[fic] With This Ring... (Chapter 10) part 1
Title: With This Ring…
Summery: Iruka reluctantly agrees to an arranged marriage in order to save his adopted family from financial ruin...and is horrified when Hatake Kakashi rises to the offer.
Rating: PG-13, rating may go up
Genre: AU/Canon, Arranged Marriage, eventual romance.
Notes: Special thanks and dedication goes to Anon for finding my Prompt on kakairu_kink
The Story from the Beginning
Author Notes The delay of this chapter was longer than I anticipated, with my participation in the KakaIru Winterfest exchange (please check out the entries!) as well as moving and finding employment in a new area (what a drag!) and the length of this chapter got a bit out of hand ^^; I am sincerely overwhelmed by all the positive support for this story. Thank you every one!
Ch. 11 the walls around us
The grey light of predawn was just creeping over the horizon when thirst roused Iruka from a dreamless sleep. For a few moments he frowned at the aged wooden planks overhead, trying to puzzle out why it was not the cracked plaster ceiling of his apartment.
With a yawn he rubbed sleep from his eyes. Cool metal pressed against his skin. The golden wedding ring on his finger glinted in the dim light. The sight of it jolted Iruka like a slap to the face. “Oh, right” he groaned as he relaxed back into his pillow. Iruka very badly wanted to go back asleep and pretend that the ring was part of a bad dream, but he could not fool himself with childish fancies. What had been done was done, and there was no going back to his old life. It was better to face the storm that was the future with his feet firmly on the ground.
His dark eyes traveled from the ceiling to the water pitcher resting over the mahogany dresser. Iruka’s thirst returned with a vengeance, and in due haste he stumbled out of bed and drained half the pitcher without bothering to use the cup. An impending need to empty his bladder quickly followed suit, and
with trepidation he tiptoed outside his room on wobbly legs in search of a bathroom.
He was surprised to discover a narrow stairwell leading to the lower level of the house. Iruka was careful not to trip over the linen yukata shift as he crept downstairs with all the stealth that he possessed, though it was a little difficult with the walls swaying from the last dregs of alcohol in his system. Already the dull throb of a headache was building into one mother of a hangover. He idly regretted not bringing the pitcher along to refill it as he shut the door to the stairwell without a second thought.
It took some effort to find the bathroom. The lower levels of the Hatake mansion were immense with many twisting corridors. He found the main entryway and the kitchen at some point, though he was too distracted to give time to study his new surroundings. At last he discovered the bathroom next to a washing room containing a spacious bathtub.
To Iruka’s dismay he discovered that returning to his room proved to be troublesome. The old mansion was constructed during the more troubled times of Konoha’s history with hallways intentionally designed to confuse intruders and would-be-assassins. The doors that led to corridors melded seamlessly with the dark paneled walls, while the more obviously ornately carved doors were firmly sealed and locked, and most likely led to living quarters.
’Just my luck,’ Iruka thought irritably as he brushed aside a loose strand of hair from tickling his nose. The ivory kanzashi comb had dislodged in bed and he had nothing to properly tie his hair back. He wandered back and forth on feather-light feet, trying to retrace his steps in the dimly lit halls with growing apprehension. He felt utterly foolish, losing his head to the allure of inebriation the night before; otherwise he would not have forgotten where-
Iruka yelped as a dark shadow sprang before him. On instinct he reached for a weapon inside his robe before realizing that he had none, and in a flash he fell into a defensive crouch with hands splayed in preparation of a seal.
Iruka blinked owlishly at Kakashi standing at the end of the corridor. The elite jounin mirrored his expression with the active Sharingan eye, his normal eye was lost in the folds of swollen purpled flesh.
“Oh,” Kakashi said as he sheepishly tucked a kunai into the hem of black sweatpants behind the small of his back. The man wore nothing else aside from his usual mask which was slightly askew as if he had donned it in haste. “Sorry, I’m not used to people in my house.”
Iruka dropped his arms then forced his body to relax, and in doing so a wave of nausea threatened to lose what little dignity he had left. His head pounded like a drum and before his eyes the walls seem to sway back and forth. He vowed inwardly to never become drunk again. Iruka planted his feet and gripped his toes over the smooth grain of the floorboards and attempted a dignified glare to rival Hyuuga Yukari, but heat warming his face ruined the effect. Kakashi was all lean muscle and hard lines. Silvery scars crisscrossed an expanse of pale flesh that almost seemed to glow in the predawn light. Iruka realized that he was staring and in a panic he flustered “I-uh, can’t find the way back to my room.”
The jounin stared back intently at Iruka’s face, his blank expression made the younger man want to twitch. If Iruka were in a better state of mind he would have bristled at Kakashi’s odd behavior, but at the moment he only wanted to flee to refuge of his bed.
Kakashi for his part was doing his best to maintain a straight face. Iruka was oblivious of how fumbling for a weapon had disheveled the linen robe to expose half his chest with one sleeve in danger of falling free over a shoulder. The exposed bicep hinted toned muscle that was usually hidden under a baggy uniform, and the thin fabric of the white linen shift left little to the imagination against the contrast of Iruka’s dark complexion.
Kakashi cleared his throat and made a quick motion with his head. “Down the hall, third turn on the left. Look for the scuff marks on the lower half of the paneling.” He never once took his eyes from Iruka’s face as he spoke.
Blushing deeply, Iruka muttered his thanks and slipped past Kakashi in the narrow corridor, oblivious of how the loose sleeve of his robe brushed against Kakashi’s bare chest when the pale man stepped aside.
Kakashi exhaled a sharp breath when he heard the door leading to the stairwell slip shut. He remained where he was until he heard Iruka’s footsteps climb the stairs and recede into his room. The chuunin’s scent lingered in Kakashi’s nose, spicy-sweet over the faint reek of sake. Kakashi snorted in an attempt to dislodge the smell, but it was much harder to disregard the image captured by the Sharingan of the half-dressed chuunin caught with his hair down. That white linen shift had left very little to the imagination.
’Get a hold of yourself, Hatake.’ Kakashi was going to have to get used to more than a new roommate living in his house.
~*~*~*~*~
Iruka emerged from his room sometime in the late afternoon. He dressed in his normal shinobi attire excluding the flak vest. His head ached with a vengeance, though he was more mindful to mark his steps as he made his way towards the kitchen and the beacon that was Kakashi’s unguarded chakra presence.
In the kitchen he found Kakashi lounging on the tatami mat floor next to a low dining table. The jounin had excluded his flak vest as well, but had donned his mask and hitate-ate. One hand held a green-bound Icha Icha book while the other pried the bruised flesh around his normal eye so he could read without reliance of the Sharingan.
The dining area was divided by a marble island for preparing food with a stove, sink, and refrigerator fixed into the adjacent wall. Everything looked well used, yet clean and pristine. Over the dining table a bowl of udon soup sat steaming on the table, along with a pair of fancy chopsticks and a small bowl of rice.
Kakashi did not look up as he spoke as he turned a page in his book. “I didn’t think that your stomach could handle anything heavier at the moment.” He spoke as if there were no argument that the younger man would eat. “There’s more on the stove if this isn’t enough. There’s medicine for your headache for when you are done.”
Iruka felt a stab of irritation. He was not a child to be coddled. But perhaps his irritation was due to his embarrassment from the night before and earlier that morning. Kakashi must think him a fool. But then Iruka’s stomach growled, the enticing scent of the food reminded that he had hardly eaten the day before. He gave Kakashi a stiff bow in thanks before settling in a cushion to eat.
The soup was divine. Bite-sized chunks of chicken and a bouquet of lightly seasoned vegetables swam among the thick noodles. It was mild enough for a sensitive stomach to handle and yet seasoned just enough to tantalize the tongue. The ingredients were far more elaborate than what Iruka’s budget could accommodate when he had lived on his own. Iruka would have never guessed Kakashi possessed a taste for advanced cooking. He ate everything down to the last kernel of rice. While Iruka ate Kakashi contently remained where he was with his back to the chuunin, silently reading his beloved book.
It was only a moment after he had placed his chopsticks over the empty soup bowl when Kakashi snapped the book shut and tossed a tiny satchel of powdered medicine onto the tabletop as well as a glass of water from under the table. He rose to collect the empty dishes, speaking over Iruka’s protests to help “After I’m done washing I’ll give you a tour of the house.”
Iruka watched Kakashi retreat behind the marble island to set about washing the dishes. A fragment of a thought from the previous night floated to the surface of memory, of how Kakashi’s demeanor had dramatically transformed into one that was guarded and distant. Apparently nothing had changed after Kakashi had chastely kissed Iruka goodnight.
Recalling his confused emotions summoned color in Iruka’s cheeks. Iruka was loathe to admit that at the time he was willing to do more than kiss the jounin, but thankfully Kakashi had more sense than the drunk chuunin had possessed at the time.
Iruka furiously tore open the satchel to sniff the powdered medicine within. It was an ingrained habit of any proper shinobi to examine a drug for contaminants. ’But really,’ a small voice chided in back of Iruka’s mind ’Has Kakashi not done enough to earn a small measure of your trust?’
Admitting that he had been intoxicated enough to throw himself at the jounin was one thing, but it was an entirely different matter to consider what would have happened that same morning if events had unfolded otherwise. Iruka shamefully knew his temper well enough to have rested the entire blame on Kakashi and none for himself. It was a bitter truth hard to swallow. Perhaps his temper was reason enough for Kakashi to be so guarded. It bothered Iruka, how that potential wedge could have so easily been planted at the start of their partnership.
’Not a partnership’ he thought with a scowl. As if the ring on his finger wasn’t enough proof. He had better get used to the idea of being married, and fast. It still rankled how his life had spun from his control to land him with an unwanted husband in the short span of a week. That bitterness in itself was another thing Iruka had to consider, as both he and Kakashi were at a crucial stage that could set the tone of their relationship in the years to come. Iruka would have to care for the affairs of the Hatake estate; receiving dignitary house calls and the like, and care for Kakashi himself…to a certain extent. If he was expected to cook and clean for a smartass jounin, then he certainly was not above slipping itching powder into the laundry.
