AN: Yay! Finally! I'll shut up and let you get on with it, but if you'll be so kind as to leave me a comment about what you think, I'll be a very happy author. Lots of love!
PS: I chose to mark Scarecrow as finished, but I think I'll use Sakura and Naruto's POVs sometimes since I really like them, but we'll see. Main focus will still be Hermione and Kakashi.
PPS: This is part of a series. I doubt it makes much sense if you haven't read Wide grey skies.
Hermione never understood the butterflies metaphor. Butterflies sounds like something for girls who are pretty criers and live in books and movies. Hermione never was a pretty crier, and for all that her life has had its fair share of action and drama she's not a fictional heroine either. The fluttering in her stomach is nothing like butterflies, is more like bats throwing themselves around with careless grace and sharp turns. It presses against her chest uncomfortably.
Konoha is further south than she anticipated, and it's warm outside. She should have packed shorts, maybe, but then again, she sees no one else wearing them so maybe not. For all she knows people here consider this weather cold, making her wonder how Kakashi reacted arriving in Iceland in wintertime. The huge wall surrounding the village provides shadow, however, and Hermione sticks to it as she waits.
Travelling through Japan with her parents has made her used to the many angles of the roofs, the colour schemes, the rich air, and the bustling streets. It has in no way prepared her for shinobi. She's aware, of course, that Kakashi can run up walls and what not. Seeing it done for the first time however, casually and by several people without drawing an eye, is a whole lot different from knowing. Staring is rude, so she tries not to, but it's very hard as ninja come and go through the gate at her side.
Under her shirt, Hermione feels the weight of the amulet against her chest. It was expensive, almost ridiculously so, but has already been worth it. Travelling is a lot easier when you can speak the language. As is explaining to the guards of a military village that you'd like to talk to their Hokage if that's possible, and that yes, he does know her. They clearly didn't believe the last part, but at least they waved someone over and sent them with a message.
She should have gotten in touch. Only her parents' plane had been rescheduled rather late, and she'd fully expected to have to wait until the original departure time for the boat, and Kakashi doesn't have a phone. And it sounded fun in her head, for a weak moment, to show up out of the blue. Now, Hermione thinks he might be busy. This was probably a horrible idea. Being early can be considered just as rude as being late. All the bats in her stomach simultaneously do a 180, chasing the thought as if it's food. Which it is to them, come to think about it.
The figure coming her way over the rooftops is unmistakable, even at a distance. Not the clothing, not here, but that hair shines like a beacon. A very grey, rather soft beacon.
Hermione can see the exact moment when Kakashi notices her. Despite the dry ground there isn't a grain of dust visible as he lands in the open area. He doesn't break his stride, doesn't stumble or any such ridiculousness, but even with fifty feet between them Hermione catches it; the widening of his eyes, the smile beneath the mask. It takes no more than a second before he's in front of her, and that's all the time the bats need to settle.
Kakashi.
Merlin, she's missed him.
Before leaving home, Hermione read the guidebook her parents had bought. It's good she did, it is, but she also sort of regrets it. If she hadn't, she'd have dared throw herself at Kakashi now. Public displays of affection are apparently frowned upon in Japan, however, and she can guess the same goes here. In retrospect that small parcel of information tells her a lot about her friend, and how weirded out he must have been sometimes.
"You're early," Kakashi points out, from only two feet away. His voice is dry, almost a drawl, but his eyes sparkle.
If he wasn't famous, wasn't Hokage, the cultural views on PDAs could go to hell for all Hermione cares. But he is famous, and Hokage, and this village's view of Kakashi is his whole life in more ways than is probably healthy. So Hermione smiles instead, jokes with the bats rustling to remind her they're still there. "Or," she says, "it's you who's late with the paperwork?" His companion's – Sakura, Hermione guesses based on age and bubble-gum hair that twangs painful strings of memories – eyes widen. Respect to superiors is another thing here, Hermione has read, and she should have kept that in mind. Not that Kakashi's her superior (yet). Not that he looks like he minds, but… they're in public and she's a new face.
