Just Call Me Sama
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Summary: Jiraiya and Kakashi, slight AU mind games.
Author's Note: I have wanted to write this for five years. It came out a little on the short side, but hopefully, just as meaningful. I humbly dedicate this to Kimi no Vanilla, master and commander of these two.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, but Naruto just might believe me if I said I did.
Genre: Kakashi/Jiraiya slight AU mind games. 'Tick dark-rated only for that.
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Just call me 'sama'. Master. Lord. I am silhouetted against your bright moon in black sky, a fortune of luck superior to you. I have come here through honest sweat and tears, raised in the shadows long before you. Never will you find me absent from those shades of grey. Not while you still call me 'sama'.
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Just call me 'sama'. While standing in your room and I have come to see you in it, working the mischiefs of the night in your grey ANBU attire, and I, adorned in robes of red and green. You will speak curtly and shortly for my eyes are cold and completely seething over the smell of your unkempt hair and gangling figure. I do not stay long. I leave after necessary words are spoken.
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Just call me 'sama'. Ne'er forget that suffix as honorary and compulsory, even while your insides are out unflatteringly in wild display of a deeper sin: getting caught. And so you catch me again, in circumstance as you often do, to help fight off the various and numerous people searching for you. As they have so many times before. As they had…for your father.
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'Sama' it is. Master and Lord I shall always be. Not a remnant of the past should ever enter in to our current conversation. We've been doing so well, haven't we? Yes we have. I can see it in your eye. Another cloth of our past wrapped up in blue shades—unraveled in loss and time with a legacy that will call both our names. My former student would be proud, and maybe I am adequately distracted too. But my student never forgot his place, beloved one. You should never forget yours.
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It's master, you understand. Jiraiya-sama. So you do. You have not forgotten. Oh what blast chance, what unforgiving Providence flings me once again in the sight of you. I was wholly unprepared. I flinch. You notice. I curse. You hear. I've been tipsy all evening, working so hard and so late, and there you stand, the picture of morality.
But.
I know what's hidden in your back pocket.
So I have cause to grin and walk away, teetering vicariously, tasting an equally strange victory for us both.
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Sama, the sweet sound of grace and sanity, not to mention the virtues of strength and politeness one can muster in his own quiet way. Here you are! Once again in the good hospital, planning out your next month amidst a maze of terror and destruction looming before us all. You smile. I hold my breath for a moment. Then I proceed to curse and bark and shout at you in all the words I know how and you take it.
You take it.
As he did.
When the last curse rolls off my tongue I hesitate. I both abhor and rejoice that we are both alone, again. The respite of silence is a queer one, strange and unyielding as a flood. I think about him—my older brother. Those cold eyes of mine, turned far away from you, begin to show all the emotion I have ever held back while in your presence. The tears are cold and wet, and I hate to think they are staining my robes.
And being his son, your silence screams his presence. His eyes on my back. His gangly yet firm figure. His hair always pointing precariously to the left while always being so right… "…Sakumo," I said. It's like he's almost there. "…Sakumo."
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I am 'sama'. I am master and I am Lord.
And he knows.
He knows.
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-Caliko