The Cord That Binds
Disclaimer: Standard D's apply.
Summary: As their joint responsibility over Team Seven comes to the fore, the secret past they once shared gradually unearths itself. KakaIru.
Prologue
Against the last of the sunset, two figures emerged as shadows. The distorted image they cast on the ground was still, stretching like the scene that fell back behind them; the vast lands of Konohagure. Overhead, the sky was smudged with occasional orange streaks. Moving gradually, the clouds in it transformed to many shapes as one by one they began to resemble distinct animals, things, and even human beings. Down below lights had started flickering in dots, a terrestrial kingdom of stars. The approaching darkness spread itself out, first in blue, then in purple, then finally in black.
"Will we be able to talk, still?" one of the figures asked.
"I don't suppose chances will allow. I reckon I'll be too busy for anything social onward. It wouldn't be wise to expect that I can still speak with anyone." replied the other one, the taller of the two.
"I see."
"Being an Anbu member is a demanding chore. The chances of having room for private relationships are practically slim to none."
"I understand."
"It's really better this way. For both of us."
"Yeah."
Silence loomed between them like a lingering taboo, always a presence better unacknowledged. The darkness had deepened and soon it would be time to scuttle back to the quarters. As their eyes skimmed the surrounding, they knew that time had worn itself out.
"Well... so I guess we're good?"
"Yeah, I guess." responded the shorter figure, his words not half enough to describe what he was feeling.
"Goodbye then, Iruka."
"Goodbye, Kakashi."
Saying goodbye was not the idea Umino Iruka woke up with that morning, neither was it something he anticipated saying in the next few years of his life. Furthermore, he had never said goodbye to anyone before this, at least not to someone who had been more than a friend. A swift thought occurred to him not to give a response, but soon as it hatched he realized that not saying anything could mean an entirely different thing in itself. It could be confusing; it could get misunderstood. So he settled with goodbye. But when he uttered the word he did so in the same tone he'd drop a 'hello', a 'good morning', or a 'congratulations' to a friend. At thirteen, there was very little the word 'Goodbye' could have meant to him.
He then watched Hatake Kakashi's retreating figure lope away until it was swallowed by the blanket of darkness that now gained over the landscape. The leaves began moving at the command of forces unseen. Perhaps the same force swirled them away to opposite directions; more likely yet, not. Iruka knew it wasn't nature that pulled them apart; it was something much bigger that did it, lest he was looking from the wrong frame of reference.
In the years to come Umino Iruka would mull over the event without placing the blame on either party. Once in a while he and Kakashi would meet at chance encounters, during breaktime or other, and nod meaninglessly. Neither received more than a "hello" from one another since then, and their steps would echo far more loudly than the words they'd exchange between themselves.
Frequently enough, out of the blue, recollections would strike at Iruka. Like anything worth remembering, the scene from years ago would improvise itself, add touches of drama and elements to itself so that it would appear more interesting. For instance, he would imagine an embrace, tears falling, apologies and such, and he would squelch the urge to cry by slapping himself. But lies paled in contrast to reality and the truth is that Kakashi had joined the legion of excellent men, bound to rise endlessly in status, and that he, Umino Iruka, was a man of simpler goals, habits, and abilities.
He was fated to be left behind. It was all part of natural progression.
TBC