This is just a short ramble I wrote on impulse one day. Perhaps because I'd been reading too many angst fics and needed a break. I think I wanted to set a few things in perspective too. About how living the life of a ninja may affect a person. But mostly because I wanted to write something slashy with two hansom guys. I'm a Yaoi fan, it's to be expected. Nothing beyond heavily implied here though, though a lot of... Implied meaning can be taken from some lines, especial considering the words I've chosen as a theme.
Anyway, heavily implied Kakashi x Iruka here. I'm sure you're not complaining.
Dedicated to Tronella for obsessing with me all through lectures.
Enigma O
Soft
He's a ninja. There can be no denying that, right through to the bone he's a ninja. A high level, well known one at that. Killing comes with the territory. That's true for all of us.
So we're hard, he's hard. His hands are calloused and rough on my skin. When he ruffles my hair they even snag a bit. I guess it comes from spending hours each day throwing kunai, not to mention push ups and punches. They're scared too. On the tips of his fingers because he needed blood for a summoning jutsu. Across the right palm there's a long one where he caught a shuriken wrong when he was younger. Much younger I guess if he made such a mistake. And paper cuts too, but anyone who enjoys reading accepts them as fair trade. But I guess scars are fair trade, after all a scar means you survived that wound and it's healed. At least healed as best as can be managed.
His hair's hard too. Or rather it's rough, course to the point where it's nearly like wire. I suppose it saves him a fortune on gel though. And saves him time in the morning, I doubt her even brushes it that often. It doesn't need to be that rough, I bugged him about it once when I spent a night with it prickling along my neck and back. I finally got him to relent and let me wash it properly. By the time I was finished it smelt of shampoo and apple conditioner. I combed it till it was smooth, sitting behind him with his shoulders strangely tense. I guess it was a rather intimate thing really, I didn't think of that when I asked him. I felt suddenly uncomfortable, like I was invading his personal space, and amazed that he'd let me.
I sat back and admired my work, ran out a hand to touch it. It was incredibly smooth and silky, shining in the light that filtered through the blinds on my window. Then he turned around.
It was all wrong. The smell of apple was wrong, far to sweet compared to the usual faint musky smell of sweat and hard work. It flopped in his eyes and hung around his face, clinging to his skin. It made him beautiful, and it was all wrong. Beautiful, and so fragile. All I could think was that he looked like a target. He nodded at the look on my face, walked outside and stuck his head in the water barrel. When he came back in he was rubbing it vigorously, until it was matted and standing up on end again.
I told him I was sorry. He just smiled. "Well now you know why." he said.
His body's made of hard muscle and sinew and bone. A firm, thick torso supported by legs that I've never known to give way, even when mine do. Even on the one occasion that I saw him collapse, exhaustion and blood loss finally catching up with him after a mission. Even that time, his legs didn't give way. He just passed out standing in my doorway. It was only when his upper body began to slump that he overbalanced and fell to the floor, legs still straight. I know he can sleep standing up. He can sleep standing on the underside of a tree branch, I've seen him do it.
And his arms are hard and strong. I've lost count of the times that he's simply picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me to just where we both wanted me to be. Or the times he's thrown me over his shoulder and carried me where I wasn't quiet so sure I wanted to be. And I've seen him do similarly to Naruto, more times than I can count. To Sasuke too, more times that Sasuke will admit. He can snatch a grown man, unconscious, up from the ground while running full out and not even break stride. For that I'm grateful, it's saved my life.
So I don't mind him being hard, being rough. If anything I like it that way, because it means strength. It means that I'm safe and my students are safe. Mostly though, because it means that he'll come back, and I can say 'see you soon' rather than 'Good bye' when he leaves to go and do what only the Hokage knows.
Yet, there are moments. The best moments when he stops being so hard. When he's around his students, laughing and joking and teasing them. Smiling behind a wall of fabric that can't disguise that his face looks just a little less apathetic. There's the moments early morning and late at night when he hovers between sleeping and being watchful. Those brief, silent moments that he'll let me see.
Then, there's the moments when he pull down that mask. In those moments he's soft, smooth skin against mine, and soft lips. For those brief moments he lets me see that, no matter how hard we must become to carry out the work of a ninja. We have to stay soft inside, or we'd have no reason to fight.
You can see that in any person here. Even the Hokage, when he looks out over the village and at his grandson, students, followers and friends. When he looks at us with soft eyes.
So I don't mind when the soft moments end. When fabric hides soft lips and a soft smile. I don't mind because I know, those soft moments will come again. That he'll give them to me, to his students and to his friends freely. Because they can't be called rare.
End
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EO