Authoress: I am terribly sorry for the insanely long time since my last update! I blame college, my thesis, and above all else, my computer crashing and eating the 50 or more pages I had written for the next two chapters of Blind to You. I was quite frustrated, then busy beyond belief...but now that classes are over with, I am back on my normal schedule and shall make it up to everyone for taking so long to finally get around to writing new chapters! Once again, I apologize for the wait, but I hope this makes up for it!
Chapter Six
"Again!"
Iruka bit back a curse that would have proven once and for all where Naruto got his language from. Slowly, he moved to get back up despite the sharp pain that ran through his abused knees. It was far from the first time he had tripped and fallen, but this marked the first time he had to question if he even wanted to get back up.
Crouching on the ground, Iruka rested his head between his knees in hopes of catching his breath and relieving some of the pain that wracked his body. Before he even got the chance to stand back up, he felt a warm hand on his back.
"Why don't we take a break, Iruka-sensei?"
Letting out a chuckle that sounded more like a hacking cough, Iruka found the strength to lift a shaking hand up and flip off the ANBU member before him. He had asked – no, demanded – that Inu not go easy on him. He had begged the man to use full force.
He never thought that he would be so soundly pummeled every single time he charged the elite shinobi.
Slowly moving to rise, Iruka wove uneasily as his head spun. It took him a moment to recall that he had not hit his head, so the dizziness was not from a concussion. No, it was more than likely due to pushing himself so hard, so quickly. Replaying his last failed attempt at stealing a bell from Inu, he growled softly. He had miscalculated where the ANBU member was standing. Though he was only a few hairs off, it was enough that his first punch had barely grazed the fast-moving shinobi. His growing frustration only made his attack worse.
"Sit down for a few minutes."
Iruka ignored the soft plea that came out of his bodyguard. If he stopped now, he could not learn how to fight without his sight. If he could not fight, he could not return to being a shinobi, no matter how long or short the rest of his life may be.
"No," Iruka finally responded as he shook his head. "Again!" he repeated his earlier command, standing to his full height. Tightening his fists, he was about to charge his bodyguard whether or not the ANBU member was ready, but froze when he heard Inu's deep, rolling voice.
"You cannot hope to learn everything in one day."
"We have been training for two weeks!"
"It will take time. And you can't expect to accomplish anything by exhausting yourself," Kakashi pointed out softly, wishing that he did not understand the insane drive that was fueling Iruka. But he did. He knew what it was like to have to improve - to demonstrate that he could still function as a shinobi despite his handicap.
"Time!" Iruka ran a hand through his mussed hair as he growled. He needed time – that was what Inu kept saying. No matter how many times the older man said it those words did not help make Iruka feel any better. He was willing to live a life without his vision, but he refused to let that limit him. There were only so many changes he could accept with grace. Losing his ability to fight was not one of them.
Without warning, Iruka flitted towards his bodyguard. Though he had been given no chance to prepare for an attack, the elite shinobi was still ready. He dodged the first kick from his crouching position, rolling across the ground. Iruka followed the familiar flare of chakra, his ears picking up the distinct jingling of bells. That sound only seemed to aggravate him further, teasing him with unreachable goals. For a moment, Iruka no longer was thinking about the fight, but the futility of trying to live without his eyes.
Two weeks had not healed the pain of Tsunade's diagnosis. Iruka doubted that sting would ever completely leave him. It would always be a sore wound that constantly had salt poured in it every time someone made a comment that reminded him that he would never again see. They did not mean to hurt him, but he did not have to see to know that pity lined their faces. He could taste it on their breath, smell it on their skin. He could hear it in their kind words and feel their sympathetic eyes trace over his bandaged eyes. Going out in public only served to remind him of what he had lost. He would never get to see the green grass he could smell beneath him or the brook he could hear babbling on the other side of the clearing. He would never see Naruto's blue eyes or the smiles of his beloved students. He would never get the chance to see the beautiful face of a mysterious man who somehow understood him far better than anyone else could ever hope to. Perhaps that was what hurt most of all - Iruka depended on someone he could not picture other than what his fingers told him. Inu had smooth skin, soft hair, and a body that would make any shinobi envious. But that was not enough. He desperately wanted to see those eyes that refused to look at him with the pity everyone else unknowingly showed him. He would never be able to see the shy smiles he sensed Inu flashed him from time to time.
He wanted to be able to picture his bodyguard not only so that he could know what Inu looked like. He could not fight like this. He had to be able to see the minute shifts in the man's lanky body. He had to see the man's eyes. He needed much more than his four remaining senses to tell him how to defend and attack the ANBU member. He needed his sight if he ever wanted to return to his old life. That thought made his breath catch in his throat as he realized the one thing he had been desperately trying to ignore since the attack that robbed him of his sight. He could not fight without his sight. In that moment he admitted the truth; he would never be able to be a shinobi again if he could not see an attacker.
Seeing an opening, Kakashi attacked. Though he promised to use full force, he pulled back his kick. His foot connected with the teacher's middle, but only at a fraction of what he was capable of. Iruka let out a cry that Kakashi caught only a moment before the brunet fell to the ground. Sliding in the dirt on his side, Iruka clutched his midsection.
The moment that sound registered in Kakashi's mind, he was at Iruka's side. With trembling fingers, he tried to check for any broken bones as his thoughts raced out of control. He had not hit Iruka hard; he had not felt any bone break from his kick. He had not meant to hurt Iruka – every minute bruise he gave the brunet hurt him worse by a hundredfold, but he could not deny Iruka a competent sparring partner. Going easy on Iruka would not help the teacher in the long run. He could, however, do everything possible to minimize the damage he inflicted.
Iruka's pain sliced him so deeply because he did not know what he had done or what he could do to help. It was not until he caught a glimpse of Iruka's face that he started understanding. The black band that was tied over his eyes did nothing to cover up the streaks of tears running down his cheeks.
