Kakashi trailed a little bit behind Yuka, following her through the modest nighttime crowds. He felt imposing. Even engaging in friendly small-talk, he remained an ominous presence when not in her direct line-of-sight. Shit, he wasn't doing anything wrong. Yuka glanced back at him, reassuring herself that he was indeed in the same spot. He seemed to be reading it as interest.

Which… wasn't inaccurate.

Could a jonin sense fear? At certain levels, ninja began to blend the impressive with the mythical. He seemed so relaxed, though. It couldn't be helped. There was just something off about shinobi, especially when the crowds start to disperse, and you get dangerously close to being alone with them.

Yuka stopped suddenly as she almost missed the turn into the alley. The place she was thinking of was actually one of several semi-hidden alley bars.

"You know, I've lived my whole life in Konoha, and I've never heard of this place. Granted, I don't get out much, but…" he peered over Yuka's shoulder.

If it weren't for the man with long, dark hair leaning against the wall, the alley would've been devoid of human life. Yuka had passed by him many times before without a single comment.

He took a single look at Kakashi and rolled his eyes.

Was it a bad idea bringing him here?

"Attack dogs don't count as service animals," the man sniffed.

Shit.

"Oh, I'm not her bodyguard. I'm actually here about the piles of drugs and the underground gambling ring. Ah. Don't tell anybody, though."

Damn it.

"He's my date," Yuka interjected.

"So, he's not working," the bouncer examined him carefully, "He's not going to come in here and start shit? No visible weapons?"

"We can go somewhere else," it seemed like Yuka's voice simply bounced off them, not sinking in at all. Her face got hot, this time from frustration as well as embarrassment.

Kakashi shrugged, "Not even a flak jacket."

"Why the headband, then?"

"To cover up an eye injury. You need proof…?" he grasped the edges of his headband. Despite how calmly he spoke, something about the motion seemed a little threatening.

The bouncer shook his head, "Nope. Go inside, but no irregular hand movements. No staring at anyone for too long, either."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Yuka…?" Kakashi gestured to the door, a slab of wood marked with some illegible graffiti, "You still want to go?"

Was he really so unoffended? Yuka nodded, hesitant.

Inside, it was only slightly more lit than the streets they'd just been walking through. Years of smoke, hot tea and booze greeted them. It was, in some ways, an old-fashioned bar. Six seats and a single table tucked into the back. Tiny, aging, yet clean. A single patron 'stole' the table, nursing what seemed to be a second glass of beer. Meanwhile, an old man sat at the bar, resting his head in his hands. The owner, Yuka remembered.

It was a bit depressing. She liked the place because it was quiet enough to let her think. But was it the right choice for a date?

"Look, I had no idea that would happen," Yuka began quietly, "I'm really sorry."

"Most places in Konoha are friendly with ninja, but you'd be surprised how often I get stopped like that while traveling. It's usually not personal. They don't want armed men hanging around."

"Calling you 'attack dog' was out of line."

Kakashi sat down, "What's so bad about attack dogs?"

She took the seat next to him, "Of course the one place in Konoha I would bring you is the one you get hassled at."

"Yuka, you don't even like shinobi," he smiled beneath his mask, "And anyways, I'm okay. Really. Buy me a drink and we'll call it even."

Sure, she hated shinobi. But… she didn't hate him.

The old man peered over at them, thick glasses making his eyes seem tiny, "We had a bit of an incident about six months ago. Some idiots got into a scuffle and destroyed half my stock. You can picture the smell, all that alcohol seeping into these wooden walls. We're only just starting to recover."

Ninja did have a habit of destroying shit. A fire lit up in her chest as she pictured that old man cowering behind his own bar. That sounded like the sort of thing that would happen in the town she grew up in, during the war.

"That's terrible," Yuka murmured.

Kakashi looked at the man seriously, "You should have reported it."

And then what, Kakashi? Make allegations only for the men to see zero consequences? Be seen as a fraud looking for compensation? Or get those incredibly dangerous men in trouble, facing retaliation after?

"Eh. Not worth the hassle. Anyways, sorry about Asahi. He, uh, used to be chunin, I think. Quit the force at some point, so he's got a real chip on his shoulder… but he's not a bad guy when you get to know him," the old man got up and headed behind the bar, "You're certainly welcome here, especially if you want to spend money."

