Sandals clapped hollowly against the earth. The snow had only just begun to fall, sprigs of cotton gliding on air as if in sleep. It was calming. He clutched a brown paper bag to his side, its crinkle sounding like chatter in the evening.
Laughter came to his ears, and he glanced up briefly to see a group of youngsters stampeding towards him, marring the fresh-fallen snow with tiny prints. He simply raised a tad as the trio weaved and cried out around him, using his sturdy, towering body as a wall to each other. It was well-known to the youths of Konoha, that this man made for a great prop. As any scarecrow. Whenever he walked alone. For whenever he walked alone, he was lost in himself, gone astray in a treacherous journey… lost on the road to life with book in hand.
He was on such an expedition today… somewhat. On a voyage that had yet found an end. The snow marked the day in its essence. Without a mission to embark on, heading home was his usual custom. He'd enjoy a session of Icha Icha before finally drifting off, blunt, gloved hand firmly stuffed down the front of his hakama, covered in the clammy remains of his spunk. On holidays, you didn't have to worry about the clean up. That's what the Hatake looked forward to. Days between missions and between meetings and teaching sessions had become a calculated ritual. It was a time to lounge, to walk with his pack, to sleep. The life of a burnt-out jounin bachelor who'd seen it all before he had even hit 30.
He was the leader of his pack, his seven beloved friends. They slept with him on the rare occasions that he summoned them together. Shared his food, enjoyed his shelter. As one. Never were they apart for long. He was very much like them in so many ways. Keen sense of smell, faithful, trustworthy and dependable; enjoying a good hump at the best of times.
However, unlike his pack, he had learned to walk alone. Had been walking alone since he was a young and foolish brat.
Kakashi blinked, raising his eyes from stocking-clad heroines and soft-core erotica to note the world around him for the first time since he left the Gondaime's office not three hours ago. There were a lot of young couples about… it was odd. Had he missed something…? His gaze warmed, set on a girl whose petite arm was hooked inside the crook of her lover, leaning into him, laughing and smiling with all the exuberance of youth and hope. The new generation. The promise of the next. It thawed his emotions, caged under his mask, made him welcome the peace and joviality all around him.
There's a lot of kids out… the copy-ninja observed absently, set in his path under the snow shower, his paper umbrella taking on a feathery burden that slipped off in glittering bursts.
No. Not just kids. He raised his arm as he made way for another loved-up pair, hunched over as with the weight of age, finding solace and solidity in one another.
"Thank you, sonny," the old woman grinned toothlessly at him, clutching her life-partner tightly.
Kakashi nodded warmly, his visible eye narrowing and glimmering in the light of red paper lanterns that laced his path.
"…Happy Christmas!" lips laced with creases smiled again, before slipping into the bustle of families, lovers and friends.
Ah. So that was it.
"Christmas, huh?" Kakashi breathed to himself, every now and again tearing himself from his seedy novelette to regard the cheery throng around him. The people of Konoha had never known the true origin of this holiday. Though they embraced it with open hearts. Importing the warmth of the season but not its true sacred meaning into the body of the city. In the hidden leaf village, Christmas was a time of expression, for lovers and family. A time to be spent in the arms of others. Even in the ANBU corp, whose lives were wrought with uncertainties and lies, formal requests of leave were put in early in the year to secure freedom with loved ones on this single set of days.
However, even as an ANBU captain, the last of the Hatake had never made such a request. This day was no different from any other. His routine, no, his ritual went on uninterrupted: usual right hand wedged down the front of his pants, massaging his balls as he looked over the usual stack of porn, read the usual few passages of Icha Icha, performed the usual chakra exercises of the mind and body before he hit the sack. To rise the next day to a mission that could very well be his last.
A broad, pale thumb flipped another page of Icha Icha Violence, smoothing down the crease as the shinobi balanced his kasa and groceries in the crook of his other arm.
"Ukareruru fried delicacies! Here for only three more days! Celebrate with a delicious meal with your loved ones!" Kakashi raised his head. That name… it sounded familiar…
"Quick, Takeshi, get in line!" A young kunoichi urged her boyfriend, pulling him along, seeing only the Ukareruru snack cart before she bowled into the Hatake, her fulsome breasts pressing up against him for a fleeting moment of hidden pleasure before she bounded away. A roaming, lazy eye followed her, only to lose interest as his gaze fell upon the namesake of the Ukareruru stall.
