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"Please- tell me what's going on in that head of yours, Hatake."
Kakashi struggles to put it into words, struggles to focus long enough to do so. He wants to say its nothing, that he's fine. He's used to this. He feels like this more often than not sometimes. IS that concerning? Is this concerning behavior?
He's never been able to tell.
"I feel like a machine."
Iruka pauses and Kakashi watches those dark brows pull together in thought, formulating a response.
“People who feel like machines, become killers with nothing else left… they don’t do this to themselves. They don’t shake at the realization, they don’t ruminate over the mistakes they made over and over until they’re sick. They aren’t desperate to push people away in an effort to protect them from themselves. Monsters don’t worry about being monsters.”
Ah.
Well-
Fuck.
Kakashi doesn’t have a response for that. Not one he can put into words, but with what can only be insanity, Umino Iruka just knows.
Iruka recognizes that distant look in his eye, the pupils darker and unfocused. You can’t be a shinobi and not see it or wear it yourself. He can see the faint trembling of the older man by the sink, the way he can be so tall and muscular but also look so small and young.
They are really, still so young. Both with their own set of childhood trauma and responsibilities they shouldn’t be burdened with. Iruka wonders distantly, if he looks that young sometimes too. Regardless, even if Iruka feels small right now, feels like a child playing dress up- Kakashi needs help.
“Come here, let me help.” His voice is soft and gentle and Kakashi has to try and focus to hear him. It's probably intentional. Iruka can see him slipping backwards into his head, drowning and ruminating. Kakashi tries to remain present for Iruka. He wants to. It’s just hard, too much. Everything is clouded and so heavy and he’s so tired. He’s so so tired.
“I’m gonna help you wash up and then we are going to have some tea and we are going to rest, okay?” He talks as he moves slowly, keeping his hands visible.
Iruka couldn’t pass as a danger to Kakashi, even triggered by memories. Iruka looks so gentle and harmless. Distantly, Kakashi knows Iruka is a threat when he needs to be, but the reality of Iruka is that he never really wants to be. His hair is loose, tucked behind his ears. His headband is off too. He’s in house clothes, a soft green shirt and loose pants. He looks kind, gentle, and honest. He doesn’t look like a killer, not like Kakashi knows he himself is.
He could kill him right now so easily. Iruka probably wouldn’t even defend himself.
“Hey, you with me?” Iruka meets his eyes, turning on the sink water and gently holding Kakashi’s hand in his own. He tries to nod, he thinks he does at least. He tries to. It must be enough, because Iruka smiles at him.
He’s got a dimple, but only one on the right. Kakashi can’t remember how he got here, but he notices that. Stares at it for as long as it’s visible. He tries to commit it to memory. It’s comforting but he doesn’t understand why, at least not right now.
“I was just up reading anyway, ya know. I made some dinner, did some laundry and went through some lesson plans. School is starting sooner than I want it to. I’m getting a little anxious actually. Hopefully it’ll be a normal year. No clan politics, overbearing shinobi parents or anything. Those are the worst.” Iruka’s voice is casual as he removes Kakashi’s gloves easily.
He continues talking about his day or his week. He speaks like they’re out for lunch or tea together. He doesn't ask Kakashi anything and he’s so grateful.
He’s not really sure he knows anything right now. He wouldn’t be able to answer anything if he were asked.
The water is ice cold and Iruka pulls his fingers under it, rinsing them off. The soap he’s using to scrub them isn’t shinobi standard scentless. It’s something citrus and foamy. He feels more connected to the present because of it.
He wonders if it’s intentional and figures it has to be. Everything Iruka does is intentional. Does he use these for himself? Does Iruka sometimes disappear into the past, trapped in his head too? He’s so unphased by him. This is one of those things that scares Kakashi. It's one of the things about himself he hates. He wonders if one day he will fall into it and never come back out. He wonders if maybe that’s what happened to his dad all those years ago too.
Iruka rubs firm circles into his palms, up onto his wrists and back down. He takes a kitchen rag and gently scrubs under his fingernails. Soon enough, the blood is all gone and maybe just maybe Kakashi's heart is beating a little less erratically.
Iruka turns the water off, but doesn’t stop squeezing his fingers gently, on and off. It’s a welcomed pressure and Kakashi still can’t say anything, but at least he can see a bit clearer now.
With one hand still attached to his, Iruka grabs another cloth from the sink, runs it under cool water and wrings it out. He wipes gently at the exposed areas of skin on Kakashi’s face. It’s ice cool around his eye, behind his ears and at his wrists.
Soon enough, Kakashi finds his hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea, seated on a small couch. Iruka’s still talking, something about a theory he’s working on for a new seal concept. He hopes he can hear it again when his head is on his shoulders right, but it’s starting to sound interesting.
He’s almost back to the present now and the things around him start sharpening around the edges again. The apartment smells like cinnamon and honey and he realizes Iruka had lit a candle somewhere between making tea and getting him to the couch.
“Your hair looks nice like this.” It’s the first thing he’s said in hours, maybe days. It interrupts Iruka’s rambles and he stops, a red blush illuminated by faint candle light. And then, Iruka laughs, that dimple making an appearance one more time.
