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1. Teuchi-san laid the bowl of ramen in front of Naruto. With a sharp inhale, the boy’s eyes lit up with a spark so intense only he could pull off. Kakashi put a few coins on the counter, and Iruka elbowed Naruto lightly.
“Thanks, Kakashi-sensei!”
Iruka and Naruto shared a glance of complicity made up of half I did it! and half good job!, and there it was. All teeth and mischievous innocence, impossibly lively, contagious; it shed away the years Naruto had been away training with Jiraya, and Iruka couldn’t possibly be in his late twenties with that kind of face, bright and awfully spirited, so brash in child-like joy.
Kakashi wondered if Naruto had inherited that smile from Kushina or learned it from Iruka, because Minato had never grinned like that.
2. Sasuke had many of Kakashi’s traits; the arrogant child whose team couldn’t keep up with, the genius of a stolen childhood, the soldier with too many ghosts in his wake. Blood ran icy in his veins, not by choice or by nature, but due to tragedy that took away their heroes: a father that had become a coward and a brother that had become a murderer. Their stories spoke of unattainable redemption and restless vengeance, a vicious cycle of self-destruction, running around to find nothing – driven by a mission that led nowhere.
Kakashi fought to keep the kid from a path of misfortune, tried to be the guide his young self had needed. Advice was proven unwelcome, though, and Sasuke wasn’t willing to accept the words of a mentor, or the comfort of shared calamities.
Then, Kakashi offered Sasuke a thousand birds to protect himself with.
3. It was during the second year after Naruto’s departure and Sasuke’s desertion when Sakura approached Kakashi. She skipped all greetings and small talk, but not the warm smile she had recovered, with struggle and strength, after being left by two teammates. She didn’t ask whether Kakashi was going out with Iruka, just requested him to deliver a message to her former instructor: let’s have dinner; Kakashi-sensei is invited, too.
“A girl knows,” she winked at the visible one-fourth of Kakashi’s puzzled face. “But a kunoichi observes.”
With the message delivered, Iruka’s cheeks lit up with slight embarrassment, but the uncontained smile was fulfillment and his laughter was of a prankster caught in the act.
They were past the age and recklessness of steamy looks in crowded rooms or stolen kisses in alleyways. Eating together was allowed from time to time, but the careful façade of a fatherly schoolteacher and a deserted captain demanded more than a quick look to be seen through.
Then again, Sakura was an exceptional young woman.
4. Kakashi came home with sacks of dog food in hands to find Iruka reading an old, embarrassing-to-own novel with Pakkun resting in his lap. He stroked the pug’s head, even though Pakkun would usually growl at anyone who so much as attempted to touch him.
Kakashi tried to unfold the chain of events that led to this bizarre scenario – had Pakkun lost his mind, or had it been Iruka’s tenacity to pet anything he found cute?
Probably the latter; Iruka was reasonable and knew when to back away from a decision, but he was even more surprisingly obstinate when it came to petting animals. He classified them into two categories: animals he would pet, which included his grotesque pet tarantula, Tempura-san (whom, by the way, Kakashi loathed but was certainly not terrified of), as well as the most peculiar species that ranged in size, color, and degree of abnormality, and animals he would pet but was sad to admit he would also eat.
Pakkun opened one droopy eye and scoffed lazily.
“He didn’t coerce me, boss,” the little dog announced as someone who doesn’t make concessions. “He smells okay. No one in this village smells like this.”
“Like what?” Iruka cocked his head to the side curiously, but his smile was cheeky. He was obviously trying not to baby-voice Pakkun, which was most certainly a wise decision.
Pakkun took a moment to feign annoyance, and then nuzzled the palm of Iruka’s hand.
“Like the sun,” he said. “And the sea.”
Roughly a month after Pakkun’s comment and much insistence on Iruka’s part, Kakashi found himself at the beach. He had eight dogs, a schoolteacher, and no mission scroll in hands.
