There is SO evidence for this. I promise. About as much evidence as for Kakashi/Iruka, so THERE. Yes. And I know *cowers* I promised a longer chapter, but I had to choose between awesome and long so I chose awesome! Credit for muse-poke-age goes to Bosslady River, and thanks be to Lyeu and Prescripto for reviewing last chapter :) I hope...to get more...? And remember guys! Next update is next month, probably likely and such, we'll see how classes go and play it by ear.
This is from Gai's and Kakashi's POVs, alternating. Enjoy!
You detest rat catching. Which is why you're on your way to find Kakashi—if you issue rat catching as a challenge, this D-rank will go so much quicker. What you did to Tsunade you'll never know, whatever it was to earn rat catching it must have been rather heinous. Having a genius super-ninja as your best friend paid off in situations such as these—Kakashi will never know how many D-rank's he's helped you finish over the years. Not every one of them is a D-rank, but the most horrible ones—like testing out the then-recently opened tempura stand on Main and Hana, a mission assigned by the Sandaime himself—were never borne alone.
You reimburse him in your own way—after-all, the man has enough on his plate without doing unpaid missions. You're not sure how you'll pay him back yet, but you'll figure it out. The fact that you've been doing this for over ten years to him makes you surprised that you can still surprise him, and inspires a deep respect for the man's patient streak. Most people who surprised or spooked or annoyed the Copy Nin met their chosen maker shortly thereafter, and those who survived were often raving lunatics or highly jaded subordinate comrade shinobi.
You firmly believe that you fall into neither survivors' camp—you alone are strong enough to surprise, spook, and annoy the famous Sharingan no Kakashi. You don't get enough respect for it, but you don't do it for respect, you do it to stay at top performance. As long as you can get one over on Kakashi once in a while, you're still good enough to be in this business.
The silver haired Jounin is sitting cross-legged high in a tree near the hospital, pondering a list in his hands. You've been stalking this man since you were five or so, and you know him well enough to know that he is far too much of a genius to deign to use lists of all things to remember his schedules. You take half a moment to admire the broad shoulders of your comrade, as well as the hands which you held nearly constantly when he was thirteen—someone had to keep him from ripping his Sharingan out, and no one save Yondaime could get close to him without losing a hand. One of the medics had been nearly forced to retire when you'd been just a moment too slow in grabbing for his lightning fast attack.
You only take half a moment to admire him, however, because very suddenly a Tsunade with pink hair pops into your mind, her fists glowing green and blue—one a vicious tenderizer and one an invisible but highly real cleaver. You don't need to fantasize about him anyway—that shy Academy sensei, Izuna or Iruka or something, has been making eyes at you for at least a month now at the missions desk. It's time to move on, but not before you find out what has your Eternal Rival so thoroughly engaged.
Your father proposed to your mother in a letter. You never met her, so you don't remember any frustrated mutterings but nor do you remember any loving sighs. You just remember your father mentioning it when you wondered to him what you should write to him in letters home if you were assigned to a foreign post. You'd been almost seven at the time, a right little Chuunin who understood the world of being an adult. He'd said you would find your voice, that you would find the time to tell or ask him anything. At your questioning look, he'd smiled and ruffled your hair, telling you softly of how he proposed in a letter.
"It went something along the lines of, 'I'm going to return to Konoha on December 13th, and would be obliged if you were to agree to marry me, and I would be doubly so obliged if you were to agree to a Christmas wedding.' She hit me when I got home, but had already made the plans and invited her horrific mother and father. I do not advise this method to you, Kakashi." There had been a serious glint in your father's eye and you'd taken him at his word. Do not lightly play with the sometimes ridiculous romantic leanings of Konoha kunoichi.
You don't plan to ever forget his advice, most particularly when the woman you're courting is one of the few people you seriously believe could easily do you a spectacular harm if she put her mind to it.
You rarely use clones because your usual sparring partner can kind of, sort of, see through them. But when Kakashi is being lazy around you and has his headband plunked over one eye, then you sometimes consider using them. Like just now, tapping him on the shoulder with one clone, trying to take his book with another, and then snatching the paper away from him yourself. You of course save the most dangerous one for you, you aren't a shinobi who uses clones to ascertain what is going on or what-have-you with a battle. You just go for it.
Down on one knee, flowers, ring Stupid.
Write a letter and pass it off as family tradition Dumb.
Casual, during lunch or breakfast
Formal, after dinner
On a mission with her Suicidal You note that this one has multiple strike-throughs.
When she's at work doing desk duty
Have Tsunade pretend she's ordering it
Have Tsunade order it
Take her on vacation, propose at sunset on a beach This one was barely legible, but there was a note below it—Too much what Gai would do. Well, you would—wait, that's a really good idea! There would be flowers, and birds, and the sun would be going down in a glorious haze!—and Kakashi didn't want to use this idea? Your friend must be mad, without control of his mental faculties, his reason gone out the window.
He's lucky you're such a good friend who won't tell the Hokage about this unless you can see it affecting his work. How shinobi deal with life between missions was their own business. You choose to stalk the Copy Nin, that one Academy sensei—Idate, that must be his name!—Or something—stalks you (which is highly flattering, it's been years since someone followed you around), why Sakura stalked Kakashi. And now he wanted to propose to her—it gives you hope, frankly. If Sakura can be so successful as to trick Kakashi into proposing, then you might be able to trick that Academy sensei into more than the casual dinner-date he is probably thinking of when he moons over you when you walk into a room.
And then in a few years you're going to steal Kakashi's idea from him—just like he has stolen countless jutsu from you—and use it on that kind Chuunin.
But for now you're going to run like hell, because you just stole something from the Copy Nin. You run the thought through your head again—you, Maito Gai, just stole, as in taken without permission or warning, something, as in a list of proposal ideas, from the Copy Nin, as in one of the deadliest and trickiest shinobi to ever live. If you don't find somewhere to hide soon, you are soon going to be added to the memorial stone while attempting to carry out a D-rank mission of rat catching.
You start looking for a handy open window.
You aren't that worried after Gai steals your list—you memorized it just after dawn, you're just trying to totally calm yourself down enough to walk into the hospital—full of death, Rin caught up in the crush in the ER, Genin and Chuunin screaming—to ask your girlfriend—sweet kisses, love and warmth, strength both inner and outer, teaching a Genin team how to function as shinobi during peacetime—to marry you. To live together, love together, have a family together—You take a deep breath, you can do this. Just one step at a time.
You lost Kakashi three street turns ago, but that doesn't comfort you. The Copy Nin is easiest fought when he can be seen, and he knows it. So you abandon the idea of a handy open window, and you wrench open a shuttered window and drop into the apartment. The window was apparently the bedroom one, which is why it was shut so tightly against the light at this hour of the day on a Saturday, and the bed of said bedroom was directly where you landed. Aforementioned bed was occupied by a rather surprised, rather tanned, rather scarred Chuunin, who rather looked like he was enjoying a late morning of no Academy classes.
Well now, this is handy.
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