Iruka idly fiddled with the small medicine packet. The powdered grains tumbled from one corner of the paper satchel to the other as he considered. Kakashi had certainly tended to Iruka’s needs so far with breakfast and separate quarters of his own. It could well be that Kakashi was willing to restart their new partnership from a clean slate. Iruka was more than willing to take that opportunity. If it was one.
Then again, Iruka could be over analyzing Kakashi’s odd behavior. They were practically strangers living under the same roof. Iruka would be a fool to assume the inner workings of the copy-nin’s mind. Three days was hardly sufficient time to be acquainted with one’s new spouse. He would have to learn Kakashi piece by piece and day by day, and see what revelations would come from it.
Just like the revelation he saw earlier that morning. The image of a bare-chested Kakashi floated to the surface of Iruka’s memory, with mask askew and pale muscles taut for action...
’Don’t you DARE go there,’ Iruka firmly told his rebellious mind and swallowed the bitter medicine in due haste.
~*~*~*~*~
With the aid of medicine Iruka’s hangover had receded to a dull ache in the back of his head. With his senses (somewhat) restored he was able to devote his full attention on the guided tour of his new home.
There were about thirty empty apartments on the first floor alone, with another ten on the second floor above. All were designed to accommodate a couple or a small family. The mansion had been built to hold the residents of an entire familial clan in mind. The majority of the rooms were sealed due to the simple reason that Kakashi was its sole resident, and the jounin had no use for the extra space.
From what the jounin eluded, the prime of the Hatake clan had been three generations before his time. He did not give explanation for the cause of his clan’s decline, and Iruka doubted that he wanted to hear it. It went without saying that the final straw for the remainder of clansmen to defect from their ancestral home had been the suicide of Hatake Sakumo. Iruka was aware of the ‘how’ surrounding the death of Kakashi’s father but only had vague knowledge surround the ‘why.’ What was widely known was that Sakumo died disgracefully in contempt of the village, and to most his suicide cemented the justification that had destroyed the respectability attached to the name of the Hatake clan.
It made Iruka uncomfortable that he had gleaned that intimate slice of Kakashi’s history though idle gossip. Granted, it was long before Iruka had married the jounin, but it did not settle very well as Kakashi led him through the empty house. Iruka he would have to take care to not blunder into that delicate subject unless Kakashi brought it up first.
Kakashi led Iruka through every twist and turn of the maze that floor level of the Hatake mansion. Light cedar paneling lined the ceiling, walls and floor, and it countered the claustrophobic effect of the narrow corridors. An occasional mirror at the end of the hallways helped, as well as tiny windows set high overhead to offer entry for natural light. The hallways were clean aside from the furthermost areas of the house where a light coating of dust tracked the passage of the two shinobi’s bare feet. Iruka suspected Kakashi used some sort of jutsu to blow away the cobwebs and dust when the presence of both became too unbearable. But despite a tolerable level of dust the air felt stale and carried faint traces of the musty scent of mildew, and every so often Iruka caught a whiff of a dead rodent or bird trapped inside the walls, slowly decaying like the rest of the unoccupied mansion.
The sliding doors leading to the now-deserted quarters of clansmen were made from lightweight wood with intricate carvings of polished trees or complex floral motifs. A few belonging to clansmen of status had animal motifs in place of the milder floral designs to stand as guardian before those that would dare encroach upon their domain. Whomever occupied those rooms had to have been of a foreboding disposition, as the wooden faces of the beasts seem to reflect the mood of the empty mansion; tigers, feral dogs, and other carved predators glared in accusation as the men glided by, their frozen snarls appeared to want attack the son of the traitor that had driven the occupants away. Beautifully carved as they were, Iruka did not like any of those doors one little bit.
The copy-nin opened several of the warded rooms to allow Iruka a peek inside. Most were entirely empty or contained faded wall hangings and a few pieces of furniture draped in canvas. “My relatives gutted the house before they left.” Kakashi stated blandly at some point. “I was too young at the time to do anything but watch.”
The vast emptiness seemed to emphasis Kakashi’s lonely existence. The mansion felt more like a hallow museum than a proper home. It was hard to imagine that it had once bustled with activity and echoed with the laughter of children. Iruka could not fathom how a boy could flourish in the silence all alone, but then Kakashi had been a prodigy with little time to spare at home.
One door in particular caught Iruka’s eye. It was unremarkable like all the others, save for a thick coating of dust over the carving of a persimmon tree heavy with fruit. It was a stark contrast to the other sealed rooms, as if it had not been opened for untold years. “What about that one?” Iruka asked when it became apparent that Kakashi was intent to walk past the persimmon door.
“Ah, that one?” Kakashi’s gait paused for the briefest of moments, and then his feet carried him onward. “I found my father in there.”
The flat statement made Iruka stop dead in his tracks. His took in the sight of the door with the beautifully carved persimmon tree. Songbirds nestled amongst the branches as they feasted on the plump fruit. He could see it now, how dust and wispy remnants of cobwebs filled every crack in the wood. It was a tomb leading to dark memories. “I’m sorry” Iruka blurted, not knowing what else to say.
“Don’t be,” Kakashi replied. “It happened a long time ago.” His voice carried a note of finality that all but demanded the subject to be dropped.
~*~*~*~*~
A short time later Kakashi had escorted Iruka to the front of the house where he lived. Kakashi’s bedroom was located on the first floor, not too far from the kitchen and bathroom. It was comforting to Iruka that he had the entire upstairs as his private domain, in a way. And Kakashi assured that the empty rooms upstairs was free to use for whatever purpose that Iruka saw fit.
Iruka was surprised to discover a library behind Kakashi’s bedroom. Most of the books were antique manuals on shinobi warfare tactics, but there was also a varied selection of fiction novels as well. Iruka was not at all surprised to see a special corner dedicated to the colorfully bound Icha Icha literature, complete with ‘pre-order special collector’s edition anatomically correct figurines’ on the shelf above. The jounin lightened up considerably as he presented his prized collection to the sputtering chuunin with obvious pride.
Kakashi concluded the tour at the main entrance of the house. The front door was an immense thing carved with visages of feral dogs wrestling among storm clouds. Kakashi opened the door to reveal a cobbled pathway lined with neatly trimmed bushes and fruit trees. A high stone wall bordered the estate at the far end. From what Iruka could see of the mansion’s exterior, it possessed dark blue tiles for a roof and dark wooden beams separating white washed walls.
“Once your stomach has settled I will add your chakra pattern to the gate,” Kakashi said. “Then you can come and go as you please.” He gave Iruka an unreadable look as he slid the heavy door shut. “And…there is one more thing. It’s not much, but I prepared something for you.”
Kakashi led the mystified chuunin through a door that blended seamlessly with the walls, one that was all but hidden from view next to the main entrance. The dark corridor contained no windows and was the narrowest Iruka had seen. He eyed the plain wooden door at the end with growing unease. It appeared to be a closet. Iruka folded his arms and shot a worried frown at the other man’s back ’Here it comes, the moment Kakashi reverts back to his old tricks.’ The jounin’s company had felt unnatural without the ready smile and bantering dry humor. It would almost be reassuring if the closet contained household cleaning supplies complete with a frilly maid outfit and matching feather duster.
The door creaked beneath Kakashi’s fingers and blinding light poured into the hallway. Iruka’s hands clutched at his arms once his eyes adjusted to the glaring brightness. It was not a closet.
It was an office.
Sunlight streamed in from wide window overlooking the lush greens of the gardens outside. The peak of the Hokage monument was visible in the distance beyond the high garden walls. Beneath the window was a beautiful antique desk made from warm chestnut. Crawling up the rounded legs of the desk were fanciful carvings of flowering vines with tiny grasshoppers and mice hid among the vines as if playing a game of hide and seek. A small stack of freshly purchased notebooks and ink bottles were nestled in a cubby beneath inclined writing space. Empty book cases and shelves lined nearly every space of the walls, interspaced occasionally with tall standing lamps. The freshly polished furniture gleamed in the sunlight and held the freshly polished scent of lemons. The room was moderately sized but not confining to become claustrophobic once the bookshelves were bursting at full capacity. Kakashi had witnessed the state of Iruka’s office and had kept the sensei’s tendency to hoard documents in mind.
“This was once a part of the servant’s quarters.” Kakashi explained, motioning Iruka to step inside. He sounded apologetic “It’s not as elaborate as the other rooms, but I figured that it would be more comfortable since it’s close to the stairwell and kitchen.”
Iruka was utterly stunned. He worked his jaw to speak “This is…for me?” he paused to swallow a hard lump down his throat. “Why?”
“An annoying subordinate of mine gave some good advice.” Kakashi shrugged. “I chose to follow it.”
Iruka wasn’t sure how to take this unexpected gift. It was a dream came true. He was no longer tied to spending long evenings between the Academy and the Administration building. Kakashi gifted him a bright haven to escape the oppressive gloom of the rest of the house. Iruka stiffened to bow before Kakashi. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I do not deserve this.”
“Deserve?” Kakashi sniffed, sounding a little put-off. He turned to face the window, his pale fingers scrubbed at a spot of dust he had missed on the sill. He muttered “You are now my husband, it is only proper that I…accommodate my home for you.”
“Ah, of course,” Iruka readily agreed. The office had newness about it. The wood of the furniture was uniform in color but mismatched as if they have been hunted down and gathered from several locations throughout the mansion. Then it hit Iruka: Kakashi could not have prepared this room on a whim. Kakashi had made an effort to anticipate the needs of his new husband despite the high tensions between them before their wedding. A shameful blush warmed Iruka’s complexion as he recalled his suspicion mere minutes ago. It seemed that Kakashi was truly making an effort to start their new relationship from a clean slate, and Iruka was making a piss-poor start by not giving Kakashi the benefit of a doubt.
Kakashi’s head jerked as if he suddenly recalled something. He abruptly turned from the windowsill to face the chuunin. “I hate to do this without warning, but I need to introduce you to the pack.”
Buried in his thoughts, Iruka was caught off guard. “The what?”
