Chapter Text
Umino Iruka was loved so deeply and so much, his parents would have killed and died for him – and then they did.
And that was the tragedy of it all.
In a village of countless losses, with too many hungry mouths to feed, he often went quietly unnoticed. Sharp edges and sharper teeth, fury in his veins, loud when he could get away with it. His tone angry and his words bitter, Iruka often resorted to poking at the ones he could get away with poking at. The ones who could survive a trap meant for ensnaring them, meant for putting them at the bottom of a pit in the blink of an eye. He could test his intelligence against them, test his wits, without worrying that they might be overwhelmed and destroyed.
The ANBU might not have liked it, but it was better to pit them against his traps than anyone else.
It was better to test his theories and innovations on them, Iruka figured, better to try and see if he could pull one over on them than someone of a lower level. They had better healing procedures, Sandaime-sama always had at least one following him, and if they got caught in his traps, well…
Did they really deserve to be ANBU?
Iruka usually watched from the branches of a tree nearby, his chakra signature dampened. His favorite one to try and trap was Hound, who seemed younger than the rest despite his status among them. He knew Hound was a captain, knew he outranked at least half of them, and could see it in the way they all deferred to him when he approached. Hound rarely was the one who watched over him, but Iruka liked pranking him the most.
Okay, yes, he could admit they were pranks.
If he treated them as training exercises for himself, ways to train his chakra control, then that was fine, right?
~
“Wait, so Hound?”
“Hound,” Iruka hid a giggle behind his hand, ignoring the bubbly feeling of going past tipsy and heading well into a little too drunk to be having that sort of conversation. Anko might not intend to spread the information, but she often didn’t control her tongue when she was drunk. “He was my favorite! Of all the ANBU Sandaime-sama had watching over me, back then, he was my favorite, he really was,” he sighed, leaning his chin into his palm, tilting his head to the side. Behind him, he heard a small commotion, frowning when he turned to see what it was.
Maito Gai was patting a coughing Hatake Kakashi on the back, doing his best to settle his breathing. Iruka thought he heard the Jounin ask if Hatake-san was alright, a soft, “Rival?” darting through the air, but he shrugged as he turned back to Anko.
She stared at him, her eyes almost luminous as she blinked a couple of times. “Hound?” she repeated, her mouth hanging open.
“My favorite one to prank, tease, torment,” Iruka nodded. “A couple of them tried to drag me places, in the beginning. I’m sure some of them still have scars on their arms from that.” He shrugged when she coughed on her next sip of her drink, staring at him again, her hand over her mouth. Iruka sniffed, head held high. “They should have known better than to put their arms near my mouth,” he muttered, taking a sip of his own drink. “I was taught to use whatever tools were at hand to defend myself.”
“Did you—” Anko cackled soundlessly, hyperventilating. “Did you bite them?”
Iruka grinned.
“You did!” she hissed, leaning in conspiratorially. “Iruka!”
“I don’t like being told what to do, much less being dragged into it,” Iruka shrugged. “They should have known better.” He took another sip of his drink. “One time, I caught Hound in a trap that dyed his skin blue. He had a blue cast for a few weeks, after that.”
Anko giggled, her tongue between her teeth, as she leaned in even further, begging for more stories. Iruka was happy to oblige, telling her more and more of his times as a teenage menace. He’d only had so much time to harass Hound, but he told her what he’d done. The years had passed, after all, and Hound had disappeared from the ANBU roster as far as he could tell. Either retired or…
Well.
Not a thing he needed to be thinking of, really. Above his security clearance. With the night winding down, Iruka paid for his drinks, then helped Anko find her way home. Once he’d gotten her settled on her couch, he headed for his apartment, pulling his hair down on the way.
It was late enough that none of his students would be awake to see him, so a little disorder would be alright.
What he got instead was a shuffle of footsteps behind him as someone landed awkwardly, a flare of chakra – that he couldn’t identify – reaching out to him. Iruka paused, turning to look back, only to find Hatake-san standing there, his visible eye open and wide. Ruffling his hair, Iruka stared back, raising an eyebrow. “Is everything alright, Hatake-san?”
“I,” he looked, somehow, paler than he usually did. Iruka took mission reports from him sometimes, badly done ones, and he knew what the man should look like.
Trembling and bone-white was not it.
Seeing that they were only about fifteen yards from his apartment, Iruka glanced at the door. “Do you need to sit down for a moment? I can make some tea, if that would help,” he gestured towards his door, then glanced back at Hatake-san, taking a breath. “If you would like.”
“…That would be nice,” Hatake-san mumbled, looking at his feet.
Even with the disastrous mission reports, there was something about him that Iruka found almost compelling. He seemed quiet, in a way, as if he wasn’t quite certain how to speak to people. Sure, his books were vulgar, but he never seemed to actually be reading them at some points – more of a distraction than anything else. Sometimes his eye trailed beyond the pages in his hands to track movements, only to snap back to the book he held before his target could spot his gaze moving. It spoke of a lifetime of watching people, of blending in, and he would have bet a month’s wages that Hatake-san had been on missions far more dangerous than Iruka would ever get clearance to hear about.
Iruka led the way to his apartment, opening the door quietly and heading inside. He took his sandals off, watching Hatake-san do the same. “Kitchen is this way,” he offered with a smile.
Hatake-san always seemed to want to be somewhere else. Large crowds never seemed to be his ideal location.
