Summer Star

'Summer star why are you red?
Last night I had a sad dream
Crying as I talked
Oh, red eyes

Summer star, why are you lost?
You are searching for we who disappeared
That's why I have sad dreams'

He was being unreasonable, and he was well aware of it. He had become a possessive case, had wanted too much, and was subjecting Gai to his insecurities like a howling child voicing his fear of the dark.

Kakashi rolled onto his back, weary eyes staring into the ashen plaster of the bedroom ceiling, the room central to his modest apartment. Studying the dappled chunks of dark which riddled the plaster, moss-tinted by the damp, he contemplated the situation. There was no way that any A-Rank mission would cause his partner to be so late, especially on an evening such as this. The sun had already fallen beneath the Konoha gates, as darkness drowned colour in its unrivalled shadow, just as ink injected into a glass goblet of water, rouged by the shades enveloped about it.

The silver-haired jounin's eyes narrowed, massaging his left temple, with its row of pallid fingers gracing as a cover over his Sharingan gaze. No doubt Gai would have taken it upon himself in further training with Lee, or something like that, despite the fact that he was to spend the subsequent week off on a marathon to neighbouring villages with the kid. But… that was just Gai. That was just Kakashi; if he had a genius prodigy, so like himself, at his beck and call. He didn't have to worry about that, now.

Perhaps there was another reason… Gai knew too damn well how important tonight was. What's more, the last Hatake understood the raven-haired jounin more than anyone, without knowing much at all. He was not the kind of malicious person who would purposefully avoid something which clearly meant something more than wild and wanton physical want to his partner.

After all, starting tomorrow, Kakashi would have to start getting acquainted with an empty bed again.

The striking man's eye focused on the ridge of his knuckles, before sending a fleeting glance to the door, and then returned to stare at the mottled ceiling.

Sleeping alone had become an arrangement to be feared whenever it placed itself on the verge of his horizon, from the time when unfeeling Sharingan eyes met his on the Konoha River, many months before. Ever since those crimson pools drowned his psyche in sadist illusion, the gray-haired jounin's dreams had been plagued by maidenly graceful killers; butterflies, their wings stained black and red, like blood blossoming in a gunshot wound. They fluttered in goading about his vision in the wake of blades, which swung to and fro, puppets dangling sinisterly on string, before plunging into his gut and tearing his insides apart before he could feel himself cry out.

He always awoke with a gasp, sometimes a groan, a patina of cold sweat enveloped around his lean frame in a musky, stifling sheen. The Uchiha Sharingan was unforgivably cruel and somehow holding back. Perhaps that was why his hope for Sasuke always managed to waken even as it waned so thin.

Even now, as he lay back against the chaste white sheets of the double futon, the edges seemed to be far beyond his reach. Like being marooned on the tongue of an Elysian white whale. Almost bodily sensing the nerves beneath the warm wet flesh, pulsing under his hips, his ribs and thighs. The blankets threatening to swallow him whole, to crush him in their carnal embrace… to rape him.

That was the catalyst that stirred him to action. He swung his legs over the edge of the futon, and braced himself up from the wooden paneled floor in a single fluid moment. His head swam with the haste at the motion, but his vision soon cleared. Taking himself to the window, he peered into the sleepy little city beneath his hillside abode, vaguely confident that he would not see a single dull light flickering in the narrow veins of streets within Konoha's heart. He was happily mistaken, however; as balmy oil-lamp lights scattered the streets, in which shinobi, both young and old, wandered in small bursts of groups, gathering at food stands, crowding for well-wishes by the ceremonial beacons which resided in small alcoves by the ramen stalls, and those who simply chose to share the company of one another in contented silence.

It was not as late as he had first thought. The jounin sighed, smiling slightly in the concealment of his dark apartment. As he had first thought, he was getting to be a possessive bastard, and just as doubly mistrustful, and that sensitivity was startling to him, the guy who rarely bothered to bat an eyelid over, well… anything like that. The dreams were really getting to him now, and he found that he was yearning to crash into someone to simply feel something other than the tender dread of his own private misgivings. To feel needed, or even feared. He almost regretted that his own mission had ended so quickly mere hours before. Shifting from the heat, the almost coitus necessity to inflict hurt upon another being was not an easy perch to stroll down from. It had to be a swift leap, or you were left with the taste for battle lingering on your tongue.

It had ended too quickly, and Gai was late. The prospects of the evening were slowly fading from perspective.

Shaking his head, Kakashi snatched up his cotton undercover, seizing the kunai deftly from its airy flight as he did so. He drew the cobalt shirt over his head, and pressed it into place at his hips and chin, and made for the door, grasping up his chuunin jacket before he diminished into the shadow of the passage.