“The ninken pack,” Kakashi scratched his head with an exasperated sigh. “They would cause trouble if I wait any longer. By their protocol I should have allowed them to approve of you first, but with how fast the marriage contract went I entirely forgot.”
~*~*~*~*~
Ten minutes later, Iruka found himself in the garden. Several half-sunken pagoda statues lined the grassy patch of lawn. Kakashi stood next to one of the statues as he carefully watched the scene before him in a deceptively casual stance. Iruka was mindful to remain perfectly still as the eight ninken explored him with prodding noses and feet.
“Hm, I don’t smell much blood on this one.” A ninken with dark glasses said after sniffing Iruka’s hand. “What I can smell is very old. That is good.”
“Ohh, I like him.” A slender hound covered in bandages said in a smooth feminine voice. “He smells of the village. I don’t think he leaves very often.”
“Maybe it’s because he’s weak,” the largest of the hound, a hulking bulldog said in a gruff voice. “He reeks of human children.”
“Don’t forget that I raised three litters of my own, Bull.” The slender hound snapped. “Would you think me weak as well?” Her challenge was answered with a grumbled apology from Bull.
“I’m a teacher at the Academy,” Iruka offered. He was acutely aware of sharp noses possessing even sharper teeth poking into his thighs and nether regions.
“I wanna play with them!” A light-furred hound with a kanji symbol marking its forehead clamored over its pack mates to get in front of the chuunin. Its mannerisms hinted that he was the youngest. The young ninken pressed its paws against Iruka’s knees imploringly. “No one here ever wants to play with me, you see…”
“What are you talking about, Bisuke? We play with you all the time!” A gruff voice from somewhere in the pack chided with all the authority of a leader. Iruka recognized the voice belonging to the same ninken Kakashi had summoned the other day at the Academy. The dark-faced pug wriggled through the throng to leap upon Bisuke’s back and glared up at Iruka with droopy eyes. “Huh. So this is the bitch that’s taking my place.” He sounded quite unimpressed.
“What did you call…me?!” Iruka’s voice rose to a shrill squeak when Bisuke’s hard nose very pointedly buried into his crotch.
“I take offense to your tone of that title, young man.” The slender hound said with a proud toss of her head. “It’s what we always call ninken such as myself and the honored mates of an alpha leader.”
“I wouldn’t get on Uuhei’s bad side if I were you,” the tiny pug warned with a dramatic roll of its eyes. “She has a temper, you see---”
“I do NOT!” The female hound snarled.
“Whatever,” the pug said unconcernedly as if the argument was a longstanding one. The large eyes settled on the face of the chuunin, its wide prominent nostrils flared to take in Iruka’s scent. “I think the bitch checks out. He smells stable, and that’s good enough for me.” The little dog’s verdict was answered by affirmative growls from the rest of the pack.
Kakashi’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thanks, Pakkun.”
“Don’t mention it, Boss.” Pakkun replied. Then all at once the ninken pack dispersed in a cloud of smoke, leaving the jounin and one flustered chuunin alone in the garden patch.
The muscles in Iruka’s mouth worked irritably. He very much disliked being called…that word, even if it was considered a title of honor. Despite his irritation Iruka did not have the heart to press his temper on Kakashi, not when the copy nin looked so immensely relieved that his ‘bitch’ had been approved by the ninken pack.
Iruka took a deep breath instead as he followed the copy-nin back to the cobblestone path. His headache was starting to return, and his body complained for the need of a hot soaking bath followed by sleep. And he needed to think, there was a lot of information Iruka needed to process and reevaluate. “I’m going upstairs for the day.” Iruka said once they were inside the house. He made a deep bow before the jounin. “Thank you for today, I appreciate all that you have done for me.”
“So polite, Iruka-sensei” Kakashi surprised the chuunin with a deep chuckle. “If you are not careful I might start to suspect that you are able to tolerate me.”
Iruka managed to hide his smile. Somehow he had made a crack in the copy-nin’s withdrawn demeanor. It was a welcoming fragment of Kakashi’s personality that Iruka had honestly missed throughout the day.
Kakashi fiddled with a piece of lint he had found in his pocket. “If you are not joining me for dinner tonight then I should say my goodbyes now. I’m leaving in the morning for a mission outside of the Fire Country. It might last as long as two months.”
“So soon?” Iruka blinked. “B-but…you just got married!”
“I accepted this mission before you accepted my marriage contract.” Kakashi flicked the piece of lint onto the floor. “The Sandaime Hokage has been generous to delay my mission so that I may marry his adopted son, but even the Hokage’s generosity has his limits.”
“I see,” Iruka was able to mask his disappointment. He was not looking forward living alone in the vast Hatake mansion the day after he had moved in. And he had wanted the chance to explore this strange new relationship forming between himself and Kakashi. Today had been the first day of a partnership that was supposed to last for the rest of their lives. Iruka mentally shook himself. He had to focus on the here and now. “I would appreciate if you could leave me notes of what chores I should do around the house.”
Kakashi gave the chuunin-sensei an odd look. “This place is as much your home as it is mine.” Kakashi made a motion with one hand to include the entire Hatake estate. “You will be spending more time here than me. So do whatever you like, aside snooping around my bedroom and boxing away my Icha Icha collection. You can even knock down some walls and replace all the furniture for all I care.”
Iruka’s eyes had widened to saucers. He never, ever would have fathomed that Kakashi would grant him so much freedom within the house. “I’ll do my best,” he said faintly as he shuffled past the jounin to make his way upstairs. He paused to give his new husband one last look before opening the door to the stairwell. “Please be safe.”
“Always,” Kakashi replied with a tilting smile beneath his mask.
~*~*~*~*~
With the Kakashi gone Iruka had settled back into the familiar routine working his two jobs. Iruka certainly had no need for the extra income now that he was married to the wealthy Hatake Kakashi, but it was on his own principle to have financial independence earned by his own hand. It went without saying that his earnings were now more generous without a goodly sum of it going to support the Sarutobi clan or a shoddy apartment. Iruka’s eyes had nearly popped out of his head when he had received his first paycheck without those deductions.
Despite his recent boost in personal income Iruka was loath to lighten the work load between his two jobs. The truth was he honestly would not know what to do with all the free time on his hands. Kakashi’s gift of an in-home office already provided a window of freedom than what Iruka was used to enjoying, and he took full advantage to relax at home with a bento box dinner in hand as he scribbled through paperwork.
There was no denying the fact that he had wedded Hatake Kakashi, so Iruka had resigned to wear his wedding ring outside the house. Iruka had a suspicion that not doing so would be detrimental to the newfound respectability of the Sarutobi and Hatake clans. Gossip and rumor spread in Konoha as readily as in any normal village, and a person of interest was closely scrutinized in anticipation of their first misstep. Whatever Iruka did or did not do, like the simple act of disregarding his wedding ring, could be taken as a sign that the union was unstable and ready to break. Neither Iruka nor Kakashi could afford even that rumor to spread, not when the political weight of their clans was in its most fragile state. Such were the subtle intricacies in the game of politics. It was trying at times, to keep in mind all the advice that had been plied upon him throughout the years by Akemi and the Sandaime Hokage.
There had been a few incidents shortly following Iruka’s return to work. The bulk of it involved coworkers and students eager to swallow some juicy tidbit about the notorious copy-nin. Iruka had anticipated those confrontations and had firmly shut them down before they could gain momentum. The children knew better than to press their luck but Iruka had to emphasis his point less subtly with the adults by cracking his knuckles whenever a conversation ventured too close to probing into his marriage. His personal life was not up for conversation, period. The staff at both offices readily took the hint as they knew Iruka well enough than to invite his wrath.
It was another matter dealing with the rest of the shinobi population.
It came to a head one afternoon in the Missions room a week after Kakashi had left. The incident with the sake caske was no secret among the residents of Konoha. It was a juicy topic for speculation with many unwilling to believe that a mere chuunin school teacher knocked the legendary Sharingan Kakashi out cold over the alter on their wedding day.
And with the copy-nin gone it had only been a matter of time before some poor soul worked up the nerve to confront the ‘mere chuunin school teacher’ to see if those rumors rang true.
Iruka’s pen halted mid-sentence over a file report when a dull thump hit the surface of his desk. He calmly regarded the special jounin who had placed a small wooden sake cask atop his completed mission report. “It is not after hours, Ebisu-san.” Iruka’s expression was carefully blank. “So unless you are inviting me out for a drink I assume you have a valid reason for cluttering my desk with this?” He jabbed the point of his pen at the sake cask.
Iruka had not taken into account how his clear voice had carried throughout the room. The buzz of conversation among the long lines of shinobi abruptly ceased. A dropped pin could be heard in the silence. Not a single face directly stared at the chuunin, but Iruka was keenly aware that every eye was fixed in anticipation of what he would do next, and he noted that some of those eyes gleamed with wolfish eagerness.
Ebisu adjusted his sunglasses before making a prim reply “Well, I was in Suna during your wedding, you see. I just wanted to express my congratulations on your union with Kakashi-san.” The man had the gall to not bother hiding his smirk. “And rumor told me that you are fond of sake wine, in or out of the cask.” The emphasized word prompted a snigger from the back of the crowd.
Iruka’s right hand twitched for the want to rub the bridge of his nose where his scar fell. It had been a vain hope that his inebriation at the wedding had been overlooked by the gossipmongers. Instead of rubbing his nose Iruka gave the special jounin a smile warm enough to make flowers bloom but with a hint of thorns pricking the edges. It was the smile that would have sent his students scrambling to hide under their seats. “Thank you, Ebisu-san. On behest of my husband we wholeheartedly accept your generosity.” He could hear Genma trying not to choke on the senbon. Everyone who had the pleasure of experiencing Iruka’s temper knew that too-sweet smile all too well.
Iruka picked up a neatly ordered stack of documents resting on one corner of his desk. He had been saving them for a bully like Ebisu to appear. “You mentioned that you’ve just returned from Suna?” His tone was almost casual as he thumbed through the papers. “The heat must have been brutal this time of year. I will be sure to pull some strings to assign you to a more favorable region…ah, here’s one.”