"No," Kakashi says, raising an eyebrow.
The bats stretch their wings, ready to take flight and wreak havoc. Hermione allows her response to be pure instinct. "Can't blame a girl for trying," she says. She's still smiling, still happy, but also jittery. Wishes they were alone so she didn't have to figure this whole dance out.
"If that was your best attempt, it's embarrassing." The tone is contradicted by the crow's feet around Kakashi's eyes.
Hermione means to argue, to say something along the lines of her being able to leave and come back in two days like they planned, but she runs out of speed. Finds herself watching grey eyes and features concealed by black fabric. Three months apart, and she'd missed him like crazy at first, but it passed. She'd had her parents and Luna, Ginny and Harry, and the loneliness was mostly whispering to her late in the evening when the world was empty and silent. Then she got used to sleeping alone again. Buried the lose threads of conversations they never got to finish.
And now he's here, and Hermione expected that it would be a little weird at first. She didn't expect all the moments she hasn't missed him in the last months to hit her over the head now. Like a box in her mind spilling open, filling her chest and falling out of her mouth.
"I've missed you," she hears herself saying, and knows it's true. She's been fine, but the two are not mutually exclusive. At least not in retrospect. Fiddling with the top of her backpack, Hermione reminds herself these things probably aren't meant to be said in public. Not in a place where people don't hug in the streets. However Kakashi chooses to answer, it isn't necessarily a reflection of his thoughts.
But by God, Hermione wants him to answer. The single second of silence that's passed felt like an eternity.
"Yeah." It's an exhalation as much as it's a spoken word, and Hermione watches the way it brings Kakashi's shoulders down. Sees the twitch of his arms and knows what he's thinking.
Is still surprised when he follows through.
The vest is bulkier than she remembers it, but maybe that's a good thing. It adds a little distance, which sucks, frankly, but might also make it a little less of a transgression. Everything around her is new, and she's freaking out a bit; can't see how she'll ever fit in here, in this strange new town where she'll be spending a couple of months, where she doesn't need more than a cursory glance to tell she'll stick out worse than she did coming to Hogwarts. Kakashi smells like himself though. The rise and fall of his chest against hers are the same. Even through the vest.
Hermione wraps her arms around him and allows herself to think it might be alright after all. That is, until she looks up and sees the reactions of maybe-Sakura and the guards, as well as the random people milling about the place. And starts to giggle. Rather desperately, but hopefully they won't catch that.
"Did you just throw me under the gossip-bus?" Hermione says into Kakashi's shoulder before breaking away to watch him answer. He doesn't even look apologetic.
"Maa," he says, blinking and turning to the sky, "it was only a matter of time either way." When he looks down there's a grin that Hermione knows to watch out for cutting across his face. "I expect they'll all know your name by nightfall." Groaning seems like the only proper response, so Hermione does that. "Maybe it'll teach you to call ahead next time," Kakashi says, impassive in a way that Hermione translates as smugness. She hits him in the shoulder.
"Sure asshole," she says, "as soon as you get a phone I can call ahead to."
.oOo.
Kakashi slips his shoes off in the genkan and pads barefoot into the house. There are slippers, of course, a whole row of them that came with the house, but he never got into the habit and there's tatami in most of the rooms anyway.
Had it been a choice, Kakashi thinks he'd have kept his apartment. He doesn't like houses like this; old (or rebuilt as old, but same same) and traditional, all shoji screens and tatami and sparsely furnitured. It reminds him too much of the ancient clan house he grew up in. Of shame and death and mistakes. The Hokage residence has private quarters set off from the state rooms, allowing for a more lived in, modern space. It doesn't erase the presence of the rest of the house.
The creme coloured couches in the living room was left behind by Tsunade, like most of the furniture. Kakashi hasn't cared enough to change them. There's enough decision-making needed without redecorating a house that isn't his either way. Today however, an addition has been made to the living room; a living, breathing addition, stretched out on one of the couches fast asleep.