"It's useless," Iruka finally whispered as he shrugged off his bodyguard's gentle touch. For once, he allowed dejection enter into his voice. For just a moment, he let his emotions show because he no longer wanted to fight to keep himself in check. A part of him desperately wanted someone else to know the hell he now lived. If anyone could understand his despair, he knew it would be Inu. "I can't learn to fight without my vision, no matter how many times you attack me."
Ignoring the tears coursing down his face, he moved to stand, but froze when he felt Inu's gaze on him. This was not the kind, understanding look that he was so accustomed to. It was harsh, calculating and far too cold to match his bodyguard's laid-back personality.
Kakashi closed his eyes tightly, breathing deeply as he steeled himself for the one thing he knew Iruka needed to hear. No matter how necessary it was, it still hurt him to think about even uttering it. Finally, he opened his eyes and stared at the unmoving teacher as he spoke, "I overestimated you. I thought you were a true shinobi, willing to do anything, to push yourself past any limit to protect your village. Apparently I was wrong if you are giving up so easily."
Fighting back the bile that rose to his throat at those words, Kakashi narrowed his gaze as he watched Iruka for a reaction. The response he received, however, was not the one he had planned on. Hoping for anger, perhaps even violence, he was blown away when he saw the teacher's blank expression.
The jounin opened and closed his mouth, unable to form any words of apology for being so hard on the teacher. He knew by the look on the teacher's face that he had gone too far with his harsh comment. He thought that Iruka just needed a push – even if it resulted in an explosion of pent up emotions – to realize his own amazing potential. This was not an overflow of the feelings Iruka must have been bottling up for the past two months as he adapted to a life without his eyes. This was the complete lack of everything.
"Thank you."
Kakashi winced at the brunet's quiet words. There was no need for Iruka to be grateful to him for speaking a truth that the jounin did not believe in. Again, the man's mouth opened in hopes of telling the teacher that he did not agree with one word of what he had said.
Iruka was impossibly strong, both in spirit and will. Kakashi envied him for that. He never doubted himself, he never wavered in his decisions. Few other shinobi could boast that. Iruka did what he put his mind to; though it might take some time, he always accomplished his goals.
"Iruka, I-" Kakashi started out, his tone apologetic, but was quickly cut off by the teacher.
"Don't!" Iruka snapped hoarsely as his fists clenched at his sides, shaking with restrained emotion and the desire to either break down and cry or hit his bodyguard for being an unfeeling bastard. But he found that he could not lash out at Inu. How could he when his bodyguard was only speaking the truth? He could never go back to being a shinobi - not without his eyesight. Tightening his fists, Iruka felt his nails dig into his palms. A dark part of him reveled in the delicious, sharp pain as he further tightened his fists. For once, he was in physical pain that he had complete control over. It was something he could only now appreciate, after living through months of emotional agony that he could do nothing about.
"Don't apologize for telling me the truth. I don't need anyone's sympathy, especially not yours!" Iruka's voice cracked as he whispered those words, his tone betraying the hurt he felt over Inu's harsh, yet truthful, estimation of his worth. Before he broke down and unleashed the emotions threatening to erupt, Iruka turned away from the ANBU member and began walking towards the entrance of the training grounds. When he sensed the older man starting to follow him, he whirled around, quickly beginning to lose his grasp on the emotionless façade he had perfected since the explosion.
Two months of blindness had taught him that he could accomplish far more than he ever thought possible. But it had also taught him that he had to learn new limits. They were boundaries that he had only now begun to realize. With the loss of one sense, the rest were heightened to the point, he could still live day to day despite his handicap. He could cook, clean, maneuver around and otherwise take care of himself. It did not apparently give him the ability to fight, to protect the people he held so dear. Even now, mere feet away from a man he knew as well as himself, Iruka could not picture Inu's exact position. He could not tell if Inu was stretching out a hand to touch him, to uselessly try to comfort him. He could only feel the man's gaze on him and, for an instant, he felt the pity he hated so much coming from the one person he never wanted to feel it from.
In that moment, Iruka knew that even Inu had given into the horrible truth: shinobi can be many things, but blind was not one of them.
That one fact was what broke the brittle shield he had built around himself, covering his fragile hopes with the slim chance of possibility. At first, it was possible that he would regain his sight, but that was reduced to just foolishly hoping for partial blindness thanks to Tsunade's diagnosis. It was possible, according to Inu, for him to keep his shinobi lifestyle, to return to the academy and do what he loved. Because of Inu's faith in him and the hope of one day regaining his fighting abilities, it was possible to keep on living.
But what possibilities were left now when not even Inu believed in him?
With no fighting skills, he had no hope to remain a shinobi. Without his chuunin title, he had no job. Unable to work, he lost his chance to teach the next generation of shinobi. Without those beautiful, bright, and awe-inspiring children to show him that there was always reason to hope for a better future, what was left?
His façade of calm crumbling under the pressure of impossibility and futility, Iruka felt despair unlike anything he ever thought possible. That darkness swallowed him, though it was not hard to do when the brunet had already given up fighting.
"I-Iruka…" Kakashi whispered, unable to even move closer to the teacher as he watched the teacher slowly fall apart. Agony ripped through the jounin, not only because of what he was seeing as he watched the man fall to his knees, burying his unseeing eyes into the palms of his shaking hands. No, it also tore at his heart because he understood. Personal experience showed him what it meant to no longer have a reason to live.
For so many years, he lived and breathed to prove that he would give his life for his village. His heart pumped blood so that he could still pretend to be the shinobi everyone perceived him as. He strove to show that he could do at least one thing with a single functioning eye. That was what he considered to be his last and only reason for living.
