Kakashi hated his birthday. All it served was to remind him that he had another year under his belt; another year that he had survived and they had not. And if that wasn't bad enough, he wasn't even left alone to quietly lick his wounds, oh no, instead of wallowing in solitary self-pity in front of the memorial, he had been dragged to this God-forsaken hole in the wall bar where he was surrounded by his fellow well-sloshed jounin, trying to discreetly wallow in drunken self-pity without ruining their little party.
He had wanted to be on a mission on his birthday; when he was on a mission, he didn't have time to think or remember the painful memories that always seemed to slap him in the face when September 15th rolled around. All he had time to think about was the mission, a blessed escape that focused the non-stop chatter of his genius mind onto survival and success and away from the obsessive self-castigation it usually flooded him with on this day. Alas, his hopes had been dashed that morning when he had slouched casually into the mission room. It seemed that the whole bureaucracy had conspired to 'make' him have a happy birthday. No doubt the Godaime had instructed that little brown-nosing chuunin at the missions desk to not give him a mission scroll. That infuriating man had just smiled oh-so-sweetly up at him with his hands folded serenely on the desk and said,
"I'm sorry, Kakashi-san, but there seem to be no missions available at the moment."
It was a blatant lie, of course, because although Kakashi only had one eye, it was a good eye and he could clearly see that there were indeed mission scrolls available. He was about to give that little lap-dog a piece of his mind when Asuma had strolled up and draped an arm around his shoulders, steering him away from Iruka and a possible shinobi show-down.
Kakashi had been quietly fuming the entire day as he was dragged around by his comrades. Needing someone to pin his misery on he focused on the man his thoughts (and more often than not his fantasies) were frequently drawn to. Good lord but he couldn't stand that chuunin! Ever since the first day he'd seen him, he'd had an uneasy feeling about the man. Standing in line to turn in a mission scroll, he'd witnessed the phenomenon he would later designate as the 'Umino explosion.' Kakashi had noticed the air of discomfiture in the room when he had entered, but couldn't at first seem to place what had the other shinobi riled up. Then, just like a bolt of lightning it had struck. The poor jounin at the front of the line was suddenly faced with the wrath of the scarred school teacher, who was now in full disciplinary mode as he pointed out quite loudly and effusively that the report was so fatally flawed, he was surprised it didn't spontaneously combust. Kakashi had stuck his head around the man in front of him to see what was going on, and had gotten his first good look at the young sensei.
The most noticeable thing about the man wasn't his distinctive facial scar, but his eyes. No shinobi should have had eyes like that. Eyes that, in effect, broadcast the man's feelings for the whole world to see. It made Kakashi feel awkward and ill at ease to see those emotions so blatantly displayed. If eyes were the windows to the soul, this man had absolutely no drapes on them. Seeing those gleaming chocolate colored orbs gave him the distinct impression that he was looking at something he shouldn't be, something that should have been concealed; Kakashi felt like he had walked into the man's house and begun rummaging through his personal possessions.
That wasn't the only reason for Kakashi's disquietude though; as ninja, they were taught to protect themselves at all times, and part of this meant keeping yourself hidden not only in the sense of eluding detection by your enemies, but also in the sense that you had to show no weakness. And, as set down in the shinobi code, emotions were a weakness. They could cloud your judgment and reasoning, and on a mission if those faculties were impaired you would most likely end up dead or a failure. Seeing the intensity of Iruka's emotions might have made the other nins anxious for fear of having his wrath brought down upon them, but it unsettled Kakashi for the reason that to him Iruka represented something dangerous, because feelings were dangerous. No, Kakashi didn't want to get anywhere near emotions, not after his father, not after Obito and Rin. He didn't want to get close enough to touch an emotion with a ten foot pole, which was why he had abruptly turned on his heel and slouched out of the missions room. Waiting a few more hours until someone else came on duty wouldn't hurt anything. Besides, his report had been late anyway.
As time passed, Kakashi had done a fair job of avoiding the volatile chuunin. He became aware of the times Iruka manned the missions desk and made it a habit to never make an appearance during that period. However, there were times that facing Iruka became unavoidable. Being a ninja of the caliber he was, Kakashi handled many missions that required him to report in immediately upon their completion. The first time he found himself face to face with the tan nin he had been somewhat prepared, shielding himself behind his favorite Icha Icha as he handed the mission report as well as the scroll he had been sent to retrieve over to the man with a casual air. Despite his prior experience, he was, however, completely unprepared when the chuunin had looked directly at him and said,
"Thank you for your hard work, shinobi-san."
He hadn't meant to look up. He hadn't intended to make eye-contact. But those quiet words had startled him, and before he knew it, he was staring right into those eyes. And those dark brown irises trapped him in their gaze, and he felt like he was drowning and suffocating in their richness and depth. Standing right in front of him, Kakashi was able to see now that it wasn't just Iruka's eyes, although that was where it started. The chuunin's whole face seemed to be illuminated by the light shining forth from his eyes. The man was so alive, so real. Iruka didn't just talk to you with words, his entire being seemed to communicate with you. It seemed you could read his face like a book, and Kakashi could not remember the last time he had seen or felt anything more sincere and tangible than at that moment. And it had scared him like nothing else had for a long, long time. It was as if those emotions were stabbing needles that Iruka sent piercing straight into his heart.
Kakashi recalled experiencing a horrible sinking sensation in his stomach, of feeling quite ill; his entire body had felt hot and cold at the same time, and his insides as if they were trying to crawl out his throat. He remembered that it felt like he was physically ripping himself away as he forced a slight incline of his head before turning around and exiting the room. Kakashi remembered swallowing down the sick feeling, fighting off the panic that made his chest tight, his stomach twisting and coiling horribly as he made his way over the rooftops to his apartment. He remembered standing under the spray of the shower until it ran cold, staying there until his lips were blue, wishing desperately for the chill to seep into his body and numb his heart again. He remembered slipping into bed that night and dreaming for the first time of tan skin and warm lips and soft words and those terrible, beautiful eyes.