Chapter Text
“It’s best to use three per holster, Kakashi.”
Following his father’s advice, Kakashi placed three shuriken in each of the compartments. They fit snugly so that they didn’t clink around when he moved.
Kakashi liked the way his father smiled whenever he did something, it made him want to do more to make him happy. Kakashi couldn’t remember his mother, but he must resemble her more than how much the others thought, because father never really looked for too long at his face.
Sakumo didn’t seem surprised when people started praising him as a genius shinobi, or when he graduated from the Academy, the youngest in his class. At the graduation ceremony, Sakumo just smiled gently at Kakashi, though his eyes moved away from Kakashi’s face quicker than usual. His hands were still gentle and loving- as he always was with Kakashi- and he tugged Kakashi’s shuriken patterned scarf a bit tighter around his neck as the other newly-made genin and their parents jostled around happily, taking pictures and laughing.
Sakumo had hoped – though he had known better – that Kakashi wouldn’t be a genius like him. Being a genius was lonely. He was hailed as almost a deity. Women, men, children; they all looked at him in awe; awe mixed with the tiniest bit of relief. Relief that they didn’t need to be like that. But meeting his wife and being with her, dating her had changed him in the most typical but brilliant of ways. She somehow completed him; a part of him he hadn’t realized he needed. Her sweet eyes, dark and loving, her skin, her smell – all of it had completed him and he was living a dream.
Then Kakashi had been born and was loved by her so much that he had even felt a little jealous for a moment, but she had looked into his eyes with so much love and gratitude that he couldn’t look away as her life faded from her and her sweet skin covered her soft grey eyes that would never open for him or anyone again.
Sakumo brushed a tiny hair from his son’s scarf. The shuriken pattern on the green material was childish, but he wanted Kakashi to be childish for as long as he could. Kakashi’s eyes were just like hers… and he wished he could protect his son from the war and politics but Konoha was more wolf-like than he had ever been; ravenous for any ninja that showed loyalty and potential.
He was sure nobody would be able to see the subdued shaking of his hands, but the Academy teacher – Umino sensei, was it– who had just come back from extended maternity leave, offered to take a picture for them, and he couldn’t hide his gratitude at having someone telling him what to do.
“Smile! One – two – three!”
Kakashi beamed happily as his father gently gripped his shoulder and smiled for Umino-sensei’s camera. He didn’t miss the way his classmates looked at the two of them; awe-stricken and admiring.
“Beautiful. Kakashi-kun has a lovely smile,” Umino-sensei smiled at him.
Kakashi looked down and blushed lightly, and not for the first time, felt glad that his mask hid most of his face.
“Thank you for your hard work, Umino-sensei,” his father said in his soft voice.
Kakashi was serious for a five year-old, but he was still a child. He didn’t know why his father was more reserved than usual, or why his eyes looked sad when they looked at his new forehead protector.
But because he was still a child he smiled, carefree, knowing only that he was being admired by everyone today. Umino-sensei and even her little baby who was toddling around beside her happily came up to him and congratulated him with their equally sweet eyes and smiles and Kakashi was wholeheartedly glad, not for the first time, that he was apparently a “genius,” whatever that was.
*
“Akemi…”
Kakashi’s normally stoic ANBU captain lay curled up in the strangest ball beside his dead lover. His white cloak was stained with mud and his lover’s blood, and Kakashi hadn’t even needed to use his speed or his chidori to kill the enemy-nin who had killed Rabbit, or Akemi-san. His captain had seen to that.
As he burned the rest of the enemies and cleared up the remains with his other team members, his captain remained contorted in the oddest-looking heap. A flash of a memory briefly stirred in the depths of Kakashi’s mind, something about that position being familiar, but he quickly shut off that train of thought.
Emotions were burdensome, useless things.
He was a true shinobi.
He was a genius, he thought savagely. People still looked at him with admiration, or probably something like that, because he thought only of the mission and how to complete it. He made a quick mental memo on a standard yellow post-it about the extra things he noticed. He certainly did not care about Rabbit or his captain any more than the extent to which it would affect their return home.