Kakashi pauses for a moment, just inside the sliding door. It's not yet six o'clock in the evening, but Hermione has an ability to fall asleep that rivals seasoned Anbu operatives. Only less desperate and paranoid in the execution, and without the constant pressure of too little down-time. She looks cold, curled up under her jacket with her feet tucked between the cushions.
Having her here is unreal. Like so much in his life lately it sits a little to the side of what feels right. Kakashi doesn't know how to do this. Any of it. Doesn't know who he's supposed to be. There's Sharingan no Kakashi (only it's Kakashi, no Sharingan anymore); elite ninja and Hokage. And he's been getting back into that, slowly, has readjusted his reflexes and stopped wanting to reach out for his friends. The ache under his skin has been normalized. He's stopped wanting to cry. Has learnt not to miss her too horribly. To not wish for something that's impossible.
And now this. The stinging loneliness is still there, nipping at his skin. Even now. Even with her right here, and Kakashi has no idea how to react. Wants to walk over, lay down next to her and fall asleep. Or cry. But he shouldn't be sad, or lonely, or feel this lost, not now. He should be happy.
Only, what if things don't go back to how they were between them? What if Hermione hates Konoha, and the Kakashi that belongs here? And worst of all; what about when she leaves again? What then? Not that Kakashi can let that future promise of pain allow him to withdraw now. Not when Hermione came here, for him, and not with all the unfinished conversations between them.
There should be a throw blanket in one of the cupboards, and Kakashi backs out into the hallway to find it. He moves without sound, has already mapped out where the floorboards creak and what doors need lifting to not scrape. It's not running, not when she's cold, and if he stops for a moment to breathe that doesn't mean anything.
Who bought the blanket is a mystery, because it's not really Tsunade's style; greyish purple with grey braided fringes, woollen and heavy for its size. Warm enough to excuse the rough texture. He brings it back to the living room and spreads it out over Hermione. She sighs, eyes fluttering open. Murmurs something that's probably meant to be a greeting. It makes some of Kakashi's panic fade away, and he settles on the thin strip of couch by her hips. Shifting, Hermione makes more room for him while folding her body around his back.
"What time is it?" she asks, rubbing her eyes and swiping hair from her face.
"Almost six." Kakashi quells the instinct to reach out, to rest a hand between her shoulder blades, pull her closer. Had it been three months ago, maybe he would have, but right now he's not perfectly sure where they stand. Yet again, had it been three months ago the impulse might have been less urgent in the first place. "I figured I'll get dinner started soon," he says, hands remaining in his lap. "Unless you'd rather go out?"
"Not really," Hermione answers, and Kakashi's grateful. "I'll come help," she continues, despite the way sleep still clings to her speech.
Part of Kakashi wants to let her fall back asleep, and most of him wants to join her. He's tired. With the flak jacket, the heat against his back is dimmed, but he could take it off, snuggle down beside her. Forget about the world for a while. More importantly; forget about himself.
He doesn't, brings Hermione to the kitchen instead and sets her on rinsing rise. The soft rattle of rise stirred in water, the tap running, and a sharp knife through crisp carrots are the only sounds to fill the silence for a while. Kakashi doesn't know what to say, where to begin, and he hates it. Their silences aren't supposed to feel tense and persistent.
"Should I start this straight away?" Hermione asks as she puts the bowl in the rice cooker, then turns it on at Kakashi's affirmation. She cocks a hip against the counter next to it, one hand picking at the edge of the countertop. "This is weird, isn't it?" she asks, voice muted.
"Yeah." The word slips over Kakashi's lips as a sigh. He hangs his head for a moment, feels the weight of it pulling at his cervical vertebra and the stiff muscles surrounding it.
"It's like," Hermione says, "you know me better than anyone, and in a way nothing's changed, but also…" Looking over Kakashi sees her shoulders falling down from a shrug. She folds her lips into the facsimile of a smile. "I just guess I don't know where to start. I mean, it's been a while and I've got no clue what happened for most of it."