A document slipped free from the stack. “The Nigawa clan requests a Konoha representative to act as delegate between a territorial dispute… something about wandering goats and fence posts moving on their own. The mountain air should cool your head, but I would advise packing extra luggage. I hear that the blizzards make traveling impossible and can last for months at a time.”
Ebisu’s eyebrows had jumped to hide beneath the blue headscarf. “Hey now-“
“But there is also the pressing matter of the fish processing plants in the Midawa prefecture.” Iruka examined another document as if he had not heard the other man’s protest. “Apparently bits of cockroach have been found in their recent exports. I would imagine the sea air would be quite refreshing compared to Sauna’s dry heat, but I fear the fragrant breeze of rotting fish and screaming seagulls could dampen the charm...”
The special jounin was obviously regretting his attempt to bait the chuunin. “Perhaps I should go.” Ebisu reached to reclaim the sake cask but was thwarted by a sharp rap over the knuckles by Iruka’s pen.
“No no,” Iruka gently reprimanded. “As you said, I am very fond of sake wine, though my husband has had the pleasure to learn that I prefer it inside the cask.” Iruka’s mild tone belied a smile that revealed his teeth. With a hum he idly tapped his pen against the sake cask “I think a jounin of your caliber can do with an assignment in the Akasuka providence. I had a mission there once. I can guarantee that the swamplands provide more than enough shade from the sun. I still have nightmares about the fist-sized mosquitoes, but they weren’t nearly as bad as the giant millipedes. Now those have a nasty bite if you disturb the nests they make inside the bedrolls--”
“I think I’m going to leave now,” Ebisu said faintly. He looked distinctively ill beneath his sunglasses.
“Yes, I do believe that’s best.” Iruka agreed regretfully. His dark eyes slid away from Ebisu to deliver a weighted look at the stunned shinobi waiting in line, and he was satisfied to see many appeared ready to flee. As a teacher, Iruka found it was most effective to finish a lesson by driving the point home. “I have so many urgent requests but I’m limited to assign them to one candidate at a time.” He gave Ebisu another sugary-sweet smile before the special jounin had the chance to retreat back into the crowd. “Do remember to pack some repellent before claiming your next assignment. I thank you for your continuing service to our village.”
For the rest of the day Iruka left the sake cask where it was over his desk. To any of the wide-eyed shinobi that had not witnessed the exchange that inquired, Iruka would smile and simply explain “It’s a wedding gift from Ebisu-san. I expressed my gratitude most graciously.”
By the end of the day word quickly spread of special jounin’s fate. Afterwards no shinobi dared try to cross Hatake Umino Iruka within his domain.
~*~*~*~*~
In the two weeks after Kakashi’s departure Iruka made some effort to explore his new home. Despite Kakashi’s permission to ‘do whatever he would like to the house’ Iruka was hesitant to leave his personal mark on anything not already available inside the mansion. He felt like an intruder at the best of times, one that was completely out of place in the faded grandeur of the Hatake estate. Even during the day with the sun held high in the sky he pointedly avoided the Persimmon carved door. The bad memories inside was not for Iruka to intrude, so he left it alone.
Iruka set upon himself the task of refurbishing the abandoned sitting room located near the main entrance. At some point his duties as spouse would be to receive clients for contracts to Kakashi’s services along with hosting formal visits from both dignitaries and shinobi leaders. Hyuuga Yukari had made it a point to drill into Iruka’s head how the appearance of one’s home could affect a potential deal for the better or for the worst, and Iruka had every intention to make the first impression a lasting one when dignitaries stepped into the Hatake mansion.
Kakashi’s had spoke true stating the house had been gutted of valuables, but between several rooms Iruka salvaged dusty pieces of furniture and some knick-knacks of decorative pottery to be carefully cleaned and painstakingly polished with a delicate hand. New cushions and wall hangings had to be purchased, as most of what he found were faded or moth eaten. Over the course of the two weeks Iruka was satisfied to see his efforts pay off as the sitting room gradually took a semblance of a respectable state.
Iruka had been so preoccupied with refurbishing the sitting room that he had spared little energy to any other chore than light cleaning. Kakashi had stocked enough fresh food in the house to feed one inhabitant, and Iruka had readily ate what was in store, but he had not possessed the foresight to take notes of what had been stocked in the larders until after they had been utterly depleted.
It was this dilemma that had prompted Iruka to wake early one Saturday morning to visit the Konoha marketplace. It all too tempting to give into the his usual weekend routine to sleep into the early afternoon, as the morning crowds made it the worst time to shop, but with the stalls competing for customers it was also the most opportune time to get the best deals.
Iruka had thought that he at least had a vague plan of what to buy from the marketplace, but after half an hour his wicker basket remained empty aside from a packet of hard noodles and dried soup stock. Iruka wanted to tell himself that he was overwhelmed by the sheer number of culinary possibilities, but the sad truth was he possessed little knowledge of how to prepare food that did not originate from a box.
Iruka was trying to decide if some long yellow tubers were vegetables or fruit when he heard his name called by a feminine voice from the bustle of the crowd. ’Great,’ Iruka thought with an inward groan as he turned to greet the woman, identifying her as Shimaoka Midori, the mother of a former student. The middle aged woman reminded Iruka of a sparrow, with quick darting eyes and a pointed nose that enhanced the resemblance. She possessed a tongue as sharp as her nose, and with her flock of cronies following her lead she could pick apart a person like a juicy worm.
“Oh, if it isn’t Iruka-sensei!” Midori elbowed through the shoppers with a crowd of housewives following in tow. “Marriage seems to agree with you--oh, congratulations by the way.”
“Oh my, yes.” A plump housewife tittered before Iruka could respond. “I would have thought Kakashi-san would have wrung him out by now---“
“That is so true!” Midori readily agreed. “Kakashi-san has a reputation, you see…” her eyes glittered as she paused a brief moment. “And who could tell what goes on inside that strange man’s head?”
All at once the housewives fixed their attention on the hapless chuunin. Iruka would have slipped away if he could, but he was pinned in by the housewives with the stall of weird tubers at his back. His smile turned onto a sickly grimace as five too-friendly smiles blossomed beneath calculating stares.
“So tell us…” a petite housewife asked with an unsettling look in her eyes. “Is it true that Kakashi-san has a love doll for all the empty rooms in the house?”
“What? No!” Iruka sputtered. He automatically held the wicker basket up to his chest in an unconscious effort to fend the women off. “I never-“
“Did you check the basement, or the attic?” a second housewife cut in with a sly smirk. “Every husband has their secrets. It all depends on how determined you are to ferret them out.”
“Even so, he parades those filthy books in the presence of children!” a third woman scowled. “You of all people should know how impressionable young minds are. You must do something about that awful habit of his, Iruka-kun.”
Iruka immensely disliked the familiar use of his given name. Facing an enemy out in the field was far easier than handling these women. He gave the housewives a self-depreciating smile in hopes to divert the conversation. “Well you see, Kakashi-san always has the protection and prosperity of our village in mind-“
“I hear that he keeps trophies!” The plump housewife said with a delicious shudder. “Is it true that he has the severed head of that Akatsuki-nin Kakuzu nailed to the wall? Not that I would want to see it, of course…”
“I wouldn’t know,” Iruka clipped. A spark of temper gave bite to his tone. He had no idea such ridiculous rumors surrounded Kakashi. Iruka reminded himself that he had to keep some semblance of his manners around these women, lest he invite their ire to interfere with his work at the Academy.
Midori huffed in exasperation. “Either way, there is no excuse for your husband to go about flaunting his…reading around our village!” Her eyes narrowed on Iruka, and she made what Iruka assumed was supposed to be an ingratiating smile. “You have seen beneath the mask, I assume?”
Five expectant faces turned upon Iruka, all gleaming with anticipation.
Iruka couldn’t help himself. He made a show of glancing around before lowering his head into the small circle of women. His voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper “Well, about that…” The housewives eagerly pressed forward, hanging on his every word. “To tell the truth…it’s none of your business what goes on between me and my husband.”
Iruka straightened from the circle of stunned women, a smile wrought from sunshine beaming off his face. “Enjoy your shopping, ladies.” He slipped past the housewives and into the meandering flow of shoppers.
He had a full minute to feel good about how he had handled the ordeal until a voice at his back murmured “Pay those biddies no mind, my dear boy. Without a war going on there’s little else for them to gossip about.”
Iruka had the good grace to not jump when Morino Kanao materialized at his side. The plump little old women looked all the world like she was an ordinary civilian shopping inside the bustling marketplace, with a full basket of vegetables hooked under one arm. “I realize that” he replied as he wearily eyed Kanao, who was dressed in a nondescript grey kimono patterned with embroidered white lilies. He was not fooled by the grandmotherly smile. Iruka remembered quite clearly how the little old woman had threateningly wielded a pair of chopsticks before him after the wedding ceremony. In addition, Iruka had an unsetting suspicion that Kaeno had orchestrated his chance encounter with the housewives. Retirement can do funny things to ex-ANBU.
Kaeno frowned at the nearly empty basket in Iruka’s hand. “One cannot live off of soup stock and noodles alone. You need to add vegetables to your meals.”
Iruka flushed in spite of himself. He had lived off a pauper’s diet for so long that he had trouble expanding his options. Fresh produce and meat had been a luxury when he had a limited budget to support himself, and what little he could afford had to last longer than a week in the fridge. He averted his eyes from the Kaeno’s penetrating look. “I…um, I don’t…” his voice trailed off miserably.
“Eh, what’s that?” Kaeno cupped a hand to her ear. “Spit it out!”
Heat inflamed Iruka’s face. “I don’t know how!” he grated.
Keano’s eyes flickered between the crimson-faced chuunin and his sparse wicker basket. She quickly put two and two together with a dry quirk of her lips. “I suppose we should start with what’s in season.” She shoved her own basket for the young chuunin to carry then snatched Iruka’s elbow to drag him into the heart of the marketplace where the stalls exploded with a countless variety of colorful fruit and vegetables.
Kaeno pointed to a random stall containing squat dark green gourds the size of a child’s head. “That there is a kabocha, a type of sweet pumpkin. Other than being an excellent source of vitamins it has a mild flavor that is good on its own, yet it can be added to both stews and desserts.”