He joined ANBU and fought in their ranks, uncaring about the difficulty of his mission, of the impossibility of success, of the chance of survival. He did it all to give his life for his people. He bathed himself in the blood of enemies, covered the recesses of his mind with images of the bodies that had piled up because of him, but what made it all bearable was that he could not recall their faces. He did not know their stories, their pasts or the futures he had taken away from them. All he knew was that he was doing a service for his village and that, as long as he continued succeeding, he had proof that he was still alive. But in that proof was a pain, a loneliness that he wanted so desperately to end. Perhaps he was suicidal for all those years, though he never paused to wonder about it other than the occasional self-hatred for surviving injuries that should have killed him.
But then, something changed.
That something was a young man who dared to stand up to him. It was the person who had the courage to tell him, an elite shinobi whose very existence was to die for his village, that he was wrong. But Kakashi was never wrong – if he had been, he would have made a happy, fatal error a long time ago. He would have succeeded in accomplishing the only thing he was good for.
But that man had been absolutely right – he was wrong. He was wrong to push his genin team so hard, to demand that they take the chuunin exams. He was wrong in saying that they were no longer students, but his soldiers. Watching that fateful chuunin exam, seeing Naruto and Sasuke's relationship destroy all three teens, he was taught a lesson that he thought he was far too old and too knowledgeable to have missed.
He learned what it meant to care for someone else.
He realized that those two boys and their bubbly teammate meant the world to him. They had somehow become his only family and, for them, he knew he had been given, not a reason to die, but a reason to live. He could live to teach them everything he knew so that they could become not merely better shinobi, but better people. He could teach them that their profession was not everything and that they should live for something more.
It was entirely thanks to the man now kneeling before him that Kakashi was still alive. It was the brunet in front of him who gave him a reason to live, to fight for something greater than him or the village he swore to protect. The compassionate academy teacher was the one who brought light to the jounin's dark prison.
Iruka was the one who unknowingly taught Kakashi that, for so long, he had been blind in far more ways than physical.
It was for that reason that Kakashi had fallen wholly and completely in love with a man that had hated him from their first meeting. Learning that Iruka was a saint, both in thought and in action, only made Kakashi's image of him far more unreachable. But looking at him now, Kakashi slowly came to realize that he had not fallen in love with a man but an idea all those years ago.
He did not truly know the crying man in front of him for all those years, so how could he possibly love him? Since becoming Iruka's bodyguard, he learned just how little he knew about a man he believed himself in love with. Every day, he got to know the real Iruka - the man beyond the perfect teacher. He learned about the proud, stubborn brunet who was orphaned because of the Kyuubi attack. He discovered that Iruka had a temper that he had spent his entire life trying to control, only releasing it in rare, unforgettable bursts that sent people running. He got to know Iruka in a way he had not even dreamed possible. But despite all he learned about Iruka, he did not anticipate Iruka's reaction to his harsh words, revealing that he still did not know Iruka well enough.
"It isn't fair," Iruka said softly, tearing the jounin from his shocking thoughts. Kakashi looked over at him only to see that the teacher was pulling off the black material covering his functionless eyes. As soon as Kakashi caught a glimpse of skin now covered in spotted, pearly scars, he fought to stop himself from reaching out and touching the side of Iruka's face. The scattered marks, unfamiliar to the jounin's eyes, were ones that Iruka had tried to hide away for the past two months. Kakashi wished he had shown them with the pride he should feel for surviving the explosion. Those pale, freckle-like scars revealed a strength - a beauty - that no amount of flawless skin could compare to. "My ears can heal perfectly, but not my eyes."
"Life isn't fair," Kakashi pointed out weakly as he watched the teacher open up his eyes. Met with a chocolate gaze that seemed to immediately fall on him but never focus on him, Kakashi held his breath. For the first time in his life, Kakashi wanted someone to see him for who he was. He did not feel even a momentary twinge of unease as he did whenever someone else looked at him. And, as Iruka blinked several times, Kakashi knew that his lack of fear was not because the teacher could not physically see him. Even if Iruka had his vision, the jounin would have felt the same way.
No longer was he afraid of not measuring up in Iruka's mind. He realized that he did not have to be perfect around the stubborn man – he did not have to pretend to be something he wasn't. Instead of fear or inadequacy as he had grown so accustomed to, he felt amazement in realizing that perfection had only made him into a cold, emotionless being. He much preferred the man kneeling before him who openly admitted that he was imperfect and not capable of everything. For so many years, he had made Iruka into someone – something – that he could never compare to. The fact that he had no chance of having his feelings returned made them stubbornly burn all the more furiously. But now he could see that Iruka was not a saint, a god, or whatever it was he had pictured him as.
Iruka was only human. His heart beat just as Kakashi's did; his lungs breathed the same gasping rhythm. He bled just as easily, but that did not make him fragile. He endured the pain and loneliness of being orphaned as a child, then taking in a boy that every other villager despised. He survived a near-death experience that was covered up by a Hokage. He lived through an explosion meant to rob him of his life. He somehow kept on moving when he was told he may never see again.
But everyone had their breaking point, even Iruka.
Falling to his knees next to the teacher, Kakashi hesitated to touch him. It was not out of uncertainty as to how his attempt at comfort would be received. No, it was something far from unease. For the first time in over ten years of believing he loved this man, Kakashi saw him for who he really was and that truth scared the daylights out of him. He was afraid that he had made a mistake in how he treated Iruka since being assigned to the independent man. Iruka, like anyone else, was imperfect. He did not know everything; he could not do everything. Kakashi had spent the past two months with the belief that Iruka was capable of anything he set his mind to because he was perfect in Kakashi's eye. Bowing his head, the jounin wished he had seen that he was wrong before he had made such a hurtful comment.
For the first time since he was assigned to Iruka, Kakashi wondered if it was possible for the teacher to adapt as he had. No, Iruka was not perfect, nor was he Kakashi. He did not sail through the shinobi ranks and achieve titles and honors many others never accomplished in their lifetimes before he was even an adult. No, Iruka was normal. He did not live most of his life for the sole purpose of one day dying. He had known what it truly had meant to live, whereas Kakashi lived vicariously through his students for the past decade. And, before that, he did not know what living really was.
