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The day had been rather relaxed, much to Iruka’s relief. Naruto had returned from an exhausting mission the night before, which resulted in the normally energetic boy clambering out of bed well past his usual time. Even then, he was still so out of it that Iruka had to swipe a carton of expired milk out of his hands before he started drinking it. The lazy atmosphere had continued throughout the day and culminated into a peaceful afternoon. Iruka was left to his own devices as Naruto ran out to roam around the village with Konohamaru, so the apartment was quiet.
Iruka had just plopped down at the kotatsu to start grading when the wards gave a quick pulse as a warning, and then Kakashi slipped into the small living area through the open window. At Iruka’s surprised glance in his direction, Kakashi froze. He loosened up again when Iruka sent him a welcoming smile, and the jounin swiftly shucked off his gloves and shoes before nudging Naruto’s green frog blanket out of the way and collapsing onto the worn couch.
Iruka watched as Kakashi tugged a book out of the weapons pouch he was still wearing. “How many times have you read that?” he asked once he’d determined that the offensively orange book was actually the real Icha Icha Paradise and not another book in disguise.
“Hm, let’s just say that soon I will have the entire story perfectly memorized without ever having to use my Sharingan.”
Iruka chuckled. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather help me grade these essays instead?” he asked playfully. “They’re sure to provide some entertaining reading material. They’re supposed to be about the proper way to give medical aid in the field.”
Kakashi’s eye dragged over Iruka for a second before he buried himself back in his book. “Sounds exciting,” he drawled sarcastically.
Iruka yanked the ponytail holder from his hair and blew a few strands out of his face as his brown tresses fell around his shoulders. “That’s certainly one way to describe it,” he huffed. The chuunin adjusted his sitting position so that he was leaning back against the base of the couch with Kakashi’s legs only a few scant centimeters away and then grabbed the pen he liked to use for marking errors. With a sigh, he settled in for a few hours of grading, although he did receive some comfort and satisfaction from knowing that Kakashi’s eye would be irrevocably drawn to him as long as he kept his hair down.
After making it through the first few papers, Iruka began regretting his decision to grade because it was doing nothing but ruining the good mood he’d been in. The further Iruka got into the pile of essays in front of him, the worse it got. “I am losing all hope,” he grumbled, only slightly jokingly.
“That bad?”
“It’s certainly worse than I thought it would be. And on such an important subject, too!” Iruka pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache he felt building. “It’s like they didn’t absorb anything we talked about in class!”
He hunkered back down, determined to fight his way through to the last paper. He barely made it through two more before he had to lean back again and shake his head in disappointment. “I mean, just look at these essays! The students are clearly not ready to move on with their studies, and yet if I want to keep them on track to graduate on time then I have to move to the next unit!”
“Maa, Iruka, I wouldn’t worry as much about it if I were you,” Kakashi commented distractedly as he flipped a page in his book. “Practical application is what matters, not the ability to put pen to paper.”
The essay in Iruka’s hands crumpled as he tightened his fingers in an effort to resist the urge to yank his own hair out. “And yet the chuunin exam regularly includes some kind of written test.”
There was a soft sound as Kakashi realized that Iruka was actually taking the conversation seriously and the book he’d been intently reading got set aside. “...You know that’s not–”
“Yes, I know that the written portion is never actually the point,” Iruka bit out, cutting the jounin off. “But it is also true that a shinobi who can solve the problems on their own will pass the exam regardless of the true intention behind the test. It’s also true that having a basic knowledge of physics and anatomy is extremely beneficial for all shinobi. Even the ‘boring’ subjects we teach like geography and history are often very useful on missions, even if most shinobi like to pretend otherwise.” Iruka held the wrinkled paper up and slapped it roughly with the back of his other hand. “At this rate, these kids are going to graduate with below-average knowledge, and they’re likely going to rush off to do missions that they’re completely unprepared for with disastrous consequences!”
A pale hand landed feather-light on his left shoulder and he could see a cloud of silver hair out of the corner of his eye as the older man leaned over. Even though Kakashi was fairly comfortable around Iruka, Iruka knew that the jounin still didn’t take touch lightly, so for him to be reaching out like this meant that he clearly thought Iruka needed some kind of contact to steady himself. And he knew he was working himself into a frenzy, he could feel it happening, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“Iruka,” Kakashi murmured slowly, “you’re the one who told me that you just have to do your best as a teacher and trust in your students. There’s nothing else you can–”
“I want to set a minimum graduation age for the academy,” Iruka blurted. He couldn’t actually believe he’d said it out loud until he felt Kakashi’s fingers tighten subtly, tellingly, around the fabric of his shirt. The clear disapproval radiating off the silver-haired man’s figure almost cowed Iruka enough to make him scrap the train of thought altogether, but then his eyes drifted to the picture of Team 7 that was proudly displayed on the bookshelf across the room and it spurred him on with new determination.
