Tsunade meets Kakashi. Again.
Trash securely in hand, Kakashi slipped out of his apartment, the door shutting with the softest click he could manage. Ayame was sleeping for the first time in what seemed like years, and waking her was the last thing on his mind.
Empty tequila bottles clinked together as he shuffled down the stairs in his isotoner shoes, his arrival announced a full three minutes before he actually landed on the first floor. He was actually fit to go outside, or as fit as he would ever be. His ever-present pink robe was actually belted together, hiding a concave stomach and a pale, thin chest. Apparently, drinking light beers really did stop him from getting a gut.
Tsunade walked at a brisk clip down the sidewalk, thankful her job wasn't far from the apartment. She held her keys tightly in one hand, little can of mace ready, just in case she should need it.
Tonight's shift had been okay. Only one customer had been thrown out of the bar, but he'd really deserved it. She took a drag from the lit cigarette she held, leaving a serpentine trail of smoke behind her and snuffing the thing as she got close to the building.
He opened the door, a blast of fresh air filling his nostrils and dousing his face. It'd been awhile since he'd breathed or exhaled anything other than pure cigarette smoke. It was overwhelming, really, even with the high pollution content. He coughed.
A woman approached--or rather, a pair of breasts approached. She might as well have been tits on legs because with the poor lighting, that was the only part of her he could really clearly see. He gazed upon them with sheer wonder. Not because they were particularly inviting to him as he'd always been more of a legs man, but because he simply couldn't fathom how anyone could have breasts like that and not topple onto her face.
At the moment, all Tsunade wanted to do was to get home and sit down. She saw the man in the pink robe but he didn't really register in her mind. She was tired and footsore, which are common side effects of working in a bar.
As she walked up the steps, she brushed past the man with a perfunctory 'excuse me,' heading to her apartment.
He recognized that excuse me. The memory was fuzzy in his head and the tone had been different, more chastising ("You say excuse me when you burp, Kakashi!"), but it was horribly familiar. He opened the door, watching the woman's ascending ass.
"Tsunade?"
She turned around quickly at the sound of her name, looking down the stone stairs to the man in the pink robe. She didn't recognize him, didn't think she'd ever seen him in her bar... But he looked vaguely familiar. "Can I help you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
How long had it been? Over twenty years, he knew that. Suddenly, the knowledge that he'd been alive for three decades both stunned and depressed him. He quirked his lips into a half-smile.
"Tsunade. You used to babysit me. I'm Kakashi Hatake."
The last he'd heard of her, before his father killed himself and before his mother decided that Guam would be better retirement spot than the mainland, Tsunade had gone into medicine and was doing quite well.
"Oh my God." Tsunade walked back down the steps to get a better look at him. "Wow, Kakashi. You've... you're so tall!" She could hardly believe it. She'd taken care of this kid back when he thought girls still had cooties, and here he was now. He looked terrible, honestly.
"How've you been?" she inquired.
"Great." He answered cheerfully, though the opposite was obviously true. In all actuality, he'd been much worse in the past. This was downright healthy compared to his hey-day.
"Yourself?"
He carefully set down the bag, nudging it aside with his foot. A shard of glass broke through the thin plastic and caught the light.
"I'm doing okay," she said, still surprised to see this man. "Are you hungry? Would you like to come inside?"
He glanced down at the trash, then at the stairs.
"Yeah. I could eat." Understatement of the year. Ayame had tried to cook, ran off to do a line, and succeeded in melting the pan to the only working stove by some miracle. As a result, he'd been living off microwaved popcorn.
"I'm in number four. Come on in when you finish with the trash, okay?" Old habits die hard, really. Apparently, one never stops being a doctor, and seeing Kakashi so tired-looking and thin as a rail had her worried. It looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks.
--Three years One hour later--
Kakashi knocked on the door to number four roughly an hour or so later, the trash having been properly disposed of. He'd even found time to put on a shirt. And then he smoked a cigarette, rolled a joint for later, called Asuma, and generally got lost on the road of life.
Tsunade answered the door and ushered Kakashi inside. She'd put some food in the oven, wondering exactly how long it'd been since Kakashi had eaten last. "Come on in, have a seat."
He did so, privately impressed with the cleanliness of the apartment. His own home wasn't exactly a sty, but they didn't have much to throw around anyway. He sat himself on the couch, hands in his pockets, back curved into a slouch that would make chiropractors cry.
