Fic: Scars
Title: Scars
Summary: It’s hard loving an ANBU. Kakairu. Inspired by a quote from the book, Shards of Honor.
Warnings: Worksafe, some gore.
“If you wanted to be happy you could have fallen in love with a happy man, but no, you had to fall for the breath-taking beauty of pain…”
Cordeila, Shards of Honor
Iruka was having trouble falling asleep; too many worries filled his head. Twisting away from the warm body next to him, he sat up. It was a measure of Kakashi’s trust that he did not wake up, hyper-alert, at Iruka’s slight movements. Instead he merely burrowed deeper into the well stirred sheets. Kakashi could always fall asleep, no matter what was on his mind, a practice he developed while in ANBU, where sleep was a rare and precious commodity.
Of course there were also nights when Kakashi woke up screaming, clutching at old scars, reliving old torture. Sometimes he woke up crying, never telling Iruka why. In both cases all Iruka could do was hold him, softly stroke his hands and face and talk to him. He had to keep Kakashi in the present, keep him grounded in reality. This happened about once every two to three weeks, and Iruka would always stay up with Kakashi until he fell asleep again.
However, tonight, Kakashi stayed asleep. The room was full of shifting shadows and the moonlight bathed everything in an unearthly, cool light. Iruka sat in the curve of his body and looked at his sleeping lover.
The sheet was pulled down to Kakashi’s waist, exposing his head and torso. Kakashi always slept on his side, head pillowed in one arm, the other lying loosely in Iruka’s lap. Iruka smiled to himself, Kakashi was so beautiful in the moonlight. His pale skin was luminous and his silver hair gleamed in the dim light. The dark shadows emphasized the angles and planes of his toned body. A sliver of shadow covered most of his face, but Iruka could barely make out the sharp angle of his jaw and the curve of one high cheekbone. However, the moonlight shone brightly on the long scar over his left eye, throwing it into stark relief.
Kakashi had so many scars. The old ones showed even paler than his white skin, almost as pale as his silver hair. Iruka drew his hands a hair-breadth above on that crossed from the edge of the copy-nin’s shoulder to the base of his spine. Kakashi never told Iruka how he got so deadly a wound; Iruka’s imagination supplied the details.
He could see Kakashi running, tired, when an enemy ninja leapt out behind him. Iruka could almost see it in slow motion as the enemy nin unsheathed his katana and swung it in a vicious arc, the keen edge of steel slicing through skin, muscle, nerves, and sliding off bone. There was blood everywhere. Kakashi twisted in agony, but turned he turned around, snarling, to face his enemy.
Iruka blinked and the vision faded from his mind. His eye fell on another scar, one he knew the origin of. It was a raised, rough starburst. Iruka remembered rushing to the hospital when he heard that Kakashi was in it. He found him lying on a bed, eyes glazed with painkillers, and a knife handle protruding from his shoulder. He gave Iruka a slightly dazed, smile, and Iruka forced himself to return it.
The knife wound seemed fairly routine. A med-nin in training was instructed to remove it. The med-nin slowly put a bandage around the knife to soak up the blood and grasped the handle of the knife. His movements were slightly uncertain. Iruka ground his teeth in impatience and anger and waited.
Carefully, the nin pulled at the handle of the knife. Kakashi moaned through his haze of drugs, and the knife stayed in. Iruka ground his teeth harder.
Frowning, the nin seemed to decide it was time for drastic action. Abandoning his previously hesitant air, he quickly molded chakra around his fist. The attending nin saw this and rushed into action.
“No Yamato, don’t do…”
It was too late. Yamato ripped the knife out using every ounce of that unnatural strength.
Kakashi screamed, back arching off the bed. Blood sprayed from the wound, spattering the dumbfounded med-nin with warm droplets. Iruka’s hot impatience was doused with cold fear.
He stared numbly at the knife dangling from the nin’s hand. Its metallic glitter was muted by the blood that coated its entire surface. There were tiny hooks that covered and sprang out of the blade. Swallowing, he looked at Kakashi’s, or what was left of Kakashi’s shoulder, it was a bloody mess of torn flesh.
