Life in ANBU adopts a smooth rhythm, a melody of each team member's strengths. Kakashi is the core, the central pillar, the broad strokes of soft color to tell us 'this is night', or 'this is day', or 'this is a place'. Tenzo is major elements, the environment itself, the walls, the ground, the sky, lines and shades to build a sheltered glade, or growth shadowed by storm clouds; the edges of the world. Yugao fills the space thus defined, the subject of the painting in vibrant orange and purple, drawing the eye and giving the setting provided by the others direction and focus. And I? I am all the little details which surround them, the sun-bright petals on the dandelion, the chips in the mug's apple-red glaze, the gentle white pearl in the ear.
Never is this more apparent than when I am in my favorite spot, floating in the tranquil 'outside' of events. My eyes spool up to hummingbird quickness and the combat below slows in turn as I glide through the air, all trace of my existence suppressed below a whisper, the single drop of blood in an ocean which calls to the hungry shark. Which is also me. I love metaphors!
And I love my eyes, for they let me see… everything. The world lays itself bare before me, all the chains of cause and effect plain to see, the sublime spinning of the celestial spheres in all their glittering grandeur.
He will strike here, so Taicho will block there, and a window will form then, staying open just long enough so my senbon traveling at just such a speed will embed itself in the enemy's neck, right as he tries to shift like that… and Kakashi's blade slides home like silk over polished bones.
But that is not the only thing I can do, it is not the only path I can take, the only shift in the pattern of the battle I can produce with so very little effort as glimmering ruby eyes shine through the holes of my mask, searching, ever hungry, for those perfect moments where the cosmos can be brought into an alignment which transcends mere elegance to become something which brushes the divine.
But Perfection is the enemy of the Good Enough, so even while I shift to search anew for my sublime Moment the needle slips my hand, future already decided by my will alone which sets the wheels in motion.
My landing on the rock which borders the far side of the clearing is a spring compressing, another molasses moment as I choose the next target.
You know what they say: do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life.
Most of our missions are not so exhilarating, only about half take us outside of the village, and fortunately less than a quarter of those are the sort that might require lots of alcohol afterword. I drink less, even though I'm getting better at holding my liquor, and try to make the evenings more fun, dancing with Yugao, Anko if she's around, and sometimes Kakashi if he's actually had a few for once. The few times I drag Tenzo off the stool to shake his rather superb butt on the dance floor he stumbles through half a dozen steps before blushing furiously the first time someone starts giving him an interested look and retreating back to the bar. There is no past in ANBU, no future, only an endless series of 'now', beads on a string to be taken as they come and cherished before disappearing forever.
Maybe an outsider would not describe the current state as 'good', but it is… stable. The equilibrium is workable, the bonds are building, slowly, perhaps not as robust as they might one day become, but real, a sapling just on the verge of breaking through the canopy into the sun. Kakashi doesn't open up, but sometimes he'll at least let the mask slip a little, just enough that real emotions can glimmer beneath the surface.
I think he's getting better, honestly. He isn't stiff, and he doesn't keep everyone at arm's length. He is a little bit more ready to trust, a little bit more of that man he would-have-could-have been. He even starts reading Icha Icha, after one too many comments from your's truly, and it seems to do for him what petting my cat does for me. Something to do with your hands while your mind is somewhere else.
But sadly, no system is stable forever. Oh entropy, my greatest foe.
. . .
March 4, 11 AK
Fucking Iwa-nin. Fucking explosion corps. Fucking… fuck.
The bomb is flying for Cat's back, and Wolf and Otter are occupied with the larger threats. This moment seems oddly familiar, but I can't place where… Oh well. Support ninja: support!
I throw myself in the way of the bomb, knocking Cat out of the radius of the explosion and getting nailed myself. The pain is horrendous, I can feel all of my ribs shattering, and the flesh searing and ear rupturing aren't fun either. Fucking nausea, ow. But we're Konoha-nin, so comrades dying in battle is just, like, a universal power-up. Otter and Wolf decapitate and spear their respective targets in the next few seconds and Cat binds one in his Wood-release for later. I get to slump against the tree trunk and wait to die. I still don't know how or even if I can make Izanagi trigger intentionally, so I just need to wait till I finish bleeding out or, whatever...
Otter and Cat rush after the last one, fleeing now, and Wolf is next to me in a second.
"Squirrel, status."
The tone is clipped, but I think I can detect the faint stirrings of panic beneath the surface layer of professional detachment.