He can’t look away.
“Not a word for days, nearly give me a heart attack at two a.m. and the first thing you comment on is my hair?” It’s a gentle attempt to poke fun, test the waters of his mental state.
“Mm. Sorry. About that, I mean.” Kakashi mumbles. He sometimes finds it easier to speak in pieces, if not at all. Especially if he’s unfamiliar with the social expectations there. Iruka tilts his head and smirks.
“About showing up at two a.m. or the comment about my hair?” he teases and Kakashi just blinks. It’s as close as he can get to a sarcastic remark.
“I’m flattered though, really. I only keep it up to look professional and older. Both my parents had longer hair. My mom used to do these little braids under hers with senbon hidden in them. I’m not that skilled though.” He says, tugging on the loose ends, smiling softly in a memory.
Kakashi is sitting close enough he can see something on the side of Iruka’s neck, inked and faint. Almost unnoticeable. It’s usually covered by the collar of the flak jacket. Before he can stop himself, Kakashi’s fingertips reach up to just barely graze the neckline of his shirt.
“Hmm? Oh that-,” Iruka kicks his feet softly on the ground, looking away.
“It’s um. It’s a seal. Kind of. A modified barrier one. Definitely not patented or really anything I've shared with anyone. I can tell you about it, but you can’t tell anyone. It's a little uhhh maybe not completely legal? I haven’t decided yet.” His face is scrunched up like he’s being scolded.
“And you put it on your skin?” It’s scolding now, not too bad and more out of concern than anything else.
“I- yeah. It is. But I'm really good with this kind of thing. Sensing too. Combine those things and a lot of free time as a kid and uh you get pretty good.” he waves it off like it's nothing and kakashi holds back a tirade of praise for how impressive something like this even looks.
“What does it do?” He removes his finger and watches as Iruka channels a bit of chakra. Instantly, there is an incredibly faint glow around him. It’s there in a flash and then the light disappears.
“Try to grab me.” Iruka smiles as Kakashi tries to grab him, only for his fingers to slide off an invisible wall, unable to grip or make any traction.
He tries again, a bit harder this time, brow pulled together. Iruka lets the seal drop and Kakashi can grab him, fingers wrapped around his bicep firmly.
“What the fuck was that.” and fuck, Iruka laughs. And then he keeps laughing. Hands covering his mouth, trying to be quiet. Naruto is asleep just in the other room and he doesn’t really want to wake him, but it's funny.
“Ah you should see your face ‘Kashi.” he wipes his face and takes a deep breath. Kakashi is staring at him like he’s done something crazy, like he’s lost his mind.
“Have you figured it out?” Iruka asks genuinely, tilting his neck, exposing the flesh so it’s more visible to Kakashi even in the dim light.
For one, Kakashi is good with seals, his mentor had been one of the best and he had experience with messing around with his own. He could recognize some of this, but the fact Iruka thinks he could figure out this puzzle just by looking at it is flattering.
He’s also holding his breath because Iruka is so trusting. Kakashi could very easily slit his throat from here, exposed and vulnerable. He could also reach out and touch it again, let the pads of his fingers graze across soft, warm skin desperate for something he can’t name.
“It’s a barrier seal, but it moves.” Iruka says simply, a cheeky smile on his face before he continues.
“I have some coded notes you can look over later if you want, but I started working on it a couple years ago. I finished it when Naruto moved in. It creates a barrier around the skin, but moves like the chakra system around the body. Makes you too slippery to grab and kunai and shuriken bounce off and redirect. There is a catch though, but it’s great in a pinch.” Iruka admits casually as if he hasn’t just created something Kakashi knows hasn’t been documented before.
“You finished when Naruto moved in?” Kakashi asked, realizing it’s been a year since then. Iruka had made this by himself at only what- seventeen? Kakashi had invented his own jutsu before, but it’s definitely different. It was done from having a rare chakra type, but people do that relatively often in the grand scheme of things.
Umino Iruka had sat down and redefined the rules of barrier seals on a Wednesday night.
And he didn’t think anything of it.
“I designed it for Naruto actually. That’s the illegal part. It looks bad that I would attempt to put any kind of seal on him. It’s a secret, but he can’t fight yet and I got tired of watching people throw things and trying to grab him. Even with me and an Anbu squad watching him, we can’t guarantee there won’t be a window somewhere. I needed to think of something that could be a fail safe. He knows and can activate it if he thinks he’s in danger. I tested it on myself first. It’s safe.” Iruka whispers this and Kakashi understands why.
In the wrong eyes it can be argued as treason.
“The catch?” Because there is always one.
“Ah well, it is still a barrier. Nothing gets in means nothing. It can only last as long as you can hold your breath. I’ve got Naruto practicing swimming so he can practice holding his breath. It will turn off after five minutes unless reactivated. There isn’t really a way for it to turn off if you pass out and I wanted to avoid brain damage so the limit was necessary. Realistically, it should only be needed in an emergency anyway.” he rubs the back of his neck bashfully and Kakashi can’t look away.