Iruka ran a hand through his hair to gather his thoughts. “Look, I know that you probably won’t agree, but hear me out: In my opinion, raising the graduation age by a few years would be the best solution. You have to admit that when Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke first entered your care they were not prepared for the challenges that would come with being a shinobi. Can you honestly tell me that they shouldn’t have had at least a few more months, if not a whole year, in the academy?”
Kakashi breathed out a sigh close to his ear. “It would have been beneficial, yes, but–”
“Exactly!” Iruka tossed the graded paper away before scooting around so that he was directly facing the Copy Ninja. “But I know that raising the graduation age would never be accepted by our current council even with Lord Third’s support. So instead, I want to set a minimum graduation age at twelve.” Iruka resolutely faced Kakashi’s grey gaze. “I know that early graduation hasn’t been as common since the last war,” he waved his hand vaguely in the jounin’s direction, “but every now and then the clans like to try and push one of their more talented kids through quicker.”
Kakashi’s gaze had grown distant as if he was reliving old memories.
“If we could prevent that altogether, I think it would be better for everyone in the long run.”
Silence descended on the two of them as Iruka sat patiently, waiting for Kakashi to voice his opinion on the subject. The quiet sounds of frogs and crickets chirping outside in the evening air snuck into the room and mixed with Iruka’s heavy breathing. He willed himself to calm down, but that was always a difficult thing to do after getting riled up over a topic he was passionate about.
Finally Kakashi came back to the present with a heavy blink. He deliberately threaded his fingers together in his lap and directed his gaze towards the floor. “I think it is a very admirable goal to have, sensei. But I don’t think it’s realistic.” The jounin’s already pale fingers were turning almost paper white from how hard he was squeezing them.
Iruka barely resisted the urge to reach up, grab Kakashi’s shoulders, and shake some sense into him. “I know it’s not realistic, but it’s still worth pursuing for the sake of Konoha’s kids. I’m fairly certain I can convince Hiruzen.” Iruka internally winced at his getting carried away and accidentally referring to the Hokage in such a familiar manner, but he pushed on past it. “And if I had the backing of someone who was forced to graduate early, who has experienced the hardships it can bring, someone who is well-known and considered one of the best ninjas Konoha has ever produced, then the proposal might be taken more seriously…”
“No.” Kakashi’s voice had turned ice cold.
Iruka nearly fell back. “But–”
“No. I wasn’t forced to graduate early.”
“Kakashi, you graduated insanely early. You were, what? Ten years old?”
“I was seven.”
Iruka sucked in a sharp breath, only realizing his mistake when Kakashi’s keen eye flickered over to him. Iruka cleared his throat, not letting the jounin’s weighty gaze cow him. “...Kakashi, you may not have literally been forced to graduate early, but that is still basically what happened. You were a child , you didn’t have the ability to make decisions of that magnitude on your own. Someone should have stepped up to defend you, and the fact that no one did means the academy, and by extension the village, failed you.”
Kakashi shook his head stubbornly. The corded muscles in his arms were winding tighter. “No, I was a prodigy and my talents were needed. There was nothing wrong with graduating when I was seven.”
Iruka’s heart ached as he watched the older man cling to his denial. “Kakashi…” He moved to fold his legs under him so he could be closer to eye-level with the jounin, but his movement was too sudden for Kakashi’s twitchy state.
The silver-haired man leapt up and performed a perfect backflip over the back of the couch like he was escaping from a threat. He landed with a dazed look in his single visible eye, hand instinctively reaching for the kunai holster still attached to his thigh. Iruka froze. He didn’t even dare to breathe. An on-edge jounin was no laughing matter and more than one person had ended up in the hospital from simply moving the wrong way in front of one.
They stayed in their respective positions, rigid as stone, for several long moments. At last, the glazed look in Kakashi’s eye disappeared. The hand floating next to his kunai holster drifted away from it, and Iruka took that as his cue to finally inhale a much needed gulp of air. Projecting his movements as thoroughly as he could, Iruka adjusted his weight so he could stand up. Before he’d even risen halfway off the ground, the door burst open.
“Iruka-nii, I’m home!” Naruto bellowed.
Both Kakashi and Iruka’s heads swivelled towards the orange-clad figure who was obliviously toeing off his shoes. Iruka had the sudden urge to dart in front of the genin in case Kakashi was still in attack mode, but when his eyes darted back to the other man, he realized that Naruto’s explosive entrance had, somehow, brought Kakashi back to his senses. He was still unnaturally stiff, which was a very odd look on a person who so often exuded nothing but laziness, but he was no longer radiating killing intent.
“You’ll never guess what happened today,” Naruto was saying. He marched further into the room, only noticing Kakashi when he turned to plop onto the couch. “Kakashi-sensei? What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
“He, um, we were just, uh…” Iruka stuttered, not quite sure what to say.
