Disclaimer: I don't own Sasuke. And even if I did, I'd be giving him out for free. Seriously.
A/N: Yes, I know it was cliffhanger, so here I am, with the next part. Also, I am straying even further from current manga canon, since new stuff always comes up, and I can't keep up with it. So this story is quite irreversibly AU at this point. I began writing before we even knew that Madara's corpse existed somewhere out there,, that there was a Zetsu army, or that Kabuto had actually managed to become a decent villain. The third Shippuuden movie, however, has obviously been taken into account, because it clearly ships KakaNaru.
Thanks once again to all those who review! You can't imagine how important it is to us writers! We check our stats every ten minutes or so, ceaselessly fuelled by the hope of a review. Are your eyes teary yet?
This chapter is only Kakashi-Naruto interaction. The quiet before the storm/battle. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
Chapter 7
"Ok" replies the young blond, casually, and, with a small smile on his whiskered face, he starts walking again beside the older man. It is only after they've walked for a minute more, in a silence that is neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, that the jounin truly realises they are now both heading towards his house, a house into which he'd never invited anyone before, and with good reason. It is simply not a place meant to accommodate the presence of more than one individual, he thinks to himself, worriedly.
But Naruto Uzumaki has a bright, subtly cheerful expression adorning his face -a face that so recently was still quite round and childish, but is now increasingly well-defined, masculine, angular- and it is the kind of expression the older shinobi does not know how to say no to.
This was a mistake; a shabby, awkward attempt to change the subject... the silver-haired man curses soundlessly under his breath, berating himself for having spoken without thinking, for having let words escape his chapped lips before they'd been properly dipped into his conscious mind.
Damn.
Kakashi feels a small prick of panic in his chest as the situation really sinks in; his dwelling consists of only a small, bare room, including no more than a bed, a desk, a chair and a minuscule kitchen, with a tiny bathroom stuck next to it. A humble, pocket-sized abode, a "bachelor pad", within which two adults could barely stand without being too close for comfort.
Where would they even sit?
But now they are pacing towards the east side of the village, steps placed before one another with regular, rhythmic motions, and there is no changing direction, no withdrawing the offer; a sense of inevitable doom washes over the older man, who suddenly wants nothing but to leap onto a nearby rooftop and disappear.
"I've never been inside your house, you know, sensei... It's kind of weird if you think about it. I mean, I've been to the Nara family, and the Akimichi, and even those scowling Hyuuga... But never your house. Do you have, like, a huge stash of porn that you are ashamed of, or something?" Naruto suddenly asks, his tone ever insouciant and light-hearted, and he brings his hand to the back of his messy blond hair with curiosity, beaming a blithesome smile towards his former instructor.
Kakashi's visible eye narrows in mock anxiety and embarrassment, causing the younger man to immediately acquire an expression of knowing triumph.
"I knew it! You are such a pervert!" Naruto accuses victoriously, pointing a finger theatrically towards the slightly taller man, who produces a sheepish grin under his mask, in response. Then, suddenly, said grin fades, and the jounin's face returns to its former unreadable, dispassionate nature, with lines smooth and undecipherable as his eye flies upwards, into the veil of the night.
"Actually, I'm kidding. I don't have a porn stash at all, other than Jiraiya's work." he states in a factual, monotone voice, causing the jinchuuriki to momentarily frown, pulling a face of mild confusion.
"Hnnnn. Then how come you never invite anyone over?" Naruto responds after a few seconds of thought. His tone is somewhat serious once again, his unbelievably blue, pensive gaze flicking sideways every now and then, towards the older man's figure.
Why would I even want to invite anyone? There's nothing to see in there; only emptiness, practical and cold. It's a plain, grey space, that house is, filled with invisible ghosts and murky memories.
It's the cell of my mind, where I can trace my old scars and past mistakes away from prying eyes, and where I can mourn without being weak, where I can dream without being soft-headed and unfunctional.
"It's too small." Kakashi replies tersely and matter-of-factly, his jaw suddenly clenched with tension.