It was something of an unwritten tradition in Konoha. One that had endured through the great wars, through ages and all weathers. Ever since the last Hatake was born, the Ukareruru stall had passed through Konoha every year, in Winter, offering up its fried meat, vegetables and fruit to the inhabitants of the Fire Country. To the people of Konoha, Ukareruru's delicacies were a staple for the festive season; a meal to be shared by dearest friends and family.
Kakashi gave the stall and its followers the briefest of glances, and then went to move on.
The aroma hit him like the first foam of a wave, washing over him, pushing through his mask, through his nose, behind his eyes and into his gullet, down to the pit of his gut. That rare family treat beckoned him like a fat-saturated siren. He gripped the base of his groceries, feeling the jutting broadness of the sweet potatoes that he couldn't bring himself to prepare, the bulbous promise of garlic that he suddenly abhorred. Nothing now, not even his favourite meal of salt-broiled saury would cure his craving for batter-crusted chicken. A meal prepared in Konoha in bulk for the festive season.
Making a slow rotation upon sandal-trodden snow, the silver-haired jounin joined the back of the queue, as memories stirred behind the sharingan, the spilled blood and romance erotica.
Chicken bones hit cardboard, and soon after a barbed haired boy mewled blissfully, "Uuah! It's great, dad!" "Hard to chew and covered in grease," Sakumo drawled, giving a grunt as he tossed another picked bone into the cardboard graveyard that had taken the place of a healthy meal of rice and fish in their table centre, "But once a year makes it special, so I'll stomach it." He wouldn't admit to his impressionable child that such junk-food really appealed to him, although, in this case… the memories that stirred up from eating it were even more precious to him. His late wife had loved it just as much. Sat before him with his child nestled warm and safe within her as she happily chewed her spiced chicken bites, glowing with a radiance that swelled his heart and soul. The White Fang shook his head as his only son piped up again; his dearest possession and last memento of his lover. "Why don't we get it more? I like it!" The silver-haired nin whined, before sinking his teeth into another battered morsel, grinning as oil oozed from the punctures in the crispy crust, sliding down his chin in a golden ooze. The Hatake father ran a fist across his own jaw self-consciously, and gave a lop-sided smile, "A simple meal would be ruined if you had it often, Kakashi. So we'll have it just this once, until this next first snow falls… okay?"
"…Just this once," Kakashi drawled, a voice as worn and warm as his father's, though awkwardly… hollow. He'd shared the very same meal years later. With his very first unit. His team mates.
Minato-sensei, and…
He closed his eye, ridding himself of his memories just as a stray shot of dust.
The snow drifted all around him, though never really touched; an ever-present memory harnessed by a flimsy paper umbrella.
The half-hour wait was nothing to the copy-ninja of Konoha, losing himself on the road to life had become a strict hobby of his. But now, with an over-order of spiced delicacies balanced under his groceries and bamboo kasa, the masked man began to sweat, wondering why he had really gone for it. He'd ordered a lot. The scent of the Ukareruru meat and fruit was profuse now, made his eye water, tickled his nose even beneath his azure mask.
He heaved a soft sigh, looking at the box, now tied to his hip by the very string which bound it. Having the freedom to buy it somehow stole the novelty of the thing, hm? Already he was regretting it.
Yare, yare…
Even so; his boys would finish what he couldn't eat. Another few paces in the snow before he gave pause. Ah. No. Last time he tried that, he'd had to burrow his hand into Bull's throat to save the poor hound before he choked. Kakashi's half-lidded eye drooped even more so. Even summoned dogs couldn't combat the peril of a haphazard chicken bone.
The box rested heavy against his hip, the heat a shock to his body joined with the onslaught of the bitter cold, giving his thigh an uncomfortable burst of pins and needles. It did not take long to light the fire of apathy under the lazy jounin's heels, and he soon untied the supports and set the meal down upon several stacked crates. He placed his gloved palm atop it.
Well. Some lucky cat or rodent would find a good meal tonight. Hard fingers smoothed across the top of the red box, feeling the heat, pressing down slightly in the centre so that steam curled and billowed from stretched corners like harmless serpents. He took a few paces away, hand itching at his side, before he turned back. It sat, alone and unwanted behind the Ichiraku, the string still bound tightly around it. He walked back, and hooked his fingers into a shuriken, using the stars blades to sever the binds. He opened the box, and gazed inside at the fried treats, and gave a slow blink. For in that ghost of a moment, he saw the hands of his fallen friends and family, reaching inside, brushing over his.
Moments later, the back street was again empty. The lid of the stacked crates bare. The wind gave the most twisted howl and change before settling once more as the evening wore on into the night.