He was a genius, so he could turn off his feelings, just like that. The moisture on his face was not his tears.
*
Sandaime blew out a long string of smoke, and looked at Kakashi.
Kakashi was unnerved by his piercing gaze, which could be seen even through the shadow of the Hokage hat. Kakashi felt small and afraid of being found out as being an emotional, fragile human and not the true shinobi that he was; Hiruzen couldn’t see his swollen eyes through the porcelain mask, could he?
“Rabbit and Boar are out of commission. I put you, Hound, in charge of team Ro.”
None of the Anbu members in the room moved a muscle. They weren’t really surprised.
Kakashi’s teenage shoulders tensed with the welcome burden, relieved that he would still be of use.
He made a mental memo on a blue sticky note to pick up some fresh meat for his ninken later as a celebration of his promotion.
*
It was time to pull Kakashi out of Anbu, thought Hiruzen.
Just like Sakumo, Kakashi was soft-hearted. Thankfully, though, the most urgent throes of war were over and this time he would be able to pull a Hatake out of those shadows before any more emotional damage was done.
“Kakashi. You have done a great service as team captain.”
“Thank you, Hokage-sama.”
“From today, you are honourably discharged from Anbu, and will resume regular jounin duties.”
“…Understood.”
“I have more need of you as a jounin, now that most of the small wars are over and Anbu missions are more intelligence based now. Do you have any questions?”
“No, sir.”
“Then your first mission will be to supervise a candidate for promotion.” Hiruzen tapped a standard scroll with red edges, classifying it as an A-rank.
“His name is Umino Iruka. He shows promise in the field, especially as a strategist and leader. He has met all the prerequisites, and you will be assessing his readiness on this infiltration mission.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hiruzen looked at Kakashi. The Hokage almost did a double take, but just breathed out a long string of smoke. For a moment, he thought Sakumo had been looking at him in gratitude; but no, it was still just Kakashi looking distant and a little confused.
“Dismissed.”
*
Kakashi hadn’t forgotten his first crush – Umino-sensei. In the childish corner of his mind, which seemed to grow a bit brighter after his dismissal from Anbu, he still had a tiny post-it with “Umino-sensei” and a puppy doodled on it.
He knew his dismissal from Anbu had been coming. He did understand why, though he still felt a little resentment at the reason. He could be super stealthy if he wanted to be.
But not everything was too bad, he supposed, if he got to see Umino-sensei’s little baby again.
Kakashi shifted his grip on the mission scroll and went to pack his travelling bag for the mission.
Two young men were waiting at the gate when Kakashi got there to leave. A young teenager, obviously quite inexperienced, and another young man, leaning slightly on the gate wall.
He didn’t look anything like Umino-sensei, at all. The toned muscle, typical of most shinobi, was all man; very much male.
Kakashi nodded a greeting and the three members set off through the gates.
Umino Iruka had a nice shade of dark skin, Kakashi observed. Very masculine shade of tan.
Kakashi shook his head. What the hell even was a “masculine shade of tan”? He would have laughed at himself if he wasn’t so thoroughly disturbed by his train of thought. He had never had any of these thoughts before. This observation was most certainly not written on a pink mental note.
“Kakashi-taicho, I sense many irregularities in the surroundings there,” said Umino, pointing. “I think it would be best if I take the main road, and Ryoichi and you can move in the trees on either side of me.”
It was a good call, Kakashi thought. Both Ryoichi and he would stand out, due to their lighter hair and skin in this part of the country. And his masculine voice is very nice to hear, a pleasure to obey.
Ryoichi sent him a wary glance when Kakashi shook his head randomly and started to chew on a piece of beef jerky as he moved into formation.
For the rest of the mission, Kakashi was impressed by Umino Iruka. He most certainly was not a baby any more, with his strong shoulders and firm build. The glimmer of angst and conflict present in all talented shinobi barely showed in his dark eyes and did not interfere with his ability to carry out the mission efficiently.
His fighting skills were adequate for jounin-level, and as Sandaime had stated, his intelligence and leadership skills were more than capable.