"Hnnnnnnn." mouths the Uzumaki, emitting a suspicious, unconvinced sound while also squinting his eyes with evident incredulity, for he has become, through war and danger, too observant to miss the slight straining of the older man's facial muscles, even as they lie safe behind a layer of cloth. "So why don't you get a bigger one? I mean, you've been a jounin for, like... ages. You must surely have enough money, no?" the young man adds, and this time his voice is not simply laced with doubt, but also with concern, and his features twist the tiniest little bit, betraying a flicker of worry.
He scratches the whiskers of his left cheek, while waiting for a response.
That stupid pervert probably doesn't look after himself at all. He probably wastes all his money on dog food or something, and he's probably to lazy to even care. Uzumaki muses inwardly, and the thought displeases him a lot.
Kakashi finds himself strangely moved by the fact the kid is actually troubled over his possibly low quality of life, but he pushes that reaction back. Instead, he exhibits little more than amusement, as his lips curve upwards behind the thin fabric of his dark mask.
"Of course I have money. It's in a bank." he replies, smoothly and pleasantly, retreating once again behind his usual laid-back, humorous demeanour, and patting the younger man's shoulder in a friendly fashion. And usually, that kind of short, uninformative but accurate answer, spoken in this creepy, upbeat but also simultaneously lazy way, is enough to discourage anyone but Maito Gai.
When Kakashi does not want to converse, conversations don't happen.
Naruto, nonetheless, is a case all of his own, and he is generally not known for his tendency to give up. A glimmer of passionate, intense resolve and obstinacy locking inside his gaze, he lets out a sharp, mildly irritated breath, and he open his mouth again, with every intention to insist.
"Hnnnnn. In a bank? What for? I mean, alright, I get that when you deposit your money there, then it gradually turns into even more money, but in your case, what do you even need to do this for? It's not like you have a kid to leave it to, or something..." he asks, his eyes even more wary now, and even though he is still far from yelling, the question is considerably louder than their previous verbal exchange. His blond eyebrows are beginning to move towards one another, intending to form a scowl, and Kakashi knows that to be an omen of peril.
Somewhere deeper, the question and the comment hurt a little, too, and the silver-haired jounin experiences a pinch of vexation. It is this very vexation that causes him to admit something he would have otherwise be loath to admit. It escapes his slightly parted lips before he can help himself, almost out of vengefulness, almost out of a strange desire to see a flash of guilt on the younger man's visage.
"It's for the team." he thus says, a little darkly, and in a somewhat mumbled voice. Then, he repeats it, clearly, almost aggressively. "The money is for the four of you. If something happens, it will be split equally between you. Because I've been given responsibility for you, and as the leader of this team, as the eldest and as a comrade, I have to make sure you are, all of you, alright even if I die. Do you understand?"
Naruto's mouth clicks close, and the silence is deafening, as a wild bouquet of thoughts swarm and swim around the blond's mind.
Kakashi...
The two men, two thin but strongly built figures of almost equal height, walk on, wordlessly, until an appartment block is reached.
In this weird silence, the sound of keys being taken out is almost too loud to bear.
"Oh, joy, we're here..." Kakashi begins while he clumsily tries to unlock the door, his face softening into this mask of slothful, non-chalant pleasantness as he attempts to break the silence and bring the conversation back to shallower, less dangerous waters. However, he is immediately interrupted by Naruto, with the younger man speaking almost at the exact same moment as he.
"You are not going to die in this mission." the jinchuuriki states with fervent, torrid finality, and his azure glare is ablaze as he pins it with painful intensity onto the jounin. It makes Kakashi feel almost physically stabbed.
Kakashi does not want to talk about this anymore. And yet, he somehow welcomes this reaction on Naruto's part, for it gives him opportunity to put a halt to the action of unlocking that stupid door; it gives him a few seconds more until he must inevitably push the door open and plunge into a world of narrow space and awkwardness.
He slowly leans back against the wall of the corridor outside his pad's door, his face weary and his expression old, unfathomable.
"Naruto... Shinobi die." he mutters gently, and even though his gaze lacks the fiery intensity of Naruto's eyes, it has a power of its own. The soft, cool, silent power of undeniable factuality, of inescapable truth, of experience. And so, even though the tone of the jounin's voice is neither sharp nor cutting, the younger shinobi looks as if he has just taken a blow, his lip quivering with the shadow of an inward flinch.
For a fraction of a second, the blond shuts his eyes.