“You fucking idiot!” shouted the senior med-nin. “You tore right through his auxillary vein.” The junior nin just stood there trembling, horror etched into his features with that hellish knife dangling from his limp grasp. The red drops stood out on his greenish face.
“Well don’t just stand there, help me stop the bleeding!” cried the nin, her hands glowing with charka as she placed them on Kakashi’s shoulder. Suddenly Iruka’s view was blocked by the backs of three med-nins.
A fourth, harried one snapped at Iruka, “Get out of here, shinobi-san, there’s nothing you can do.” Iruka still didn’t move. With a tense sigh, the medic-nin shoved Iruka out the room and slammed the door shut. Iruka stood unmoving for a second then silently ran to the bathroom. He barely made it into a stall before he violently threw up.
Once again, Iruka shook himself from his increasingly agonized reverie. He looked at Kakashi one more time, eyes drawn to the raw, half-healed scar that scored his abdomen. Iruka bit his lip and tried to control his trembling.
With a tremulous sigh, he gently moved Kakashi’s hand from his lap and slid out of bed. Kakashi stirred a bit but remained asleep. Feet quietly padding on wooden floors, Iruka walked to the hallway closet. Opening it, he revealed coats, vests, seemingly innocuous junk. Pushing aside everything, he exposed the bare white wall. Pausing, he took a deep breath to steady both his hands and nerves, and then carefully ran his hands along a razor thin wire, following it until it met the wall. Iruka pressed hard on the two slight indentations on the wall, there was a quiet click and he pulled down the disarmed trap. Iruka paused again and then pushed hard on the exposed wall. A panel swung in, revealing a small space. He reached in and pulled out an ANBU chest protector, arm guards, and finally, a mask. They were clean and polished, the white shone in the moonlight. Iruka sat with the equipment on his lap, glaring at it as if this was its fault.
“He’s supposed to be retired. He was retired. He gave up this life, why did he start again?” Iruka’s thoughts ran in agonized circles. The blank mask in his lap looked up mockingly, the empty eyes giving no answers.
Iruka ran his hands over the chest plate, squinting at the tiny scratches on the smooth surface. Each small blemish represented a brush with death, a turned katana, a blocked kunai.
Once again, Iruka’s mind wandered to a memory; his first memory of Kakashi. Iruka had only been 15, and returning late from a routine C rank mission, a simple escort. As he walked down the deserted streets of Kohona, he saw a flash of white. Iruka got closer and suppressed a gasp. He had just seen an ANBU, and, heart pounding with excitement, Iruka concealed himself in the shadows, trying to get a closer look of the elusive figure.
Iruka had always wanted to see an ANBU up close, they were sleek, deadly, the epitome of a perfect ninja. They had a dangerous air of glamour about them that drew Iruka in.
Iruka got closer to the ANBU, watching the way he walked, a languid glide. He looked otherworldly with his silver white armor glinting in the moonlight and his feet skimming the ground. Iruka’s lips parted, entranced. There was a sudden noise, and Iruka distractedly glanced to over and saw nothing. Looking back, the ANBU was gone. Confused, Iruka looked around when, suddenly, one fist smashed into his stomach, and the other slammed him into a wall. Before Iruka could catch his breath, the cold edge of a kunai was at his throat.
“Who are you and why are you following me?” the ANBU snarled, his masked face a few inches away from Iruka’s.
Iruka was terrified. Still winded from the blow, and mouth dry with fear, Iruka wheezed out, “I’m Umino Iruka, I’m a Chunnin.” The ANBU relaxed fractionally at Iruka’s statement, but Iruka saw one grey-blue eye narrow behind the mask, the other seemed to be covered by something. Iruka noticed that the white armor was actually not clean and pristine, mud and blood that spattered its surface.
Now that Iruka had gotten over his initial terror, he saw that the ANBU was in bad shape. One wound marred a shoulder. There was a bandage wrapped around it, but it was stained brown from old blood, and yellow seepage oozed from its edges. Iruka caught the faint smell of decay. The wound must have been poisoned. Kakashi’s breaths were a bit too shallow, a bit too fast. His silver hair was damp with sweat and one exposed eye was glazed with fever and too many solider pills. This man was at his limit, stretched hyper-alert and over stimulated to the breaking point.