***
He wondered why he'd walked so far today. The lamps had been lit hours ago, and now he could barely make out his beloved Icha Icha. Still warm at his side was the Ukareruru box, insulated via his own chakra and body heat. He didn't understand why he couldn't part with it just yet. As though it would serve a purpose in the great scheme of things. He gave a half-lidded blink, and arched his back, stretching as he glanced around, wondering where his feet had taken him. A cat padded across the dimly-lit back street, fur standing on end as it regarded him, taking in his scent, noting canines and giving a cold stare of indifference before scampering off after an unfortunate mouse.
Kakashi looked to the side. Mm. The southern Konoha district. This was Gai's neighbourhood…
He crossed s couple of streets, rounding several small businesses before he got behind them, where the housing began. Soon, he came to the foot of a small apartment. A set of sloping stone stairs made for the path to the front door, which was of a standard issued quality. Many Konoha elite had their rights to beautiful, grand housing, but seldom did they take it up. A smaller space meant a lower profile, less traps to memorise, more funds for the city itself. Kakashi had been glad to move from the grand Hatake villa suburb to his own modest apartment when he turned ANBU, so many years ago.
His body moved on its own, taking himself up the steps to the Blue Beast's front door. Icha Icha still in hand, the scarred nin rapped thrice on the door, and leaned back, waiting. He turned, looking around the other houses, the back of small-time businesses, before he looked back to the door. He didn't try it again.
With a single leap, the barbed-haired jounin was atop the apartment roof, looking out into the shadows of Konoha, planning to head home, before a faint cough brought his skyward attentions back to earth. He peered over the other side of the building, and found Konoha's Blue Beast.
Gai was leaning back, his dark eyes closed, light from his apartment casting onto his balcony and illuminating him from the surrounding darkness.
The chill had raised hard nubs of nipples, their tips pressing and straining against the front of Gai's green jumpsuit, so desperately needing to be pinched and rubbed for heat. Konoha's copy-ninja swallowed, but made no sound, simply standing, in his usual cool, on the Blue Beast's roof, baring witness as the loudmouth jounin tried to catch ice on his tongue like so many little children before him.
Looking into that hot cavern of a mouth, watching a snowdrop half-melt and slip down that keen tongue and down into balmy darkness, Kakashi felt a stir in his groin, and cursed himself. Forcing it under control. The trouble that came with being an ex-ANBU meant that your sex-drive was always set on assault. Like some horny teenager thirsting for a few rounds with any hot body willing to go.
Dark eyes flickered open, staring up into a limitless sky, looking for the point at which the snow began, just as a child, before they focused. Leaning back, hands still firm on his hips, Gai looked up at his rival, mouth wide open, "Uh?"
He retracted his tongue, and swiped his jaw with his arm and blinked, "Hey Kakashi. How's it goin'?"
"Mm." came the grunted reply under mask, "Finished that S ranker already, Gai-kun?" It was more habit than coincidence that Kakashi memorised the rotors of his elite comrades. His sharingan provided an almost photographic memory at times.
A thumbs up snapped his way, together with a sparkling flash of perfect teeth, "13 hours, 8 minutes and 50 seconds!" Gai grinned, "Thought I was gonna be off on another given I got back so fast, but Tsunade-sama explicitly ordered that I take a day or so to recuperate…" by the way he growled out the last few words, it was clear that the hot-blooded warrior wasn't too hot on the idea. He'd endure, of course. When the Hokage gave you an order like that, you stuck to it.
"Two elite captains in the same division off on Christmas Day," the copy-ninja remarked thoughtfully, "it's a little rare…"
"Ah?" The other shinobi tilted his head, kicking out a leg-warmer clad ankle, "Christmas? Hm… I forgot about that…!" Gai murmured. He soon looked away, losing himself for a short while. Kakashi understood. It seemed everyone had their own, personal little reminiscences that came to them on this day…
He knew about Gai. Gai knew about him.
"…I haven't had this holiday off in a while," Kakashi dug a hand into his pocket. When you weren't moving, the cold really started to bite your fingers.
"Yeah?" Gai responded, baiting for more. When his rival didn't give him any more to work on, as always, he carried on unabashed, "What a waste… heck, if I'd known what day it was, I'd've ended it with 3000 laps around the Village and then a night spent in the Forest of Death!" he grumbled to himself, lost deep in thought, his bare toes flexing against his sandals. "Heh! Well, there's always tomorrow! Huh, my eternal rival?" he looked back at the silver-haired guy, who simply stared dully back at him, scratching a muscled thigh. Taking the Forest of Death so lightly... it wasn't to be praised, but Kakashi had scolded the other man enough throughout their years together. No amount of warnings or reprimands ever stopped the Blue Beast from the path he'd chosen.
