stadium roof with a solemn wave in Iruka’s direction.

Iruka surveys his surroundings silently. The three genin and Pakkun are gone now. On the stadium field, there are Konoha shinobi fighting off Oto shinobi. All around are unconscious shinobi sprawled like corpses. Iruka scrambles to his knees, careful to stay hidden, and crawls towards the closest body. With a single-minded clarity, he gets to work dispelling genjutsu.

The more capable of the Chūnin have begun to help others out of the genjutsu. Some are jumping into the fray. Iruka slips away when it looks like they will be alright and heads straight to the Academy. He is a teacher, after all.

He is surprised to find Kakashi already there, keeping guard as a curly-haired teacher evacuates her students. Kakashi’s face is sombre, eyes flicking over to the stadium every now and then. A looming barrier had gone up while Iruka helped the first shinobi return from the genjutsu.

Iruka quickly jumps in to help usher the children into a tunnel built into a wall. As he lays a comforting hand on scared shoulders, Kakashi gives him an account of what’s happening and where the rookie genin are heading. The mention of Orochimaru is like poison through Iruka’s veins. He’s come for Sasuke.

When all the students and teachers are secure in the bunker, Kakashi stays outside with Iruka. They lean heavily against pillars, anxiety lacing the air.

‘I thought you’d go back to the fight,’ Iruka states.

‘Protecting Konoha’s future is more important,’ Kakashi says seriously. ‘This is where I’m needed.’

Only hours later, it’s all over. Iruka feels a pang of sorrow in his heart for the Sandaime Hokage. The man had helped Iruka through the confusing aftermath of the Kyūbi attack, once, though he had been swamped with work. The Hokage had also accepted Iruka’s childhood desire for peace and normalcy easily, letting Iruka transfer to a civilian school without fuss. There were many deaths, but this one made Iruka the most uneasy.

After that, there is the Hokage’s funeral which Iruka attends on Anko’s behest, and then there are silent days where the sheep are home before sunset and Iruka sits on his bedroom tatami, sipping tea as the moon rises. More often than not, Kakashi is the one who makes the tea. They sit and talk and ruminate by bouncing thoughts off each other. Just like old men, Anko commented once, except sadder.

Sasuke is in the hospital again, but at least he’s not taken by Orochimaru. Naruto is gone with Jiraiya, looking pained but determined. A run-in with Itachi leaves Kakashi almost catatonic and Iruka worried sick for all of Team 7, but he gets better soon enough. Things settle down after that. Sakura trains with Kakashi and Anko and soaks up knowledge like a sponge. The peace they find themselves in feels fraught. Anko’s laughter still seems hollow sometimes. Iruka can’t take it for granted. He reflects on it almost constantly, thinking about the tightrope that Konoha is walking.

Iruka finds himself taking up Kakashi’s offer to train him in the basics. For self-defence, Kakashi says, and to help with the sheep. They fall into a rhythm. Meanwhile, the moon waxes and wanes.

Walking across Training Ground 3 one day, Kakashi asks if Iruka has a minute. They stop in front of the Memorial Stone, where Kakashi crouches down to poke at a wilting bouquet of flowers.

‘I’ve neglected them,’ Kakashi says as he gets back up. Iruka is at a loss for things to say and keeps his mouth shut. They stand in silence for a few minutes, Kakashi just looking at the names on the Memorial Stone. Iruka’s eyes are sore from genjutsu practice. Kakashi practices with Iruka after giving Iruka instructions. He is fiercely intent, with the Itachi Incident in mind and driving him to practice till his eyes bleed. Iruka blinks hard a few times.

Finally, Kakashi shoots Iruka a wry smile and says, ‘Ramen?’

After three sessions, Iruka learns to calm the sheep down through genjutsu. When Ebi, the most violent and tightly-wound of the sheep, goes through her annual health check without a nasty attempt to bite Iruka’s head off, Iruka shoots Kakashi a look full of marvel.

‘Thanks,’ he says awkwardly, but with warmth. Inside, though, he wonders if he is betraying his parents.