“I was just leaving!” Kakashi gave a good imitation of his usual eye smile. “I’ll see you for training bright and early tomorrow, Naruto.” And then the jounin was gone faster than Iruka could blink. He even somehow managed to scoop up his shoes and gloves as he shunshinned away this time.
“Uh, Iruka-nii, what was that about?”
Iruka scratched at the back of his neck, digging his fingers through his thick hair. “Nothing.”
“Really? Why was Kakashi-sensei here?”
“I, um, wanted his opinion on some papers I needed to grade.” Iruka gestured towards the pile of essays that was still laying on the kotatsu.
“Oh.” Naruto planted his hands on his hips like he was trying to portray a disappointed parent. “You don’t need Kakashi-sensei’s help with grading, so you shouldn’t invite him over for that anymore! His weirdness will rub off on you if you spend too much time around him.”
“Thank you for the advice, Naruto,” Iruka said just a tad sarcastically. “Now, how was your day?”
Naruto’s eyes lit up as he remembered the story he originally wanted to tell. “Oh right, you’ll never guess what happened today, believe it! I was showing off my awesome ninja skills to Konohamaru and his friends because they keep using these really dumb disguises that look like square rocks and they didn’t believe me when I said I could camouflage myself good enough that a jounin couldn’t find me. And then we saw Sakura and started talking to her… and then we started running away from her…”
Iruka narrowed his eyes, tempted to halt the story and demand to know what they’d done to infuriate the girl this time. Before he could though, Naruto hurtled on with his story.
“And then, we ran into these really weird guys. Or, I guess Konohamaru ran into one of them. Anyways, they started threatening us!”
Iruka jumped to attention. “They what?”
“Yeah, this weird guy with face paint picked Konohamaru up by his scarf and said he was going to break him! I was going to run in and rescue him, but then he used his stupid jutsu to cheat and trip me! And then Sasuke just had to jump in and act all cool by saving Konohamaru before I could. That jerk is always meddling in everything! He made Konohamaru call me lame,” Naruto grumbled to himself. “And then this other guy with a giant, dumb gourd showed up and was trying to act all tough, but he obviously isn’t that strong because he didn’t think I was a good rival!” He rolled his eyes. “But they said something about chuunin exams? Am I going to take those this year?”
Iruka let out a breath when the story ended without any dramatic bloodshed happening. At the same time, his eyebrows flew up as he realized that the time for the chuunin exams had rolled around without him noticing. He suppressed a groan, knowing he should be expecting a summons from the Hokage at any moment so the jounin instructors could nominate their students and the chuunin could receive their assignments to help proctor the exams. When the meeting did happen, he would have to remember to suggest tighter security around the village to help keep the visiting genin teams in check.
Iruka jarred himself out of his thoughts as he noticed Naruto’s pleading eyes and finally absorbed the question the boy had eagerly asked. He shook his head, letting relief flow through him. “No, I don’t think you'll be taking the chuunin exams this time.” He still had at least a year before his skills improved enough to warrant it. One more year to keep Naruto in Konoha’s approximation of a childhood.
“Oh man, that sucks!” Naruto crossed his arms angrily. “I want to show that dumb face paint guy that I’m not some little brat! I’m a real ninja!”
Iruka smiled. “Maybe you’ll be able to do that next year. After all, he may not pass this time around.”
Naruto’s face immediately lit up again. “That’s true! Iruka-sensei, you always have the best ideas! There’s definitely no way that guy’s going to pass, believe it.” He laughed triumphantly to himself as he retreated to his room.
Iruka watched him go with a soft sigh. One more year till he’d have to let Naruto take the next step in becoming a full-fledged shinobi…
00000
Just as he suspected, the summons arrived the next day around noon. Iruka’s attention was grabbed on his way to the market by a shrill hawk call and when he looked up, he saw the spotted wings of Sandaime’s messenger hawk circling above him. He nodded to show he’d received the message and the hawk circled once more before flapping off to alert the next shinobi.
Iruka shoved his shopping list into his pocket and jumped up onto the roof so that he could travel at a faster pace. In just a few minutes he was pushing the door open to the Hokage’s personal office. When he entered he was shocked to see that the room was already full. He must’ve been one of the last people to receive the summons.
Iruka immediately began searching for a familiar thatch of silver hair, his eyes gravitating to a small group of jounin hovering at the edge of the room. The person in question was located quickly. No surprise there, considering how much he stood out in a room mostly dominated by brown and black hair. As if he could feel Iruka’s gaze, Kakashi swiveled his body and glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. They made eye contact just long enough for Iruka to understand that that was as much contact as Kakashi wanted to have with him, before the jounin abruptly switched his attention back to Kurenai who was explaining something while pointing to the jutsu formula neatly marked along the wide bandages she always wore.
Iruka had half a mind to march over to the group and insert himself just so he could put an end to Kakashi’s attempt at avoiding him, but he knew it wouldn’t go over well. In fact, it would likely backfire and make Kakashi even more reluctant to be around him. It was a tremendous shame, both because Iruka didn’t know how to get back into Kakashi’s good graces and because what Kurenai was saying about the new barrier seal formula that she was using on her wrappings sounded interesting.
