Angst. Answers. Sort of. -grins- Thanks for reading, and please review to help me stay focused!! (I need the pressure of others expecting things of me.) Series still dedicated to MoiyaHatake, Fuyunoakegata, and bimbomushi-sensei (who keeps me on task and I love her for it).
Chapter 8: Think of the faces of the people you defend.
"I suppose I'll start by telling you what I do know, but honestly, that's very little." Minato's eyes lingered on Kakashi as if afraid he would disappear if he looked away. Kakashi surreptitiously did the same, observing blond hair that trailed across the tan forehead, locks that framed a smooth face.
Eventually, Minato looked away, muttering, "Tea." He disappeared outside of the red double doors, preceded moments later by the smell of brewing oolong. "You still like it, don't you?"
Minato had remembered his favorite tea.
Somehow, the thought made Kakashi feel nearly giddy, which he attributed to their proximity minutes before. They had been much closer, so close Kakashi could have flicked his tongue out and caught a taste of Minato's lips. So close he could have thrust his hips ever so slightly and found himself pressed against Minato's torso.
Kakashi fought the way his body tried to gravitate toward the man and made a noncommittal noise of agreement. Yes, he still liked oolong. He took the cup that was offered and sniffed it. Plain. No sugar, no cream. Just the way he liked it. Slowly, he hooked a finger into his mask, lowering it again, letting it rest against the cleft below his bottom lip, aware that Minato was watching.
The blond let out a breath and quickly sat down on a floor cushion alongside the squat table he had re-situated beside the couch. He took three cubes of sugar, popping one into his mouth immediately and dropping the remaining pair gently into the cup on the table in front of him, watching them dissolve. Kakashi observed the way Minato bit his lip, how he held his cup, adding them to the mounting list of evidence that suggested the man before him truly was whom he claimed to be.
Putting them back on track and away from his own thoughts, Kakashi asked, "Sensei, where are we?"
Minato seemed to search his tea before responding. "I don't know. I've always believed I was dead, but something else, as well. Existing somewhere outside of death. So, a prison, perhaps? I can't really say." He smiled apologetically at Kakashi. "Aside from that, I only know the obvious: It's a replica of Konoha, and seems to be a combination of different periods from my own memories." The blond's smile turned mischievous and Kakashi was reminded of another, younger blond. "Things changed when you arrived. They put my face up on the mountain?"
"Yes. Not long after."
"It's not much of a likeness."
"Mmm. I never thought so."
"I'm sorry I can't tell you what's going on. If you leave the village you can travel through the forest for a while before ending up back in front of the gate. After a while, I stopped trying. A world without you and Kushina and Naruto is the most devious torture imaginable, and the only way to preserve my sanity was to embrace what was offered and pretend."
"It's okay."
Slipping into old habits, they sipped the tea in familiar silence until Minato put down his cup and waited for Kakashi to do the same. His eyes seemed softer than ever when he asked, "Fifteen years? What's he like?"
"Kushina," Kakashi replied at once and Minato let out a hearty laugh. The Copy-nin added with a grin, "He has your hair and eyes, some of your mannerisms, even, but he's energetic like she was--"
The sound of Minato's empty tea cup being upset filled the room with clattering and curses and froze Kakashi's voice in his throat. Between gritted teeth, Minato asked, "Was?"
Oh. Minato didn't know. How could he? They sat in delicate silence; Minato seething with pulsing emotion, Kakashi reliving it all again--His ANBU captain called out the orders over the destructive cacophony of the demon fox's rampage. The Hokage's wife was dead, confirmed by Tsunade, herself. Behind a painted dog mask, a lone ANBU loosed a single, raw sob before straightening into the rank of his brethren, many of whom were entering the village for the last time.
His eyes fell on a nearby window, the grass--the color of her eyes--and swallowed to contain the same sob again, unable to look at Minato, only managing to mumble, "The hospital..."
Minato let out a hiss of breath, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table.
His own hands balled on his lap, Kakashi finally found his voice and continued, "Tsunade-sama was able to save Naruto, and Kushina...there wasn't any pain." He didn't want to lie to Minato but he couldn't tell him the many truths that would destroy him. Minato didn't need to know that she had shielded Naruto from the collapsing ceiling, her lower body crushed by a falling roof beam, her chest pierced by one of the metal supports. He didn't need to know that she had died at least an hour before the fox was finally sealed, that Naruto hadn't been with his mother, but with Tsunade when the seal took hold, and that Kushina's blood was already cold when Minato took his last breath, believing himself victorious.
No one had come to tell him, not even Kakashi. The teenager's orders were clear, even if his heart and conscience were not.
Minato's hands were shaking as he folded them on the table, staring down at laced fingers, mumbling, "Kashi..." And for once he didn't think or analyze or calculate or even try to stop himself. He slid to the floor between the table and the couch and covered Minato's hands with one of his, a mirror of the blond's earlier gesture.
Struggling to control his shaking voice, Minato asked, "And Naruto? An...an orphan?"
"There were many."
"But a life alone, with that...that thing inside of him. Is he okay? Is he normal and healthy? Tell me about my son. Please?"
