The late afternoon sun
twinkled faintly behind cottony gray clouds, casting in the world in smooth
color. Kakashi lounged against the
windowsill, watching the subtle rain mist over the streets and condense in
glowing drops on the eaves. Watching
the people below hurry by with their colorful umbrellas and newspaper makeshift
shelters in a disinterested fashion, he slurped a particularly sugary drink
through a straw. He couldn't help but
grin at the children just let out of school slog through the puddles proudly
laughing off the muck on their toes as if it were the highest badge of
honor. Kakashi spied on the temporarily
lively street for several more minutes, a perfect image of laziness in contrast
to the rest of the town, with his half-lidded gaze and perpetual bed-head. Soon, the road was empty again as the rain
began to trickle in miniature streams along the grooves in the dirt. The Jounin stretched his hand out just enough
to clear the edge of the roof feeling individual drops of water dot his fingertips.
It didn't take more than a moment's silent deliberation to have Kakashi ambling
out the door and barefoot into the deserted street. Goosebumps formed on the back of his neck as cold splashes of
water fell on his cheeks without the mask and arms where his sleeves had been
pushed up. Little rivulets of water
caressed the tops of his feet as he blocked their paths. Kakashi chose one particular memory to
accompany him at that moment—he was five years old, and racing his best friend
as they jumped in as many puddles as possible.
A young girl was walking farther behind under an umbrella, a slightly
disapproving look on her lovely face, and next to her was the man that would
later become the Fourth, smiling genially while he discussed the behavior of
the two boys with the little girl. A
small smile tugged at the corners of the Jounin's lips as he could almost see
his team pass him on the street, looking just as they had back then. So caught up in his own thoughts, Kakashi
hadn't noticed he wasn't alone in the road anymore until the Chuunin was only a
few feet away from him.
Iruka usually stayed at the Academy until well after dark,
cleaning up and socializing with the other teachers over coffee or maybe
something a little stronger. The last
thing he had expected to see on his walk home was an unmasked Kakashi standing
in the rain and looking just as startled as he felt with a drop of water
hanging from the tip of his nose. Iruka
had seen the Jounin without his mask before, but it was unnerving to see him so
in such a public place as the street, not to mention the lack of shoes, vest,
or forehead protector covering his Sharingan eye and scar.
Surprised silence hung between them for a moment before Iruka recovered and
said absently, "You'll catch cold out here like that."
Kakashi smiled, Trust Iruka to be consistently normal and practical…. "I haven't been out long."
"Still…" the Chuunin added
with a frown, scrutinizing Kakashi's carelessness before starting on his way
again. He expected the soaked ninja to
follow him without any invitation.
Kakashi watched Iruka get ahead of him before falling in step, hands in
his pockets and kicking up water from the puddles in the street. Iruka had an umbrella, but it would be
useless at this point for him to walk under it. Calming quiet followed the two ninja through the streets and
Kakashi thought the familiar rhythm of their companionship was in tune with the
stoic pitter-patter of the rain on the roofs of the houses, nothing like the
frantic chaos of life as one of the Anbu.
Normal schedules were impossible back then and the people high-energy,
spur-of-the-moment types. Most had
since settled down or been lost in battle, a few melting into the darker
recesses of Konoha society, but the Jounin didn't fancy himself in any of those
categories. He had mellowed out since
Obito's death, after a short bout of intense hatred that led to the most lethal
part of his career as a shinobi, but Kakashi had certainly not 'settled down'
in the sense that conjures an image of stability with two kids and day
job.
Eventually, they came to Iruka's small apartment by a rather roundabout way,
enjoying the charming melancholy of the rain and clouds. Kakashi stood stoically looking up into the
streaks of falling water mixed with tiny beams of sunlight while the Chuunin
dug his key out of his bag. From this
angle, he could see that the clouds were moving quickly and spanned many shades
of gray tinged with warm yellow by the sun.
It took him a moment to notice the other ninja was holding the door
patiently for him, slightly annoyed expression on his tanned face.
"Ah…sorry…" Kakashi
apologized sheepishly, stepping into the warm room and dripping on the living
room carpet.
With a shake of his head, Iruka chuckled, "Airhead," and opened the linen
closet to find towels. He returned with
two of a plain, off-white and dropped one on the Jounin's head before going
into the bedroom to find dry clothes for both of them. Kakashi absently sat on the floor and
flicked on the TV, rubbing the towel through his thick, silver hair.
"Get up, you're getting the rug all wet. My landlord's going to complain about water damage." Iruka handed the Jounin a pile of clean clothes, having already changed himself. Kakashi took them and went into the bathroom to change, emerging a few minutes later much drier and more comfortable, although he left the wet towel and clothes on the floor, much to Iruka's later irritation. For now, though, the Chuunin was on the couch in front of the TV with his feet up, damp hair framing his scarred face as he had let it down to dry quicker. Sinking into the couch next to him, Kakashi drew his feet up and let his head drop to Iruka's shoulder. The news spoke of conferences in other nations and campaigns in civilian cities, not one of the reports catching the Jounin's attention, as his eyelids dropped contentedly, blurring the bright colors of the screen into an indeterminate blob. He felt Iruka shift next to him, slouching down farther into the worn cushions of the couch, and Kakashi let his head bump down the Chuunin's collarbone to his chest and settle comfortably there. As he drifted off to sleep, he could hear Iruka's stead heartbeat, so close under cloth and skin and bone.
The twisted top of a blackened tree crowded the boy's vision as he slowly came to, awake from blissful unconsciousness and into deathly silence. He could barely move his head from side to side, but on the edge of his vision he could see the dirty gray landscape stretching and distorting into jagged peaks and then nothing. For what seemed like an eternity he lay there, watching the motionless, cold sky above, wondering vaguely if it was a sky at all and not just a black, starless void. Then, with great difficulty, the boy dragged his unresponsive body upright, crawling over to the tree, thinking to use it to help himself stand. He couldn't bring himself to touch the thing….
Laboriously, the boy got to his knees and then his numb feet and began walking. It was almost like wading through lead, the atmosphere was so thick around him. He didn't know why he was walking; he just knew that it was something one normally does. Human-like forms not far away were becoming more apparent to his detached vision, a few together and what seemed like more farther off. Footstep after sluggish footstep brought him nearer until he was standing over the first….