Yes, we're shinobi, and shinobi die. This is their purpose; their destiny. Like my father and my mother, who died to keep this village safe from the beast I host inside my body.
Like Jiraiya-sensei, who lost his life fighting against someone who had once been his student. Like Asuma, who left behind a child that will never get to meet him. Like the Sandaime, who fought until the very end to protect everyone, even though he was so old. Like Haku, readily giving his life for his mentor and companion. Like... the examples flood Naruto's chest with pain, ripping open the half-healed scars of loss, and filling him with a fleeting feeling of helplessness and surrender. But the jinchuuriki bites his lower lip, and does not give into the ugliness of reality. And so he lifts his eyes again, glistening with resolve.
"You're my team, and as long as I'm around, no one is going to die. If, even with the power of a tailed beast, I can't protect my own team, then I'm a fuckin' shitty shinobi, aren't I?" the Uzumaki spits out, taking a step forward, towards the older man, his chakra flaring around him as a response to the vividness of his emotions.
If I can't protect my own team, then I'm a fuckin' shitty shinobi, aren't I?
Kakashi winces at the words.
Look after your comrades, had been the silent message of his father's death. And yet, he'd been powerless, useless, pathetic before the Kyuubi, and Minato's gentle smile was forever gone.
You're a jounin, now, so look after them, Minato-sensei had once told him. And yet, a mere day later, Obito lay crushed under a boulder, his blood spreading onto the soil beneath their feet.
Take care of Rin, Obito had commanded. And yet, a few years later, a sharp kunai had ripped her throat open, and as fast as he had ran, her body had been cold when he'd gotten there.
Yes, I guess that I'm as shitty as they come.
I have no idea why this damned bitch of a fate has chosen me to outlive them, me to stay behind, me to stand, uselessly, before a monument while their bodies rot.
As shitty as they come.
The darkness of gut-wrenching guilt and despair lasts for less than a fugitive fraction of a second on the jounin's well-trained face, but Naruto sees it -he truly sees it, for the first time-, and he is shaken by what he now knows to lie underneath the other man's intangible mask.
"I didn't mean to imply you..." he hurriedly utters, but before all the words can even come out of his mouth, the moment is gone, and the former instructor's features are so relaxed and nonchalant, that the blond is tempted to wonder if he'd imagined this momentary look of sickeningly profound self-loathing. Perhaps it'd just been a trick of the light.
"Come on in." the older man states amicably, the signature eye-smile decorating his mostly concealed face as he pushes the door open.
The blond steps in.
"It really is small." is the first thing he says, and even though it sounds like a very casual, dry observation, there is a tinge of sadness resonating within Naruto's voice, as his eyes fall upon the naked, grey room. "Where should I sit?"
"There's a chair." the older man replies, his face still frozen onto a smile that Naruto suspects to be mostly artificial.
Don't the muscles on your face get sore, doing that eye-smile thing all day? the young adult wonders idly as he takes the few steps separating him from said chair.
"Where will you sit?" he then asks, glancing over at the jounin, who is now skimming through the articles inside his tiny kitchen's drawers, probably in search of the food he'd offered to make.
"I'll make the food, and then slouch against a wall. I love slouching against walls." Kakashi mumbles in response, without even lifting his eyes from the drawers until he eventually finds the instant noodles, and retrieves them triumphantly, with a graceful movement of pride. The blond's lips curve ever so slightly upwards, into a bittersweet smile of affection, as he watches the jounin open the packaging, and then filling a pot with water.
Yeah, I know you love slouching. Everyone knows you love slouching, Naruto thinks to himself, humorously, and even though a part of his mind is still disturbed and occupied by that fleeting flash of something he'd seen just before, he is glad the strange, painful tension between them has now receded a little.
"You probably have such a small house because you are too lazy to clean." the Uzumaki remarks, teasingly, and when the jounin turns around to shoot a thundering, supposedly vexed stare, he finds the kid's face brightened by a playful, beaming smile.
"Says the guy in whose house you can find milk from last year." Kakashi bites back, wearing a bored look of conceited irony, as he judgementally points a spoon towards his guest.