Iruka slouched over to the complete opposite side of the room to give Kakashi the space he so desired. Feeling a bit like he was copying the Copy Nin, Iruka shoved his hands deep into his pockets and leaned gloomily against the wall. That was how Anko found him approximately two minutes later.
“Iruka!” the purple-haired kunoichi called in greeting when she caught sight of him. She skipped over, took one look at the abnormally stubborn frown planted on Iruka’s face, and leaned one shoulder against the wall with her arms crossed. “So, what crawled up your ass and died?”
“Nothing,” Iruka grumbled, knowing that he was doing a bad job of being convincing.
“Uh huh.” Anko nodded sagely before darting forward and thrusting her face next to Iruka’s so that they were cheek to cheek and staring in the same direction. “Who are you looking at?”
Realizing what the tokubetsu jounin was attempting to do, Iruka jerked away from her. It was already too late though. Anko’s eyes had locked onto the target of her friend’s frustration. “Really, Iruka, what did Kakashi do this time? You’re not even in the mission room right now!”
Anko’s voice was far too loud for comfort. Iruka jammed his hands against her mouth to muffle her voice and hissed, “Not so loud!”
Anko raised an unimpressed eyebrow and forced her voice through Iruka’s fingers. “Look, everyone already knows that you have beef with every jounin who’s ever turned in a substandard mission report, and everyone also knows that Hatake Kakashi probably has the record for the worst reports. So, I hate to break this to you, but the fact that you’re upset with him isn’t going to come as a shock to anyone in this room.” She glanced pointedly down at the fingers still covering her mouth.
Iruka took his hands away before Anko decided to lick them in retaliation and brought them up to rub his temples. “I would say you’re right, but for once, me being upset with him has nothing to do with a bad report. In fact, I’m not even the one who’s upset! He’s avoiding me!”
“Damn, Iruka! What’d you do?”
“We were just having a quick conversation and I brought up my idea to instate a minimum graduation age for the academy. He did not take it, or my insinuation that his early graduation was not good for his mental health, well. At all. And now he doesn’t even want to be in the same room as me.”
Anko grimaced. “Yeah, easing him into that idea a bit more slowly would’ve probably been a good call. After all, unlike some of us, he wasn’t forced to realize that being a genius isn’t always a good thing. Especially when it’s being said by certain adults.”
Iruka pressed a hand onto Anko’s shoulder, but she just sniffed roughly and rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“You’re also right,” Iruka stated. “I should’ve approached the subject with more caution. I just always get so passionate and I forget that not everyone sees things the same way that I do.”
It was Anko’s turn to rest a supportive hand on his shoulder. “You mean well, Iruka. Give him a couple of days to calm down and then try talking to him again. It’s not like you two are that close anyway, so even if he does stay mad at you it won’t really change much.”
“Uh…” Iruka’s words got stuck in his throat. He’d never told his friends about the changes in his relationship with Kakashi because he’d been trying to respect the jounin’s private lifestyle. And now, even though the context might be important, it seemed too little, too late to bring it up. Besides, it was never like he and Kakashi had directly addressed their relationship or defined what they were…
“Like I’ve said before, Kakashi’s an odd one anyway, so it might be better if he decides to stay away from you,” Anko continued, completely oblivious to the way Iruka’s thoughts were zipping by faster than lightning. “In the meantime, I know a good way to keep you distracted.”
Prying himself out of his head, Iruka decided to go along with the subject change and asked, “What would that be?”
“Well, I just so happened to be chosen as the proctor for the second exam, and you’ll never guess who I requested as an assistant.” Her wide grin was an answer in itself.
Iruka, who had been hoping for a more insubstantial role in the chuunin exams this year, couldn’t help but grin back. “So much for taking it easy, huh? What will you have me doing, sealing the losing teams into scrolls or something?”
Anko’s eyebrows hitched up. “Close. I was actually thinking—“
A hush dropped over the room as Lord Third stepped forward and cleared his throat. Anko nudged Iruka’s side with her elbow and whispered, “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Now then,” the Hokage began once he was sure he had everyone’s attention. “As you all likely know by now, Konoha will be hosting the chuunin exams in exactly one week.”
A slight murmur drifted through the room as a few people wondered out loud why they weren’t given more of a heads up. Iruka just nodded expectantly. He’d seen too much of the behind-the-scenes process in his time at the Hokage’s side to be startled by the short notice. No matter how efficient the Hokage wanted to be, bureaucracy always held things up.
“Proctors have already been determined and we are currently processing their requests for materials, assistants, and arenas. Any further personnel who will be needed will be notified no later than tomorrow.”
Anko sent a wink in Iruka’s direction.
“Now,” Hiruzen continued, “let’s not delay any further. We will begin taking nominations from the current jounin instructors, starting with those in charge of the three rookie genin squads.”