"What do you do now?" He asked offhandedly. It had been awhile since he last engaged in small talk.
"I'm a bar tender," she said, indicating her own personal stash lined up on the counter against the wall. "It's a long sob story, not really worth listening to. The job pays okay, though it's not as challenging as being a doctor, but oh well."
Taking the pre-cooked lasagna out of the oven and setting on the stove, Tsunade turned back to Kakashi as she pulled some plates out of the cupboard. "How about you?"
He rubbed his stomach, trying to ease out the hunger pains he had never seemed to notice until now. His mind was more active than it had been in days, picking out flattering synonyms for "unemployed". He settled with saying, "I'm a musician."
That sounded about right, she thought. "A musician? What do you play?" She served a large helping of the lasagna on a plate and gave it to Kakashi. "Would you like something to drink?"
He took the plate and began picking at the crusty top layer. "Yeah. Jack Daniels, if you have it. And I play the guitar and sing. Sort of going through a writer's block right now, though."
Kakashi took an earnest forkful of his lasgna and chewed it thoughtfully. He didn't highlight his previous fame, though at one point in the past he might've been dismayed that she was ignorant to his former fame. Those were times best forgotten, really.
Tsunade obligingly poured a glass (though a small one) of Jack for Kakashi. Didn't want to overdo it, she figured Jack was probably one of his good friends already. "Here you go," she said, passing it to him. "You'll have to play for me sometime. Writer's block happens, but I'm sure you'll get over it."
He took a gulp of the Jack, sliding it around his mouth before swallowing it down. It had been awhile since he'd had anything of any quality. He was miraculously half-way through his lasagna. No food on his face, no speaking with a full mouth. It was just instinct to eat fast.
"Sure. What bar do you work at? Maybe I'll drop by."
"It's called 'Sammy T's,' it's kind of a hangout place. There's a stage and bands come and play every night." Not that any of the bands were that great. Most of them were 80's cover bands, actually. Young kids who didn't really remember the 80's, since they were barely legal.
He tossed his shoulders in a shrug, displaying the sort of half-hearted grace present in all his slow, lazy motions. The bar didn't seem like his sort of scene. Young hopefuls made him sick in the same way that ne'er-do-wells made him comfortable.
"I'd come visit if I could get a few drinks on the house."
His plate was clean. Somehow, every speck of food had been picked off.
"I could arrange that. On the house for an old friend. Here." She took Kakashi's plate back and put another helping of lasagna on it, handing it back to him. "Put some meat on those bones."
He accepted the plate and chuckled. She was like an Italian mother. Kakashi could probably be massively obese and still need "some meat" on his bones, according to her. He picked up his fork and started on the second helping. A thought came to mind.
"Would you mind packing some food for my roommate?"
Tsunade quirked an eyebrow at the mention of the roommate, but nodded. She figured that with Kakashi as tiny as he was, whoever he was living with was probably just as wraith-thin as him. "No problem. Just take the rest of the lasagna with you, I'll wrap it up. One on the house, for an old friend."
She winked before moving to wrap the still-warm lasagna with aluminum foil. "Tell me about this roomie of yours."
He wasn't quite sure what the wink meant. Or at least, he pretended he wasn't sure. Kakashi shoved the last piece of the lasagna into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully and slowly for the next two minutes.
"She's an...old friend. She's nice," was all he could find to say about her.
"Must be nice to have a friend around. I've lost contact with most of the people I used to know." She found a plastic bag in one of the drawers and put the lasagna in it. "Sometimes I feel too old to make new friends. 'Can't teach an old dog new tricks' and whatnot."
"You don't look old." He commented, voice so deadpan that all the flattery had been pulled from it. "Even if you don't think you can't make friends, there are people around here who'll force you into talking to them."
He stood and walked to the kitchen, bringing the dish with him and rinsing it.
"I've aged well, I guess. And I've noticed that about the people here. Kids these days." She shook her head, though her tone had a hint of fondness in it. "Just leave the plate in the sink and I'll wash it in the morning."
He nodded and set the plate down. His joint was ready and waiting at home and he felt awkward staying here any longer. The small talk had run dry.
"I've got a few things to do back at the apartment. When's the next time you're working?"
"Every day, pretty much. They give me a few nights off every once in a while." She offered up what was left of the lasagna. "For your roommate."
He took the bag and gave Tsunade an awkward pat on the back before walking around the couch to down the rest of his Jack. Waste not, want not, etc.