Kakashi felt his heart miss a beat, taking two to catch up, sending a shock of pain across his chest. He had already begun to fabricate another lie, but a lie shrouded in truth. "Naruto is fine, sensei. Be proud of him. I am; Jiraiya is. Tsunade adores him, and has practically named him her successor. He has a special gift for it." Amongst the living, Kakashi supposed the blond boy and Iruka were his most precious people, his friends. He really was proud of the man Naruto was becoming.
"I'm...I'm glad. It helps to know he's loved and cared for." Minato slipped one hand out from under Kakashi's and placed it on top, trapping Kakashi's hand between his own. He watched his former student's curve-eyed smile and couldn't help but ask, "And you, Kakashi?"
"Me?"
"Do you have...are you..." When Kakashi met his eyes, Minato's expression clearly dared the silver-haired nin to try and let go. Kakashi fought to stifle a blush and knew he failed miserably. He was sure he had misunderstood something vital. "You were..."
"Sensei?"
"No, forget it." Minato shrugged as he stood, unable to muster any kind of warmth in his expression, and Kakashi was reminded that it had been a very long, emotional day for them both. Minato paused, seemingly lost in thought, and then asked, "Kakashi, if you're going to be stuck here, too, you'll need a place to stay and...I would be happy to offer you a room in my house."
Kakashi's stomach sank in a confusing mix of excitement and disappointment. He tried to ignore it. "A room in my house" wasn't the same; Kakashi grudgingly admitted that they weren't the same, either.
With unintentional stiffness, he answered, "Of course, sensei. Thank you."
"Do you think you can stand?" The blond rose, pulling Kakashi's hand, still firmly clasped in his own. Kakashi glanced pointed from their hands up to the man, himself, but Minato's face betrayed nothing other than concern for his former student, and Kakashi wondered what he'd hoped to find.
"Slowly," he answered. "I should be fine by tomorrow."
He felt a squeeze on his hand, reassurance, and then Minato asked, "Are you ready, then?" Kakashi barely had time to nod before there was a faint tug at his limbs, the world flashed white, and...it was over. "Welcome home, Kakashi."
They were standing in the entry of his sensei's house--the house Kakashi had been searching less than twenty-four hours prior. There was no blood on the floor, no mud. There were no thick layers of congealed dust piled in drifts upon every surface. It felt lived-in and familiar, and Kakashi closed his eyes, breathing it all in deeply. It was the one place that had ever felt like home after his father's death. Even before, if he admitted it to himself.
His eyes popped open when Minato let go of his hand and asked, "Can you walk, Kakashi?"
The Copy-nin took a step forward, shaking, but otherwise steady. "Hmm. Apparently."
"Good," Minato said too brightly, melancholy shining through a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Let's eat!" Kakashi bobbed his head in acquiescence and followed him into the kitchen, rolling his eyes when Minato pulled out two containers of shrimp-flavored cup ramen. But he didn't complain, and for once, didn't berate his sensei for his choice of diet, though he did wonder why the dead required food. He filed the question away for later when he wasn't so hungry.
Dinner passed with small talk and a bit of cheap wine to go with their cheap noodles. Kakashi explained the state of Naruto's seal and the need for resealing the demon, all amidst Minato's mixed mutterings of curses and apologies as he realized his mistake.
A single, misguided finger movement during the jutsu changed the seal's duration. To fifteen years.
Minato continued apologizing when they moved from the table to the sofa, bringing mugs of rich coffee along with them. They dropped their vests and pouches into a pile nearby so that only t-shirts and pants covered well-honed muscle and each could curl comfortably into his side of the two-seater.
Kakashi continued reassuring Minato that it was okay, that all had ended well, and most of all, "I died without regrets, sensei. I don't see the problem."
But Minato kept looking at him as though he expected Kakashi to erupt anytime. Kakashi watched back, unsure of what to expect.
It was then that both reached for their coffee cups at once. There was an awkward moment in which the couch groaned under the shifting weight as each leant forward. Fingers brushed, barely a breath against skin, and then gone. The sensation was lost as they followed through, taking up the cups in near unison, putting them down again--first Kakashi, then Minato, each avoiding the other's eyes, hands resting on their knees.
Again, they took up small talk about the village and the past, Obito and Rin. Kakashi bit his lip to refrain from reacting when he felt snaking hot fingers against his own, again just a whisper of knuckles, but this time lingering, questioning. "You know, Kakashi...you could sleep downstairs...like before...if..." Minato didn't finish the sentence. His voice died when Kakashi jumped off of the sofa, grabbing up the two empty coffee cups and taking them to the kitchen sink.
"Really, sensei," he called over his shoulder, "Who knew you were such a tease."
He hated the sound of the words, and felt the twist in them as readily as if they were aimed at himself. He just couldn't believe, not yet, that this was Minato. Not if he wanted him like Kakashi had always hoped. It was too...out of character. It wasn't the Minato he knew, and to accept any other version than the original would be something too close to infidelity.
The blond glowered, sinking back into the couch and muttering, "I wasn't teasing."
The air in the room solidified and neither moved, neither breathed; each second guessing the other's motivations and reactions. Wondering, if not hoping.
Kakashi cleared his throat and stepped onto the stairs. "Good night, sensei."
He didn't stay long enough to hear, but Minato said it anyway: "'Night, Kashi."