But something happened as he looked at Iruka in approval, ready in his mind to sign the recommendation form. The memory of his father’s strange sadness at his Academy graduation, a lifetime ago, fluttered to the surface. Kakashi finally understood that feeling of helplessness in his father’s face, the feeling that the world was a cold and unforgiving place, and there was nothing to stop it from turning. He wished there was something he could do to protect this young man from a path of darkness; but it was as futile as a stone trying to stop the river from running into the sea; and Kakashi was only a small pebble.
*
“Hokage-sama. Jounin Hatake Kakashi reporting to debrief.”
“Ah, Kakashi. Speak freely,” said Hiruzen.
Halfway through the report, however, Iruka walked in, bandaged up in some places and generally looking worse for wear, but his eyes stunned Kakashi.
They were the most captivating sight Kakashi had ever seen. Sweet and dark, like Umino-sensei’s; but even sweeter and more fiery than those faded memories of his Academy teacher.
Maybe it was the sunset? Kakashi absentmindedly scribbled on an orange-pink mental post-it.
It turned out he didn’t have to go through the pain of nominating Umino-sensei’s baby – no – attractive man? – no – just Umino Iruka, because Iruka proved once again that he was more than deserving of the Sandaime’s approval, pledging his heart and loyalty to the Village’s children and future.
*
Slowly, his mind filled with the useless memos and colourful pieces of paper of everyday life.
It was honestly distracting and disorientating; completely different from the gaping blackness that he had grown used to. He wasn’t lying more often than not when he gave his reasons why his report was late to the newly-made Iruka-sensei, who manned the missions desk.
The sight of those eyes didn’t help him organize his mind any quicker, either.
Subdued and quiet one moment, glimmering and laughing the next, spilling fire immediately after that; they continued to shake up all the unorganized new information in his mind and throw his stomach in a strange loop.
Thankfully though, he was getting used to it. He could finally get his head around his personal bizarre colour-coding system in his brain. For one thing, there was a lot of green memos stuck all over his mental walls. Thinking about it, he had been hanging out with Gai more than usual these days. He enjoyed irritating Gai with his indifferent comments – of which the first few actually had stemmed from real social incompetence – but were now thoroughly intentional.
Kakashi grinned secretly behind his mask, lounging on a tree near the Academy. He had always liked the colour green. He also liked blue, yellow, red, pink, brown, orange; many colours, he found. And the world was so full of colours now.
A loud sigh below him interrupted his thoughts and he tried not to fall off the tree at the sight of Iruka sitting under him.
Even the young sensei’s ponytail looked like it wanted to sigh.
Kakashi panicked. How do you start a conversation?
“Hello, there.”
Iruka looked up, surprised. Kakashi wished he could kick his brain. Hello, there? What was he, a seventy year-old paedophile giving out sweets? Kami. Just keep talking. Talk.
“You know, this is my favourite spot.” Oh god that was a secret. Why did he say that? Quick, distract Iruka. “But I can’t really concentrate on my reading with all that sighing going on down there.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll just go,” said Iruka. Way to go, Kakashi. That wasn’t a nice thing to say. No, please don’t go.
Kakashi jumped down, probably a little too hastily, and landed in front of Iruka.
“No, don’t bother. I was just about to leave.”
At those words, they looked at each other, both stunned at that level of what-the-fuck. Iruka actually looked mystified at Kakashi’s strange behaviour.
It didn’t stop there.
“See ya,” said Kakashi’s traitorous mouth.
What? See ya? Where the hell did that come from? No, that wasn’t abrupt at all, he thought sarcastically. Kakashi wished he could physically hurt his brain. Literally, he would give himself a lobotomy with a broken chopstick.
Three steps later, he stopped himself and turned around. Iruka must think he was a freak. There was nothing else for it anyway; so Kakashi stopped thinking and said what he should have said at the start.
“What’s wrong? You look depressed. If you feel like talking, I’ll listen.” Kakashi walked back to the bench Iruka was sitting on, and sat down next to him.
Iruka looked preoccupied with his own problems, and he didn’t seem to mind Kakashi’s eccentric social skills.