5. The second time Kakashi found himself searching for the point where an infinitely blue sky met the vast open sea was not long after Sasuke’s return.
This time, the ninken were resting, but there was plenty: the entirety of Team 7, including Tenzou and Sai – whom Iruka was relentlessly covering in what was possibly the third layer of sunscreen.
6. The stench of blood wouldn’t come off his hands. His whole body shook violently. He tried to come back down; reminded himself it was duty. He had seen that man laughing, having fun, drinking with his friends, kissing his girlfriend, such a beautiful woman, and breathing and walking and being alive.
But he was traitor.
It was never easy to kill a comrade, though.
The scream in Kakashi’s throat choked him. It always reminded him of Rin. It had been necessary, but it didn’t hurt any less. A comrade who had been a child, who had had a genin team, who had had dreams and had loved and had done so much, but was ultimately killed by Kakashi’s hand.
His breathing was ragged, there wasn’t oxygen enough. His sweat was cold on his fingertips, and his heart was pumping blood too fast for it to be healthy. Kakashi could hear the cruel thumping in his ears, deafening and merciless and smothering every other sound.
“…to me,” Gai’s voice was unusually subdued. It suddenly pierced through the dizzying haze of panic and the screaming pumping of blood. “You’re family to me,” he repeated.
You’re okay, it’s okay, it hurts and it’s fine, you’re brave. You’re okay. I’ll be here, I am here, I’ll always be. You’re okay. A comrade, a rival, a best friend. You’re okay.
“You’re family.”
The horror slowly subsided with Gai’s unsaid words.
7. It was strange and unromantic.
Kakashi had watched Iruka sleeping in his bed many times, and he could have whispered it, hoping Iruka would hear it somehow. He could have held his hand when they secretly met in the middle of the night, or said it when Iruka welcomed him after exhausting missions with a warm bath and a warmer smile. Kakashi could have said it when he hugged Iruka from behind and planted kisses on his neck while he cooked, or when they entwined their fingers, or when he was buried deep inside Iruka.
But he blurted it out when he was sick, his voice hoarse in a decidedly unsexy way. Kakashi’s skin ran an alarming fever, and with the hot lack of a clear mind, he confessed, “I love you.”
Iruka turned from the papers he was grading to look at Kakashi.
“I love you, too,” he said, simply and quietly, smiling as he always did – like Kakashi was odd and doubtlessly lovable. “Now go to sleep. You look terrible.”
It was strange and unromantic; it wasn’t a surprise to either of them, almost monotonous and routine-like, but Kakashi stood in front of Rin’s grave with a runny nose under his mask and a sore throat the next morning. “He said he loves me, too,” he confided in a low voice, even though some of the syllables came out awkward between sniffs and through a stuffed nose. “I’m sorry I have to go so soon, but I still have to tell Obito, and Iruka’s going to kill me when he realizes I’m not in bed.”
Kakashi realizes, then, it had been a long time since he last had something nice to tell his late teammates.
8. Before that, it had been about Tenzou.
“I have a kouhai. He’s kind of like a little brother. Except he takes care of me and not the other way around.”
9. “I know I’m his successor, Kakashi, but would you really have asked for Sandaime’s blessings?” Tsunade squinted and glared as a response to Kakashi asking for Iruka’s hand in marriage.
It had been a joke to break the ice (mostly, because the Hokage did act a bit too protective of Iruka, as Hiruzen himself had), given Kakashi was lying in a hospital bed after a mission again, and Tsunade did a great job stitching him back up each time, though with growing impatience and exasperation.
He was going to dismiss it when she unfolded her arms and gave in to the smile she had been fighting back. It turned into a grin, and then a soft chuckle. Her scowl had dissipated like morning mist, and she held deep kindness in incredibly fond eyes.
“Granted, brat,” she said. “You have my blessings.”
Tsunade wasn’t as protective of Iruka as she was of Kakashi.