"Thanks. I'll come see you sometime."
He meant it. He waved goodbye with a two-fingered salute and left as inauspiciously as he came.
Empty tequila bottles clinked together as he shuffled down the stairs in his isotoner shoes, his arrival announced a full three minutes before he actually landed on the first floor. He was actually fit to go outside, or as fit as he would ever be. His ever-present pink robe was actually belted together, hiding a concave stomach and a pale, thin chest. Apparently, drinking light beers really did stop him from getting a gut.
Tsunade walked at a brisk clip down the sidewalk, thankful her job wasn't far from the apartment. She held her keys tightly in one hand, little can of mace ready, just in case she should need it.
Tonight's shift had been okay. Only one customer had been thrown out of the bar, but he'd really deserved it. She took a drag from the lit cigarette she held, leaving a serpentine trail of smoke behind her and snuffing the thing as she got close to the building.
He opened the door, a blast of fresh air filling his nostrils and dousing his face. It'd been awhile since he'd breathed or exhaled anything other than pure cigarette smoke. It was overwhelming, really, even with the high pollution content. He coughed.
A woman approached--or rather, a pair of breasts approached. She might as well have been tits on legs because with the poor lighting, that was the only part of her he could really clearly see. He gazed upon them with sheer wonder. Not because they were particularly inviting to him as he'd always been more of a legs man, but because he simply couldn't fathom how anyone could have breasts like that and not topple onto her face.
At the moment, all Tsunade wanted to do was to get home and sit down. She saw the man in the pink robe but he didn't really register in her mind. She was tired and footsore, which are common side effects of working in a bar.
As she walked up the steps, she brushed past the man with a perfunctory 'excuse me,' heading to her apartment.
He recognized that excuse me. The memory was fuzzy in his head and the tone had been different, more chastising ("You say excuse me when you burp, Kakashi!"), but it was horribly familiar. He opened the door, watching the woman's ascending ass.
"Tsunade?"
She turned around quickly at the sound of her name, looking down the stone stairs to the man in the pink robe. She didn't recognize him, didn't think she'd ever seen him in her bar... But he looked vaguely familiar. "Can I help you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
How long had it been? Over twenty years, he knew that. Suddenly, the knowledge that he'd been alive for three decades both stunned and depressed him. He quirked his lips into a half-smile.
"Tsunade. You used to babysit me. I'm Kakashi Hatake."
The last he'd heard of her, before his father killed himself and before his mother decided that Guam would be better retirement spot than the mainland, Tsunade had gone into medicine and was doing quite well.
"Oh my God." Tsunade walked back down the steps to get a better look at him. "Wow, Kakashi. You've... you're so tall!" She could hardly believe it. She'd taken care of this kid back when he thought girls still had cooties, and here he was now. He looked terrible, honestly.
"How've you been?" she inquired.
"Great." He answered cheerfully, though the opposite was obviously true. In all actuality, he'd been much worse in the past. This was downright healthy compared to his hey-day.
"Yourself?"
He carefully set down the bag, nudging it aside with his foot. A shard of glass broke through the thin plastic and caught the light.
"I'm doing okay," she said, still surprised to see this man. "Are you hungry? Would you like to come inside?"
He glanced down at the trash, then at the stairs.
"Yeah. I could eat." Understatement of the year. Ayame had tried to cook, ran off to do a line, and succeeded in melting the pan to the only working stove by some miracle. As a result, he'd been living off microwaved popcorn.
"I'm in number four. Come on in when you finish with the trash, okay?" Old habits die hard, really. Apparently, one never stops being a doctor, and seeing Kakashi so tired-looking and thin as a rail had her worried. It looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks.
--Three years One hour later--
Kakashi knocked on the door to number four roughly an hour or so later, the trash having been properly disposed of. He'd even found time to put on a shirt. And then he smoked a cigarette, rolled a joint for later, called Asuma, and generally got lost on the road of life.
Tsunade answered the door and ushered Kakashi inside. She'd put some food in the oven, wondering exactly how long it'd been since Kakashi had eaten last. "Come on in, have a seat."
He did so, privately impressed with the cleanliness of the apartment. His own home wasn't exactly a sty, but they didn't have much to throw around anyway. He sat himself on the couch, hands in his pockets, back curved into a slouch that would make chiropractors cry.
"What do you do now?" He asked offhandedly. It had been awhile since he last engaged in small talk.