Silence reigned while Kakashi stared at Iruka who squirmed under the intense, almost hysterical gaze.
“Um, since we cleared up that mistake, can I go?” Iruka asked timidly, breaking the silence.
“You haven’t proven anything to me.” Kakashi answered sharply. “You could be an enemy nin who infiltrated the gates and on an assassination mission. Why were you following me?”
“Look,” Iruka stammered, “You’re making a mistake. I’m a leaf-nin. My sensei was Akane. Do you know her? She might have mentioned me.” Iruka prayed to the gods that this ANBU would know his sensei.
Kakashi paused, and then completely relaxed, drawing the kunai back. “Yeah, I remember mentioning she has a chunnin with a scar right across his nose.” Iruka flinched as one gloved finger ran across his cheeks and nose, outlining the scar there. Abruptly, Kakashi turned around and started walking towards the mission office.
“Wait!” Iruka called out, somehow feeling responsible for him. “Shouldn’t you go to the hospital first?”
Kakashi stopped, and with out bothering to turn around and answered, “These wounds aren’t serious. When I go to the hospital before the reporting in, I’m on a stretcher.”
“But…” Why was he doing this? Why was he arguing with a madman?
This time Kakashi turned around to face Iruka. “Why were you following me…” he paused, remembering Iruka’s name, “Iruka?”
Iruka felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. Softly, he answered, “I-I wanted to see an ANBU. You are-are…” Iruka fumbled for the right words, “You’re perfection manifested. Sleek, deadly. Beautiful. Untouchable, a golden standard for all of us to follow.”
Kakashi laughed, if such a bitter sound could be called a laugh. “Don’t deify me Chunnin. I’m a human just like you, only with more blood on my hands.” Lifting his right hand, he showed it to Iruka. It was completely caked to the elbow in rusty, brown blood.
“I am not the god you seek to worship.” With those words, he turned and walked away.
Iruka blinked, pulling himself back into the present. Looking down, he saw a tear on the mask in his lap. Angrily, he wiped it off, also roughly scrubbing at the moisture standing in his eyes.
“What are you doing, Iruka?” Kakashi’s voice was suddenly right behind him. Flinching, Iruka lowered his head, trying to hide his tears and Kakashi’s armor. A long calloused hand gently lifted his chin, and Iruka found himself staring into a pair of mismatched eyes. Kakashi saw the lingering redness in Iruka’s eyes and the ANBU equipment piled in his lap. The silence stretched, Iruka tried to look away, but Kakashi’s grip was firm.
Kakashi was the one to break the silence. “Oh Iruka…” Gracefully, he sat beside the other man and carelessly pushed all the equipment off his lap. It fell with a clatter in the wooden floor. Kakashi gathered Iruka into his lap, strong arms encircling the other man. Gently, Kakashi pressed Iruka’s head to his chest.
“Hear that?” he murmured. Slowly, Iruka nodded, he could hear Kakashi’s slow, steady, heartbeat. “I’m alive Iruka, and I plan on staying alive. I will never leave you.”
“But-” Iruka choked, “You re-joined ANBU.”
“Yes Iruka, I did. But I already survived ten years of that, and I can survive a few more. Kohona is weak, Iruka. Orochimaru’s attack hurt us.”
“I know that. But you gave so much already. And I worry; it hurts so much every time you’re gone. Are you going to come back? Will all I have left is a pair of dog tags and a name carved in stone?”
“I have to go Iruka, it’s my duty.”
“I know,” Iruka sighed, “I know you would do what’s right, but it’s just so damn unfair…” Iruka felt the tears starting behind his eyes. Clenching his jaw, he tried to prevent the tears from falling.
“Stop it,” he thought, “Kakashi doesn’t need anymore trouble.” But Iruka could not stop the tears. They came in halting sobs as he tried to stop their flow.
“Sh, sh, it’s ok. You don’t always have to be the strong one.” Kakashi gently held Iruka, stroking his hands and face, whispering sweet endearments into his ear.