“I know what it is,” Iruka said testily as he tried to wrest his elbow from Kaeno’s iron grip. He wasn’t that ignorant.
“But do you know how to test for quality?” Kaeno plucked a random pumpkin from the stall and held it up to Iruka’s ear. “Don’t ever assume a vegetable it is ripe from appearance alone.” Her bony fingers tapped the surface, eliciting a dull thump. “This one needs another week before its ready.” She replaced the pumpkin and selected another, which produced a more hollow sound. “Remember that sound. It’s the pumpkin’s way of saying that it is ready to eat.”
“Oh,” Iruka regarded the pumpkin in the old woman’s hand. “Does Kakashi like kabocha?”
“I can’t say,” Kaeno admitted. “But I can guarantee that any shinobi enjoys a hot meal to fuel his body.” She shook her head with disbelief. “I don’t know how you appear so healthy living off that slop you consider soup!”
Iruka’s scowl deepened. He was not going to admit that the bulk of his nutrients were gained from his free lunches at the Academy cafeteria.
Kaeno read his reluctance and placed the kabocha pumpkin back on the stall. She made an exasperated sound through her teeth. “And I suppose that I’d have to teach you how to cook as well. I’ll get you started with the basics of meal preparation, at least. If you are free this evening you are welcomed to help me prepare dinner, and eat some of it too.”
Iruka was stunned by Kaeno’s generous offer. He dismissed all previous qualms he had about the elder woman. “Thank you, Morino-san.” Iruka said breathlessly as he sketched a bow under the heavy weight of her basket. The old woman certainly had a weakness for potatoes. “If there’s anything I can do in return-“
“Yes, yes,” Kaeno waved the chuunin off distractedly as she studied the next produce stall containing pale daikon radishes that were nearly as long as her arm. “A few weeds pulled from my garden now and then would be much appreciated, as my old back is not what it used to be.”
“Fair enough,” Iruka smiled, and blinked when the plump old woman disappeared before his eyes. He had only a moment to jerk around and snatch a flying daikon radish sailing through the air before it could break over his head.
Kaeno grinned as she tossed a few coins to the befuddled farmer. She darted to another stall containing apples and proceeded to fling several at the startled sensei. With the daikon radish still in hand Iruka had to spin around to catch each in his basket before they hit the ground.
“Your reflexes are good!” Kaeno cackled “But you will have to be much quicker to keep up with a granny like me, and mind not to bruise the fruit.”
Some hours later found Iruka waddling home under the strain of not one but four baskets of fresh produce and meat, as well as the feeling that what had happed today between him and his neighbor was the start of a very strange friendship.
~*~*~*~
Continued...
Ch. X: The Walls Around Us (Part 2)
Previous Chapters
Prologue & Ch. I: A Battle of Wills
Ch. II: The Burden of Duty
Ch. III: Cold Feet
Ch. IV: The Fine Print
Ch. V: A Wager
Ch. VI: A Matter of Convenience
Ch. VII: Accommodations
Ch. VIII: The Happiest Day of our Lives
Ch. IX: A Solid Foundatin
Summery: Iruka reluctantly agrees to an arranged marriage in order to save his adopted family from financial ruin...and is horrified when Hatake Kakashi rises to the offer.
Rating: PG-13, rating may go up
Genre: AU/Canon, Arranged Marriage, eventual romance.
Notes: Special thanks and dedication goes to Anon for finding my Prompt on kakairu_kink
The Story from the Beginning
Author Notes The delay of this chapter was longer than I anticipated, with my participation in the KakaIru Winterfest exchange (please check out the entries!) as well as moving and finding employment in a new area (what a drag!) and the length of this chapter got a bit out of hand ^^; I am sincerely overwhelmed by all the positive support for this story. Thank you every one!
Ch. 11 the walls around us
The grey light of predawn was just creeping over the horizon when thirst roused Iruka from a dreamless sleep. For a few moments he frowned at the aged wooden planks overhead, trying to puzzle out why it was not the cracked plaster ceiling of his apartment.
With a yawn he rubbed sleep from his eyes. Cool metal pressed against his skin. The golden wedding ring on his finger glinted in the dim light. The sight of it jolted Iruka like a slap to the face. “Oh, right” he groaned as he relaxed back into his pillow. Iruka very badly wanted to go back asleep and pretend that the ring was part of a bad dream, but he could not fool himself with childish fancies. What had been done was done, and there was no going back to his old life. It was better to face the storm that was the future with his feet firmly on the ground.
His dark eyes traveled from the ceiling to the water pitcher resting over the mahogany dresser. Iruka’s thirst returned with a vengeance, and in due haste he stumbled out of bed and drained half the pitcher without bothering to use the cup. An impending need to empty his bladder quickly followed suit, and
with trepidation he tiptoed outside his room on wobbly legs in search of a bathroom.
He was surprised to discover a narrow stairwell leading to the lower level of the house. Iruka was careful not to trip over the linen yukata shift as he crept downstairs with all the stealth that he possessed, though it was a little difficult with the walls swaying from the last dregs of alcohol in his system. Already the dull throb of a headache was building into one mother of a hangover. He idly regretted not bringing the pitcher along to refill it as he shut the door to the stairwell without a second thought.
It took some effort to find the bathroom. The lower levels of the Hatake mansion were immense with many twisting corridors. He found the main entryway and the kitchen at some point, though he was too distracted to give time to study his new surroundings. At last he discovered the bathroom next to a washing room containing a spacious bathtub.
To Iruka’s dismay he discovered that returning to his room proved to be troublesome. The old mansion was constructed during the more troubled times of Konoha’s history with hallways intentionally designed to confuse intruders and would-be-assassins. The doors that led to corridors melded seamlessly with the dark paneled walls, while the more obviously ornately carved doors were firmly sealed and locked, and most likely led to living quarters.
’Just my luck,’ Iruka thought irritably as he brushed aside a loose strand of hair from tickling his nose. The ivory kanzashi comb had dislodged in bed and he had nothing to properly tie his hair back. He wandered back and forth on feather-light feet, trying to retrace his steps in the dimly lit halls with growing apprehension. He felt utterly foolish, losing his head to the allure of inebriation the night before; otherwise he would not have forgotten where-
Iruka yelped as a dark shadow sprang before him. On instinct he reached for a weapon inside his robe before realizing that he had none, and in a flash he fell into a defensive crouch with hands splayed in preparation of a seal.
Iruka blinked owlishly at Kakashi standing at the end of the corridor. The elite jounin mirrored his expression with the active Sharingan eye, his normal eye was lost in the folds of swollen purpled flesh.
“Oh,” Kakashi said as he sheepishly tucked a kunai into the hem of black sweatpants behind the small of his back. The man wore nothing else aside from his usual mask which was slightly askew as if he had donned it in haste. “Sorry, I’m not used to people in my house.”
Iruka dropped his arms then forced his body to relax, and in doing so a wave of nausea threatened to lose what little dignity he had left. His head pounded like a drum and before his eyes the walls seem to sway back and forth. He vowed inwardly to never become drunk again. Iruka planted his feet and gripped his toes over the smooth grain of the floorboards and attempted a dignified glare to rival Hyuuga Yukari, but heat warming his face ruined the effect. Kakashi was all lean muscle and hard lines. Silvery scars crisscrossed an expanse of pale flesh that almost seemed to glow in the predawn light. Iruka realized that he was staring and in a panic he flustered “I-uh, can’t find the way back to my room.”
The jounin stared back intently at Iruka’s face, his blank expression made the younger man want to twitch. If Iruka were in a better state of mind he would have bristled at Kakashi’s odd behavior, but at the moment he only wanted to flee to refuge of his bed.
Kakashi for his part was doing his best to maintain a straight face. Iruka was oblivious of how fumbling for a weapon had disheveled the linen robe to expose half his chest with one sleeve in danger of falling free over a shoulder. The exposed bicep hinted toned muscle that was usually hidden under a baggy uniform, and the thin fabric of the white linen shift left little to the imagination against the contrast of Iruka’s dark complexion.
Kakashi cleared his throat and made a quick motion with his head. “Down the hall, third turn on the left. Look for the scuff marks on the lower half of the paneling.” He never once took his eyes from Iruka’s face as he spoke.
Blushing deeply, Iruka muttered his thanks and slipped past Kakashi in the narrow corridor, oblivious of how the loose sleeve of his robe brushed against Kakashi’s bare chest when the pale man stepped aside.
Kakashi exhaled a sharp breath when he heard the door leading to the stairwell slip shut. He remained where he was until he heard Iruka’s footsteps climb the stairs and recede into his room. The chuunin’s scent lingered in Kakashi’s nose, spicy-sweet over the faint reek of sake. Kakashi snorted in an attempt to dislodge the smell, but it was much harder to disregard the image captured by the Sharingan of the half-dressed chuunin caught with his hair down. That white linen shift had left very little to the imagination.
’Get a hold of yourself, Hatake.’ Kakashi was going to have to get used to more than a new roommate living in his house.
~*~*~*~*~
Iruka emerged from his room sometime in the late afternoon. He dressed in his normal shinobi attire excluding the flak vest. His head ached with a vengeance, though he was more mindful to mark his steps as he made his way towards the kitchen and the beacon that was Kakashi’s unguarded chakra presence.
In the kitchen he found Kakashi lounging on the tatami mat floor next to a low dining table. The jounin had excluded his flak vest as well, but had donned his mask and hitate-ate. One hand held a green-bound Icha Icha book while the other pried the bruised flesh around his normal eye so he could read without reliance of the Sharingan.
The dining area was divided by a marble island for preparing food with a stove, sink, and refrigerator fixed into the adjacent wall. Everything looked well used, yet clean and pristine. Over the dining table a bowl of udon soup sat steaming on the table, along with a pair of fancy chopsticks and a small bowl of rice.
Kakashi did not look up as he spoke as he turned a page in his book. “I didn’t think that your stomach could handle anything heavier at the moment.” He spoke as if there were no argument that the younger man would eat. “There’s more on the stove if this isn’t enough. There’s medicine for your headache for when you are done.”