That night, he tries to untangle his thoughts. Shinobi, he thinks, have little regard for their lives. The village has educated them to die for it. Those who value their lives above the village are branded cowards. Or even their comrades’ lives, Iruka thinks, his mind flashing to what Anko had told Iruka about the White Fang.

And then, there is the matter of shinobi being mercenaries for the village’s purposes. Shinobi are taught from childhood that human lives on the opposing side are less valuable, so they hold fewer compunctions to kill. The village breeds child soldiers and leaves orphans to fend for themselves. The Sandaime Hokage tried to help—he’d given Iruka temporary residence until Iruka could locate his civilian uncle—but he was one busy man too preoccupied with the village’s safety and status in the eyes of other villages to give any significant aid.

Iruka is learning their trade, but not dedicating himself to the village. The art of being a shinobi is mostly property of the village. He’ll have to ask Kakashi about the consequences. If it means having to be drafted into the village’s forces, Iruka would rather stay the way he is, powerless to help but free to not kill.

Soon after, Naruto stops by the farm all bandaged up with Jiraiya, Tsunade, and Shizune in tow. He greets Iruka enthusiastically, though he looks completely worn out. They stay for tea but leave for Konoha soon after.

Iruka’s mood soars, having seen Naruto healthy and happy, if a little beat-up. He finds himself wishing Kakashi is there, but Kakashi is usually busy this day of the week. Instead, Iruka gets up to do his chores. He glances outside every now and then, watching the peaceful sheep, but he spends the day indoors, absorbed in his parents’ scrolls. That night, Iruka goes to sleep a little lonely.

In the morning, Sakura knocks at Iruka’s door. Her eyes are red and swollen, her hair dishevelled.

‘Sasuke’s gone,’ she says in a thin voice, and tells Iruka what happened in a rush. Her shoulders are trembling as she speaks, and her voice shakes. It takes Iruka minutes to process her words. They sound muffled to his ears. Sakura stands there uncertainly, looking lost and confused. She starts to sob as Iruka pulls her into a hug.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6:

On one of their spars, Iruka finds himself pinned to the ground again with his arms twisted against his back. Iruka’s cheek rests against the rough soil, breaths coming out of him in heaving pants. Kakashi leans down, smiling with an almost feral look in his eye, and says, ‘Do you concede?’ Kakashi’s voice is low and hoarse and Iruka is almost overcome by a wicked temptation to buck up into where Kakashi is straddling him. Iruka’s heart accelerates.

Instead, he gives a short, sullen nod and Kakashi gets up languidly, a triumphant gleam in his eye.

‘I’m hungry,’ Iruka says after dusting himself off, ‘Ramen?’

‘Sure…’ Kakashi replies absently, picking up the kunai they had discarded during the spar, ‘Let’s eat at the hospital.’

Naruto is in low spirits this evening. It pains Iruka to see him picking at his ramen, eyes downcast. Iruka makes most of the conversation. Without him, he thinks Naruto and Kakashi would be sitting in silence. He wonders for a moment whether Naruto would prefer that.

‘You don’t have to come and see me every day,’ Naruto says morosely to the two adults. ‘I’m sure you have better things to do.’

‘What are you talking about, idiot?’ Iruka huffs, giving Naruto’s bandaged head a light slap that was more of a soft tap. ‘What else will we do with all this ramen?’

‘But you really don’t have to,’ Naruto says with a pout.

‘Stop acting like a kid,’ Sakura strides into the room with a basket of fruits in one hand. She walks up to Naruto’s bedside and places her free hand on her hip.

‘Who are you calling a kid,’ Naruto grumbles. ‘And anyway, they’re treating me like a kid.’ Naruto makes grabby hands for a fruit, but Sakura snaps the basket away.

‘It’s for Chouji, not for you,’ she mutters. Out of the basket, she pulls out a little vase with daffodils and places it on Naruto’s night stand.

‘Thanks, Sakura-chan,’ Naruto says begrudgingly, ‘but I’d really prefer some food.’

‘Why, you little-,’ Sakura begins.

Iruka rubs his forehead and meets Kakashi’s sidelong glance. ‘We’d better get going,’ Iruka cuts in, then heaves himself out of the chair. His bruised muscles protest weakly.

