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Something was wrong with his blackboard. He noticed it just a fraction after walking into his classroom, the slight sheen on matte black hard to see before he flipped the light switch. It was a good thing that he got here early too, because the class he was dealing with would have far too many questions about it if they saw it before he could clean it off.
Fingers pinched his chin, he stared at the board. It looked like hard wax was used to write it, clear but unable to completely blend in against the smooth slate he saw almost every day. Chalk wouldn’t stick to it, and he could picture white lines interrupted by the wax if he tried to write on the board.
The very tip of his fingers brushed against a portion of wax, and he tried to flow some of his chakra into it. Nothing happened, not even the smallest hint of pre-loaded chakra responded to him. It didn’t seem to be charged with chakra, not that he would expect something like a trap in his little classroom, but it never hurt to be thorough. He had his fair share of trapping knowledge under his belt, gathered from his own experimenting and from experience.
No chakra, no threat. It was probably a prank of some kind.
Iruka grabbed the longest piece of chalk he could find, then placed it on its side against the board. His fingertips grew pale and white from chalk flakes as he scraped it against the slate. Words quickly formed amongst the sea of white, the wax doing a better job than he thought at not smearing. He backed up until he felt the edge of his desk against the backs of his thighs, and blinked up at the words.
It’s cute that you scrunch your nose when you think.
The handwriting was neat, so neat that it looked exactly like the script used in character handwriting books. Iruka knew that font so well from his time as a student teacher, that it felt like he could point it out 100 yards away. Uniform and impersonal, somehow that simple sentence was enough to start up the beginning of a blush for him, and Iruka quickly set out cleaning the board. A low grade fire jutsu was enough to melt off the wax just in time for the first student to wander into the room none the wiser that a surprisingly sweet message had been there earlier.
Iruka went through his day, but he was already trying to identify the mystery writer in the back of his mind. The usual suspects were completely off the table- none of them would have the patience to break into his classroom and painstakingly copy a script meant for teaching toddlers just to leave a cute message.
He found another note, this time on a slip of paper taped under his desk in the mission room, exactly where he always rested his hand when he was lost in thought. Iruka peeled it off, this one written on nice quality purple paper, thick and heavy, with a slight texture.
Sometimes I think about what your hand would feel like in mine.
It was sweet, innocuous, but it also increased his confusion. Who would bother leaving him notes? Iruka flipped it over, but the only thing on the back was a hand painted pattern of weeds in a pool of water entirely done in gold ink.
This sheaf of paper and ink was expensive, not a pattern usually available in Fire Country, so whoever it was had to be a ninja that took longer range missions. But the paper itself didn’t seem brand new. Maybe it’d been a while since they’d been on a mission?
He’d never had an admirer before, at least not in the romantic sense. His friends would leave him little messages here and there as they came and went out of the village, but nothing as sweet as this. The basic script was still a little jarring though, and it most likely meant that the person really didn’t want to be found.
He tucked it into one of his flak jacket pockets, refocusing on getting his station ready for the next several hours of reading and proofing that came with reports.
The strange messages slipped from his mind until he took Naruto to Ichiraku’s that night, when he felt a slip of paper taped to the underside of his bowl. It was the same distinctive purple paper and golden ink. The illustration was even the same, reeds in standing water, created with perfectly smooth strokes.
His guest perked up when he peeled the paper off, folding the sticky edges of the tape down so they wouldn't stick to anything else, and flipped it over to reveal another set of perfectly copied kanji. This message was much shorter but somehow kinder, and whatever expression he made reading it made Naruto try to grab it.
It’s a joy to see you.
Warmth settled on Iruka’s cheekbones as he held the paper out of Naruto’s reach.
“Iruka-sensei,” Naruto whined, making actual grabby hands (How was he a genin again?) at it even though there was no way he could get it. “What’re you hiding?”
“Just a note,” He said vaguely, holding Naruto away with a hand on his chest, “Shouldn’t you be eating your ramen?”