Iruka felt a stab of irritation. He was not a child to be coddled. But perhaps his irritation was due to his embarrassment from the night before and earlier that morning. Kakashi must think him a fool. But then Iruka’s stomach growled, the enticing scent of the food reminded that he had hardly eaten the day before. He gave Kakashi a stiff bow in thanks before settling in a cushion to eat.
The soup was divine. Bite-sized chunks of chicken and a bouquet of lightly seasoned vegetables swam among the thick noodles. It was mild enough for a sensitive stomach to handle and yet seasoned just enough to tantalize the tongue. The ingredients were far more elaborate than what Iruka’s budget could accommodate when he had lived on his own. Iruka would have never guessed Kakashi possessed a taste for advanced cooking. He ate everything down to the last kernel of rice. While Iruka ate Kakashi contently remained where he was with his back to the chuunin, silently reading his beloved book.
It was only a moment after he had placed his chopsticks over the empty soup bowl when Kakashi snapped the book shut and tossed a tiny satchel of powdered medicine onto the tabletop as well as a glass of water from under the table. He rose to collect the empty dishes, speaking over Iruka’s protests to help “After I’m done washing I’ll give you a tour of the house.”
Iruka watched Kakashi retreat behind the marble island to set about washing the dishes. A fragment of a thought from the previous night floated to the surface of memory, of how Kakashi’s demeanor had dramatically transformed into one that was guarded and distant. Apparently nothing had changed after Kakashi had chastely kissed Iruka goodnight.
Recalling his confused emotions summoned color in Iruka’s cheeks. Iruka was loathe to admit that at the time he was willing to do more than kiss the jounin, but thankfully Kakashi had more sense than the drunk chuunin had possessed at the time.
Iruka furiously tore open the satchel to sniff the powdered medicine within. It was an ingrained habit of any proper shinobi to examine a drug for contaminants. ’But really,’ a small voice chided in back of Iruka’s mind ’Has Kakashi not done enough to earn a small measure of your trust?’
Admitting that he had been intoxicated enough to throw himself at the jounin was one thing, but it was an entirely different matter to consider what would have happened that same morning if events had unfolded otherwise. Iruka shamefully knew his temper well enough to have rested the entire blame on Kakashi and none for himself. It was a bitter truth hard to swallow. Perhaps his temper was reason enough for Kakashi to be so guarded. It bothered Iruka, how that potential wedge could have so easily been planted at the start of their partnership.
’Not a partnership’ he thought with a scowl. As if the ring on his finger wasn’t enough proof. He had better get used to the idea of being married, and fast. It still rankled how his life had spun from his control to land him with an unwanted husband in the short span of a week. That bitterness in itself was another thing Iruka had to consider, as both he and Kakashi were at a crucial stage that could set the tone of their relationship in the years to come. Iruka would have to care for the affairs of the Hatake estate; receiving dignitary house calls and the like, and care for Kakashi himself…to a certain extent. If he was expected to cook and clean for a smartass jounin, then he certainly was not above slipping itching powder into the laundry.
Iruka idly fiddled with the small medicine packet. The powdered grains tumbled from one corner of the paper satchel to the other as he considered. Kakashi had certainly tended to Iruka’s needs so far with breakfast and separate quarters of his own. It could well be that Kakashi was willing to restart their new partnership from a clean slate. Iruka was more than willing to take that opportunity. If it was one.
Then again, Iruka could be over analyzing Kakashi’s odd behavior. They were practically strangers living under the same roof. Iruka would be a fool to assume the inner workings of the copy-nin’s mind. Three days was hardly sufficient time to be acquainted with one’s new spouse. He would have to learn Kakashi piece by piece and day by day, and see what revelations would come from it.
Just like the revelation he saw earlier that morning. The image of a bare-chested Kakashi floated to the surface of Iruka’s memory, with mask askew and pale muscles taut for action...
’Don’t you DARE go there,’ Iruka firmly told his rebellious mind and swallowed the bitter medicine in due haste.
~*~*~*~*~
With the aid of medicine Iruka’s hangover had receded to a dull ache in the back of his head. With his senses (somewhat) restored he was able to devote his full attention on the guided tour of his new home.
There were about thirty empty apartments on the first floor alone, with another ten on the second floor above. All were designed to accommodate a couple or a small family. The mansion had been built to hold the residents of an entire familial clan in mind. The majority of the rooms were sealed due to the simple reason that Kakashi was its sole resident, and the jounin had no use for the extra space.
From what the jounin eluded, the prime of the Hatake clan had been three generations before his time. He did not give explanation for the cause of his clan’s decline, and Iruka doubted that he wanted to hear it. It went without saying that the final straw for the remainder of clansmen to defect from their ancestral home had been the suicide of Hatake Sakumo. Iruka was aware of the ‘how’ surrounding the death of Kakashi’s father but only had vague knowledge surround the ‘why.’ What was widely known was that Sakumo died disgracefully in contempt of the village, and to most his suicide cemented the justification that had destroyed the respectability attached to the name of the Hatake clan.
It made Iruka uncomfortable that he had gleaned that intimate slice of Kakashi’s history though idle gossip. Granted, it was long before Iruka had married the jounin, but it did not settle very well as Kakashi led him through the empty house. Iruka he would have to take care to not blunder into that delicate subject unless Kakashi brought it up first.
Kakashi led Iruka through every twist and turn of the maze that floor level of the Hatake mansion. Light cedar paneling lined the ceiling, walls and floor, and it countered the claustrophobic effect of the narrow corridors. An occasional mirror at the end of the hallways helped, as well as tiny windows set high overhead to offer entry for natural light. The hallways were clean aside from the furthermost areas of the house where a light coating of dust tracked the passage of the two shinobi’s bare feet. Iruka suspected Kakashi used some sort of jutsu to blow away the cobwebs and dust when the presence of both became too unbearable. But despite a tolerable level of dust the air felt stale and carried faint traces of the musty scent of mildew, and every so often Iruka caught a whiff of a dead rodent or bird trapped inside the walls, slowly decaying like the rest of the unoccupied mansion.
The sliding doors leading to the now-deserted quarters of clansmen were made from lightweight wood with intricate carvings of polished trees or complex floral motifs. A few belonging to clansmen of status had animal motifs in place of the milder floral designs to stand as guardian before those that would dare encroach upon their domain. Whomever occupied those rooms had to have been of a foreboding disposition, as the wooden faces of the beasts seem to reflect the mood of the empty mansion; tigers, feral dogs, and other carved predators glared in accusation as the men glided by, their frozen snarls appeared to want attack the son of the traitor that had driven the occupants away. Beautifully carved as they were, Iruka did not like any of those doors one little bit.
The copy-nin opened several of the warded rooms to allow Iruka a peek inside. Most were entirely empty or contained faded wall hangings and a few pieces of furniture draped in canvas. “My relatives gutted the house before they left.” Kakashi stated blandly at some point. “I was too young at the time to do anything but watch.”
The vast emptiness seemed to emphasis Kakashi’s lonely existence. The mansion felt more like a hallow museum than a proper home. It was hard to imagine that it had once bustled with activity and echoed with the laughter of children. Iruka could not fathom how a boy could flourish in the silence all alone, but then Kakashi had been a prodigy with little time to spare at home.
One door in particular caught Iruka’s eye. It was unremarkable like all the others, save for a thick coating of dust over the carving of a persimmon tree heavy with fruit. It was a stark contrast to the other sealed rooms, as if it had not been opened for untold years. “What about that one?” Iruka asked when it became apparent that Kakashi was intent to walk past the persimmon door.
“Ah, that one?” Kakashi’s gait paused for the briefest of moments, and then his feet carried him onward. “I found my father in there.”
The flat statement made Iruka stop dead in his tracks. His took in the sight of the door with the beautifully carved persimmon tree. Songbirds nestled amongst the branches as they feasted on the plump fruit. He could see it now, how dust and wispy remnants of cobwebs filled every crack in the wood. It was a tomb leading to dark memories. “I’m sorry” Iruka blurted, not knowing what else to say.
“Don’t be,” Kakashi replied. “It happened a long time ago.” His voice carried a note of finality that all but demanded the subject to be dropped.
~*~*~*~*~
A short time later Kakashi had escorted Iruka to the front of the house where he lived. Kakashi’s bedroom was located on the first floor, not too far from the kitchen and bathroom. It was comforting to Iruka that he had the entire upstairs as his private domain, in a way. And Kakashi assured that the empty rooms upstairs was free to use for whatever purpose that Iruka saw fit.
Iruka was surprised to discover a library behind Kakashi’s bedroom. Most of the books were antique manuals on shinobi warfare tactics, but there was also a varied selection of fiction novels as well. Iruka was not at all surprised to see a special corner dedicated to the colorfully bound Icha Icha literature, complete with ‘pre-order special collector’s edition anatomically correct figurines’ on the shelf above. The jounin lightened up considerably as he presented his prized collection to the sputtering chuunin with obvious pride.
Kakashi concluded the tour at the main entrance of the house. The front door was an immense thing carved with visages of feral dogs wrestling among storm clouds. Kakashi opened the door to reveal a cobbled pathway lined with neatly trimmed bushes and fruit trees. A high stone wall bordered the estate at the far end. From what Iruka could see of the mansion’s exterior, it possessed dark blue tiles for a roof and dark wooden beams separating white washed walls.
“Once your stomach has settled I will add your chakra pattern to the gate,” Kakashi said. “Then you can come and go as you please.” He gave Iruka an unreadable look as he slid the heavy door shut. “And…there is one more thing. It’s not much, but I prepared something for you.”
Kakashi led the mystified chuunin through a door that blended seamlessly with the walls, one that was all but hidden from view next to the main entrance. The dark corridor contained no windows and was the narrowest Iruka had seen. He eyed the plain wooden door at the end with growing unease. It appeared to be a closet. Iruka folded his arms and shot a worried frown at the other man’s back ’Here it comes, the moment Kakashi reverts back to his old tricks.’ The jounin’s company had felt unnatural without the ready smile and bantering dry humor. It would almost be reassuring if the closet contained household cleaning supplies complete with a frilly maid outfit and matching feather duster.