Something in the lower part of Kakashi's chest clench painfully. "I meant to write more," he tells her, because he did, "only…"
"Only writing sort of sucks," Hermione says when he fails to follow through. It draws a small smile to Kakashi's lips.
"Yeah," he agrees, then tries to explain at least a little bit of it. "Some things are better not to put on paper, but writing as if they didn't happen would feel like a lie, and I…" Another unfinished sentence, ended in a shrug, and Kakashi can't remember if it used to be this hard or if he's simply out of practise.
"I don't blame you." Hermione shrugs back, the set of her shoulders loosening and fingers stilling. "For me, I think it was easier not missing you when we didn't write so much, you know?"
Which, yes, Kakashi does know. He understands perfectly. Can't make himself answer with more than a nod however. "So, what now?" he says instead. "Which end do we start from?" The easy smile he sees creeping over Hermione's face is the real deal this time. It makes his shoulders hurt a little less, allows his feet to flatten properly against the floor, and it's not until he feels the difference Kakashi realises how taut his body's been.
"Well," Hermione says, "talking about the weather feels a bit done, honestly, and I already told you about my trip, so, how about you? How have you been?"
And just like that, the tension is back. Or not back, exactly, it's more like Kakashi is hit with its aftereffects; a heavy numbness tingling through his limbs. "I've managed," he says. It's not a lie, really, he's here after all. Everyone's alive. There's no need to get caught up in the rest. Not now.
"Doesn't sound so good." Hermione's eyes are on him, Kakashi can feel their burn as he turns to the pan and throws things inside to fry. He shrugs with the shoulder closest to Hermione. Who's finally here, and Kakashi's supposed to be happy, and he is, or he can be, as long as he doesn't think too much. As long as he stays away from his own life. "Could be worse," he deflects. "What about you?"
Hermione doesn't call him out on it and Kakashi doesn't know whether to be grateful.
"I'm doing better," she says. "I was scared for a while, as you know, but it's not so bad now. Living with my parents gets a bit much after like two weeks, but I couldn't make myself throw my tenant out early. Which really turned out for the better since she's now staying for these three months as well and I don't have to find a new one."
"I remember you writing something about you and your mum driving each other mad?" Kakashi mentions. They're alike in a lot of ways, Hermione and Jean, and the Grangers are loving and warm, but he's heard enough to know it's not uncomplicated.
"Yeah." Hermione grimaces. "She just can't accept sometimes that I'm a grownup now, and she keeps pushing her views on me. And you know," she sighs, rubs a hand across her face, "I don't need to be told life would be easier if I didn't try to be in control of everything. Or about the failings of the magical world, and that it's too bad I need to be part of it. Or how I should use this brain of mine in a real job. Or that I'm closing in on thirty and should hurry up and get a serious relationship or it will be too late for babies."
For a second, Kakashi can do nothing but blink in silence at the frying pan. Jean is outspoken, that much was clear within five minutes of meeting her, but doesn't she know her daughter at all? "She said all of those things?" He asks, disbelieving.
"That and more." Hermione crosses her arms over her chest and huffs out a frustrated breath. "Lets just say I'm happy to get some distance for a while."
The topic of Hermione's fall lasts them through dinner. Kakashi already knows the broad strokes of it – the therapy, the time spent with Luna, the lack of direction as she's found herself back home and unemployed – but he takes time to ask after detail now. With her across the table it's much easier to be invested in the conversation than it's been when he's penned it out and had to wait for an answer.
After she's ensured that the guards surveilling the house is stationed on the roof, and as such unable to see through the windows, Hermione draws her wand and waves it at the dishes. Kakashi watches them march to the sink as it fills itself up. That he's seen it before doesn't make it less weird, or less practical. Amazing, really. Turning back, he finds Hermione studying him, lips caught between her teeth and hands hidden under the table. He raises an eyebrow in question.