***

Icha Icha Violence was getting pretty wild these days. Not that Kakashi thought to complain; he welcomed a bit (okay, a lot) of creative lover's play as much as rays of the sun on a bitterly-cold morning. But it was becoming hard reading. Something he enjoyed when Gai would be doing his morning and evening exercises, lounging on the ramshackle sofa which served as one of the only seating places that Kakashi could really curl into. It was especially good when that idiot would collapse into it with him after God knows how many star jumps, press ups, squats or battle warm-ups he had sentenced himself for the evening. Just laying there, relaxed. It brought the message of safety home. 'You've accomplished something and lived. Enjoy your porn~!'

As he absently strolled down the clay-paved streets of Konoha, he felt his eyes fleeting from sensual onsen owners, peace giving wanders, spanking and risqué meetings, to the surroundings of his homeland city. Konoha was at its most beautiful when Autumn descended and hung up her coat. Real nice. The abundant maple trees were enveloped in modest, yet eerily enchanting lanterns, to mark the coming of Aichi; one of Konoha's most hailed festivals. Kakashi had always enjoyed the Taiko performances, tea ceremonies and pottery market, despite the fact that he found Taiko too tiring to watch when off-duty, tea too mild, and terracotta too expensive to be worth his spending his mission-earnings on. He was fortunate to have Gai, who thoroughly enjoyed watching and listening to the rich percussion beating of the Taiko drums, with a cup of tea and a bud-vase wrapped in soft cloth, to influence him. Kakashi always found himself enjoying (anou…tolerating…) the festival once Gai's incessant persuasion forced him to endure.

"Oi! Oiii!" A slightly-ground voice sounded, breaking his reflection, from behind him.

The male jounin blinked, and turned reluctantly with a quiet sigh. Anko. Off-duty. The evening was just getting better and better.

The sensual ex-subordinate of Orochimaru had been lounging on a bar stool at one of the darker corners of the 'common stand' (the name asserted to avoid the seediness of 'post-bloodshed binging pad'), and had decided that sorrows were better drowned in two mouths. She stared at the ground warily, took a languid skip over the curb which served as a footstep into the lounge, and strolled confidently towards him. Measuring the distance, taking cautious movements, and acknowledging her own tipsiness as that of a woman, beautifully alone, who had suffered the pinnacle share of alcohol-induced public humiliation. Kakashi admired that. Self-possessed loneliness was Anko's area of expertise. And his.

"Arriving!" She cooed, buoyantly, as she stood before him, a clay tumbler in one hand, giving off the antacid aroma of alcohol, and a skewer of half-eaten dango in the other. Placing the mug to her lips and swiftly gulping to swallow harshly in a decidedly masculine fashion, she grinned, her hazel eyes gleaming with zeal beyond the drugged glass of her hollow irises, "Hey… come drink with me, quiet-guy…"

His shoulders lolled indolently, and he glanced off to the side, "Ah, anou, Anko…"

"We both could use the company," The woman with hair the shade of ripe French mulberries interrupted frankly. The playful slur had all but evaporated into the gravity of her lonely eyes, "I can see you need it, Hatake." Darn her pretentiousness, Kakashi thought pleasantly. Darn her for knowing him as well as he knew her.

With that, she extended out a delicate wrist, the rim of her tumbler glinting invitingly where her lips had pressed upon it to drink. For a moment the fair-haired jounin simply stared into the toffee-hued liquid, as if weighing the pros and cons of its prospects within the privacy of his own mentality, before he reached out, and lost himself in it.

***

"Hai, hai! Your mission ended early, too?" Anko chewed on the end of her dango skewer thoughtfully, "That's the way when you get to this level… nothing surprises you anymore. And when you finally DO find something big, it's too much, ne? Ne?" Kakashi winced as the gorgeous female jounin nudged him repeatedly in the side: she had obviously had found utter hilarity at her choice of wording (hell, if he wasn't in such a foul mood, he would have joined her), before he finally nodded.

"Mm, it seemed like nothing… I was expecting something more from an 'S' rank, if I'm being completely honest," The copy-ninja responded languidly, his visible eye distantly regarding the woman beside him, despite being engrossed in her company, "There's been upheaval in security after Tsunade reformed everything. Still… as they say, it's always better to be safe than sorry… ne?"

Shrugging to himself, Kakashi warily peeled down the collar of his mask, and took a discreet sip of sake, replacing the cloth before he placed the narrow mug upon the table-top. The woman beside him stared absently for a moment, before shaking her head, smirking, "You and that damn mask. You'd think it was part of you."

Kakashi smiled to himself. It almost felt that way now. It was like a second skin.

"I mean, you've got one'a 'those faces', too. I don't know how Gai can bear it," Anko mumbled gingerly, suckling at the sweet bean paste which soiled her thumb, "When you've got it, flaunt it, I say."

"Wow, now you're making me blush." Kakashi answered monotonously. It was a rant that he had heard several times before, and the flattery that had barely been welcome in the past had become dull. Some parts of him felt more intimate than others. He wondered why people struggled to notice that. Perhaps he was weird, as well as possessive. Well, it was nice to have a character trait, or nickname-tag other than 'ruthless killer porn-addict copy-ninja'. That one did have a fun ring to it, though…

Either way, he needed to avert the conversation away from Gai before Anko had a chance to root into him with her prying questions, and expose his insecurities, like she always did. He always returned the favour.