"Hey! I'm not like that anymore! I keep everything neat! It's true!" Naruto complains defensively, with a mock pout that is silly, and childish, and immature, but still makes the silver-haired shinobi feel a wave of warmth speading mercilessly inside his chest. He merely throws a distrusting "Hmphh..." back at the younger man, before he turns around to pour the instant noodles into the now boiling water.
"No, really! I'm a responsible adult now. I actually stitch my own socks, you know." the jinchuuriki insists, and his mouth is forming a wide, sunny smile that lights the small, miserable house up, forcing Kakashi to realise that, despite everything, he does not regret having invited his former student here. He does not say anything, though, because he is somehow afraid that if he opens his lips right now, he will regret what might slip through them.
The blond, feigning annoyance at the jounin's lack of response, gets up from the chair, and takes a few steps towards the lonely window of Kakashi's minuscule, modest abode. His blue eyes widen a bit, gleaming with feeling, as they fall onto a potted plant.
"You still have my Mr. Ukki...?" he asks, in a hesitant, delicate voice as he lifts his index finger to caress a glossy leaf.
Kakashi feels his chest constrict a little.
Of course I do, you moron. It was a gift, from you. I always treasure gifts... A rough, calloused hand is subconsciously raised towards the concealed Sharingan (the ultimate gift, the best and also the worst one I've ever received), but it soon falls back down again, lifeless.
"Once you are Hokage, it will be worth a lot, and I shall sell it." the jounin jokingly responds, and he scratches his chin pensively, as if reflecting on the possible profit he will be able to make in the not so distant future.
"Believe it! You will organise a public auction, and then Hiashi will end up offering an insane amount of money, just to prove his clan's prestige! And then, you'll buy a bigger house." Naruto answers with a thumb up. Despite the fact that neither jokes are actually that funny, both men laugh a little, one loudly, and the other behind his mask.
"Yo. Food's ready." Kakashi eventually declares -without much passion-, holding a large bowl of steaming ramen; but the younger man, oddly enough, especially if one takes into account his unnatural love for that particular dish, does not react, his back still turned to the jounin. The copy-nin is surprised for a second, but from the angle of the boy's back and his particular position, he swiftly deduces that Naruto is actually staring at the four photographs framed and sitting besides the small bed.
Team 7, Team Minato, the Hatake family, and the new Team Kakashi.
The young blond does not say anything about them, not even about the picture of his own father, not even about Sasuke, the eternal rival. He merely stands there, absolutely, completely and ear-splittingly silent, observing the four photos with frightening intensity, while Kakashi places the heavy bowl of ramen upon the old, weathered desk.
"Do you look like your father?" the blond finally inquires, in a tone unsure and cottony, as he walks back to the front of the room, and sits quietly onto the lone chair.
Kakashi stares at him, at a temporary loss for words, and then he sighs loudly, slumping back against the wall. He shouldn't be surprised that his former student is still curious about what lies beneath the dark cloth; even though he and Sakura had stopped asking or trying to peak a very long time ago, even actively defending their teacher's privacy against the prying of third parties, it was only logical that, deep inside, they would still be curious.
If he could explain -if there was any way to put it into words- then Kakashi would have not minded explaining to the blond why he was concealing his visage thus. But in truth, he simply does not know what to say about the issue, or how to make anyone understand.
"Yes." he says, and it's true. He does bear a striking resemblance to his father, even though it is not as impressive as he'd been afraid it would be, when he'd been younger; he never did acquire the rugged, rough squareness of Sakumo's traits, as he'd once thought he would.
Naruto nods his understanding, a grave look on his face. He brings the bowl of food closer to himself, but his eyes are still glued onto the jounin. His lips part a little, and a breath is drawn, but the words do not come out, and the breath lingers there. He wants to ask something, but he is hesitating, and Kakashi can tell.
"Is that why you wear it?" he eventually does decide to ask, and almost immediately he cringes a bit, as if he's expecting the older man to chastise him for the rude, inconsiderate query. But the negative reaction, much to the jinchuuriki's surprise, never comes, and Kakashi closes his visible eye instead, an expression of tiredness flooding his face.
"Yes. No. Well, not anymore." he mutters, in a defeated, empty voice, and Naruto is not surprised at the strange, indecisive nature of his response, as much as he is surprised by the fact that the jounin is responding at all.