-end-
Summary: It’s hard loving an ANBU. Kakairu. Inspired by a quote from the book, Shards of Honor.
Warnings: Worksafe, some gore.
“If you wanted to be happy you could have fallen in love with a happy man, but no, you had to fall for the breath-taking beauty of pain…”
Cordeila, Shards of Honor
Iruka was having trouble falling asleep; too many worries filled his head. Twisting away from the warm body next to him, he sat up. It was a measure of Kakashi’s trust that he did not wake up, hyper-alert, at Iruka’s slight movements. Instead he merely burrowed deeper into the well stirred sheets. Kakashi could always fall asleep, no matter what was on his mind, a practice he developed while in ANBU, where sleep was a rare and precious commodity.
Of course there were also nights when Kakashi woke up screaming, clutching at old scars, reliving old torture. Sometimes he woke up crying, never telling Iruka why. In both cases all Iruka could do was hold him, softly stroke his hands and face and talk to him. He had to keep Kakashi in the present, keep him grounded in reality. This happened about once every two to three weeks, and Iruka would always stay up with Kakashi until he fell asleep again.
However, tonight, Kakashi stayed asleep. The room was full of shifting shadows and the moonlight bathed everything in an unearthly, cool light. Iruka sat in the curve of his body and looked at his sleeping lover.
The sheet was pulled down to Kakashi’s waist, exposing his head and torso. Kakashi always slept on his side, head pillowed in one arm, the other lying loosely in Iruka’s lap. Iruka smiled to himself, Kakashi was so beautiful in the moonlight. His pale skin was luminous and his silver hair gleamed in the dim light. The dark shadows emphasized the angles and planes of his toned body. A sliver of shadow covered most of his face, but Iruka could barely make out the sharp angle of his jaw and the curve of one high cheekbone. However, the moonlight shone brightly on the long scar over his left eye, throwing it into stark relief.
Kakashi had so many scars. The old ones showed even paler than his white skin, almost as pale as his silver hair. Iruka drew his hands a hair-breadth above on that crossed from the edge of the copy-nin’s shoulder to the base of his spine. Kakashi never told Iruka how he got so deadly a wound; Iruka’s imagination supplied the details.
He could see Kakashi running, tired, when an enemy ninja leapt out behind him. Iruka could almost see it in slow motion as the enemy nin unsheathed his katana and swung it in a vicious arc, the keen edge of steel slicing through skin, muscle, nerves, and sliding off bone. There was blood everywhere. Kakashi twisted in agony, but turned he turned around, snarling, to face his enemy.
Iruka blinked and the vision faded from his mind. His eye fell on another scar, one he knew the origin of. It was a raised, rough starburst. Iruka remembered rushing to the hospital when he heard that Kakashi was in it. He found him lying on a bed, eyes glazed with painkillers, and a knife handle protruding from his shoulder. He gave Iruka a slightly dazed, smile, and Iruka forced himself to return it.
The knife wound seemed fairly routine. A med-nin in training was instructed to remove it. The med-nin slowly put a bandage around the knife to soak up the blood and grasped the handle of the knife. His movements were slightly uncertain. Iruka ground his teeth in impatience and anger and waited.
Carefully, the nin pulled at the handle of the knife. Kakashi moaned through his haze of drugs, and the knife stayed in. Iruka ground his teeth harder.
Frowning, the nin seemed to decide it was time for drastic action. Abandoning his previously hesitant air, he quickly molded chakra around his fist. The attending nin saw this and rushed into action.
“No Yamato, don’t do…”
It was too late. Yamato ripped the knife out using every ounce of that unnatural strength.
Kakashi screamed, back arching off the bed. Blood sprayed from the wound, spattering the dumbfounded med-nin with warm droplets. Iruka’s hot impatience was doused with cold fear.
He stared numbly at the knife dangling from the nin’s hand. Its metallic glitter was muted by the blood that coated its entire surface. There were tiny hooks that covered and sprang out of the blade. Swallowing, he looked at Kakashi’s, or what was left of Kakashi’s shoulder, it was a bloody mess of torn flesh.