“Do you understand you could be working directly under the Hokage in the defense division with stuff like this? This is… this would open the door for a lot of different applications.” Kakashi actually sounds impressed and Iruka’s face gets hot.
Before he can respond, Kakashi continues.
“We’re more alike than I realized before.” He admits. Said man shakes his head, hands waving frantically.
“I’m no prodigy. I’m just good with stuff like this. I’m painstakingly average in almost every other aspect. The chakra thing is barely relevant.” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I mean-” Kakashi presses, “you have deliberately created a reputation for yourself to prevent people from knowing what you’re really up to. You’re one of the most well known people in the village, but for your loyalty and understanding. You are all those things, but you intentionally hide a lot about yourself. You could easily be a Jounin with something like this if you really wanted to, but you just aren’t interested in that at all. The potential of this seal application..” Kakashi pauses, tilts his head and shakes it the smallest bit in disbelief.
“...The greatest weapon in the hands of someone who does not want it.” His voice is softer on that part and he watches Iruka pull his brows together, a frown on pursed lips. The younger man looks down at his hands instead of meeting Kakashi’s gaze.
They’re scarred at the knuckles, pinky’s crooked from smashing them once on a mission that feels like lifetimes ago. He thinks about the damage he’s done with them. His explosive tags are devastating when he wants them to be, he’s used barrier seals for almost everything including slicing up the arms and legs of faces from the other side of the battlefield. The hangnail on the left ring finger is close to bleeding, but he doesn’t bother healing it. He’s held a kunai in his hands for years, but he's held an ink brush for even longer.
Now most days he spends with his hand wrapped around a smaller one, tiny fingers gripping his own with more trust than he’s sure he deserves. He ruffles hair and puts bandaids on scrapes and bruises. He makes breakfast and helps Naruto brush his teeth at night. He wipes up sick and helps him wash behind his ears. He holds fresh veggies and fruit gently like a treasure because Naruto has never had them not bruised and spoiled before. He folds clothes so tiny he doesn’t think he could ever have been that small.
They don’t always feel like his, sometimes he feels like he’s been pulled out of his body looking down at them. They blur around the edges on his worst days, senses dulled and distant.
“Maa I didn’t mean to pick your brain like that.” Kakashi’s voice pulls him forward again, honest and regretful. He looks like he’s been caught making a mistake, missed a cue he didn’t know existed. Iruka can’t help but smile a bit at the expression. It’s on Kakashi’s face more than he would have thought for someone so intentionally elusive and secretive.
“Well let’s see yours then.” Iruka says. It’s half joking, but not really at all. They’ve spent the past few minutes looking at Iruka's hands, like he was being seen all the way through. Vulnerable and itchy. He moves slowly, giving Kakashi time to pull away if he really wants to.
He doesn’t.
Slowly, Iruka wordlessly unclips his gloves at the wrist, delicate and careful. He can’t hear Kakashi breathe as he does it, slowly removes them and sets them on his lap. Iruka doesn’t look at his face, let’s him keep that vulnerability to himself.
He holds the hands in his own, warm and solid.
Kakashi’s hands are much different from his own. He’s rarely without the gloves, fingers a little sweaty and with the imprint of the fabric still across his hands. His skin is closer to porcelain, contrasted to Iruka’s sun-kissed and freckled skin. He looks a bit like an ivory statue, but Iruka doesn’t voice this.
His hands are much more marred than Iruka’s own. Littered with scars and burns. His nails are so short Iruka isn’t sure they won’t get infected. His fingers are longer and more slender, callused at the palm from wielding a weapon since he’d been in diapers. All his fingers are crooked, the result of being broken over and over again. He wonders distantly how he still has mobility in them.
Iruka has seen how much control Kakashi has over his hands, watched him use weapons and senbon with such technique they appear frozen. He can flip through hand signs so quickly they’re not visible without chakra.
And yet, in Iruka’s hands they tremble just the tiniest bit. Just enough to notice.
“These hands,” Iruka flicks his gaze up meeting wide eyes, “don’t much look like they want to be wielding a weapon either.” It’s barely a whisper, but it feels loud all the same.
“I don’t think they are good for anything else.” He admits. The trembling has stopped and Iruka’s brows pull together in frustration. He interlocks his fingers with his own, holding them tightly and leaning forward to make sure Kakashi is here and hearing him and getting it.
“I have known you for a long time. I’ve seen these hands wield weapons so others don’t have to. I’ve seen them move to protect your comrades, seen you pull up those who cannot stand after battle. They held open wounds closed until help could arrive and they once picked me up and carried me when I lost consciousness.” Iruka doesn’t stop, holds tight and continues.
“I’ve seen them pet random dogs on the street, help me chop veggies and clean up after Naruto’s dinner. They’ve held him with such great care and gentleness even though it feels foreign to you.” He squeezes sweaty palms in his own, holding him like this.
“Don’t you ever tell me they aren’t good for anything else, Hatake.”
A few minutes later, Kakashi has to go debrief and Iruka needs to finish his load of laundry. Whatever tension was created fades for the time being.
That night, Iruka dreams of ivory skin and scarred fingers.