Suddenly, Naruto realises that he has stepped into new, uncharted territory.
That he has, somehow, unexpectedly, been allowed to walk into a whole new area of Kakashi's comfort zone: a zone of twilight and a zone of phantoms, where one must tread softly, and carefully.
"Then, why still..?" he questions, the words hushed and timid and uncertain, and for some reason he is not sure he can rationally identify, his pulse is a tiddly bit faster than it was just ten minutes ago, as if he is about to rip the paper off a present, or to be graded for an exam. And no, it is no longer a matter of base curiosity, of wanting to see that face; it is the opportunity to peak into the man's soul, and into the way his mind works, that suddenly causes Naruto's throat to constrict with apprehension.
"I... I guess that's just who I am." the older man articulates concisely, but they both know it's a weak answer, and that it will not do.
"No. It's just who you want people to see. That's two different things." Naruto rebuts, his voice now a little more confident, and the presence of a delicious, steaming bowl of fresh ramen almost completely forgotten.
Yes, of course.. It is, indeed, two different things. But see, the point is that, it's easy for me to show you who I want people to see. It's something I know, something I can define: I want them to see the laid-back, calm, good-natured but slightly anti-social man, with many dogs, and a love for porn.
To show you what I am... It's not that I don't want to, Naruto. It's that I'm not even sure I can do that at all.
I'm not even sure I am anyone at all.
After all these years of wearing this mask, all these years of keeping other people's memories alive within myself, I cannot even distinguish which traits are mine, truly mine, which traits are Obito's, which are my father's, and which traits are merely an act...
How could I even explain this to you?
That the reason I can't take this mask off, is because I'm not sure there's anyone at all, there, behind everything? That if you peel off the fabric, the mannerisms, the memories, the ghosts, the tributes, the antics, the acts, even I do not know what you shall find?
"Naruto... since when are you intelligent?" Kakashi questions in a teasing fashion, as a reaction to the younger man's sharply insightful and serious remark, but mostly to taunt and badger the boy, and lead him, once again, away from the thorny, difficult subjects he seems so intent on delving into. The jinchuuriki, though, does not bite the bait, and does not point his finger, and whine, and complain, as he would have a few years ago, reminding the copy-nin, once again, that he no longer dealing with a kid.
"Since my teacher taught me to look underneath the underneath." he counters the older man's evasive answer, and then he gulps down a bit of ramen soup, his frustratingly blue eyes never leaving Kakashi's tall and slouchy frame.
"If I had an answer, I'd give it to you." the jounin finally mutters, and, despite the eerie tension of the moment, his face still looks lax, emotionless, and blank.
Naruto frowns.
He eats in silence for a while, and even though the dish really is quite delicious, the rich tastes and textures barely register. The genin's mind is simply too occupied by the unsolvable mystery that is his former instructor.
The frustration and the gravity written all over the blond's features are so difficult to ignore, that the jounin ends up feeling strangely guilty for not being able to provide the answers Naruto wants.
"Do you really want to see my face so badly?" Kakashi finally asks, after a long moment of heavy, uneasy silence, the question barely audible.
Naruto's head snaps up, and he looks highly surprised, his spoon clumsily falling back onto the desk with a clear cling.
"It's not that. I... I don't care much about what's physically under there, not any more. Yeah, ok, I used to be dying to peak under your mask when I was, like, 12. Sakura and I constructed plan after plan just to get a look, you know. But now that seems so... I don't know. It just doesn't matter any more. What I want... I just want to understand why you wear it, you know. If I had to choose between just seeing your face, and you explaining this to me, I'd rather you just explain." Naruto clarifies, clumsily and with his usual, rather shabby, grammar and vocabulary. Despite the artless speech, the words really resonate with the older man.
Behind a forehead protector and a few strands of silver hair, two eyebrows fly up in amazement, and the jounin finally realises that Naruto is probably the most exceptional, astonishing man he has ever met.
You would rather just know how I feel, than take a look at my face?
I don't think anyone else has ever said so before, you know.
"You are really one of a kind, Naruto-kun..." Kakashi remarks, in an oddly tight voice. "I'll try to explain it for you, then. I'll give you the whole story." he adds, and his body falls back against the wall, his eye glancing up at the ceiling, half-closing.