Iruka watched as Asuma, Kurenai, and Kakashi all stepped forward. As they did, he settled back, wondering why Sandaime was even bothering to call on them. It was much too soon for Naruto and his classmates to be taking part in the chuunin exams. He shook his head in amusement as the three jounin instructors settled into a neat line.
Kakashi was the first to speak. “I, Hatake Kakashi, hereby nominate Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke, and Uzumaki Naruto for the chuunin exams.”
Iruka froze like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. Anko automatically shot a worried glance towards him out of the corner of her eye, but he quickly shot her the field sign for ‘I’m okay’. Kakashi couldn’t be serious. Either that, or Iruka had misheard him.
However, once Asuma and Kurenai had both put forward their students for the exam as well, Iruka had to face the fact that all three jounin were completely serious in their nominations. Dread, as black and heavy as a cloudy night, crept down Iruka’s back. They were going to get their genin killed.
Meanwhile, although Hiruzen looked surprised, he dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Very well, we will–”
“Wait a minute!” Iruka found himself blurting.
Every eye in the room locked onto him, shocked by his outburst, but Iruka didn’t care. There was absolutely no way he could allow Naruto and the other rookies to participate in such a deadly exam at this point in their young lives!
“Yes Iruka?” Hiruzen asked.
Iruka parsed through his thoughts, casting around for a way to voice his concerns without sounding biased. “Lord Hokage, please let me say one thing as the rookie nine’s former teacher at the academy.”
Sandaime gestured for Iruka to continue, his wide sleeve swinging loosely at the movement.
“I recognize that they are all extremely capable, but it’s still too soon! They should gain more experience first!”
“They are rather young considering that it has been some time since any rookie teams have been put forth for the exam,” Hiruzen acknowledged. “However they have all completed far more than the requisite ten missions, so they do meet the qualifications. If their jounin instructors believe they are ready then I am inclined to agree with them.”
“But–”
“I became a chuunin when I was four years younger than Naruto is now.” Kakashi’s cold voice cut through Iruka’s protest like a hot knife through butter. His arched eyebrow made the statement seem more targeted, personal even.
Iruka ground his teeth together hard enough that his jaw ached. He wasn’t expecting Kakashi to get involved, but now that he had Iruka could feel his temper flaring up. “Naruto is different from you! Is it your intent to crush him?” Distantly he felt Anko rest a steadying hand on his arm, but he would not be deterred. Naruto was just a child; he wasn’t ready!
A painful possibility flashed through Iruka’s mind. Was Kakashi doing this just to get back at him for saying that becoming a shinobi at a young age was a bad thing? Iruka had to bite his lip to stop himself from directly asking the question out loud. Everyone in that room was already witnessing a very unprofessional argument between them; they didn’t need to also know the wounds that had been privately opened the previous day. Besides, he would rather not believe that Kakashi was capable of that kind of cruelty and letting that question have a life outside of his brain was one step too far in the direction of that unwanted belief.
Kakashi had turned so he was facing Iruka head on. His relaxed posture betrayed absolutely nothing, but Iruka had become fairly good at reading the jounin in the past year. Kakashi’s rarely seen anger was also sparking. “Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura do nothing but complain about missions, and their teamwork is still abysmal. This could be a good way to teach them a lesson.” He paused, as if in consideration, and then added impassively, “Of course, watching them be crushed would be interesting, too.”
Something inside Iruka snapped. His vision turned red and blurry. “What did you say?” he snarled. Iruka was livid, angry to the point where he no longer cared if he offended anyone; he was going to strangle that blasé asshole. The only thing keeping him from charging forward and actively trying to kill the man was Anko’s death grip on his arm.
“That was a joke,” Kakashi stated monotonously. He waved his hand in the air like he was shooing away all of Iruka’s objections. “But jokes aside, I understand what you’re saying. However–”
Kurenai suddenly stepped forward, a look of alarm on her face. “Kakashi, stop!”
Kakashi didn’t even acknowledge her. His razor sharp attention was focused solely on Iruka. “Stay out of this, Iruka-sensei! They’re not your students anymore, and they’re certainly not children. They’re my subordinates!”
With a growl that would have been more at home in the throat of a tiger, Iruka stalked forward, dragging Anko with him. Kakashi’s right hand immediately slipped into his weapon pouch as he smoothly crouched into an easily defendable position. Kurenai thrust her arm in front of Kakashi, whether to protect him or block him from attacking, Iruka wasn’t sure, and seeing how serious the situation was becoming, Asuma jumped in between the two ninjas and spread his arms out like a wall. Iruka’s fingers had just reached the pocket that he stored his barrier seals in when Hiruzen’s voice bellowed through the room.