Now it was Kakashi's turn to look embarrassed, even out of place. He glanced at Yuka. Searching for something again, but what?

She was supposed to buy him a drink.

Alright. Two beers.

A familiar fear approached, as she wondered if she had truly messed up the date too badly for it to recover. What exactly did she even want from this 'attack dog', anyways?

On cue, the bartender grumbled about young people and how he had to check his inventory. He disappeared through a side door.

Yuka's fingers absently went to her hair. With the patron half-asleep at the table, she was almost alone with him again. Actions had consequences. Picking the 'cool, quiet little spot' meant that there was no buffer between them. It was cramped, too. One careless movement could brush her leg against his. Ooh-la-la.

Finding a reasonable middle ground between constantly fidgeting to avoid even the slightest incidental contact and smushing up against him suddenly seemed complex. Cross her legs? Lean away?

Kakashi, meanwhile, rested his chin in his hands. Effortlessly oblivious.

Yuka sipped her beer, careful not to drink too fast, "You took me by surprise again, yesterday."

"Should I apologize?" he asked, a little peeved.

Keep your shuriken in your boots, Kakashi. If Yuka wanted an apology, you'd know.

"No, I just heard you before I saw you and it took me ten seconds before I thought to look up at the roofs. There you were. Reading a novel," Yuka's mouth twitched, "I'd get in trouble for that."

"They learn to be independent that way."

"And in the meantime, provide an excellent source of manual labor."

Kakashi turned to her, visibly nonplussed, "They're a terrible source of labor. When I make them work, it's for their own good."

Probably true. She pictured the young shinobi that woke her up at 5 am, tasked with miles of running for saving a cat on her property without her permission.

"You know, the other day a group of genin showed up at my house. And… well, it was really early in the morning. I thought I had burglars. But you know what they wanted?"

"What?"

"A little kitty cat that had crawled under my porch."

Kakashi coughed in a way that indicated he was hiding a laugh.

"Anyways, their jonin just ran at me. Full speed. Intense. And… I think he literally just forgot to do the whole 'ah, oops, sorry' thing. He rambled at me about how young people need to be treated kindly, which I guess I can get behind," Yuka paused.

"And then he said something like 'I'll make them do a million pushups', right?"

"You know that guy?!"

"All the jonin know each other. And every time we get a new jonin, everyone talks about it to the point where you feel like you know them before you even have a conversation," he sighed, "His name's Guy."

"So you don't do… that? The 'million pushups' thing?"

"I'll make them do boring exercises if they keep screwing something up. But… what Guy does when they mess up, that's a type of training…. You look concerned."

"I can't help it," Yuka huffed, "Those kids spend so much time working. And it's hot outside."

"When I was training at the Academy, they'd beat us for trying to take too many breaks," he stopped when he took in Yuka's expression.

Those child-beating geezer motherfuckers. 'Old Heroes of the Village' her ass.

"The point is that new genin have it a lot easier. To the point where it, perhaps, hurts their training," he looked away, "Don't get me wrong. I understand exactly why that style of training fell out of favor, and why it should never come back. But… there's real consequences when we get it wrong. People die."

"It's like the entire field is hostile to human flourishing, or something," Yuka murmured.

He turned back to her, skeptical, "What exactly do you think of shinobi? Beyond disliking them. That doesn't tell me a lot."

A jolt of ice went straight into her stomach. Yuka almost choked on her beer.

Ah. If it wasn't the consequences to her actions. Well. 'Honesty's the best policy' – she'd written that on her blackboard, on poorly plagiarized essays, so many times… Was this lying by omission? No. He'd just never asked her anything specific about it. What did it say about her, though? That she was so hesitant to speak?

"First of all, killing is rarely justifiable in the true ethical sense. And with that killing, they fuel the worst excesses of contemporary feudalism. Propping up aristocracies. Clearing the path for ruthless corporations. But… The issue is systemic. I don't think every ninja is evil, they just work in a bad system."

"I don't see any difference between my actions and who I am," he sounded very calm.

"And I believe it's more complicated."

"Why would you say that?"

