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Kakashi watched as his young kōhai once again scratched his chin with an irritated frown twisting his features.
“Tenzō. It’s time you started shaving.”
Tenzō turned to look at him.
“Will that make it stop itching, senpai?”
Kakashi nodded with a hum of assent.
“Do you know how?”
Tenzō nodded, his mouth set in a determined pout (the expression, Kakashi secretly thought, that made him look the most adorable and brought out all of his protective instincts towards the boy).
“No, you don’t,” Kakashi said.
“I do!” Tenzō stubbornly insisted. “You just get a razor and—” he mimed drawing a blade over his cheek “—cut the hair like that.”
“Just like that?”
Tenzō nodded again but there was a hint of uncertainty in his large, dark eyes.
Kakashi sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “Come on. I’ll teach you.”
They crowded together in front of a mirror in the ANBU locker room. Tenzō was only just tall enough to see his full face in it.
“You have to use soap and water,” Kakashi explained. “Otherwise you’ll cut yourself and you won’t be able to shave as close.”
“Oh,” Tenzō said, his voice small and a little defeated.
He wouldn’t have had anybody to teach him such things. No parents or any family to speak of. Unlike Kakashi, who at least had some good memories of his father from his childhood, Tenzō had never had a parental figure other than Shimura Danzo, who Kakashi hesitated to even think of as human most of the time, let alone as a father.
By the time Kakashi had been old enough to start shaving, though, his father had been many years dead. He’d already been in ANBU himself, fourteen and a little feral after so much loss and hurt. One of his older teammates had insisted on helping him after he’d showed up to a mission with blood spotting through his mask. He’d groused and griped the whole time, but in the end he’d been grateful for it.
Kakashi wet a washcloth under the hot tap and handed it to Tenzō.
“Hold this against where the hair is. It’ll help open your pores so you can shave closer.”
Tenzō obediently followed his instruction. A couple of minutes later, Kakashi lathered up his kōhai’s face using his own shaving brush. He held out his straight razor and Tenzō took it almost reverently.
“Now,” Kakashi said. “You want to draw the blade upwards, against the growth of the hair. Start with your neck and be careful because it’s very sharp. I know you’ve got steady hands, though, because I’ve seen you fight.”
He’d been hoping to make Tenzō smile but it didn’t work; the boy only looked as solemn as ever as he brought the blade to his throat.
For an instant Kakashi was filled with a blinding panic, memories of Rin’s nightmarish death flashing before his eyes at the sight of another teammate with a weapon against his skin and Kakashi standing so close. He shuddered and fought the feeling back, taking deep but quiet breaths until his heart rate slowed back to normal.
The nightmares were still bad, five years later. They kept him on edge, afraid and distant. He trained hard and worked harder to make sure that he would never be responsible for the death of a teammate again, but it remained his deepest and darkest fear.
Tenzō had featured in the bad dreams every once in a while since he had joined ANBU. It had spurred Kakashi to realise that Tenzō was special to him in a way that his other teammates weren’t. Before Tenzō, he had only ever seen the faces of those that he’d already lost: Obito, Rin, his father, his sensei. The first time he’d woken up sweating and shaking after dreaming that he’d run Tenzō through with his chidori, he’d understood that he had inadvertently formed an attachment to him. He still struggled to define exactly what it was that he felt for his kōhai. He supposed that it was friendship, but he also felt somewhat parental at times, like now as he watched the boy take a deep breath and tilt his head back to run the razor up the soaped column of his throat.
“Don’t press too hard,” Kakashi instructed, watching like a hawk. “If the blade is sharp you just want to glide it over your skin.”
“Hai,” Tenzō said, reaching his chin and moving the razor away. A clean, wet stripe of skin gleamed in its wake.
“Very good,” Kakashi said, unable to hold back the pride from his voice or keep the smile off of his face. Tenzō shot him a quick glance and his own tiny smile caught on his lips for just a moment before he turned studious again.
Kakashi thought that having a younger brother might have felt like this. It was a warming thought, that he could be that for Tenzō.
“Rinse the razor in between strokes,” Kakashi advised him.
“Hai.”
Tenzō made short work of his neck and cheeks but hesitated when he got to the fiddly area of mouth and chin.
“It’s a little tricky there but you’ll get used to it,” Kakashi said. “It’s easier if you tighten your upper lip.”
Tenzō pulled a face and frowned at himself in the mirror. “Like this?”
“No, no, you have to—”
It would be easier if he could show him. Kakashi hesitated for only a moment before drawing his mask down to his chin.
“Like this,” he said, then opened his teeth behind his lips so that the skin stretched.