The door creaked beneath Kakashi’s fingers and blinding light poured into the hallway. Iruka’s hands clutched at his arms once his eyes adjusted to the glaring brightness. It was not a closet.
It was an office.
Sunlight streamed in from wide window overlooking the lush greens of the gardens outside. The peak of the Hokage monument was visible in the distance beyond the high garden walls. Beneath the window was a beautiful antique desk made from warm chestnut. Crawling up the rounded legs of the desk were fanciful carvings of flowering vines with tiny grasshoppers and mice hid among the vines as if playing a game of hide and seek. A small stack of freshly purchased notebooks and ink bottles were nestled in a cubby beneath inclined writing space. Empty book cases and shelves lined nearly every space of the walls, interspaced occasionally with tall standing lamps. The freshly polished furniture gleamed in the sunlight and held the freshly polished scent of lemons. The room was moderately sized but not confining to become claustrophobic once the bookshelves were bursting at full capacity. Kakashi had witnessed the state of Iruka’s office and had kept the sensei’s tendency to hoard documents in mind.
“This was once a part of the servant’s quarters.” Kakashi explained, motioning Iruka to step inside. He sounded apologetic “It’s not as elaborate as the other rooms, but I figured that it would be more comfortable since it’s close to the stairwell and kitchen.”
Iruka was utterly stunned. He worked his jaw to speak “This is…for me?” he paused to swallow a hard lump down his throat. “Why?”
“An annoying subordinate of mine gave some good advice.” Kakashi shrugged. “I chose to follow it.”
Iruka wasn’t sure how to take this unexpected gift. It was a dream came true. He was no longer tied to spending long evenings between the Academy and the Administration building. Kakashi gifted him a bright haven to escape the oppressive gloom of the rest of the house. Iruka stiffened to bow before Kakashi. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I do not deserve this.”
“Deserve?” Kakashi sniffed, sounding a little put-off. He turned to face the window, his pale fingers scrubbed at a spot of dust he had missed on the sill. He muttered “You are now my husband, it is only proper that I…accommodate my home for you.”
“Ah, of course,” Iruka readily agreed. The office had newness about it. The wood of the furniture was uniform in color but mismatched as if they have been hunted down and gathered from several locations throughout the mansion. Then it hit Iruka: Kakashi could not have prepared this room on a whim. Kakashi had made an effort to anticipate the needs of his new husband despite the high tensions between them before their wedding. A shameful blush warmed Iruka’s complexion as he recalled his suspicion mere minutes ago. It seemed that Kakashi was truly making an effort to start their new relationship from a clean slate, and Iruka was making a piss-poor start by not giving Kakashi the benefit of a doubt.
Kakashi’s head jerked as if he suddenly recalled something. He abruptly turned from the windowsill to face the chuunin. “I hate to do this without warning, but I need to introduce you to the pack.”
Buried in his thoughts, Iruka was caught off guard. “The what?”
“The ninken pack,” Kakashi scratched his head with an exasperated sigh. “They would cause trouble if I wait any longer. By their protocol I should have allowed them to approve of you first, but with how fast the marriage contract went I entirely forgot.”
~*~*~*~*~
Ten minutes later, Iruka found himself in the garden. Several half-sunken pagoda statues lined the grassy patch of lawn. Kakashi stood next to one of the statues as he carefully watched the scene before him in a deceptively casual stance. Iruka was mindful to remain perfectly still as the eight ninken explored him with prodding noses and feet.
“Hm, I don’t smell much blood on this one.” A ninken with dark glasses said after sniffing Iruka’s hand. “What I can smell is very old. That is good.”
“Ohh, I like him.” A slender hound covered in bandages said in a smooth feminine voice. “He smells of the village. I don’t think he leaves very often.”
“Maybe it’s because he’s weak,” the largest of the hound, a hulking bulldog said in a gruff voice. “He reeks of human children.”
“Don’t forget that I raised three litters of my own, Bull.” The slender hound snapped. “Would you think me weak as well?” Her challenge was answered with a grumbled apology from Bull.
“I’m a teacher at the Academy,” Iruka offered. He was acutely aware of sharp noses possessing even sharper teeth poking into his thighs and nether regions.
“I wanna play with them!” A light-furred hound with a kanji symbol marking its forehead clamored over its pack mates to get in front of the chuunin. Its mannerisms hinted that he was the youngest. The young ninken pressed its paws against Iruka’s knees imploringly. “No one here ever wants to play with me, you see…”
“What are you talking about, Bisuke? We play with you all the time!” A gruff voice from somewhere in the pack chided with all the authority of a leader. Iruka recognized the voice belonging to the same ninken Kakashi had summoned the other day at the Academy. The dark-faced pug wriggled through the throng to leap upon Bisuke’s back and glared up at Iruka with droopy eyes. “Huh. So this is the bitch that’s taking my place.” He sounded quite unimpressed.
“What did you call…me?!” Iruka’s voice rose to a shrill squeak when Bisuke’s hard nose very pointedly buried into his crotch.
“I take offense to your tone of that title, young man.” The slender hound said with a proud toss of her head. “It’s what we always call ninken such as myself and the honored mates of an alpha leader.”
“I wouldn’t get on Uuhei’s bad side if I were you,” the tiny pug warned with a dramatic roll of its eyes. “She has a temper, you see---”
“I do NOT!” The female hound snarled.
“Whatever,” the pug said unconcernedly as if the argument was a longstanding one. The large eyes settled on the face of the chuunin, its wide prominent nostrils flared to take in Iruka’s scent. “I think the bitch checks out. He smells stable, and that’s good enough for me.” The little dog’s verdict was answered by affirmative growls from the rest of the pack.
Kakashi’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thanks, Pakkun.”
“Don’t mention it, Boss.” Pakkun replied. Then all at once the ninken pack dispersed in a cloud of smoke, leaving the jounin and one flustered chuunin alone in the garden patch.
The muscles in Iruka’s mouth worked irritably. He very much disliked being called…that word, even if it was considered a title of honor. Despite his irritation Iruka did not have the heart to press his temper on Kakashi, not when the copy nin looked so immensely relieved that his ‘bitch’ had been approved by the ninken pack.
Iruka took a deep breath instead as he followed the copy-nin back to the cobblestone path. His headache was starting to return, and his body complained for the need of a hot soaking bath followed by sleep. And he needed to think, there was a lot of information Iruka needed to process and reevaluate. “I’m going upstairs for the day.” Iruka said once they were inside the house. He made a deep bow before the jounin. “Thank you for today, I appreciate all that you have done for me.”
“So polite, Iruka-sensei” Kakashi surprised the chuunin with a deep chuckle. “If you are not careful I might start to suspect that you are able to tolerate me.”
Iruka managed to hide his smile. Somehow he had made a crack in the copy-nin’s withdrawn demeanor. It was a welcoming fragment of Kakashi’s personality that Iruka had honestly missed throughout the day.
Kakashi fiddled with a piece of lint he had found in his pocket. “If you are not joining me for dinner tonight then I should say my goodbyes now. I’m leaving in the morning for a mission outside of the Fire Country. It might last as long as two months.”
“So soon?” Iruka blinked. “B-but…you just got married!”
“I accepted this mission before you accepted my marriage contract.” Kakashi flicked the piece of lint onto the floor. “The Sandaime Hokage has been generous to delay my mission so that I may marry his adopted son, but even the Hokage’s generosity has his limits.”
“I see,” Iruka was able to mask his disappointment. He was not looking forward living alone in the vast Hatake mansion the day after he had moved in. And he had wanted the chance to explore this strange new relationship forming between himself and Kakashi. Today had been the first day of a partnership that was supposed to last for the rest of their lives. Iruka mentally shook himself. He had to focus on the here and now. “I would appreciate if you could leave me notes of what chores I should do around the house.”
Kakashi gave the chuunin-sensei an odd look. “This place is as much your home as it is mine.” Kakashi made a motion with one hand to include the entire Hatake estate. “You will be spending more time here than me. So do whatever you like, aside snooping around my bedroom and boxing away my Icha Icha collection. You can even knock down some walls and replace all the furniture for all I care.”
Iruka’s eyes had widened to saucers. He never, ever would have fathomed that Kakashi would grant him so much freedom within the house. “I’ll do my best,” he said faintly as he shuffled past the jounin to make his way upstairs. He paused to give his new husband one last look before opening the door to the stairwell. “Please be safe.”
“Always,” Kakashi replied with a tilting smile beneath his mask.
~*~*~*~*~
With the Kakashi gone Iruka had settled back into the familiar routine working his two jobs. Iruka certainly had no need for the extra income now that he was married to the wealthy Hatake Kakashi, but it was on his own principle to have financial independence earned by his own hand. It went without saying that his earnings were now more generous without a goodly sum of it going to support the Sarutobi clan or a shoddy apartment. Iruka’s eyes had nearly popped out of his head when he had received his first paycheck without those deductions.
Despite his recent boost in personal income Iruka was loath to lighten the work load between his two jobs. The truth was he honestly would not know what to do with all the free time on his hands. Kakashi’s gift of an in-home office already provided a window of freedom than what Iruka was used to enjoying, and he took full advantage to relax at home with a bento box dinner in hand as he scribbled through paperwork.
There was no denying the fact that he had wedded Hatake Kakashi, so Iruka had resigned to wear his wedding ring outside the house. Iruka had a suspicion that not doing so would be detrimental to the newfound respectability of the Sarutobi and Hatake clans. Gossip and rumor spread in Konoha as readily as in any normal village, and a person of interest was closely scrutinized in anticipation of their first misstep. Whatever Iruka did or did not do, like the simple act of disregarding his wedding ring, could be taken as a sign that the union was unstable and ready to break. Neither Iruka nor Kakashi could afford even that rumor to spread, not when the political weight of their clans was in its most fragile state. Such were the subtle intricacies in the game of politics. It was trying at times, to keep in mind all the advice that had been plied upon him throughout the years by Akemi and the Sandaime Hokage.