"I, uh," she starts, insecure in a way that makes Kakashi nervous, "I've been meaning to ask you; did I do anything wrong? Before, when I showed up? Because, you know, I don't really know the cultural codes here, and I might be freaking out, a little bit, so I figured it's better to just ask. And please be honest, and tell me what not to do or whatever, because I don't want to come off as rude or crazy or whatever, or make you look bad or something."
As she speaks, Kakashi's worry settles into a genuine smile. He knows something about feeling completely out of place in a foreign culture; his and Hermione's clashes are by definition different sides of the same coin. "You've got nothing to worry about," he tells her.
"Really?" she asks, biting her lip. "I mean, I couldn't read up on how things are here obviously, but my Japanese guidebook said people doesn't hug in the streets, or touch very much, and that politeness was a thing. And I mean, I know this isn't Japan, and things could be different, but it's also sort of a military state and… I don't know, I mean, I hit you, and I joke in a rather offensive way sometimes, and I don't want to accidently undermine your authority, or come off as really horrid or something." Her rants, Kakashi hears, hasn't changed much. It's comforting.
"I don't know much about life in Japan," he says slowly, "but here, you did nothing wrong." He wants to drive this home, not only because shinobi in general can be sassy and have sharp tongues, but also because he can't stand the thought of Hermione walking on eggshells around him. "People will show respect to their commanders, yes," he continues, "but you do not serve under me."
"Well…"
Kakashi cuts her off with a gesture. "Trust me," he says. "It's not the same." He might have convinced her to take the job, to stay and do the revision he wants of the healthcare system, but she's a civilian consultant. "As long as we're not in work meetings, nothing in our friendship needs to change." He thinks about that once more, then adds, "except for maybe hugging in public. Emotional expressions like that can be handled in private, you know. Or you don't, given what I've seen of your friends."
"So, today?" Brown eyes locks onto Kakashi's, and he feels unexpected insecurity like a vice around him. He hadn't considered she might disapprove, but, of course. They're not a couple. She doesn't want any relationship like that, and maybe he makes her think…
"Sakura won't be the only one assuming we're a couple," he says out loud before his mind can spin out of control. "But they were going to anyway, since you're staying with me. I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable." Hidden behind his mask he bites down on the inside of his cheek, feeling much like he's done waiting for test evaluations regarding his future life as a shinobi.
"It's alright," Hermione says, and Kakashi eases the pressure before he draws blood. "Honestly, it's… It's not like I'm out to date, so, as long as you're okay with it?"
"If I wasn't, I wouldn't have done it." As much as it might paint her out as a target, it could also serve as a protection from anyone not actively wanting to get on Kakashi's bad side. "Besides," he adds, smiling easily now and making sure it reaches his eyes, "it might prove useful."
"Useful?" Hermione rests her cheek against her hand, elbow propped on the table, and Kakashi can read her incredulity clearly.
"Well," he says, keeping his voice dry and disinterested, "I doubt anyone will bullheadedly try to make me sleep with them the next time I'm at a bar if it's commonly known I'm taken."
Which is honestly a major advantage. Kakashi wouldn't mind if he never again is subjected to some random woman pressing up against him, wetly mumbling in his ear only to accuse him of being boring when he disentangles himself. 'But you're a guy,' he's heard enough times for this life, 'how can you not want to?' As if bringing home a drunk stranger holds any kind of appeal. At least Genma has stopped harassing him about it. Sort of.
"Ouch," Hermione says and makes a face. "I think you're overestimating the common sense of drunk people though." Her tone enhances the lightness of the conversation, and Kakashi feels himself settling. He knows how to do this.
"Maa," Kakashi agrees, "maybe. But it would give me a stronger case."
"If it doesn't help, I can always step in and protect you." The grin Hermione fires off is sharp to the point of maniac. She probably does that on purpose, Kakashi hopes. "I even own my own kunai now, what could go wrong?"
Swallowing down on his laughter, Kakashi raises an eyebrow. "With you wielding them against a drunk invasive kunoichi? Absolutely nothing."
"I mean," Hermione says, gesturing with her hands. "they might fall over laughing. That counts as a win for me, right?"
This time, Kakashi does laugh out loud.