“Enough! This has gotten out of hand.” Sandaime’s furious glare tracked between Iruka and Kakashi, making them both freeze on the spot. “Both of you, stand down before I’m forced to have the ANBU remove you from the room. Now,” he closed his eyes as if he were trying to block out the disgraceful scene he’d just witnessed, “Iruka, I do understand your point. Therefore I have decided to conduct a special preliminary exam for the nine rookie genin.”
The rest of the meeting passed in a blur for Iruka. He paid attention for long enough to hear that he would be the one to assess the rookies, and after that he let his mind drift so that the only thing he was conscious of was Anko still grasping his bicep hard enough to cut off his circulation. He was so mired in shame, embarrassment, and leftover anger that he didn’t even notice when the meeting came to an end. He was only forced back to reality when Anko roughly jabbed his cheek.
“Iruka, seriously, I know you have a quick temper, but to go at it with Kakashi in front of basically every ninja in Konoha and the Hokage? That’s extreme even for you!” When Iruka didn’t respond, she frowned sharply. “Do I need to beat Kakashi up? Will that make it better?”
Knowing that she absolutely would if he didn’t stop her, Iruka shook his head quickly. “No, please don’t.”
“Hm, if you’re sure then…” She glanced to the side where Ibiki, Hayate, and Genma were gathering around the Hokage. “I have to meet with Sandaime and the other proctors now. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Let me know if you change your mind about letting me beat that asshole up.”
Iruka squirmed, still feeling the need to correct Anko about Kakashi’s assholeness. It was making him think though… Why hadn’t he or Kakashi tried to put a name to what they were? If he tried to answer that question from his point of view, he would have to say that he was just happy that Kakashi returned his feelings at all. He hadn’t wanted any more than that. He also didn’t want to make Kakashi uncomfortable by making their new relationship public when he knew that the jounin preferred to stick to the shadows as much as possible. But what were Kakashi’s reasons for not trying to clarify their blooming relationship? What were his true intentions?
Iruka frowned, unwilling to sink too deep into his thoughts while he was still in a room filled with witnesses to his biggest tantrum ever. He was about to make a hasty exit, but then Asuma sidled up next to him and threw a heavy arm over his shoulders. “You are coming with me,” Asuma stated, already yanking the chuunin towards the door.
Once they were outside the building, Iruka expected Asuma to let him go, but instead his pseudo older brother kept him in a tight hold as they walked down the street. “I’m not a child; I can walk on my own,” Iruka grumbled.
“After that display in the Hokage’s office I think classifying you as a child would be generous,” Asuma commented with a misleadingly light tone. “I’ve seen kids have more civilized arguments.”
The jounin dipped into a small dango shop and forcibly sat Iruka down at one of the tables furthest from the street. “I’m going to order some food. You’re going to sit there. If I come back and you aren’t here, I’m going to hunt you down and you will wish you hadn’t moved.” With that pleasant threat in the air, Asuma walked up to the counter, leaving Iruka alone with his thoughts, which was not a good idea.
The more his thoughts swirled around his brain, the louder they got until they were practically screaming at him. He knew he was probably overthinking everything; it wasn’t as if Kakashi ever seemed like he was truly going out of his way to keep his interactions with Iruka a secret. However, he was an elite jounin, as well as a former Black Ops member, so if anyone was capable of hiding their intentions in plain view it would be Kakashi. The doubts multiplied until the last voice Iruka ever wanted to hear was suddenly echoing in his head: Mizuki.
“There you go being weak again,” Mizuki hissed in his ear. “You were always too softhearted.”
Iruka’s fingers dug into his hair, pulling strands free from the ponytail and letting them fall into his face. He was weak, a terrible excuse for a shinobi. No wonder Kakashi didn’t want anyone to know about them. Iruka stared down at the table in front of him as tears built up in his eyes and turned the wood grain into a wavy pattern. He willed the tears back, but as if to prove how weak and pathetic he was, they began pouring down his face and dripping off the tip of his nose. A plate of dango was suddenly set in front of him and he watched numbly as the next tear plopped directly onto one of the dumplings.
“Iruka?” Asuma’s voice was uncertain, which wasn’t a surprise. He meant well, but he had never been great when it came to strong emotions.
Iruka sniffed and swiped his hands across his cheeks to dry them. “I’m fine,” he said, voice barely wavering.
“If it wasn’t so early in the day I’d take you to a bar. You look like you could use a good, strong drink,” Asuma observed. He held a napkin out to Iruka, who took it and used it to dry his eyes. “Now,” the jounin started once his adoptive brother had calmed down, “do you want to tell me what that scene was about?”
Iruka shifted in his seat. He opened his mouth to give Asuma the same explanation he’d given to Anko about why Kakashi was avoiding him, but instead what he found himself saying was, “Has Kakashi-san ever mentioned me?”
“Mentioned you how? When?”
“Just in general.” At Asuma’s continued look of confusion, Iruka slumped forward against the table. “It’s just that, we’ve gotten closer over the past year and I thought it was a mutual thing, but I’m starting to wonder if he was just humoring me or having fun at my expense.”