“Gaahh,” the blond groaned but finished his ramen bowl in record time. The narrowed, thoughtful look he had never went away for even a second, which made an admittedly funny image with his noodle stuffed cheeks. A while ago, he would have cringed at the whiskers that marked Naruto as the Kyuubi jinchuuriki, but his earnest, childlike excitement with anything life threw at him was something that had been missing from his life for a long time.
“So what’s the note about?” Naruto asked immediately after he finished his bowl.
Sighing, Iruka rolled his eyes up at the roof of the ramen stand, pretended he couldn’t hear Teuchi’s huff of a laugh, and said the first thing that came to his mind-
“It’s a ramen coupon.” He made eye contact with Teuchi and tried to convey how much he needed help. The gods decided to have mercy on him because Teuchi silently agreed to help him, dropped the ladle he was holding, and scribbled out a coupon to hand to Naruto.
It was written on the back of a blank receipt, and simply said 50% for our best customer. Naruto lit up, his eyes absolutely shining, as if he had personally seen heaven. Honestly, half off ramen probably was his heaven.
“What do you say to Teuchi-san?”
“Oh right,” Naruto sheepishly rubbed at the back of his head, “Thank you!”
Iruka folded the piece of paper and quickly slipped it into the pocket of his chuunin vest, thankful that Naruto forgot about it already with his own coupon. “You should use that with your team. Yes, even Kakashi-sensei.”
Naruto, who had already opened his mouth to ask if he really had to be nice to his jounin sensei groaned, sloping his little shoulders.
“He’s so weird though. He’s nothing like you. All he does all day is sit around while we do stuff, reading his dumb books.”
“I can’t believe he only reads,” Iruka said.
“Sometimes he writes.” Naruto admitted. “I think he’s been making crafts or something. He carries around a bunch of fancy paper and crap. Sakura-chan thinks he has a calligraphy side business or something since he takes so long on them.”
Imagining Kakashi-sensei trying to corral Team 7 while trying to keep up with calligraphy was so preposterous that he strangled back a laugh.
After two more bowls were packed away, Naruto took off somewhere, probably to meet up with his teammates to terrorize some poor unsuspecting soul. Seeing how relationships morphed and changed after team assignments was always interesting as kids were randomly placed together. Close academy friends spent less time together, while kids who barely spoke to each other could form the closest relationship. Iruka wondered if Sakura was even aware that she was becoming friends with Naruto and Sasuke, though that crush she had was stubborn and blinding. Naruto wasn’t lonely anymore, Iruka thought, he found the spaces he belonged.
The new message burned in his pocket.
–
I like your laugh.
Iruka traced the wax lines that formed the perfect kanji spread on the board for the second day in a row. Half wilted leaves were still on the floor, the tell tale sign that a shunshin was performed only moments ago. He barely missed them then. Damn it.
Another fire jutsu to remove this new message and a quick clean up of the leaves littered across the floor, and Iruka was launched into another day of work. The mystery slipped from his mind as soon as it was time for a new lesson to begin.
–
Genma waved a sealed envelope at him as soon as he stepped into the mission room, calling out, “You got some mail.”
“Oh,” Iruka said, “thanks.” He collapsed into his chair with a groan and a crackle of his spine. It was so good to finally sit down without worrying if someone was going to try out a jutsu before they had proper chakra control. Why did it feel like clan kids learned their family jutsu earlier and earlier? They were creating menaces on purpose.
Maybe there was a secret league to terrorize the Academy instructors.
Genma waved the envelope directly in his face until Iruka grabbed it from him with a sour look. The answering grin had him rolling his eyes as he slipped a thumb under the envelope's seal.
From children to adults, why was he surrounded by menaces?
Another little purple note was tucked inside, absolutely tiny compared to the big messages left in his room in the mornings.
I’m afraid that you would hate me, but I think I love you.
He’d be able to tell if he knew who was leaving these messages. Iruka sighed, wishing that the message writer wasn’t so shy. Maybe he could figure out a way to leave a message for them? The blackboard was the first thing either of them saw in the mornings- to leave a message or after arriving at work- so maybe he should leave something there.