Tenzō stared and then a smile broke his serious expression open. He mimicked what Kakashi was doing and Kakashi let out a snort of laughter as he replaced his mask.
“Right. Now try the top lip.”
Tenzō carefully shaved what remained of his face and Kakashi wet the washcloth again. He found himself leaning in to gently wipe the soap and stubble remnants from the boy’s skin himself. Tenzō smiled shyly down at the sink.
“Thank you, senpai.”
“We’ll go into town soon and buy you a shaving kit of your own,” Kakashi offered, returning his smile although it would now remain unseen behind his mask. “How does that sound?”
Tenzō nodded. “Okay. How often do I have to shave?”
“It depends on how fast the hair grows. Could be once a week or once a day.”
“How often does senpai shave?”
“Once a week,” Kakashi confirmed.
“It looked like you are overdue,” Tenzō commented and Kakashi flushed. Tenzō didn't mean to be rude, he was just painfully honest. Now that he was away from Danzō's strict training, he would learn to be tactful soon enough. A small part of Kakashi hoped that he stayed just the way he was but he knew such a hope was forlorn. Everybody grew up (if they didn't die first).
“Ah. Perhaps," Kakashi said, conceding the point.
“What about the other places?” Tenzō asked.
“Hm?”
Tenzō pushed up his sleeves and frowned down at his forearms. “I have hair here as well. Does it serve any purpose? Could I shave it off?”
“I...suppose that you could.” Kakashi looked at him quizzically. “Do you want to?”
“I don’t know,” Tenzō mused. “Why do we grow hair at all, senpai?”
“I’m not a biologist,” Kakashi said. “I’ve never thought about it.”
“You haven’t?” Tenzō’s eyes were wide and solemn. “I would like to know.”
“You have that library card, don’t you? Perhaps when we buy your shaving kit, we can check out some books as well.”
Tenzō went quiet as Kakashi cleaned off his razor and packed up the shaving kit. They walked back to the dormitory side by side.
“I would like to shave beneath my arms,” Tenzō stated as they traversed the corridor together.
Kakashi smothered a laugh. “You would?”
“Yes. I don’t like the hair there. It looks and feels unpleasant.”
“Alright, then. You can shave your armpits.”
“Do you shave your armpits, senpai?”
Kakashi quickly shook his head. “No, Tenzō. Only women do that.”
His kōhai paused at the door to Team Ro’s shared bedroom.
“Oh. Then I shouldn’t…?”
Kakashi ruffled his long, brown hair. “You should do whatever makes you happy, Tenzō.”
His kōhai settled into deep thought again and the two of them got ready for bed. Their teammates were on village patrol duty that night, so it was only the two of them. Kakashi had the bottom bunk and Tenzō the top; the older man preferred to be closer to the ground in case of emergency (or bad dreams).
He was almost asleep when Tenzō finally spoke again:
“I will shave my legs.”
Kakashi grinned like a maniac into the darkness.
“That will take a very long time, Tenzō.”
“It will be good practise for shaving my face,” his kōhai said, decidedly. “I will do it soon.”
“Alright, then. Goodnight, Tenzō.”
“Goodnight, senpai.”
A decade later when Tenzō was defenceless as he sat in the circle of his totems in case of a kyuubi eruption, Kakashi sank to the ground and pushed a hand abruptly beneath the cuff of his trouser. Tenzō squawked and tried to wriggle away from him.
“What are you doing?”
“I was curious as to whether you’re still shaving your legs, kōhai,” Kakashi said innocently, his eyes closed in cheerful half moons.
He grinned stupidly behind his mask when Tenzō blushed pink.
“I only did that once,” he mumbled.
“A senpai never forgets,” Kakashi said, settling on the grass beside his friend. “It’s been a long time, Tenzō. Why don’t you tell me what else has changed?”
Tenzō blinked and looked down at Kakashi who was now sprawled on his back with a copy of Icha Icha Tactics held in front of his face.
“Do you really want to know?”
“We were forbidden to stay in contact with those in the ANBU,” Kakashi said, affecting cool indifference as his eyes drifted over the words on the page without absorbing them. “Now that you’re out, though, I thought that we could become friends again.”
He paused to take a breath and collect himself, to push past the fear barrier that wanted him to remain isolated and detached from other people.
“I have missed you, Tenzō.”
There was no response for a moment and he worried that he had horribly miscalculated. When he chanced a glance away from his book, though, Tenzō’s countenance was warring to remain placid against a visible storm of emotion. He ducked his head forward in a quick nod.
“It’s good to see you again, Kakashi,” he finally said, his face still flushed although Kakashi didn’t think it was with embarrassment anymore.
He hummed contentedly and when Tenzō offered him a small, shy smile his heart felt a little lighter in his chest.