Iruka could not accomplish the same things as he had for the simple reason that he had lived. He knew what he lost along with his sight, while Kakashi could not have cared less about the pain-filled, lonely life he had given up only to be rewarded with a different, more violent type of solitude.
Iruka had people he loved dearly, people who would care enough to pity him for his loss. Kakashi did not have that. Minato and Rin never knew of his partial blindness, so they had no reason to treat him differently. Even if they had, they would not have lived long enough to express their sympathy. With their deaths, Kakashi lost all that had tied him to his old life and had begun his suicidal mission in martyrdom in earnest. The years – the missions – they all blurred, revealing to Kakashi that he lost nothing when he went blind. Iruka lost everything.
Unaware of his bodyguard's shattered perception of him, Iruka felt his entire world fall apart. Pre-genin, genin, chuunin - so much of his life had been spent striving to be a shinobi. His entire life, he thought of himself as a shinobi, but what was he now? Thirty-four years of life wasted on a dream that he could no longer continue. "I don't need your protection anymore, Inu," he said evenly as he slowly moved to stand, able to keep his voice from cracking only because he felt numb. The shock of his loss had completely wiped away his emotions for a brief time. "Other than the Elders and foreign diplomats, civilians are not allowed to have ANBU guards." Though those words hurt to say, he knew them to be true. As he spoke, he slowly untied the hitai-ate from the back of his head.
He did not even have to concentrate to find the elite shinobi's hands that he now knew as well as his own. He knew every crease, every scar. He knew the long, powerful digits that could produce the most beautiful music when they were alone. Locking away his regret and pain, he laid the warm strip of metal in those shaking, achingly familiar hands. Though his body and soul cried out to snatch his beloved forehead protector back, he did his final act as a shinobi.
Forever proud, he transported himself as far as his last jutsu would take him before Inu saw his heart break.
Kakashi stared emptily at the metal, for a moment not comprehending what that lightweight object signified. He was far too blown away by the realization that he had not loved the real Iruka, but someone who did not exist, for all these years. It was only now, as he traced the etched symbol on the hitai-ate with his thumb, that he realized that whatever he had felt for that perfect person he had made Iruka out to be, it was not love.
It was lust; it was desire – obsession even. It was the childish stubbornness of wanting something he knew he could never possibly have. He wanted to protect that handsome, perfect man from everything – to keep the brunet safe so that he had proof that there was always something for him to strive towards, to fight and die for. He needed to show himself that there was still innocence and beauty in the world. Whatever else it was he felt for Iruka, it was certainly not love. The burning ache that now beat in his heart as he found himself understanding who and what Iruka had become was not familiar. This was not what he felt for all those years.
This was love for the real Iruka – he was certain of it.
His entire body ached to race after the teacher to reassure him, but that was not what was different. He physically desired the beautiful man who had somehow held onto every last shred of his pride as he handed over his hitai-ate, but he had wanted him for so many years, it was a common part of his life. The thing that was different was what gave him the strength to leisurely stand and put the strip of metal into his jacket.
Purposely moving slowly, he retrieved his and Iruka's things that had been scattered around the training grounds. Only when he was sure he had given the teacher a good head start in order to calm himself down did Kakashi begin tracking the man who he could now confidently say he loved for all his faults and failings.
He loved Iruka for his compassion. He loved how the teacher would do anything for his students and friends. He loved Iruka's unique view of the world – how everyone was both a student and a teacher. Always learning, always teaching. Yet, he hated that the teacher wanted to help everyone, even him. Kakashi loved his stubbornness and his pride, along with his temper, though those three things were by far Iruka's worst qualities. He loved that Iruka usually showed his emotions openly, but hated when he bottled them up.
Tightening his fingers around the hitai-ate, Kakashi knew exactly what he had to do to help the man he loved find himself again.
XXX
Iruka bowed his head as he continued moving. His entire body hurt from not only his sparring match, but the unforgiving pace he had taken as he ran. He was not sure where his feet were taking him. All he knew was that he had to run. It was not to run away from the village or from any one person – he was not that cowardly. Nor was it to run away from events that were out of his control.
He ran to get perspective. He raced away to clear his mind, to regain the calm façade that he had been able to hide his emotions behind for the past two months. But, most of all, he ran to find acceptance.
Though his mind had already admitted to the logical fact that he would never be able to be a shinobi again, his heart had yet to do the same. Torn as he was, he could not do anything other than run. His entire body cried out in anguish as he continued moving, his toned legs pounding against hard ground that, though uneven, never made him stumble. Even without focusing his attention on his surroundings, he knew when to jump over an exposed root or duck below a low tree branch.
The forest was as much a part of him as his heaving lungs or his screaming muscles. He had grown up in this place, taught from infancy to judge his surroundings not merely for their physical appearances. Like any other shinobi, he had learned how to smell the air, to feel the gentle breeze. He could hear the creak of tree branches and taste the moist earth he flitted over.
It wasn't fair that he still could use so much of his shinobi training, but that he could not do the most basic thing – fight. There was only so much he could do to smell attackers, to hear their movements. He could feel the changes in the air when they came at him, he could sense their chakra, but that would not tell him enough to fight them.
Tightly closing his useless eyes, the brunet leaped over an uprooted tree and would have continued his ground-eating pace, but, with the hair standing up on the back of his neck, he instinctively dropped to the ground when he heard a sound that no shinobi could ever mistake.
The sound of a blade slicing the air – it was a noise that was amplified compared to what he was used to, but still painfully familiar. It was a sound that made his scarred back twinge in remembrance. Mere moments after he hit the soft earth, he heard a loud thud of something metal hitting the tree closest to him. Instantly, he scanned his surroundings for unfamiliar chakra, finding a strange signature that was so faint, it was obviously being cloaked.