The sigh must have been louder than he expected, because Genma looked up from the paperwork he was sorting through slowly. He focused on the gold ink on the back of the paper, and asked absentmindedly, “You got Kakashi to draw something for you? Damn, you’re lucky.”
It was the most unexpected combination of words that Iruka’s brain came to a screeching halt. Kakashi? Drawing? Genma was still talking, something about trying to ask Kakashi to draw something for him and Raidou, but it turned into a vague background noise he half heard.
There was no way that Kakashi was the one behind these messages. They were sweet and kind. Wholesome and warm. The complete opposite of the Hatake Kakashi he knew.
But.
He looked back down at the simple note that was a confession of insecurity. It… could make sense. He used to go on long distance missions, but hadn’t gone on anything too involved since being assigned a genin team. Most of his missions were A-rank or higher, so he made a good chunk of change. The anxiety that Iruka would hate him also made sense since they had never really gotten along.
There was a supply closet in the back room, filled to the brim in paper and inks. He excused himself as soon as it was time for his break and walked directly to the plain white cupboard. He needed to use the best cardstock available because he had his own message to write.
–
“There you are.”
Kakashi blankly looked at him, holding two peaches in his hands, in the middle of checking which were ripe enough to buy. His shopping bag was slung on one of his shoulders, made from what looked like extra kimono fabric (Was that the same pattern as the festival vests his dogs had one last summer festival?), hung limply against his side. The rolled cuffs of his uniform were loose, revealing his thin yet well muscled forearm and the fine hairs that coated them.
“Here I am?” He asked, sounding puzzled. It was almost enough to make Iruka second guess himself.
Wordlessly, albeit with a self-satisfied smirk, Iruka held up a blue printed paper between his pointer and middle fingers then held it out to the jounin he’d finally cornered. The thick cardstock didn’t bend in the wind, and a beat passed until Kakashi finally dropped a peach to pluck it out of Iruka’s fingers.
The man held the card delicately, and Iruka’s heart thrummed harshly at all the confirmation he needed that this was the right person who left him all of those notes. Kakashi was looking at the card like it was something so fragile and gentle that Iruka couldn’t help but feel like a voyeur in his own confession. With a swallow, he took a step backwards. The crunch of dust and gravel under a sandal was enough to shake Kakashi out of his trance, and the jounin jerkily strode past him. He didn’t say a single word.
It was so abrupt that Iruka was stunned for a good moment, before he grimaced. Gods, maybe it had been a terrible idea to give him a note back. Why had he approached Kakashi in public? He was a notoriously solitary man outside of missions. He tried to drag a hand through his hair but groaned when he just knocked his forehead protector askew. Fuck, he probably scared him away.
Sighing, Iruka started walking away, but for whatever reason, he felt the strange urge to just check if Kakashi was still around. Looking over his shoulder, he didn’t have to look far to catch a look of the slouching jounin who had stopped at a different stall. Kakashi was stooped over a fraction more than usual, and the bright blue card was open as he read it. Probably feeling Iruka staring at him, like any ninja worth his salt would be aware of, Kakashi looked up suddenly, locked eyes with Iruka, and then vanished in a puff of smoke.
Defeated, Iruka walked back home, taking the long way that trailed through two small public parks along the bank of the Naka. The door of his apartment was plain, no new purple note present, and he tried to swallow the frog in his throat. Automatically, he pulled out his kettle, held it under the faucet to fill it with cool water then placed it on one of the stove burners. A single clean cup was left in the cabinet, so he set it down in front of him on the counter top with a click.
Inside that little clean cup was a little slip of purple paper, golden reeds on the back like always, and his breath caught. It was curled up to fit within the cup, and he had to crease it to keep it flat. And the simple message written on it made his heart explode, relief flooded him, and Iruka turned off the hot burner. He smiled wider than he’d ever smiled in his life, pure joy in his laugh, because he hadn’t made a mistake after all.
Meet me at your favorite tea house tonight?