“You fucking idiot!” shouted the senior med-nin. “You tore right through his auxillary vein.” The junior nin just stood there trembling, horror etched into his features with that hellish knife dangling from his limp grasp. The red drops stood out on his greenish face.
“Well don’t just stand there, help me stop the bleeding!” cried the nin, her hands glowing with charka as she placed them on Kakashi’s shoulder. Suddenly Iruka’s view was blocked by the backs of three med-nins.
A fourth, harried one snapped at Iruka, “Get out of here, shinobi-san, there’s nothing you can do.” Iruka still didn’t move. With a tense sigh, the medic-nin shoved Iruka out the room and slammed the door shut. Iruka stood unmoving for a second then silently ran to the bathroom. He barely made it into a stall before he violently threw up.
Once again, Iruka shook himself from his increasingly agonized reverie. He looked at Kakashi one more time, eyes drawn to the raw, half-healed scar that scored his abdomen. Iruka bit his lip and tried to control his trembling.
With a tremulous sigh, he gently moved Kakashi’s hand from his lap and slid out of bed. Kakashi stirred a bit but remained asleep. Feet quietly padding on wooden floors, Iruka walked to the hallway closet. Opening it, he revealed coats, vests, seemingly innocuous junk. Pushing aside everything, he exposed the bare white wall. Pausing, he took a deep breath to steady both his hands and nerves, and then carefully ran his hands along a razor thin wire, following it until it met the wall. Iruka pressed hard on the two slight indentations on the wall, there was a quiet click and he pulled down the disarmed trap. Iruka paused again and then pushed hard on the exposed wall. A panel swung in, revealing a small space. He reached in and pulled out an ANBU chest protector, arm guards, and finally, a mask. They were clean and polished, the white shone in the moonlight. Iruka sat with the equipment on his lap, glaring at it as if this was its fault.
“He’s supposed to be retired. He was retired. He gave up this life, why did he start again?” Iruka’s thoughts ran in agonized circles. The blank mask in his lap looked up mockingly, the empty eyes giving no answers.
Iruka ran his hands over the chest plate, squinting at the tiny scratches on the smooth surface. Each small blemish represented a brush with death, a turned katana, a blocked kunai.
Once again, Iruka’s mind wandered to a memory; his first memory of Kakashi. Iruka had only been 15, and returning late from a routine C rank mission, a simple escort. As he walked down the deserted streets of Kohona, he saw a flash of white. Iruka got closer and suppressed a gasp. He had just seen an ANBU, and, heart pounding with excitement, Iruka concealed himself in the shadows, trying to get a closer look of the elusive figure.
Iruka had always wanted to see an ANBU up close, they were sleek, deadly, the epitome of a perfect ninja. They had a dangerous air of glamour about them that drew Iruka in.
Iruka got closer to the ANBU, watching the way he walked, a languid glide. He looked otherworldly with his silver white armor glinting in the moonlight and his feet skimming the ground. Iruka’s lips parted, entranced. There was a sudden noise, and Iruka distractedly glanced to over and saw nothing. Looking back, the ANBU was gone. Confused, Iruka looked around when, suddenly, one fist smashed into his stomach, and the other slammed him into a wall. Before Iruka could catch his breath, the cold edge of a kunai was at his throat.
“Who are you and why are you following me?” the ANBU snarled, his masked face a few inches away from Iruka’s.
Iruka was terrified. Still winded from the blow, and mouth dry with fear, Iruka wheezed out, “I’m Umino Iruka, I’m a Chunnin.” The ANBU relaxed fractionally at Iruka’s statement, but Iruka saw one grey-blue eye narrow behind the mask, the other seemed to be covered by something. Iruka noticed that the white armor was actually not clean and pristine, mud and blood that spattered its surface.
Now that Iruka had gotten over his initial terror, he saw that the ANBU was in bad shape. One wound marred a shoulder. There was a bandage wrapped around it, but it was stained brown from old blood, and yellow seepage oozed from its edges. Iruka caught the faint smell of decay. The wound must have been poisoned. Kakashi’s breaths were a bit too shallow, a bit too fast. His silver hair was damp with sweat and one exposed eye was glazed with fever and too many solider pills. This man was at his limit, stretched hyper-alert and over stimulated to the breaking point.
