Chapter Text
Itachi’s fingers were cramping from how intensely he’d been hammering the keyboard, and a dull ache had started pulsing in his temples after hours of intense work. Finally shutting his laptop, he allowed himself to rub his eyes and rest his head on his arms for a moment. Evening had already settled over the city; the office had long since emptied out, and only he stubbornly kept fixing the code. Itachi had found out about the looming deadline at the last minute — someone had missed something again, and no one had warned him. Again.
It wasn’t the first time he had to stay late, but he didn’t complain. He needed this job, this office, this paycheck. He had to earn at least something to help his brother. The internship wasn’t a choice — it was a necessity. Feeling the fatigue creeping up on him, Itachi packed his things. Time to go home. The last bus had passed half an hour ago, but the metro was still running — though he’d have to walk the rest of the way.
Yawning, Itachi headed for the exit. The office was quiet, the only sounds were the low hum of the air conditioners and — whirr — the sudden start of the coffee machine. Itachi reflexively turned toward the noise, not expecting to see anyone this late. And he had every reason to be surprised — standing at the machine was none other than Kakashi Hatake.
Gray hair, dark jacket, a slight slouch, car keys and a coffee cup in hand. One of the higher-ups. Known for appearing out of nowhere, speaking calmly, and being completely unreadable — whether joking or serious, you could never tell from his neutral expression. Itachi gave a polite nod in greeting, and then:
“Uchiha, right?”
“Yes. Good evening.”
“Evening. Waiting for someone or heading home?”
“Home. By bus.”
Kakashi nodded, took a sip of coffee, eyes not leaving the young man.
“This isn’t an interrogation, don’t worry. Just noticed you’re still here. It’s nearly ten, and it’s raining outside. Public transport’s a mess. I can give you a ride. No strings attached. Just a colleague.”
Itachi hesitated. He didn’t trust people much, didn’t seek out new acquaintances—had neither the time nor the desire. And this was a manager, no less… But there was no pressure or pity in Hatake’s eyes. Just the same tiredness everyone had after a long day. And the facts: it was raining, it was late, and neither of them was home yet.
“All right,” Itachi nodded shortly. “Thanks.”
Kakashi’s car wasn’t new, but well-maintained. Inside, it smelled faintly of mint and coffee. Itachi got in without a word. Kakashi took the wheel, buckled up, started the engine. Soft instrumental music played in the background.
They drove smoothly, almost silently. Raindrops blurred the streetlights into warm yellow smudges. Itachi looked out the window—at the city lights drifting by like they were underwater. His eyelids were growing heavy. Sitting like this — not in a crowded bus but relaxed, in a wide seat — was far more comfortable. Almost like lying in a five-star hotel bed. Or almost like being home, in his own bed.
His thoughts drifted lazily through domestic things: dinner, Sasuke, school stuff, code. He was nearly asleep when Kakashi broke the silence:
“Do you stay this late often?”
His voice sounded casual — like he was just thinking out loud.
“Not often,” Itachi replied, not looking away from the window. “But if needed — I stay. You have to try harder when you're not even a full employee yet.”
Kakashi chuckled.
“True. Though people who’ve worked here for years also stay late. They just stop justifying it.”
Itachi smiled slightly — without even noticing.
“You stay late a lot?”
“Me? I always stay late. Just not always at the office.”
Silence fell again. The road led onto a bridge, opening a view of the river — dark, smooth, like glass. Itachi blinked, trying to shake off the last of his drowsiness, pulled out his phone, checked the time, then turned off the screen. No messages.
“Can I ask something?” he said hesitantly.
“Sure. No promises I’ll answer.”
“Why did you offer me a ride?”
Kakashi slowed down at a red light, glanced at him quickly—but not sharply.
“The real question isn’t why I gave you a ride. It’s why so few people do,” he said, his voice quiet and even. “Sometimes, it matters that someone notices. Just as a human being.”
Itachi nodded slowly. Wordlessly.
“This good?” Kakashi asked a few minutes later, as the car turned into Itachi’s neighborhood and cruised down familiar streets.
“Yes, thank you. I just need to walk a little—then I’m home.”
The car stopped. The rain had almost stopped too, just a few drops tapping on the glass. Itachi unbuckled, picked up his backpack, and was about to open the door when he heard:
“If you ever need… I don’t know,” Kakashi pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it over, “a question about the project, or if you’re stuck again with no way home. We’ve all been new once.”
Itachi took the card. Didn’t say “thank you”—just gave a brief nod. Kakashi didn’t seem to expect more.
“Good night, Uchiha. And get some sleep. For once.”
“Good night, Hatake-san.”
The door clicked shut. The car disappeared into the night, leaving Itachi watching after it. All that remained was the faint scent of coffee, mint—and a feeling that maybe the night wasn’t quite so merciless after all.
…
By morning, the whole thing felt like a dream. One of those hazy, odd dreams the brain produces after too little sleep and too much pressure. He wasn’t even sure it had really happened. So he simply moved on. Got up, got dressed, packed his laptop, and headed off to the internship — like always.
At the office, Itachi took his usual seat near the window. His coworkers trickled in — some chewing on croissants, others already cursing at the email server that was “down again.” Itachi hadn’t had breakfast, hadn’t had time to complain. He had work waiting. Code to fix, reports to write. And later that evening, more thesis assignments to finish for extra cash.
“Morning, Uchiha,” came a voice from behind.
Kakashi Hatake. The same boss — strict, quiet, serious. Now without the dark jacket, just in a black suit, with the ever-present coffee cup in hand. Did he actually like the office coffee? Or was it just an old habit?
“Good morning,” Itachi replied politely. Neutral, but not cold. He looked at Hatake, waiting for him to continue.
“If you have time — drop by after lunch. There’s something regarding your task. We’re having a half-hour briefing this evening. You’re welcome to sit in, even if it’s not your department. Just to see how things run.”
Itachi clenched his jaw slightly. That’s all he needed — to be “noticed.”
He’d heard about this. Back in university. Never seen it firsthand—this was his first internship, his first “real” job. But he didn’t want the experience.
First they invite you to “just observe,” then “share an idea,” then “stay to help.” And before you know it, you’re inside, drinking their coffee, agreeing that “team culture” matters. And you start giving pieces of yourself away.
But Itachi had nothing to give. He couldn’t afford mistakes — or trust. His goal was simple: finish the internship, do everything well, get the offer, get the money. Stay afloat for Sasuke. Everything else was a distraction. He had to stay detached.
“I have a lot of tasks,” he said quietly. “And my thesis work. I probably won’t make it.”
Kakashi nodded, unsurprised.
“Of course. I’m not insisting. Just leaving the door open. If you change your mind — come by.”
And within seconds, he was gone again — disappearing between the rows of desks, moving with the silent ease of someone who knew how not to be seen.
Itachi stared at his monitor, feeling a strange tension in his shoulders. Attention—even polite and nonintrusive—was still attention. And he didn’t want it.
When Kakashi passed by again — this time talking with someone from upper management—Itachi didn’t even turn his head. He wasn’t pretending — he was busy. And he had to stay busy. Always. So there’d be no room left — for attention, for weakness, or for connection.