Just like… "If I'm going to be called scum either way, I'd rather break the rules! And if that's not being a proper shinobi, then I'll destroy that idea!" He'd watched his comrade's earnest eyes, and kept them in his heart, would take them to his own grave. He'd seen his young student, unconscious in the dirt having given his all for the sake of a brittle, one-sided friendship, lungs laboured, barely able to breathe under shattered ribs.
"Why!" He'd clutched at his father's back as the man stared into the fire, flames flicking in eyes that saw nothing but darkness, "Sensei… everybody in class… everybody says you're SCUM!" The muscled body allowed itself to be shaken by the son's helpless fury, "Dad!" Sakumo had chosen death before the jeers of his peers and brethren. Before he'd picked up the family blade and butchered his belly. Had chosen it on the crossroads of the final mission. His path.
Dad, Minato-sensei, Obito, Gai, the new generation… they all had the same eyes. In the past few years, his had begun to shine with the same raw passion.
They shared the same conviction when it came down to the bare bones of their Ninja Way.
After losing hope of a reply, the hot-blooded man raised thick, dark brows, looking above his rival, "…Why the umbrella?"
Kakashi gave a lazy blink, "Mm?"
Gai pointed, as though he were a child demanding to be given a balloon, "Why're ya hanging around with that?"
The copy-ninja knitted his brow a tad, and looked out into the city, now blanketed in a thin winter coat, "Mm… well, it's snowing, Gai-kun."
He looked down, visible eye crinkling into a smile, "that's why."
"Bah!" the other shinobi almost pouted, folding muscled arms over a broad, powerful chest, "That's no reason to be using it now!" Kakashi heaved a genial sigh, noting how his comrade had puffed up his chest and shoulders, indicating that he was going into one of his trademark Nice Guy spiels. "See, they're a good and a bad thing." Gai began, smiling to himself, "Think of it this way. Sure, ya might get a little wet, maybe even get a scratchy throat later, but…" he looked up into the sky once again, "Using an umbrella hampers your view. Ya might just miss something. As a kid, well…I used to look for where the clouds began, maybe even try to see the snow being born."
Kakashi raised his own silver brows, eyes warming. This guy…
The blue beast continued, snow settling on his eyelashes, before he fisted them and chuckled, "Ya know, Kakashi, even though it's dark as dark, it's brighter than ya think. I'd hate to think I missed somethin' 'cause I was hiding under some flimsy paper."
After a moment, Kakashi felt warm dark eyes on him yet again, and he looked down at the other man.
"So… give it a try! Close your umbrella!" Gai crowed, his broad baritone voice echoing in the snow, amblified as though it had been spoken right inside the copy-ninja's head.
After a while, and a sigh, Kakashi tipped the bamboo shield back on his shoulder, and raised his chin. He watched his breath flow from his mask in cloudy billows, losing itself in the air. Looking up just then, seeing noting but an endless nights sky, the copy-ninja felt as though there was nothing bad in the world. It was the briefest, most raw and foolish feeling. Sensing the unknown always had the extraordinary ability to make one forget that the world was fraught with war, lies, malady and corruption. The last Hatake let the cool wash over him, staring into the void of darkness with eye open.
"Feels good, huh?"
Kakashi stared for a while, feathered crystals falling all around him, like jewels from heaven, descending gently from a place unfathomable and enchanting, a place that his sharingan could never hope to see in life.
"…Mm."
"Hahaha! I thought so, I thought so!" The fiery jounin beamed, strong chest rising and falling, his laughter ending in the faintest shudder. Though he didn't know it then, he was going to be sick in the morning… never once had Konoha's Blue Beast escaped a winter without suffering the cold.
The copy-ninja closed his kasa, and looked down at his comrade, at the man who radiated warmth and unalloyed affection and raw power, the man who had always fought in his corner, the man who never once turned his back on his brethren, who smiled and looked at the world with the honesty and devotion of a child.
Looking at his hot-blooded comrade, a hot feeling stirring in his gut and working up, Kakashi suddenly remembered what had brought him here, on this day of all days.
"Hey, Gai." He raised the box of Ukareruru fare; and gave it a shake, raising an eyebrow languidly,
"Anou… are you hungry?"