"I don't know how much of that you already know, but my father was... a very well-known shinobi. When I was very young, though, he found himself in a very difficult situation, where he either had to abandon a mission, or leave his comrades to die. Then, when he decided to follow the first route, he was severely punished for his choice, and looked upon with disdain and contempt."
"Deeming he'd brought dishonour to our name, and unable to bare people's scorn, he eventually took his own life. It was then that I decided I would never repeat his mistake; that I would obey the shinobi rules whatever may come, and that I would clean myself from being associated with him. And this was how I first put on a mask."
"My first impression of my genin cell was that I hated them all. The other boy, Uchiha Obito, was a loud idiot, the girl was a mumbling weakling, and the teacher was a soft-hearted idealist."
"Only, my first impressions were, as they sometimes are, ridiculously wrong. Obito was actually more of loyal, honourable shinobi that I had ever been, Rin had a capacity for caring that I could never hope to achieve, and sensei... Your father was, in every way, and exceptional man; understanding and lenient, but also firm, inventive and incredibly talented.
"It was a shame that I was too busy looking down on them, or else I might have realised how much I cared for them before it was too late."
"It was Obito who died first, on the very day I'd been promoted to the jounin rank. Rin had been captured on that day, but I'd decided to carry on with the mission, instead of rescuing her right away. I was so afraid of repeating my father's mistakes... I... Obito went after her, of course; he'd always loved her very dearly. When we parted ways, he told me something. Those who break the rules are scum... But those who do not care about their friends, they are worse than scum."
Kakashi's face has grown somewhat paler than before, and even though he's been speaking in his unsettlingly matter-of-factly, monotone voice, the blond can sense the pain in his tone, and how strongly he's been suppressing it. It makes Naruto's chest almost hurt.
"So he was the one who said that first..." Naruto mumbles quietly (almost to himself, as he does not want to interrupt the older man at all), remembering the time, so many years ago, when the copy-nin had taught them, Team 7, that very same lesson. The question, of course, is rhetorical, and it is never answered.
"I did chase after them both, eventually, and we did get to Rin, even if I lost an eye in battle, in the process. But by then the enemy had gathered a strong force in that area, and escaping was almost impossible... It was Obito who saved us."
Kakashi pauses, and the blond is holding his breath.
"The rock crushed the right side of his body almost fully, and there was nothing Rin or I could do."
Another pause, and a long breath.
"You know, he... he hadn't given me a gift, for my jounin promotion, unlike Minato-sensei and Rin. And somehow, he thought... He... He told Rin to... give me his left eye. So that... So that he may get to see the future with me. A gift for a friend, for my promotion. I never got to tell him how much I... I... respected him."
A small crack in Kakashi's voice, and then yet another pause, a larger one.
Naruto knows that "respect" was not the word Kakashi had been meaning to say, and he feels his eyes tingle with sadness and humidity.
"After that, I finally understood what both Obito and my father had been trying to teach me, and I was no longer ashamed of my resemblance to my father. I was, however, ashamed of my own actions. I did not want to see my face ever again. It was Minato, Hokage-sama at that time, who died next. I cursed myself even more strongly, then, for even as I'd been one of the village's most celebrated jounin, I was unable to do anything to save him."
"Without Minato, there was really no one left who knew me, who I'd listen to. Rin wanted to try, but I... I never managed to give her what she wanted from me. I did, however, come to bitterly regret how little I had looked after her, when she died in battle."
"It had been his only demand, you know. Obito's, before he was gone. That I look after her. But, as always, I failed them."
"I was fifteen then, going to sixteen, and had recently been made an ANBU. Wearing a mask was a given in the Black Ops, so I no longer had to concern myself with the reasons behind my concealment. The years flew by quite fast. ANBU keeps you... very busy."
A bittersweet, pained smile, and another pause.
"Not even the occasional casual lover cared to insist about the mask, after my initial, firm refusal to remove it. It was a period of just doing what I was told. That's how the ANBU is; no habits, personal belongings, hobbies, or preferences. That is, perhaps, why the henohenomoheji[1] had appealed to me so much."
"It was Hiruzen who suggested I resign from the ANBU, or at least stop taking up one S-class after the other. He suggested, perhaps, that I should take a genin team before I kill myself from exhaustion. I refused both offers, and stayed in ANBU for a couple of years more until his insistence forced me to resign."