It was only then, as he slowly moved to stand back up, that a twinge of fear ran down Iruka's spine. Was it his would-be assassin, back to try again after laying low for two months? Why now? Was this person always watching him, waiting for the first moment he was no longer under the protection of his ANBU bodyguard? How else would his would-be assassin know when to attack? How had Inu not realized they were being followed. Swallowing heavily, Iruka then recalled that even with his heightened senses, he had not felt someone watching them either.
He heard a crunch of dry leaves. His attacker was approaching. The brunet reflexively grabbed for a kunai, only to recall, as his fingers brushed against an empty pouch, that he and Inu wore no weapons when they trained. His kunai, shuriken, scrolls – all of it was back at the training grounds where he had left his dismissed bodyguard. His heart seemed to skip a beat as he recalled Inu's one requirement for training so that neither of them got seriously hurt.
What he wouldn't do to take back what he said to the ANBU member! At least, if Inu was still his guard, the overly protective man would be at his side, doing everything he could to keep Iruka safe. If the elite shinobi was there, Iruka would have had a weapon to defend himself with. But Inu was not next to him, gently touching his elbow reassuringly. He was not standing in front of him, ready and willing to do anything to protect Iruka. He was not there to tell Iruka that he was not as helpless as everyone thought he was. But even Inu finally admitted that Iruka was incapable of returning to a shinobi life. So there were no gentle reassuring words in his ear, no supportive touch, no proud eyes to watch over him and protect him.
Iruka stood alone.
Swallowing heavily, the teacher brought his hands up defensively, ready to try and shield his face from an attack. He was not stupid enough to think that he could protect himself for long, but he refused to go down without a fight. Not this time. He was caught unaware once and lost his vision as a result. Damned if he was going to let it happen again. A flicker of rage burst through the fear as Iruka realized that the person slowly moving towards him was the reason he had lost so very much. That anger gave him the strength to calm his shaking hands and racing heart.
He shifted slowly, turning to face the faint chakra signature he could sense. Placing his weight on the balls of his feet, he balanced his body and prepared to defend himself. He could both feel and hear the earth beneath him crunch as he moved, despite the pounding of his own heart and his labored breathing.
In two months, he had become reasonably adept at picturing the world around him. He could imagine the decaying leaves that he was grinding underneath his feet purely by their scent alone. He could picture the trees that loomed overhead, hiding the setting sun from view, by the coolness against his skin. In that mental image of his surroundings, he could place a featureless figure stalking him from the shadows.
Thankfully, however, he did not need to rely on his eyes to find his attacker's location.
Breathing in deeply, Iruka caught the scent of a shinobi – nothing. Shinobi on missions were careful to never smell, making tracking by scent alone nearly impossible unless using ninken, an Inuzuka or someone of similar abilities. That complete lack of smell was a mixture of using one's surroundings to blend in. Currently, his attacker had no other scent than an earthiness, mixed with the forest's foliage. Whoever it was, they were very good, so much so that they could hide from even his sensitive nose.
Yet scent was only one sense Iruka had at his disposal. He could taste the air, which revealed that soil had been disturbed. His attacker, no matter how lightly he stepped, would kick up dirt. Similarly, Iruka's ears picked up those faint steps, barely crunching the leaves and moss covering the ground. That quiet sound could barely even be heard, even with his heightened senses, but Iruka focused in on it.
His attacker was keeping his distance, which Iruka was infinitely thankful for. It gave him time to study the stranger. He – or she – moved so lightly, it was obvious they were not very large, nor of an overly muscular build. Also, whoever it was, they were a high ranking shinobi. Only jounin or higher could cloak their chakra so well.
Iruka strained his ears to listen as his attacker slowly took a few careful steps towards him. Though his assailant had barely moved closer, he could begin picking up other sounds. He could hear the creak of leather sandals and pick out the soft swish of cotton. Iruka listened to his attacker's deep breaths and, once the stranger moved even closer, the teacher picked out something that even surprised him.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
He focused on that soft rhythm, fighting the smirk that came to his face as he realized that being able to pick out his attacker's heartbeat was enough to tell him the person's exact location. He could figure out the position of his (or her) torso and, from that, what stance he was in. Stance told him what his attacker was planning, what kind of attack he should anticipate.
Iruka did not study his attacker's chakra in similar detail, having exhausted his ability in his sparring session with Inu. And, despite its aid in walking around the village, it was not enough in a fight. Inu moved too quickly, his chakra becoming a blur of blue in Iruka's mind.
As he tightened his fists, preparing for the next attack, Iruka started realizing why he had such a problem fighting his bodyguard. Focusing solely on his chakra, Iruka tried to narrow down the possibilities. But, when Inu's limbs could be anywhere in a streak of chakra, it was difficult to know whether or not to block or to attack. Even harder was to target his attacks when he was trying to guess where the man was.
Thump. Thump.
Iruka listened to the even pace, picturing his attacker as the stranger finally stepped out from behind a nearby tree, judging from the nearly inaudible sound of cotton scraping against rough tree bark. Immediately, from the way his attacker walked, Iruka knew him to be male. But he did not recognize the chakra signature, so he had no idea who it was who stood before him. Whoever it was, however, he knew to be an enemy. It was obvious not only from the man's offensive stance, but from the quiet clink of metal as he took shuriken out of his pouch.
Damn, if only Inu had let him hold onto his own weapons during their sparring sessions! Iruka bit back a soft growl, but felt no anger towards the man, knowing that Inu had said so only to protect him. He could only imagine what kind of menace he would be to himself with blades when he went home every day with bruises and cuts from just fists and feet.
His attacker moved quickly. Without warning, shuriken were hurled at Iruka and it was only their sound that saved the teacher as he dodged three projectiles. He focused on that high-pitched whine of metal cutting through the air. Twisting, he felt the first cut the air next to his abdomen. The second grazed over his head as he ducked. He found himself leaping into the air and flipping over as the third sliced into the back of his vest.