“Kakashi-san,” said Iruka slowly. His name sounded beautiful when Iruka said it.
“The thing is, I am Uzumaki Naruto’s homeroom teacher. I’m… not sure how to deal with him.”
“I see,” Kakashi was surprised. Naruto, huh. That was opening up a can of worms for him too.
“So that’s why you look so lifeless. There’s no spark in your eyes.”
Iruka stared at him incredulously.
Kakashi also stared at himself incredulously inside his brain.
But thankfully, Iruka didn’t hold it against him when he talked about what he meant. Kakashi explained about the time Iruka wanted to be a teacher and how only Iruka would be able to get through to Naruto. Some of his sincerity must have shown, because Iruka stared at him with unfathomable dark eyes.
It was getting dangerous. He should go before he embarrassed himself even more.
“See ya.”
Kakashi walked away at a controlled pace, focusing on not tripping over and not replaying how abrupt his exit must have been to Iruka. He didn’t notice that his hands had been unnaturally clenched until he was already far away.
Kami, Kakashi winced as he uncurled his stiffened fingers. I don’t think this is normal.
*
It was a difficult road, readjusting to general society. After all, he hadn’t formally been in general society before.
Iruka-sensei, however, was thriving now.
He looked more alive and captivatingly competent than ever, with Naruto and the snotty horde of other children following and idolizing him. Kakashi’s own interactions with Iruka were usually very friendly, and Kakashi was satisfied with that, he thought.
When Sandaime gave him Naruto, Sasuke and Sakura, Kakashi tried his best with his genin team.
The genin team really threw his life into a higher level of stress.
His mask and his porn and his slouch had been as effective as always in stopping people from getting too close to the infamous Copy-nin, and at first, it sort of worked with his three young charges. There was a reason why he kept all those three traits, though. He wasn’t really antisocial. Sure, after his father’s suicide, Kakashi had felt a severe black-and-white type of like and dislike regarding relationships with people, and after Minato-sensei and his team’s death, he put the others from him at an arm’s length. But the reason he still kept people at arm’s length now, even after he had more or less grown out of his angsty teenage rejection of all humans, was that when he emerged from his pubescent antisocial chrysalis, he found that he had the social graces of a deformed moth.
It was best that he kept up the image that Gai had helped him create; “cool and hip.”
Although, if he thought a bit more about that, Kakashi had a niggling feeling that calling something “hip” wasn’t really hip at all, and that Gai knew exactly what he was saying, or yelling, in public; especially judging by the little glint in Gai’s black eyes.
Kakashi was stressed. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting the breeze touch his hair as he leaned his head back against the trunk of his favourite spot. The smell of the crisp damp of autumn came with the breeze and also the faintest smell of blackboards and chalk. And that deceptively mild breeze knocked off a fluttering post-it from the wall of his mind.
Team Seven, Iruka-sensei had said two weeks ago after accepting a report, eyes twinkling mischievously. You’ll need all the luck you can get, Kakashi-san.
Kakashi had nodded and walked off, hands clenched again in an effort to not mess up. He had been working to improve his social skills, but he couldn’t be blamed when Iruka caught him off-guard with those kinds of expressions that made the world tingle.
Kakashi groaned and purposefully scraped the back of his head on the bark.
*
Sakura, the most perceptive of the three, seemed to know instinctively how ungainly her sensei really was. It showed in her exasperated glances and her no-nonsense attitude towards his lateness and his hip reasons for anything.
Naruto was too busy trying to one-up Sasuke, and Sasuke was too busy trying to look as if he didn’t notice Naruto or anything other than himself.
But it was apparent to Kakashi that the three genins’ potentials were greater than anyone originally thought. It showed in the bursts of inspiration during missions and training that was impossible to dismiss as mere coincidence.
So Kakashi ended up debating with himself for longer than he would admit to even himself, whether he should nominate the three for the chuunin exams.
His intuition, up-to-date knowledge of his charges, and belief in their skills left no doubt in his mind that he should nominate them. They were so ready.
But anyone who hadn’t seen them in action would never understand. Anyone, meaning the Sandaime. Or maybe even Gai.