From the hospital, they turn naturally onto the path that leads to Iruka’s house. The moon is large and heavy in the sky and throws Kakashi’s features into sharp relief. Iruka is momentarily transfixed by Kakashi’s pensive expression.

The Shunshin no Jutsu would take Iruka home in a few minutes, but it’s a clear night and under the moon, the scenery shines beautifully. Yes, they are walking slowly because of the scenery. Iruka tears his gaze away from Kakashi’s jaw.

‘Why did you quit the Academy when you were younger?’ Kakashi asks as Iruka’s house comes into view.

‘I was angry,’ Iruka answers truthfully. Kakashi knows about Iruka’s parents. Iruka has shown Kakashi their names on the Memorial Stone and told him how they died. Most people don’t ask him to elaborate, satisfied with their own assumptions or the abstract causal relationship between his parents’ deaths and his choice to leave.

‘I was confused, too,’ Iruka continues, ‘I didn’t really understand why they’d go out when they knew they would die. I kept going to the Academy for a few months after that, but I was angry the whole time. I don’t remember my reasoning for leaving, at that age.’

‘And now?’ Kakashi asks, curious and blunt. ‘Do you feel the same about your parents’ death?’

Iruka takes a deep breath. He feels shaky. He wants to tell Kakashi the truth. He wants to spill all the opinions he has ever withheld about Konoha, but he knows Kakashi will disagree. Kakashi is a principled man and loves his village and the people in it. Konoha is something so fundamental to their identities, and Iruka might be wedging a gap between them. He’d lost a friend or two to this disagreement, because Iruka isn’t the compromising type. He takes the plunge anyway.

‘Yes. I do. I mean, we were only children when we were taught to kill. I think we’ve been conditioned to be soldiers and conditioned to serve the village. You want to protect your comrades, but this…culture of being happy to sacrifice yourself for the village is just…’ Iruka wants to say ‘disgusting’. ‘Just wrong,’ he says instead.

‘You think the village forces us to be this way, even though we think it is our own will?’ Kakashi asks contemplatively. Iruka nods.

They are both quiet for a moment. Iruka walks normally, keeping his expression nonchalant. The air between them seems charged, but maybe it’s all in Iruka’s head.

‘I don’t see it that way,’ Kakashi says finally. ‘We learn to fight, not kill. Most kids are excited for it and aren’t really worse off for having learnt to fight…’ He glances sideways at Iruka, eyebrow raised.

Apprehension drains out of Iruka, reflected in the imperceptible drop of his shoulders. Iruka takes the invitation to debate, and, upon reaching Iruka’s house, they pass the evening discussing the subject the same way they debate over tactics and literature (actual literature, not Icha-Icha).

They couldn’t agree with each other, but Iruka never expected otherwise. That night, Iruka dreams of Kakashi’s hands pinning him down on Training Ground 3, Kakashi’s inaudible whisper in his ear, and the smell of warm green tea floating under his nose.

The next time they meet, Iruka is too distracted to listen to Kakashi. Waking up from that dream, he had made a resolution to do something. Anything. They keep dancing around each other. Even now, having lunch at Training Ground 3, their knees brush together. Anko’s voice echoes in his head, warning him that if he doesn’t ‘bang Kakashi already, some kunoichi is going to sweep him off his feet.’

‘Before you know it, there’ll be five little Hatakes running around and just one lonely you,’ Anko said at a bar once. Then, with a wry laugh, she continued, ‘if he isn’t so hopelessly in love with you, that is.’

On the count of three, he’ll say it, Iruka thinks, staring at his own hands. He feels Kakashi’s body heat on his left side. They will talk about it like mature adults, Iruka thinks. But he is suddenly convinced that Kakashi will feel disgusted by his confession.

‘What’s wrong?’ Kakashi asks, finally noticing Iruka’s inattention. Iruka can feel Kakashi’s whole concentration zeroing on him. The palpitations in his chest border on painful.