As he dodged the shuriken, he kept most of his focus on his attacker, waiting for the next tell so that he knew what the stranger was going to do. And that clue quickly came when he heard the dirt crunch and smelled the renewed aroma of earth. His attacker was on the move.
The next assault came from his side. Iruka barely had time to move as he felt a kunai tear through his jacket. It was not close enough to cut his shirt, but it was far too close for him. Despite the pounding of his heart – and perhaps because of the adrenaline pumping through him – Iruka found himself impressed with his attacker's speed. In the blink of an eye, the stranger had moved from being in front of him to his far right. But the man did not stop there.
He continued moving, circling Iruka, all the while throwing blades that the brunet had to use every ounce of speed and cunning to save himself from.
XXX
Kakashi watched the brunet fight for his very life in silence, his fingertips digging into the tree branch he sat on to stop himself from interfering.
XXX
Iruka had to suck his stomach in to miss being disemboweled by a kunai. As he felt the sharpened blade tear across his middle, barely nicking his skin, he made a decision. He could not keep dodging – he had to make a stand.
Taking a deep breath, he turned on his heels, racing towards his attacker. He could almost taste the man's surprise as the stranger sucked in a sharp breath of air, his heart instantly speeding up. Iruka felt a grin come to his face as he swerved to the side mere steps away from his attacker. His feet slid in the rich earth, digging in as he quickly changed directions.
He feinted to the right, having already figured his attacker was right-handed, based off of how he threw his shuriken and kunai. Coming up on his attacker's left side, he grabbed one of the man's hands that had immediately gone up to protect his torso, neck and face. In the same fluid motion, he tore the kunai pouch off of the man with his other hand and picked out one blade, throwing the rest far out of reach.
Even before he heard the chink of the pouch hitting the ground, Iruka brought the blade up to his attacker's neck. His ideas of demanding answers from his assailant were destroyed when the man twisted out of his grasp. Iruka barely had time to register that he was no longer holding the man that he found himself being thrown across the forest, his abdomen crying out in pain.
His attacker sure packed a powerful punch, Iruka admitted as he contorted his body so that his feet landed on the tree he had been careening towards. Pushing off the trunk, he raced back towards the stranger. Ignoring the searing agony in his middle – though, by the tight pain, he knew he must have bruised or cracked a rib – Iruka attacked again.
The man's response this time was to grab Iruka's arm, twisting it until the teacher gasped in pain and was forced to drop his pilfered kunai. The blade fell to the ground and was quickly kicked out of reach. Recalling all of his lessons on grappling, Iruka found himself for once putting his years of teaching hyper, flexible pre-genin to use.
His first twirl around his attacker broke the man's hold on him. The second spin gave him momentum as he kicked his attacker's legs out from underneath him. Hearing a distinctive crunch, Iruka knew he had broken at least one of the man's kneecaps in that move, but the stranger never cried out in pain. The only indication he felt anything was the increased tempo of his heart and a quick intake of breath.
The only downside to his attack was that, along with his assailant, Iruka fell to the ground. But, with two unbroken legs, Iruka had the distinct advantage. Rolling to his side, he tried to reach for the kunai he had dropped. His fingertips felt the blade's still-warm handle, and he strained to get it. So intent on retrieving his weapon, Iruka was caught by surprise when strong arms grabbed his ankles, yanking him away from the kunai.
Instinctively, he kicked violently, connecting with a muscular torso and succeeding in escaping his attacker's hold. That, however, did not save him. Moving again to reach his kunai, Iruka cried out when he felt a small, sharp blade dig into his leg, tearing his calf muscle and successfully pinning him down in pain for a moment.
A shuriken. Iruka had forgotten the shuriken pouch. Cursing himself for his own stupidity, he sucked in a gasp of air as he flipped over, catching his attacker's neck with his remaining good leg. Bending the powerful limb, he forced the other man to the ground.
Few knew that Iruka was physically powerful. Even fewer knew that a single kick from him could land even an elite jounin in the hospital. With little else to do in the past few months, he had increased the strength in his legs to the point, Inu had demanded he not kick full force during their practices.
Sadly, his attacker learned that truth all too late.
All it took was a tightening of his leg to successfully begin suffocating his attacker. A quick jerk of his hip rewarded Iruka with a resounding crack as he broke the man's neck. Before his assailant fell limp, however, he was met with a surprising pop and the man who had nearly killed him disappeared in an acrid puff of smoke.
A clone. The realization that he had not been fighting an actual person made the brunet sigh in relief. No matter how much danger he was in, he still despised taking another life. Iruka flopped back on the ground, his leg relaxing as he gasped for air. He knew he did not have to worry about another attack at the moment – there was no chakra he could pick up on other than his own. Replaying the fight in his mind, Iruka could not stop the almost giddy smile from stretching across his face.
He had done it! He had been able to fight without his eyes, more or less successfully. Of course, had he had his vision, he probably would not have been injured by the kage bunshin. Then again, perhaps he would have. Despite the searing pain in his leg and the lesser ache around his middle, he grinned like a fool.
High off adrenaline, he knew his injuries did not hurt as much as they should have, but at the moment nothing else mattered. He was still alive; he had been able to protect himself. Oh, he was certain that one of his more advanced pre-genins could have probably been almost as much of a threat to his life if they wanted to kill him, but he now had proof that he could do it.
Slowly, he moved to sit up, but froze when he felt a flicker of energy. For the briefest of instances, he prepared himself for another attack, but quickly recognized that signature as the one person who might understand the elation he felt.
"Yo, you look like shit – what happened to you?" Inu's rumbling voice asked as Iruka began laughing. The teacher couldn't help it, he was just so happy he had proven the ANBU member wrong. He did not need his sight as much as he always believed he had.