Silence reigned while Kakashi stared at Iruka who squirmed under the intense, almost hysterical gaze.
“Um, since we cleared up that mistake, can I go?” Iruka asked timidly, breaking the silence.
“You haven’t proven anything to me.” Kakashi answered sharply. “You could be an enemy nin who infiltrated the gates and on an assassination mission. Why were you following me?”
“Look,” Iruka stammered, “You’re making a mistake. I’m a leaf-nin. My sensei was Akane. Do you know her? She might have mentioned me.” Iruka prayed to the gods that this ANBU would know his sensei.
Kakashi paused, and then completely relaxed, drawing the kunai back. “Yeah, I remember mentioning she has a chunnin with a scar right across his nose.” Iruka flinched as one gloved finger ran across his cheeks and nose, outlining the scar there. Abruptly, Kakashi turned around and started walking towards the mission office.
“Wait!” Iruka called out, somehow feeling responsible for him. “Shouldn’t you go to the hospital first?”
Kakashi stopped, and with out bothering to turn around and answered, “These wounds aren’t serious. When I go to the hospital before the reporting in, I’m on a stretcher.”
“But…” Why was he doing this? Why was he arguing with a madman?
This time Kakashi turned around to face Iruka. “Why were you following me…” he paused, remembering Iruka’s name, “Iruka?”
Iruka felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. Softly, he answered, “I-I wanted to see an ANBU. You are-are…” Iruka fumbled for the right words, “You’re perfection manifested. Sleek, deadly. Beautiful. Untouchable, a golden standard for all of us to follow.”
Kakashi laughed, if such a bitter sound could be called a laugh. “Don’t deify me Chunnin. I’m a human just like you, only with more blood on my hands.” Lifting his right hand, he showed it to Iruka. It was completely caked to the elbow in rusty, brown blood.
“I am not the god you seek to worship.” With those words, he turned and walked away.
Iruka blinked, pulling himself back into the present. Looking down, he saw a tear on the mask in his lap. Angrily, he wiped it off, also roughly scrubbing at the moisture standing in his eyes.
“What are you doing, Iruka?” Kakashi’s voice was suddenly right behind him. Flinching, Iruka lowered his head, trying to hide his tears and Kakashi’s armor. A long calloused hand gently lifted his chin, and Iruka found himself staring into a pair of mismatched eyes. Kakashi saw the lingering redness in Iruka’s eyes and the ANBU equipment piled in his lap. The silence stretched, Iruka tried to look away, but Kakashi’s grip was firm.
Kakashi was the one to break the silence. “Oh Iruka…” Gracefully, he sat beside the other man and carelessly pushed all the equipment off his lap. It fell with a clatter in the wooden floor. Kakashi gathered Iruka into his lap, strong arms encircling the other man. Gently, Kakashi pressed Iruka’s head to his chest.
“Hear that?” he murmured. Slowly, Iruka nodded, he could hear Kakashi’s slow, steady, heartbeat. “I’m alive Iruka, and I plan on staying alive. I will never leave you.”
“But-” Iruka choked, “You re-joined ANBU.”
“Yes Iruka, I did. But I already survived ten years of that, and I can survive a few more. Kohona is weak, Iruka. Orochimaru’s attack hurt us.”
“I know that. But you gave so much already. And I worry; it hurts so much every time you’re gone. Are you going to come back? Will all I have left is a pair of dog tags and a name carved in stone?”
“I have to go Iruka, it’s my duty.”
“I know,” Iruka sighed, “I know you would do what’s right, but it’s just so damn unfair…” Iruka felt the tears starting behind his eyes. Clenching his jaw, he tried to prevent the tears from falling.
“Stop it,” he thought, “Kakashi doesn’t need anymore trouble.” But Iruka could not stop the tears. They came in halting sobs as he tried to stop their flow.
“Sh, sh, it’s ok. You don’t always have to be the strong one.” Kakashi gently held Iruka, stroking his hands and face, whispering sweet endearments into his ear.
-end-