Or Iruka-sensei.
Iruka-sensei’s opinion on nominating his genin was obvious without even asking the man. It showed in his innocent smiles and trusting expression over irregular dinners that Kakashi tried to never miss. But as intuitive and intelligent as he was, he would not be right in this case, since he didn’t have Kakashi’s current point of view.
It was just that Kakashi had no idea how to even broach that subject, how to bring it up in such a way that wouldn’t undermine the teacher’s belief in him and in himself.
And with this state of agitation still unresolved, Kakashi found himself answering the Sandaime,
“I, Hatake Kakashi, nominate my genin team, Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura, and Uzumaki Naruto, for the chuunin exams.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he could feel the back of his head prickling uncomfortably.
Kakashi swallowed secretly behind his mask, steeled his chaotic mind by shutting the blown open mental windows, and turned around to face the livid man.
“Naruto is different from you.”
Those words, too truthful to be anything but hurtful, hissed through his brain and rattled all the precariously stuck colourful bits of memories, threatening to unleash the black rot that they had been papering over.
“They are not your students any more. They are my subordinates.”
The only thing Kakashi was focusing on was to avoid having his voice tremble, and so he looked away, hands clenched inside his pockets, and wished he had not seen either Iruka’s passionate, hurt eyes or the reservation and hesitation in Hiruzen’s.
But Kakashi knew, as he waited unmoving on the rooftop of Iruka’s house, that he was right, and that Iruka would also know that he was right. This was the only reason he was waiting for Iruka on Iruka’s roof and not his own. Being the wrong one was always harder, and Kakashi felt that if he didn’t do anything immediate and apologize for some thing or another to Iruka, their quiet friendship would be damaged.
But the problem was that he still had no idea how to apologize, or what even to apologize for, since he technically hadn’t done anything wrong. What he did want to apologize for was that he hurt Iruka’s feelings, but he couldn’t say it like that because that would insinuate insulting things to Iruka’s maturity.
Dusk sent a breeze through his hair, but Kakashi was still stewing in his own mind, thinking about what and how he would ever say anything to Iruka about anything at all. It caught him completely off-guard when Iruka’s chakra spiked suddenly behind him, announcing his arrival.
“How were they?” Kakashi pulled all his emotions behind a thick door. He wanted to shut his eyes, and breathe in Iruka’s smell, which was so close; especially if this was going to be the last time he was going to stand this close to him –
“So much for the preliminary exam.”
Iruka’s rich, melodic voice was tinged with sadness and wistful regret, and contained miraculously no anger directed at him.
“All nine rookies passed. Just like you said, their abilities really have improved.” Kakashi heard emotion in Iruka’s voice, and even acceptance. How was it that this man could be so understanding? Kakashi wanted to tell him everything, all the suffering he had felt because of the possibility of a rift between them, but what could he say now, at this point, when Iruka was already over it?
“Maa, but you’re right, this still isn’t enough for the real Chuunin Exam.”
That wasn’t near close to the degree of emotions that he wanted to convey to Iruka, but somehow, Iruka seemed to understand even that.
It both scared and make Kakashi grateful, that someone knew him so well enough to read through his awkward mannerisms.
*
Iruka was like every other ninja he had ever known, but also like no other.
Kakashi was just grateful that he was part of the group that Iruka looked at and smiled at. There was no other thing to hope for, really. Not when Sasuke had joined Orochimaru, not when Sakura had had enough of his ineptness and had gone under Tsunade, not when Naruto, Minato-sensei’s son, Iruka-sensei’s foster brother, had left him for someone better.
There was always someone better.
No matter if he was the son of the White Fang, or ‘Kakashi of the Sharingan’ or the Copy-ninja; someone just always was better than him at something.
The only exception to this was Iruka-sensei.
Iruka didn’t fall under that category of being “better” or “worse” than him. He was on a completely different level altogether, a level that Kakashi and his type couldn’t even hope to be in. He had his imperfections, like losing his temper and yelling a lot; but for the things that mattered, Iruka-sensei was just perfect.
It made Kakashi feel even smaller.
*
To be continued