Kakashi moved to Iruka's side, giving the teacher a hand as Iruka tried to stand up. Putting little weight on his injured leg, the brunet still laughed in a way the jounin had never had the pleasure of hearing before. Finding Iruka's good mood infectious, he smiled despite his racing heart.
Watching the man he now knew he loved fight was the hardest thing he had ever done. Every moment of their battle tore at Kakashi and he itched to interfere, to protect the brunet. He had to all but tie himself down when he realized Iruka had injured his ribs and when he saw the attacker slice into his leg, it nearly killed him to not tear the other man to pieces.
He never thought it would hurt so much to be helpless, but powerless was what he was. He had to let Iruka make mistakes; he had to learn for himself in the way shinobi learned best – through necessity. The broad grin across Iruka's face was worth every heart-wrenching moment of the fight.
"Here," Kakashi said softly as he placed Iruka's hitai-ate into his hands, knowing that the brunet wouldn't refuse it. Not with that proud, beaming smile on his face. He had learned that he could fight without his eyes. Fighting for his life, Iruka was not burdened by negative thoughts – subconsciously deciding that it was impossible no matter how hard he tried – but instead did everything he could to save his own life.
"Thank you," Iruka replied as he held onto his forehead protector, his fingers tracing the familiar leaf symbol as though he was reuniting with a long lost friend. "For everything," he added as he let out a soft chuckle. Even a blind man could tell that Inu was standing on only one leg, much like he was. It took no stretch of the imagination for him to know that his bodyguard had done far more than just return his hitai-ate to him.
"I was just holding onto it for you." Kakashi took a few deep breaths, wondering why his charge had that knowing expression on his sweaty and dirt-covered face. Iruka couldn't possibly have figured it out.
"Your leg is going to be sore for a while, baka," Iruka said with sigh that told his bodyguard that he was far more perceptive than the older man gave him credit for. "At least you gain your clone's experience of the fight too." Though not broken like his clone's knee, the ANBU member's leg was going to be bruised for some time unless healed by a medic.
"When did you figure it out?" Kakashi asked, curious if Iruka had sensed his chakra in the nearby tree, though it was completely cloaked. Iruka's senses were beyond the human definition of sensitive, so there may have been some kind of lingering chakra for him to pick up on that no one else could. Or had his clone's altered energy still been too close to his own?
"I had a feeling from the beginning," Iruka replied, his face reddening not from exertion, but embarrassment. He had known that heart, its strong, even rhythm. He had recognized the fluid movements of a powerful warrior. But he had known for certain when he had captured his attacker's hand for those few seconds. There was no way he could have missed their familiar curves and lines, the delicate digits of a pianist, and the strength of an elite shinobi. What other pair of hands could make his own heart race as he remembered their touch on his skin?
Despite knowing those were the hands of his bodyguard, Iruka's body was still tricked by that one moment that he had thought it was his would-be assassin coming back to finish the job. He had fought for his life, not registering that it was his bodyguard – or, as Iruka found out, a perfectly sculpted and then altered clone – who was attacking him.
"I'm sorry. I told him to not hurt you too much – but my clones like to interpret things differently than me," Kakashi replied softly as he studied the teacher's bleeding leg. He had expressly told the clone to not draw blood other than minor scratches, but apparently he had given his double his need for retribution along with his stubbornness. A sliced calf for a broken knee, his clone had thought it a fair trade in order to teach Iruka a hard-learned lesson about himself and his abilities.
He should have listened to Naruto when the brat taught him the kage bunshin no jutsu. He said that the clones had a mind of their own, but Kakashi thought that just meant that they thought the same as their creator in order to adapt to their current situation. Apparently not.
"It's not as deep as it looks – and it was worth it," Iruka replied with a smile, twisting his leg so that his bodyguard could see that the bleeding had already begun to slow. "How did you know?" he finally asked as he released Inu's arm in order to tie his hitai-ate back around his head. Once back in its rightful place, his forehead no longer felt uncomfortably exposed.
"Know what?" Kakashi played dumb, unsure how much he was ready to tell Iruka that the teacher would not be the only handicapped shinobi to keep his title. Could he tell Iruka about his own painful loss, how he had spent most of his life with only one functioning eye? Could he even form the words that he had never spoken before?
"That I could fight without my eyes. You have been so supportive all this time, trying to teach me that vision isn't necessary. You knew that I had to really be threatened in order to tap into every sense I have left so that I would survive. How?" Iruka asked pointedly, his thoughts racing through his head at a blinding speed.
Inu had always said fighting without his eyes was possible. He was so sympathetic of how difficult Iruka's life was without his vision. He did everything to make Iruka's life easier, but did nothing that the teacher would not have eventually done himself. He never moved furniture; he put everything back in the places Iruka memorized them to be in. He organized everything logically. He did so much that made the change in lifestyle so much less awkward and painful, but never pricked at Iruka's pride or independence.
It was as though he knew exactly what Iruka was going through.
Iruka found himself stifling a gasp with a hand as he finally understood. Taking an unconscious step backwards, Iruka shook his head in disbelief. But there was only one thing that made sense in explaining Inu's sensitivity to Iruka's position, his unease concerning the left side of his face, and even his stubbornness in telling Iruka that being a blind shinobi was possible. He faced the ANBU member, his entire face contorting in pain for the elite shinobi. Inu's sensitivity concerning that single scar on the left side of his face now was painfully understandable.
"Y-you're…you're like me," Iruka whispered, his voice muffled by his shaking hand. It all made sense now. Everything – he did not know why he hadn't seen it before. But, with that same thought, he knew why he had never pieced it together before now. He had always thought Inu knew someone who was blind for the sole reason he thought it was impossible to be a shinobi without your sight. Knowing that that was not true, everything clicked together like a jigsaw he had been trying to do, but did not know what the picture was supposed to be until now.