Asuma’s eyebrows drew in together. “You got… closer ?”
Iruka waited a moment, but when it was clear Asuma wasn’t going to make the inference on his own he sighed wearily. “You jounin are all useless with emotions,” he grumbled, trying to hide the embarrassment that was quickly creeping up on him. “We got closer as in we— I kissed him a few weeks ago.”
Asuma’s eyes went as big as dinner plates. “Oh!” He paused for a moment. “You know you can’t use any kind of code when you’re talking about stuff like that with me.”
Iruka couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his face and distracted him from his own problem for a second. “Kurenai-san has her work cut out for her.”
Asuma sputtered as his cheeks flushed a red that was bright enough to match the accessories Kurenai preferred. “Hey now, we’re supposed to be talking about you here!” The jounin pointed firmly at Iruka. “If you two have been getting closer, then what the hell was that argument?”
“Like I said, I’m starting to think Kakashi-san was just having fun teasing me. It’s not like either of us ever officially asked the other out or— or called what we were doing a relationship.”
“Kakashi is a very private person, as I’m sure you know. I can count on one hand the number of times he’s given us any kind of personal information. I have no doubt that he would have the same warped level of communication when it comes to romantic matters,” Asuma noted as he inspected the dango on his plate. After a moment, he selected one and took a bite. He chewed for a bit and then added, “And in all fairness, you’re just as at fault in this as he is.”
Iruka yanked at his hair again. “I know, I know! I’m overreacting, but I don’t think it even matters at this point.”
“Why would it not–”
“Because I offended him when I brought up my academy graduation age idea, which he also vehemently disagreed with. He doesn’t see kids who are Naruto’s age the same way that I do, obviously.” Iruka’s lip curled back in a small sneer. “And after that huge disagreement in the meeting just now, I don’t see how we could possibly work things out!”
“Iruka–”
“And I don’t know if we should. What does he even see in me?” Iruka threw his hands up. “He’s Sharingan Kakashi, one of the most powerful shinobi that Konoha has ever seen! And I’m just… me. A shinobi at his level being attracted to a chuunin like me is laughable.”
Asuma swiped a hand down his face, stopping when he reached his beard and using the movement to prop his chin in his hand. “Iruka, you are an amazing shinobi in your own right. I can’t tell you for certain what Kakashi sees in you, I can only say that if he doesn’t see something worth fighting for, then he’s the one at fault.”
“Thanks Asuma,” Iruka murmured. The doubts in the back of his mind refused to be quashed though.
“Now, I know that I’m not someone who should be offering relationship advice, but if there is something between you that has potential, then fixing your relationship is not out of the question.”
Iruka brushed back some of his loose hairs and quirked a brow at his brother figure. He almost asked how there could be potential between such an elite ninja and a useless one, but instead he asked, “Even after that fight?”
“Every couple fights,” Asuma replied with a shrug.
“Does every couple blow up in front of all their colleagues and the leader of their village?”
Asuma scratched at his beard. “Maybe not to that extent, but you always were a go big or go home type.” He took another bite of his dango and chewed thoughtfully. “If things don’t work out, should I try to beat Kakashi up for you?” He smirked and gestured with the empty stick in his hand. “I might be able to get a few good hits in before he incapacitates me.”
Iruka rolled his eyes in exasperation. “What is it with all my friends offering to beat Kakashi up for me? I am perfectly capable of defending my own honor.”
“But see, if you attacked him, either you would kill him or you would die trying. If one of your friends does it for you, there’s a chance everyone makes it out alive, just a little worse for wear.” Asuma slapped the table. “Alright, I have places to be— not Kurenai’s!” he quickly added when Iruka shot him a meaningful look.
“Hm, tell her the new jutsu formula she’s using on her bandages looks interesting,” Iruka replied.
Asuma didn’t even acknowledge him, instead pointing the empty dango stick at Iruka again. “And you have a preliminary exam to conduct.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Iruka groaned. “At least we’ll be able to make sure Naruto and his classmates are ready for the chuunin exams.”
Asuma was already in the process of standing up, and he straightened quickly. “Iruka, you know that none of us would ever nominate our students if we didn’t think they could handle it, right?”
Iruka pressed his lips together. “I know that, I do. But they’re just so young!”
Asuma reached out to squeeze the chuunin’s shoulder before turning to walk out of the dango shop. Before he could get far though, Iruka called after him, “Asuma! Thank you, really. I needed this talk.”
Asuma sent him a smile over his shoulder. “That’s what brothers are for.”
00000
Once night rolled around and Iruka had given the results of the preliminary exam to the Hokage, he sought out Kakashi. It was something he felt he had to do to try and settle things on a good note. He found the elusive man resting on a rooftop in the middle of the village, seemingly watching the civilian nightlife. Iruka landed heavily a few steps behind the jounin, not wanting to sneak up on him.
Kakashi’s posture immediately straightened. “How’d it go?”