"When I quit the Black Ops... It was... a strange period. I thought about taking the mask off, you know, and reinventing myself, and be someone with all the traits I had admired in others."
A very slight chuckle.
"I never managed to take it off, you know. It had stayed there so long, that even looking at myself in the mirror without it felt ...off. I also never managed to become a man half as good what I had wanted for myself, even though I did try my best to honour the values these people had passed onto me, to look after. Jiraiya helped me a lot, back then. I took a few weeks off once, and we travelled together for a while. He taught me that you can lose everything, and still survive. Now, I guess that you, Naruto, and these books, are all the legacy he has left behind, ne?"
A pained smile appears again, but the tone is still light, conversational.
"Hiruzen was still insisting on my becoming an instructor, but I missed the strict simplicity of the ANBU, instead. I would have never taken a team, I think, if not for the three of you."
"It was like a revelation. You were Minato's son, and yet I saw in you all of Obito's fierceness and idealism. Sasuke was... so much like I'd been at his age, before life taught me a few lessons. He had turned, like me, his grief into arrogance, aggression, and detachment. I thought... I thought I could help him. And Sakura, yes, she did not have Rin's tender softness, but she had all her open-heartedness, all her love, and her desire to not be left behind, to do her part, to help."
"I thought about removing my mask for our first meeting as a team. But I didn't. I still don't know why."
"Of course, I failed badly as a teacher. I could not prevent Sasuke from deflecting, I could not offer you the care you needed, and I could not help Sakura not be left behind. I offered you nothing at all. And now... Well, there is simply no reason to take off any longer."
There's a pause, and a moment of pensive frowning, but still no strong feeling betrayed by the monotone, flat voice.
"Besides I... I don't think there's anything to see. Anything at all. It's all very bare, and slightly worn. Like the room."
"So that's my explanation for you, Naruto." Kakashi finishes, and finally, he tears his eyes off the ceiling, and turns his glance towards the younger man, who is still seated behind the small, worn desk, immobile and soundless. The jinchuuriki's blue eyes meet his gaze, and the jounin finds himself almost unsettled by the violent emotional tumult he discovers in them.
Then, abruptly, the blond shoots up from his chair, and walks with swift, heavy steps towards the copy-nin, his intentions unreadable, and his whiskered face taut. There's something very assertive about his expression, and the copy-nin subconsciously aligns his previously sagging back fully onto the wall, his posture a little defensive.
Even though it's the second time he does that, Kakashi still feels his eyes widen when the Uzumaki grabs him with considerable force, and pulls him into a bruising embrace.
The fact it's the second time does not make the sensation of another man's chest crashing against his any less unexpected, or any less startling. And it does not make the incredible, almost unnatural warmth of Naruto's body any less alarmingly pleasant. It does not make the younger man's affection for him any less moving and heart-warming, and it does not make the entire situation any less embarrassing and uneasy.
Naruto... You're making this into a habit, aren't you? he thinks to himself, sighing inwardly.
"Thank you for telling me." Naruto declares, and it could have almost been funny, the drop-dead serious tone of his voice and the gravity of the embrace. Instead, it's oddly disconcerting, and the jounin does not really know how to react to his former student's overly sentimental antics. Gee, you really have a flair for drama...
"I... you insisted." he just answers, curtly, but somewhat lamely. He still hasn't lifted his arms up to embrace the young man back, even though he thinks he might want to.
"Yeah. I'm sorry for that. I just..." Naruto mutters, shamefaced and a little more docile now.
"It's ok." Kakashi interrupts him, beaming an eye-smile, and finally, he manages to bring his hands up to the blond's back, and reciprocate, instead of merely standing there, stiffly and awkwardly, a helpless victim of the younger man's overly expressive nature.
"The ramen was awesome, by the way!" the jinchuuriki exclaims with sudden enthusiasm, and he retreats once again, breaking the tense embrace; he is now so oddly cheery that all of his face seems to be a smile.
"It was just instant noodles, Naruto." the copy-nin points out helpfully, scratching the back of his head. "But thank you."