"I'm a bar tender," she said, indicating her own personal stash lined up on the counter against the wall. "It's a long sob story, not really worth listening to. The job pays okay, though it's not as challenging as being a doctor, but oh well."
Taking the pre-cooked lasagna out of the oven and setting on the stove, Tsunade turned back to Kakashi as she pulled some plates out of the cupboard. "How about you?"
He rubbed his stomach, trying to ease out the hunger pains he had never seemed to notice until now. His mind was more active than it had been in days, picking out flattering synonyms for "unemployed". He settled with saying, "I'm a musician."
That sounded about right, she thought. "A musician? What do you play?" She served a large helping of the lasagna on a plate and gave it to Kakashi. "Would you like something to drink?"
He took the plate and began picking at the crusty top layer. "Yeah. Jack Daniels, if you have it. And I play the guitar and sing. Sort of going through a writer's block right now, though."
Kakashi took an earnest forkful of his lasgna and chewed it thoughtfully. He didn't highlight his previous fame, though at one point in the past he might've been dismayed that she was ignorant to his former fame. Those were times best forgotten, really.
Tsunade obligingly poured a glass (though a small one) of Jack for Kakashi. Didn't want to overdo it, she figured Jack was probably one of his good friends already. "Here you go," she said, passing it to him. "You'll have to play for me sometime. Writer's block happens, but I'm sure you'll get over it."
He took a gulp of the Jack, sliding it around his mouth before swallowing it down. It had been awhile since he'd had anything of any quality. He was miraculously half-way through his lasagna. No food on his face, no speaking with a full mouth. It was just instinct to eat fast.
"Sure. What bar do you work at? Maybe I'll drop by."
"It's called 'Sammy T's,' it's kind of a hangout place. There's a stage and bands come and play every night." Not that any of the bands were that great. Most of them were 80's cover bands, actually. Young kids who didn't really remember the 80's, since they were barely legal.
He tossed his shoulders in a shrug, displaying the sort of half-hearted grace present in all his slow, lazy motions. The bar didn't seem like his sort of scene. Young hopefuls made him sick in the same way that ne'er-do-wells made him comfortable.
"I'd come visit if I could get a few drinks on the house."
His plate was clean. Somehow, every speck of food had been picked off.
"I could arrange that. On the house for an old friend. Here." She took Kakashi's plate back and put another helping of lasagna on it, handing it back to him. "Put some meat on those bones."
He accepted the plate and chuckled. She was like an Italian mother. Kakashi could probably be massively obese and still need "some meat" on his bones, according to her. He picked up his fork and started on the second helping. A thought came to mind.
"Would you mind packing some food for my roommate?"
Tsunade quirked an eyebrow at the mention of the roommate, but nodded. She figured that with Kakashi as tiny as he was, whoever he was living with was probably just as wraith-thin as him. "No problem. Just take the rest of the lasagna with you, I'll wrap it up. One on the house, for an old friend."
She winked before moving to wrap the still-warm lasagna with aluminum foil. "Tell me about this roomie of yours."
He wasn't quite sure what the wink meant. Or at least, he pretended he wasn't sure. Kakashi shoved the last piece of the lasagna into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully and slowly for the next two minutes.
"She's an...old friend. She's nice," was all he could find to say about her.
"Must be nice to have a friend around. I've lost contact with most of the people I used to know." She found a plastic bag in one of the drawers and put the lasagna in it. "Sometimes I feel too old to make new friends. 'Can't teach an old dog new tricks' and whatnot."
"You don't look old." He commented, voice so deadpan that all the flattery had been pulled from it. "Even if you don't think you can't make friends, there are people around here who'll force you into talking to them."
He stood and walked to the kitchen, bringing the dish with him and rinsing it.
"I've aged well, I guess. And I've noticed that about the people here. Kids these days." She shook her head, though her tone had a hint of fondness in it. "Just leave the plate in the sink and I'll wash it in the morning."
He nodded and set the plate down. His joint was ready and waiting at home and he felt awkward staying here any longer. The small talk had run dry.
"I've got a few things to do back at the apartment. When's the next time you're working?"
"Every day, pretty much. They give me a few nights off every once in a while." She offered up what was left of the lasagna. "For your roommate."
He took the bag and gave Tsunade an awkward pat on the back before walking around the couch to down the rest of his Jack. Waste not, want not, etc.
"Thanks. I'll come see you sometime."
He meant it. He waved goodbye with a two-fingered salute and left as inauspiciously as he came.