That calm in his voice was like the surface of a frozen river. A current raged underneath, and she was about to attempt crossing the ice. It was scarier than if he had just gotten visibly irritated. Fuck that. If there was going to be a real problem, it's better to find out now.

"My experiences, Kakashi. Life is complicated. A lot of people are out there trying to do the best they can. When I drink a can of diet soda, it probably kills a sea turtle or something. But… I guess it is fair," her skin was on fire, "To point out that fault isn't often evenly shared between all people. Some ninja have done worse than others."

"You're views on ninja are far too individualistic. We're reflections of our Hokage and our daimyo, so long as we continue to honestly work to achieve their ends."

"Should I take this up with the Hokage then? Maybe I'll buy him a drink."

"He'd love that," Kakashi grumbled.

Somehow, they'd gotten even closer during their argument. Physically. Maybe it was the instinct to huddle as they discussed sensitive subjects. They were almost whispering, too, growing quieter with the rising tension.

"I wouldn't be doing this with you if I felt like you were horrible. And I don't think you're a rare exception, either," Yuka looked into her drink. She'd barely touched it. "I don't know. What do you want out of this? Why keep spending time with me?"

He'd gotten through only about half of his glass. At some point, he pulled his mask back up, "…Do you know how old I was? When I started training?"

She shook her head.

"I was four."

Yuka almost cried. Maybe she did tear up, just enough to moisten her eyes. The image alone was horrible, but seeing this grown man say it, as it had happened to him…

"From there, it just never stopped. I'm not traumatized or anything, but everything in my life… has always been contained among shinobi. There's a world out there that I've seen and interacted with, but never been a part of," he had to be blushing, just a little, "When you talk, it's like getting a dose of reality. Even though you're wrong half the time."

"So what you're saying is that there's a 50/50 chance that I'm right. There's worse odds," Yuka reached for his hand, stopping about half ways away, "Can I touch you?"

"What exactly do you want out of this?"

"I don't know," Yuka looked him over, considering some other answers that she wasn't ready to give, "You're intelligent. Sweet. And right now, I want your hand, I guess. If it's okay. I completely understand if…"

In a stunning reversal, Kakashi held her hand instead. He had strong hands, and she felt a scar that started from the center of his fingerless gloves. Damn. All at once, she started thinking about his whole body. He was tall. Had thick, unusually colored hair. Fascinating voice. That mask made him look very, very cool. Didn't wear any cologne but there was something in his clothes she liked the smell of.

Shit.

Kakashi was hot.

Yuka was full of stupid hormones.

Logic took a rapid exit. Goodbye, Logic!

"…We can get out of here. If you want," he tilted his head, smiling beneath the mask. The scoundrel.

Things were still in control. Limited in scope.

She stood up, gently tugging him along, "Let's head to your place. I'm… I'm reading the situation correctly, right? We don't have to do anything."

He glanced at the side-door, where the bartender was still rummaging around in storage, and the table, where the other patron was sound asleep. "You're reading it right," he stood, looking awkward, a little unsure how to move forward.

That's fine. Yuka could take the lead, so long as she was sure he really wanted her.

Together, they walked outside, moving briskly. Past Asahi who seemed far more indifferent to them leaving. Into the street. It was getting late. How late, she couldn't tell. Their steps echoed in the stone. Her boots squeaked. Fuck, she forgot about the boots. She forgot about the skirt, too.

They were finally alone, outside a plain looking apartment building. A hidden leaf symbol was printed near the front doors. Village housing. Basically, the cheapest apartments in the city. Still clean, still comfortable, and to Yuka, it was little more than a curiosity that he lived there.

"My apartment isn't much," he whispered, "I used to barely sleep in it, but now… anyways, I only have a single bed… and a table with one chair."

"Oh no," Yuka wrapped her arms around his waist. It seemed to be the right moment for a kiss.

He stiffened and she immediately pulled away.

"Are you okay?"

He smoothed back his hair, only for it to pop right back into its wild place, "I'm not brand new to dating, but it's been… too long."

"We can take things slow," Yuka smiled, even though she was a bit mortified. It'd been a long time for her, too, "I get it. My last relationship was three years ago."

That was such a small phrase.

'I get it'.

Mutual understanding. Uncertainty.

"It's been… Anyways do you still want to come up here? It's cramped and there's nothing to do."

She nodded, following him inside.