‘Kakashi…’ Iruka begins. He pauses, heart hammering, trying to find the words he is looking for. ‘I like you,’ Iruka blurts finally. There are a million better ways to phrase that. Iruka’s mind is trapped between a groan of regret and utter terror. ‘Do you want to- um, that is- do you want to date?’

Kakashi is frozen for a long moment, a blush colouring his cheeks. Finally, he says, ‘Ah, um. It’s not a good idea,’ and changes the subject while Iruka’s brain struggles to understand. ‘I was thinking of adapting a barrier seal-,’

‘What do you mean, it’s not a good idea?’ Iruka interjects.

‘I’m a target on all the Bingo Books,’ Kakashi says haltingly. His gaze shifts around uncomfortably. ‘I could die any time.’

‘I know what kind of life you live,’ Iruka asserts.

‘But do you get it? If we were together, you’ll never know if I’m coming back from a mission or not. You’ll never even know what the missions are.’

‘Kakashi,’ Iruka says, looking intently into Kakashi’s eyes. ‘You’re already someone important to me. I’ve accepted that every time you go on missions, I might lose you. But that won’t stop me from wanting to be closer to you.’

Kakashi swallows. ‘Iruka,’ he says weakly, after a pause. ‘My life is unpredictable… After all that, I don’t want you to hate Konoha if I die.’

‘I won’t,’ Iruka says decisively. ‘You love Konoha, and so did my parents. How could I hate a place filled with so many good people? You know what I hate about Konoha, but I couldn’t hate Konoha.’

Kakashi looks at him sceptically, but steps closer anyway. Iruka can’t blame Kakashi for his disbelief when he can’t believe it himself, but they’ll put aside the argument for now.

Iruka’s mouth goes dry as Kakashi looms in Iruka’s field of vision. He resists the urge to lick his lips. His breath stops when Kakashi glances down to his lips. Hazily, Iruka raises a shaking hand. He pulls Kakashi’s mask down, finger dragging against Kakashi’s cheek.

Their eyes meet. Kakashi’s grey eye is hooded and electric. Iruka can’t tear his gaze away.

Iruka leans in and all the breath rushes out of him at the first touch of Kakashi’s lips on his.

Iruka’s eyes are closed now, to savour the sensation of eager lips parting against his, hot breaths brushing against his cheek. His brain buzzes with nonsense fragments of thoughts

It seems like hours pass before they break away.

‘I’ve got a meeting with Tsunade,’ Kakashi says apologetically, his hand splayed possessively on the nape of Iruka’s neck. Kakashi’s expression is earnest, so Iruka swallows his disappointment and steps out of Kakashi’s space.

‘Later?’ Iruka asks. Kakashi nods his promise.

‘Later.’

Iruka doesn’t know how he fell asleep, but he wakes to an insistent tapping on his shoulder. He’s lying on a cushion, legs tucked under the kotatsu. A flame dances weakly on the table, the only thing illuminating the room. Kakashi is crouched beside Iruka, his mask tucked under his chin. His grey eye gleams with some indiscernible emotion and Iruka suddenly feels too warm.

Iruka gazes up at Kakashi for a long moment, breath catching when the flame makes his eye momentarily transparent. Tamping down the shifting urgency in his mind, Iruka sits up and faces Kakashi. He pushes Kakashi’s hitai-ate off his head with one hand and hooks his other hand on the nape of Kakashi’s neck. Kakashi’s hands are resting on Iruka’s crossed legs. They’re kissing again, sending bolts of electricity down Iruka’s gut. Iruka loses himself to it, chasing sensation after sensation. Catching sight of Kakashi’s unrestrained expression, Iruka is filled with wonder.

‘Kakashi,’ he murmurs, just to feel the word in his mouth. With Kakashi’s lips on his neck, being held steady by Kakashi’s arms, Iruka feels so overwhelmingly full and content.

They wake up to a morning breeze, limbs tangled in the futon.

‘So, what now?’ Iruka asks, only just remembering Kakashi’s evasive replies from the day before.

‘Now…I have a meeting to go to,’ Kakashi says, ‘But I’ll be back in the evening.’

He stands up to leave, but drops a kiss on Iruka’s lips before he goes.