Kakashi did not speak. He couldn't have even if he tried. The old fear of being discovered clenched at his throat, threatening to suffocate him. He did not want anyone knowing, not Tsunade, not his friends, not his old students. As he watched Iruka's expression shift from pain to something akin to happiness, that tightness slowly lost his hold. Iruka did not show an instant of pity, like anyone else would have. No, instead, he was overjoyed that he was no longer the only shinobi fighting the odds. Because of that understanding, the jounin had the strength to tell his own story, knowing that it would help Iruka almost as much as his fight with Kakashi's clone had.
"I-I was thirteen," Kakashi finally admitted as he brought a hand up to the left side of his face, knowing full well Iruka would be able to figure out his movements. Despite the porcelain mask covering his features, his own hand sent sharp pains down his face as he recalled the fateful day that robbed him of half his sight. The physical pain of the blade was nothing compared to coming to only to find that he could not see out of one eye. Then, there was the emotional agony of slowly losing that sight for a second time as Obito's eye slowly dimmed to the nothingness he now knew.
"My teammate told me that had it been a hair deeper, I would have died," he whispered, recalling Rin's tearful diagnosis. Even Minato had been shaken at how close Kakashi had come to dying. No one was as shocked as the cocky, newly-made jounin himself. Kakashi had thought himself above such stupid mistakes; his hubris had cost him his eye and the life of his best friend.
"So you had to relearn everything, all by yourself?" Iruka asked as he brought a hand up to touch the back of his bodyguard's. He did not have to hear the specific details. He could imagine Inu as a teenager – orphaned, partially blind, and just as stubborn as he was today. He confided in no one out of fear. He retrained himself to keep his title; he learned how to hide his handicap, to judge the world around him differently. In that moment, Iruka understood what Inu said when they first met. He had boasted he had better senses than an Inuzuka. Only now did Iruka believe him. With only one eye, it was no wonder the rest of his senses had to be heightened to make up for his handicap. Though not as honed as Iruka's own senses, Inu's must still be beyond any normal human's.
"I had to – there was no one else," Kakashi admitted as he pulled his hand away from his face so that he could study the teacher as Iruka lost himself in thought. After a moment, Iruka tilted his head back up as though he was looking at the jounin. Used to his eerily normal mannerisms for a blind man, Kakashi simply waited for the chuunin to speak as he unconsciously pressed his masked face and hand against Iruka's gentle touch.
"Thank you for trusting me," Iruka said as he brushed his thumb against the plated glove he recognized so well. He did not have to hear the admission from Inu's mouth. He understood that he was the only person to ever be told about the ANBU member's handicap. To be trusted with that kind of information – that experience, that pain and loss – it meant far more to Iruka than his bodyguard could ever imagine. Knowing just how much it had taken for Inu to open up to him, Iruka found his eyes filling with unshed tears. He was easily overcome with emotion, not only from Inu opening up to him, but also from relief in discovering he could still remain a shinobi. To hide his watery eyes, he buried his head against his bodyguard's muscular chest, his arms instinctively wrapping around the older man's powerful neck. Inu hesitated for a moment, but then his arms encircled Iruka's smaller frame.
With his heightened senses, Iruka could feel Inu's strength and energy pulsing through him. Surrounded by the ANBU member's muscular body, a feeling of security washed over Iruka. Inu was far more than a bodyguard to him. He was a friend who pushed him past his own limitations and fears and, for that, Iruka hugged him tightly. He could all but taste and smell the man's racing emotions. He could tell just how difficult it was for his bodyguard to watch his fight, to remain on the sidelines as he learned for himself that he could relearn how to fight without his vision. Inu's heart still raced, his body still trembled slightly. Forgetting for a moment that Inu was not another close friend accustomed to his physical displays of affection, Iruka brushed his lips against his bodyguard's neck. Though his lips touched the thin material of the man's uniform, Iruka could feel Inu's strong pulse beneath his kiss.
Kakashi froze the instant Iruka kissed him. The teacher had hugged him before, but other than the night Iruka had learned about his permanent blindness, Iruka had never kissed him. A part of him desperately wanted to tilt the teacher's head up and kiss him until he was breathless. He wanted to show him a fraction of the love he felt for him. He would have, but he could not bring himself to break the sweetness of Iruka's compassionate kiss on his neck. Right now, he would give all the hot and sweaty moments he dreamed of just to stay in Iruka's arms like this.
But moments like that could not last forever. The jounin's sore leg buckled underneath him when Iruka leaned forward, putting all of his weight on his unsuspecting bodyguard. Only his fast reflexes kept Kakashi from falling to the ground and, as he hobbled backwards, hissing in pain, he discovered why Iruka's embrace had changed. Iruka had been overtaxed, not only physically, but emotionally. Then there was the pain and blood loss due to his fight with Kakashi's clone. It was no wonder Iruka had finally slipped into unconsciousness.
Tightening his arms around the teacher, Kakashi tried to hold up the passed out brunet. Somehow balancing the teacher's dead weight in his arms, Kakashi took a selfish moment to study Iruka's relaxed features. Unable to pass up his opportunity, Kakashi brushed his masked lips against the scars around Iruka's eyes, which were such a startling contrast to his dark skin. He had been so close to losing Iruka once; he was not going to ever let that happen again. He would teach Iruka how to fight again, even if it meant using his own dark past as a guide. He would dig through those years to find a way to help Iruka rediscover himself. As he watched Iruka sleep, his love for the proud, strong, stubborn, and impossibly understanding brunet increased exponentially.
XXX
Authoress: YOSH! Go Kakashi! Finally starting to open up – of course, doing so in a moment of verbal vomit as you pour your heart out (in a few, concise words), but it's a start! And I would like to thank DragonFlowers-chan for beta-ing this chapter! She does such amazing work, somehow putting up with me and my strange writing schedule...and then being so understanding with my computer issues! So, thank you for everything, Dragon-chan! And, everyone, please review so I get my butt into action and make up for my horrible attempts to update until now! Until next time, ja ne!