Iruka headed for his kitchen, putting his tea kettle on to boil, tidying up as he moved around his kitchen. There was a little bit of an awkward air between them, Hatake-san undoubtedly watching his every move, but Iruka was used to that. He taught young children every day, and that came with a certain level of observation.
Along with being in Sandaime-sama’s office every few days. He occasionally still had an ANBU as a shadow.
When the tea was ready, Iruka brought it over to the table, inviting Hatake-san to sit with him. “What was it you needed to discuss?” he asked once they were both settled. He watched the way the other man’s hands clenched on the ceramic cup, trembling, and he frowned. “Is everything alright?”
“You said,” Hatake-san closed his eye, looking down. “You said that Hound was your favorite. I heard you say it.”
Ah.
Had he been correct, then? Had Hound passed?
Was Hatake-san a friend of Hound’s, come to deliver the news, years later, that an ANBU had fallen? Was he under the impression that Hound was more important to Iruka than he had been, that he should have been informed of his death in the first place? There were a few people who should be informed when such an event occurred.
“Why was Hound your favorite?”
That was not what he had been expecting.
“He and I rarely spoke,” Iruka started, trying to piece the threads together in his mind. A tipsy mind was a difficult thing to manage, he thought, staring into his tea. “But when we did, he acknowledged me. I know, perhaps that sounds silly, but,” he sighed. “I needed that at the time. The others all simply scolded me. Or tried to bring me before Sandaime-sama, insisting I be punished. Hound spoke to me about whatever tricks I had pulled. He asked me how I had done something, or what I had used. He encouraged me to keep working on it, even if his fellow ANBU might have been furious to find out about such a thing.”
Iruka huffed, shoving a hand into his hair and shaking it out. It felt good. “Even when he was caught up in the worst of my pranks, he still took the time to notice me,” his voice had dropped to a whisper, almost trembling as he spoke. “After a while, I never saw him again. I had hoped he was safe, but…”
He let the sentence trail off.
Everyone knew what fate might come for an ANBU. If Hatake-san were reluctant to speak to him, but insistent on it, Iruka had a feeling he knew what was coming. Hound had likely fallen on some mission, however many years ago, and Hatake-san felt it was his duty to inform him. Even if it wasn’t strictly in line with protocol.
“I…” Hatake-san swallowed, his hands flexing and curling around his tea. Something to focus on. He seemed to consider and discard a thousand possible sentences, judging by the way he shook his head.
Eventually, however, he nodded. “You were the reason I got out of bed, in those days.”
Suddenly, everything seemed to come into a much harsher focus. Iruka stared at him, his cheeks burning. “What?”
“I overheard you,” Hatake-san was back to focusing on his tea, his eye pinned on it like it held all the answers in the universe. “In the bar. Gai made me promise I would talk to you. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I can just…Go…”
“No!” Iruka sputtered, raising his hands. As if that could have held Hatake Kakashi, the Copy Nin, in place. If the man wanted out, truly, he could have been gone in an instant.
Studying him, thinking back a decade, Iruka reached out to cup his face.
Gentle, he reminded himself.
Slow.
With the cautiousness he usually reserved for panicked children, Iruka brought his hands up to obscure Hatake-san’s face, like an ANBU mask, until all he could see was his hair. “There you are,” he whispered. He withdrew his hands slowly, smiling when Hatake-san opened his eye to look at him. “I had wondered where you went, Hound.”
“Not Hound anymore.”
“Still my Hound.” Iruka leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table, breathing in deeply, his chin in his hands. “Still the one whose attention I wanted all the time.”
“I think we traded on who was doing that,” Hatake-san looked down again, glancing up with just his eye. “I had thought you were…I – My reports…”
Getting his attention.
“I think I am far too drunk to talk about this right now,” Iruka nodded. “So how about this: you and I go to dinner tomorrow?” he watched the way Hatake-san’s cheek pinked up, his eye curving into a smile. “And we figure out how to get attention from each other without resorting to measures that drive each other insane?” he reached out, brushing his finger against the other man’s finger, then nodded.
“That sounds good,” Hatake-san nodded in return. “I will see you tomorrow evening, Umino-san.”
“Meet me here,” Iruka chuckled. “After my shift in the mission room.”
He stood up, busying himself around the kitchen, his tea in one hand. “But finish your tea, first. I did not offer it to you just to kick you out the door again.” He turned on the sink, filling it with hot water as he turned his back on Hatake-san, humming softly to himself. There was a chance, he knew, that his mask was being pulled down. There was a chance it was a test of some sort.
There was no world in which he would look without an invitation. Not a lifetime in which he would betray any sort of trust that might be built between the two of them.
One of the few things he knew about Hatake Kakashi was that he always wore his mask. Seeing him with it was like seeing the sun rise – it would happen every day, without fail, unless the world was ending. Iruka’s hands were quickly warmed by the act of washing the few days’ worth of dishes he had not yet gotten to, rinsed but not cleaned in his harried schedule, and he kept himself focused on his actions.
Pausing, he rinsed off his hand to take a sip of his tea.
“Umino-san,” a gloved hand caught his. “Thank you.” Hatake-san dipped his head low over Iruka’s hand, his eye closed. Iruka stared, his breath catching in his throat as he watched the other man, silver hair flopping softly while he bowed. “I will see you tomorrow evening. Sleep well.” he gently set his cup at the side of the sink. “I will see myself out.”
Iruka sagged, fully breathless, when he heard the front door click shut.
Shit.
He had a date with Hatake Kakashi.