"So, what h—"

"Speaking of flaunting it, how IS Gai?" Anko interjected, swallowing the first of her second round of sweet bean dango.

Kusssoooo…

Turning his head to face the innards of the stall, Kakashi answered nonchalantly, his voice muffled in his sake mug, "Ma, fine."

He cursed to himself, knowing full-well that hazel eyes were studying him keenly, and had perked up in question at the desperately stiff reply, "Oh? Having a little trouble?"

The words were well-meaning and warm-natured, but Kakashi couldn't help but feel his blood simmer fiercely in his veins.

"What have you done now, Hatake?" Anko grinned, nudging him in the ribs, poking a wet dango skewer at his cloth-clad lips.

"Anou… I haven't done anything," Kakashi uttered slowly, before his eye found hers, his own elbow forming a wall against his exposed ribs, "Anou… How is Shizune? I'd ask if she were with you, but I don't think she's much of a drinker…ne?" He knew that the words would cut, they were fashioned to, like a shard of a kunai, and he had meant it. An eye for an eye. However, he could not help the sickly iced sensation stir, and ride up the course of his abdomen, flailing like a dying fish, as his eye registered the faint indignant shadow passing over the other jounin's expression. He should have known better than to draw Mitarashi's personal defeats into play... It had been a long-lived defeasance for her, after all. Anko had been too honest… too willing to demonstrate her interest for the fifth Hokage's mild-natured assistant, and it had ended swiftly with avoidance on Shizune's part. Kakashi felt his eye burn with his guilt: Anko had come to him, curling into his embrace on that same white futon, her dry eyes finding inexplicable comfort in his lean chest, his powerful arms, and his wordless sympathy.

He wouldn't take it back; neither of them ever did. Instead, he merely resigned to turn back into the stalls internal gloom, his clay tumbler pressed to his cloth-clad chin.

"Keh…" Anko closed her eyes, her façade suddenly becoming calm, composed and genial. Kakashi would have bought it, if he had not noted the petite twitch which of her lips, "That one's a draw, right?" She uttered in a chipper fashion, but the blasé jounin felt his heart pound as the usually unblemished drawl quavered a tad. He told himself that it was the drink.

Yeah, it must have been the drink.

He turned, his visible eye melting into a tender, balmy smile; "Ha…" she stared for a moment, her eyes thawed by that rare warmth, before she smirked, and nodded.

They both turned, and immersed themselves in their liquor, the crude sound of Anko's vigorous chewing breaking the tension almost into comfort.

Swilling the clear liquid in his mug once, twice, and then thrice, as he gazed lazily down at the attractive female ninja beside him, Kakashi murmured casually, "…He's late."

Swallowing heavily, and then staring at the silver-haired jounin, Anko blinked, "Late? From a mission? Yeah, I guess that's unlike him…"

Kakashi nodded, and sipped his drink, offering no more without cause.

"Maybe the mission was a little tricky…" Anko reasoned, thumbing away the sweet bean sauce from the corner of her mouth, "Che…you forget they can get that way."

The late Hatake turned his sake tumbler about on the bar's surface, watching the warm liquid ripple, "I saw his name on the check-in chart. He finished his mission before mine –"

"Eeeh? Then he'll be reporting to Tsunade, no big deal!" The woman waved off, gulping back a blitz of toffee-hued alcohol to express her dismissal.

"–which was three hours ago," Kakashi finished, his visible eye never shifting from his gloved hands as they toyed with his sake cup. The hazel-eyed jounin paused, mug braced in a pivot to her lips as her dismissal was cut short.

"…He's not the kind of guy to be late without good reason, Hatake," Anko began, turning on her stool so that her entire body was uncovered from beneath the bar, and into the other jounin's view as she continued, "Is there something special about today or something?"

Kakashi suddenly felt a wave of discomfiture and disconcertion wash over him as his friend posed the probing query. Of course. There was something special about today. It had been a focal point for him for a while now – a hot fixation which was unremitting, and never grew cold. "He's taking Rock Lee on a personal three-week training marathon from tomorrow, so…"

"So you thought you'd get one boom in before you're stuck with a glove?" The sultry ninja added flagrantly. Even the best ninja had needs, after all.

Kakashi stared in wordless silence into his sake mug, his mind oddly enthralled with its tedious simplicity. His distant expression rigidly in place as a counter against his mentality, as though his psyche and body were completely castrated from one another.

"Eh… What's up?" Anko began suddenly, tilting her head to rest her chin on the hushed ninja's arm.

"To be honest… we've…" Kakashi began, his lazy drawl mincing his conviction, before he shook his head mildly, and his lone eye crinkled into a smile, "Anou… He's late. Perhaps it's a lesson for me, ne?"