“All nine of the rookies passed. As you said, their skills have definitely improved,” Iruka said without preamble. “I suppose I’m just too close to the matter to recognize the truth.”
“Maa, sensei, you are right to be concerned.” Iruka’s gaze darted up at Kakashi’s admission. “The chuunin exam will certainly be a challenge for them. I don’t think it’s likely that any of them will pass, but it will be a good experience. It might even be what pushes them to finally take things to the next level.”
“Either way, I was in the wrong once again. That’s twice now.” Iruka had meant for it to be humorous, but it fell flat.
Silence reigned for long enough that Iruka almost decided to turn tail and flee, but then Kakashi spoke up, voice unusually soft. “Asuma told me that you don’t feel like you’re worthy of being with me,” Kakashi stated out of nowhere. He turned his body so that he could see Iruka, although the chuunin wished he would turn back around so Kakashi wouldn’t be able to see the embarrassment that was pulsing under his skin.
Kakashi continued staring at him. “You of all people should know that’s ridiculous.”
“Me of all people?” Iruka blurted, almost sliding down the roof in surprise.
Kakashi nodded, a steely glint shining out of his eye. “Yes, you are so…” He waved his hand through the air searching for a fitting descriptor. “You’re so good. I am not.”
“You don’t have to say something like that on my account,” Iruka muttered.
“I’m not; it’s the truth.”
Iruka shook his head in disbelief. He gazed softly at the seated man, refusing to meet his eye, and instead just took in his form. The clouds above them were scarce enough that moonlight was streaming down on them. The silvery light made Kakashi’s pale skin and hair glow while his mask looked darker in contrast. Iruka could feel his heart yearning. It made him want to walk forward, crouch down, and touch the man’s hair to see if it was as soft as the moonlight was making it look.
His doubts won out in the end though, keeping him frozen. Mizuki’s slimy voice trailed through his mind once more, “There you go being weak again.” The superficial cover Iruka put over that feeling of worthlessness kept getting ripped up like it was made of nothing more than paper.
Kakashi deserved better than him.
“I think we should–”
“I don’t know if–”
They both spoke at the same time. Iruka raised a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his head and then gestured for Kakashi to speak first.
“I think we should put a stop to this thing between us.”
Iruka forced himself not to flinch at the completely monotone words. “Yes, I agree that it would be for the best,” he answered as emotionlessly as possible.
Kakashi nodded like everything was settled, and in a way, Iruka guessed that it was. The silver-haired man gave him one last lingering look before bracing his feet to stand up.
Iruka quickly held up his hand. “Please, don’t get up Kakashi-san. I’ll go; I need to get home to Naruto.” He darted over to the edge of the roof, trying not to feel like he was running away. “Goodbye, Kakashi-san. I wish you well,” he murmured, voice barely more than a breath. He was still certain that the jounin heard him, though. He jumped down to the road without waiting to see if there would be a response.
Tears threatened to overflow onto his cheeks, but Iruka decided that he’d already cried enough for one day. To distract himself from the onslaught of emotions, he concentrated on figuring out what he would make for dinner with the slim ingredient selection currently in his kitchen. He sprinted home so quickly that his feet barely touched the ground, and when he burst through the door, Naruto jumped so high off the couch he nearly hit the ceiling.
“Iruka-nii, are you okay?” Naruto asked with a tinge of worry threaded through his voice. His wide, surprisingly observant eyes stared as Iruka roughly shucked his vest off and hung it up, nearly tearing the hook off the wall.
“I’m fine, Naruto. It’s just been a long day.” Iruka tried to smile pleasantly, but his jaw was so tight that he was certain it looked more threatening than happy.
“...Right,” Naruto said, clearly not convinced.
Iruka kicked his shoes into the wall and stomped into the kitchen. “How about you tell me how your day was while I make dinner?”
Naruto trotted after him, still looking a bit on the hesitant side. “This isn’t going to be like the time Anko-nee accidentally set your gradebook on fire and you broke the stove because you were so mad, is it?”
Iruka caught himself about to slam a pot onto the stove’s eye and forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath. “No, Naruto, of course not.” He set the pot down gently. “Now, did anything fun happen today? You were out playing with Konohamaru again, right?”
“We weren’t playing, we were training!” Naruto gasped suddenly, nearly sucking all the air out of the small kitchen. “Oh, but you won’t believe what happened! Okay, so we were out at the training fields, training like I said, and then this guy…”
Iruka let the story wash over him. This was all he needed. A kitchen to make warm meals in. Naruto. A few good friends. A job that he enjoyed. That was all he needed. He ignored the fact that, while his heart still felt full, it also felt heavier than it had in over a year. And even if he did acknowledge it, cutting ties with a certain someone was for the best. They were both just a little too broken at the moment, and Kakashi deserved better than what Iruka could give him. He deserved someone who could stand next to him as his equal.
No, Iruka had everything he needed. This was for the best.