How sweet, he does care. I was like, 90% sure, but sometimes he tries to play things off as a joke, or the mask is a bit too thick for me to see through, so I'm not able to make a concrete determination.
I can't quite get my breath back so I raise a single hand in thumbs up, trying to reassure him a little, but the motion causes something to shift in my chest, a broken rib puncturing my lung. The spark of agony makes me gasp, which tears the lung more, and I start seizing a little as my body tries to draw in air but recoils from the pain, all while my lungs fill with blood. Damn it, drowning sucks.
I still can't keep my composure, because even though I try to stay calm and detached from what's happening the gnawing dread is consuming all of my brain function.
Hiroki splits into two layers. The top is rational, and scared, but able to think. What if it doesn't work this time? What if the first time was a fluke? Why did Kakashi have to be the one to watch this, he's already so fragile...
Sadly the lower layer is the one driving the bus though and it is nothing but static and screaming, the horrified certainty that this, this is The End, and there is nothing but the grinding emptiness waiting just past the last gasp of panicked breath.
I try to stay still but my limbs move without me, scrambling for purchase on my captain's flack jacket, clutching desperately at Taicho, who is stiff with horror as blood starts to splatter out the bottom of my mask in time with the little half-breaths. I slump back off the tree as everything fades to black, and I die for the second time.
. . .
I think riding on Kakashi's back might be my favorite thing in the world. I'm getting a little big for it now, though, puberty is hitting me like a hammer and I must have grown nearly twenty centimeters in the last year alone.
Taicho must feel my renewed movement because he stops suddenly and slides me off of his back and onto the branch of the tree, hands on my shoulders as he looks me up and down with a slightly frantic intensity.
"Told you everything was okay."
My voice is rough and my whole body is sore. Fucking Izanagi, doesn't even work right. Or maybe it does, I don't know. Saved my ass again. Guess that's a pattern, though now my other original eye is useless. Oh well, it was starting to get a bit fuzzy from overuse anyway.
I reach with shaky limbs for the collar of my shirt, and Wolf helps me undo the buttons. I press a finger to the Seal below my collar bone and retrieve one of the tubes from inside. Most of the salvaged Sharingan are much more well hidden, but I keep a few singletons packed in the Seal on my chest for emergencies like this.
"Gonna need to take off m' mask. Genjutsu?"
Wolf shakes his head, and a sign to Cat has him surrounding us in a ball of totally concealing wood. Otter and Cat stay outside to keep watch while I pull off the mask with wavering limbs. One eye is clearly dead, and I can feel the trail of blood leaking from it as I poke at the area gingerly.
I glance at Kakashi with the functioning eye, then look away as I pull out a scalpel. Steady hands when they're needed, that's what you get from ANBU. No room for error when you're poking around in your own eye socket with a sharp object.
Old eye comes out and plops into the solution. New eye goes in, and the tube is sealed away. I think this one was from cousin Soramaki. Never spoke to him in person, but he was competent. Hopefully his eye will work well.
I blink a few times while applying the Mystic Palm, rolling my gaze around to shift the organ and make sure everything connects properly, focusing on Kakashi when it finally does.
"I'm sorry."
He still has his mask on, and his body language is, as always, suppressed to nonexistence now that immediate danger has passed. But I think he is likely feeling… not so great.
I tidy up a bit, finishing putting everything away neatly, wiping some of the blood of my face and mask and avoiding eye contact all the while. Eventually I finish and with nothing left to do I pull my safe ceramic face back on.
One word slips into the close silence of our little timber shelter.
"How?"
I stand and face him, mask to mask in the dim brown space of the bubble.
"Wasabi did for me what Rin did for you. I have but one life to give, and Konoha will get it over and over again. Strength is Life-"
"Service is Purpose."
He nods as he completes my motto, and I think we understand each other a bit better.
Dying still sucks.
. . .
A/N: And now Kakashi has been pushed a little bit too far with all this nonsense. I'm not sure if I nailed the portrayal properly, but I've always felt that Kakashi is a very private and closed off person. He is always composed of three layers: Top mask, blank mask, real feelings. Sometimes the Top mask will mimic the real feelings, but even when that does happen their is an element of exaggeration to help obfuscate any sincerity.
So Hiroki was pretty sure that Kakashi actually felt something, but not certain. There is a subtle but important line between obligation and genuine emotion, and, like me, Hiroki is always second guessing that. Does Kakashi actually feel anything about him? Or is it just part of his job as ANBU captain to ensure the relative health of his operatives?