Naruto stares at the older man some more, still smiling widely, and, truly, he feels awash with gratitude; not because of the freakin' ramen, or the invitation itself, but because he is somehow, in an irrational way, absolutely certain that the things Kakashi has told him are not things he would have told just anyone, and that he had, in his way, just acknowledged Naruto as a real friend, as more than just a teamate, or a student, or a comrade. However, behind his smile, he is still feeling a strong, stinging sadness, the after-effect of Kakashi's rather tragic tale.
Despite the dry, factual fashion in which the copy-nin had tried to summarise his life and psyche, and the almost blank face he had kept up during his little tale, the younger man had actually wanted to cry during some of the more doleful passages.
Even now, his eyes still sting a little.
Kakashi-sensei... You're really the best, and you don't even know it.
Immediately ready to sacrifice yourself for Konoha when Hiruko was stealing all the bloodlines, and always there to jump in front of me or Sakura to take the hit instead, always there to pick us up when we fall down...
Ready to give your life even for someone like Chouji, who wasn't even your student, or your friend. You really don't give your self enough credit, damnit it!
"Can I make myself some tea...?" the blond suddenly asks, and his features looks oddly mismatched; his smile is still cordial and broad, but his eyes are strangely melancholic, and watery.
"Tea? Now? Naruto, it's 4 am..." the older man notes, lifting an eyebrow curiously as he leans his body back against the wall, from where he'd been pulled during that sudden embrace. Naruto's eyes widen comically at the digit, and when he realises he's pretty much spent the night at the jounin's place, even though he'd not been invited to do so, he blushes furiously, and his eyes seem to now find the floor very interesting.
"Oh damn! Ah... Shit. I didn't mean to not let you sleep and stuff, and..." he mumbles, and it is painfully obvious that he is feeling rather flustered and undignified, biting, as he is, his lower lip, and moving his hand nervously around.
Fuck. He's, like, probably fighting freakin' Madara in some thirty hours or something, and he didn't get a proper sleep because I am a nosy idiot. That's horrible!
"Naruto, I would have been reading until sunrise, anyway." Kakashi states laconically, his face now wearing his signature slightly bored expression, and he points at a shelf full of Icha Icha Paradise. "So it's fine."
"Ah... Well, I should go anyway." the blond says, his cheeks still holding some colour, and he takes a slow step towards the door. Then, he eyes the older man, as if waiting for a permission, something which seems a bit strange to Kakashi; he's obviously free to go whenever the hell he feels like it.
"Yeah, alright. Goodnight." the jounin declares, beaming an eye-smile towards the younger man, and he moved up to open the door for him, in an unexpected display of gentlemanly good manners. Still, though, Naruto does not just walk out; he merely takes a few hesitant steps towards the door, and then stands there, at the very entrance, looking still oddly sheepish and shamefaced.
"Kakashi-sensei, before I go..." he begins, uncertainly, and his eyes are glancing sideways, and then downwards, and then sideways once again. "So, erm... I want to ask something."
Great, now I sound like Hinata-chan. Naruto scolds himself, inwardly clawing his cheeks in frustration. Come on, you've asked sillier stuff before. Hell, you have spent half your life embarrassing yourself and pranking people! Kakashi's lazy stare and mildly amused smile are clearly telling him to get over himself, and ask whatever he wants to ask.
"Can I actually see your face now?" the blond finishes, with a huge, sheepish grin and childish, eager eyes, and inwardly, the older man is already laughing, entertained.
Well, deep inside, you still are just a curious kid, then, Naruto...
"No." the jounin declares, eye-smiling still, and Naruto finally leaves, mumbling something about him "being no fun" under his breath, and exaggerating the heaviness of his steps.
Once the blond is far gone, Kakashi's amused smile dies into pursed lips of sadness, because, actually, he wishes he'd had the courage to say yes instead. But there is a war impending, and death, and pain, and grief, and this is not the right moment for this. Not at all.
Well, that wasn't so bad. the copy-nin concludes, closing the foor behind him.
If we survive...
I might invite you again.
[1]Henohenomeheji is the "face" drawn on the back of Kakashi's dogs, and it is a drawing created by using the hiragana characters for the syllables "he no he no mo he ji". It symbolizes anonymity/ just another face, and is often painted on the faces of scarecrows.