There had been a few incidents shortly following Iruka’s return to work. The bulk of it involved coworkers and students eager to swallow some juicy tidbit about the notorious copy-nin. Iruka had anticipated those confrontations and had firmly shut them down before they could gain momentum. The children knew better than to press their luck but Iruka had to emphasis his point less subtly with the adults by cracking his knuckles whenever a conversation ventured too close to probing into his marriage. His personal life was not up for conversation, period. The staff at both offices readily took the hint as they knew Iruka well enough than to invite his wrath.
It was another matter dealing with the rest of the shinobi population.
It came to a head one afternoon in the Missions room a week after Kakashi had left. The incident with the sake caske was no secret among the residents of Konoha. It was a juicy topic for speculation with many unwilling to believe that a mere chuunin school teacher knocked the legendary Sharingan Kakashi out cold over the alter on their wedding day.
And with the copy-nin gone it had only been a matter of time before some poor soul worked up the nerve to confront the ‘mere chuunin school teacher’ to see if those rumors rang true.
Iruka’s pen halted mid-sentence over a file report when a dull thump hit the surface of his desk. He calmly regarded the special jounin who had placed a small wooden sake cask atop his completed mission report. “It is not after hours, Ebisu-san.” Iruka’s expression was carefully blank. “So unless you are inviting me out for a drink I assume you have a valid reason for cluttering my desk with this?” He jabbed the point of his pen at the sake cask.
Iruka had not taken into account how his clear voice had carried throughout the room. The buzz of conversation among the long lines of shinobi abruptly ceased. A dropped pin could be heard in the silence. Not a single face directly stared at the chuunin, but Iruka was keenly aware that every eye was fixed in anticipation of what he would do next, and he noted that some of those eyes gleamed with wolfish eagerness.
Ebisu adjusted his sunglasses before making a prim reply “Well, I was in Suna during your wedding, you see. I just wanted to express my congratulations on your union with Kakashi-san.” The man had the gall to not bother hiding his smirk. “And rumor told me that you are fond of sake wine, in or out of the cask.” The emphasized word prompted a snigger from the back of the crowd.
Iruka’s right hand twitched for the want to rub the bridge of his nose where his scar fell. It had been a vain hope that his inebriation at the wedding had been overlooked by the gossipmongers. Instead of rubbing his nose Iruka gave the special jounin a smile warm enough to make flowers bloom but with a hint of thorns pricking the edges. It was the smile that would have sent his students scrambling to hide under their seats. “Thank you, Ebisu-san. On behest of my husband we wholeheartedly accept your generosity.” He could hear Genma trying not to choke on the senbon. Everyone who had the pleasure of experiencing Iruka’s temper knew that too-sweet smile all too well.
Iruka picked up a neatly ordered stack of documents resting on one corner of his desk. He had been saving them for a bully like Ebisu to appear. “You mentioned that you’ve just returned from Suna?” His tone was almost casual as he thumbed through the papers. “The heat must have been brutal this time of year. I will be sure to pull some strings to assign you to a more favorable region…ah, here’s one.”
A document slipped free from the stack. “The Nigawa clan requests a Konoha representative to act as delegate between a territorial dispute… something about wandering goats and fence posts moving on their own. The mountain air should cool your head, but I would advise packing extra luggage. I hear that the blizzards make traveling impossible and can last for months at a time.”
Ebisu’s eyebrows had jumped to hide beneath the blue headscarf. “Hey now-“
“But there is also the pressing matter of the fish processing plants in the Midawa prefecture.” Iruka examined another document as if he had not heard the other man’s protest. “Apparently bits of cockroach have been found in their recent exports. I would imagine the sea air would be quite refreshing compared to Sauna’s dry heat, but I fear the fragrant breeze of rotting fish and screaming seagulls could dampen the charm...”
The special jounin was obviously regretting his attempt to bait the chuunin. “Perhaps I should go.” Ebisu reached to reclaim the sake cask but was thwarted by a sharp rap over the knuckles by Iruka’s pen.
“No no,” Iruka gently reprimanded. “As you said, I am very fond of sake wine, though my husband has had the pleasure to learn that I prefer it inside the cask.” Iruka’s mild tone belied a smile that revealed his teeth. With a hum he idly tapped his pen against the sake cask “I think a jounin of your caliber can do with an assignment in the Akasuka providence. I had a mission there once. I can guarantee that the swamplands provide more than enough shade from the sun. I still have nightmares about the fist-sized mosquitoes, but they weren’t nearly as bad as the giant millipedes. Now those have a nasty bite if you disturb the nests they make inside the bedrolls--”
“I think I’m going to leave now,” Ebisu said faintly. He looked distinctively ill beneath his sunglasses.
“Yes, I do believe that’s best.” Iruka agreed regretfully. His dark eyes slid away from Ebisu to deliver a weighted look at the stunned shinobi waiting in line, and he was satisfied to see many appeared ready to flee. As a teacher, Iruka found it was most effective to finish a lesson by driving the point home. “I have so many urgent requests but I’m limited to assign them to one candidate at a time.” He gave Ebisu another sugary-sweet smile before the special jounin had the chance to retreat back into the crowd. “Do remember to pack some repellent before claiming your next assignment. I thank you for your continuing service to our village.”
For the rest of the day Iruka left the sake cask where it was over his desk. To any of the wide-eyed shinobi that had not witnessed the exchange that inquired, Iruka would smile and simply explain “It’s a wedding gift from Ebisu-san. I expressed my gratitude most graciously.”
By the end of the day word quickly spread of special jounin’s fate. Afterwards no shinobi dared try to cross Hatake Umino Iruka within his domain.
~*~*~*~*~
In the two weeks after Kakashi’s departure Iruka made some effort to explore his new home. Despite Kakashi’s permission to ‘do whatever he would like to the house’ Iruka was hesitant to leave his personal mark on anything not already available inside the mansion. He felt like an intruder at the best of times, one that was completely out of place in the faded grandeur of the Hatake estate. Even during the day with the sun held high in the sky he pointedly avoided the Persimmon carved door. The bad memories inside was not for Iruka to intrude, so he left it alone.
Iruka set upon himself the task of refurbishing the abandoned sitting room located near the main entrance. At some point his duties as spouse would be to receive clients for contracts to Kakashi’s services along with hosting formal visits from both dignitaries and shinobi leaders. Hyuuga Yukari had made it a point to drill into Iruka’s head how the appearance of one’s home could affect a potential deal for the better or for the worst, and Iruka had every intention to make the first impression a lasting one when dignitaries stepped into the Hatake mansion.
Kakashi’s had spoke true stating the house had been gutted of valuables, but between several rooms Iruka salvaged dusty pieces of furniture and some knick-knacks of decorative pottery to be carefully cleaned and painstakingly polished with a delicate hand. New cushions and wall hangings had to be purchased, as most of what he found were faded or moth eaten. Over the course of the two weeks Iruka was satisfied to see his efforts pay off as the sitting room gradually took a semblance of a respectable state.
Iruka had been so preoccupied with refurbishing the sitting room that he had spared little energy to any other chore than light cleaning. Kakashi had stocked enough fresh food in the house to feed one inhabitant, and Iruka had readily ate what was in store, but he had not possessed the foresight to take notes of what had been stocked in the larders until after they had been utterly depleted.
It was this dilemma that had prompted Iruka to wake early one Saturday morning to visit the Konoha marketplace. It all too tempting to give into the his usual weekend routine to sleep into the early afternoon, as the morning crowds made it the worst time to shop, but with the stalls competing for customers it was also the most opportune time to get the best deals.
Iruka had thought that he at least had a vague plan of what to buy from the marketplace, but after half an hour his wicker basket remained empty aside from a packet of hard noodles and dried soup stock. Iruka wanted to tell himself that he was overwhelmed by the sheer number of culinary possibilities, but the sad truth was he possessed little knowledge of how to prepare food that did not originate from a box.
Iruka was trying to decide if some long yellow tubers were vegetables or fruit when he heard his name called by a feminine voice from the bustle of the crowd. ’Great,’ Iruka thought with an inward groan as he turned to greet the woman, identifying her as Shimaoka Midori, the mother of a former student. The middle aged woman reminded Iruka of a sparrow, with quick darting eyes and a pointed nose that enhanced the resemblance. She possessed a tongue as sharp as her nose, and with her flock of cronies following her lead she could pick apart a person like a juicy worm.
“Oh, if it isn’t Iruka-sensei!” Midori elbowed through the shoppers with a crowd of housewives following in tow. “Marriage seems to agree with you--oh, congratulations by the way.”
“Oh my, yes.” A plump housewife tittered before Iruka could respond. “I would have thought Kakashi-san would have wrung him out by now---“
“That is so true!” Midori readily agreed. “Kakashi-san has a reputation, you see…” her eyes glittered as she paused a brief moment. “And who could tell what goes on inside that strange man’s head?”
All at once the housewives fixed their attention on the hapless chuunin. Iruka would have slipped away if he could, but he was pinned in by the housewives with the stall of weird tubers at his back. His smile turned onto a sickly grimace as five too-friendly smiles blossomed beneath calculating stares.
“So tell us…” a petite housewife asked with an unsettling look in her eyes. “Is it true that Kakashi-san has a love doll for all the empty rooms in the house?”
“What? No!” Iruka sputtered. He automatically held the wicker basket up to his chest in an unconscious effort to fend the women off. “I never-“
“Did you check the basement, or the attic?” a second housewife cut in with a sly smirk. “Every husband has their secrets. It all depends on how determined you are to ferret them out.”
“Even so, he parades those filthy books in the presence of children!” a third woman scowled. “You of all people should know how impressionable young minds are. You must do something about that awful habit of his, Iruka-kun.”
Iruka immensely disliked the familiar use of his given name. Facing an enemy out in the field was far easier than handling these women. He gave the housewives a self-depreciating smile in hopes to divert the conversation. “Well you see, Kakashi-san always has the protection and prosperity of our village in mind-“
“I hear that he keeps trophies!” The plump housewife said with a delicious shudder. “Is it true that he has the severed head of that Akatsuki-nin Kakuzu nailed to the wall? Not that I would want to see it, of course…”
“I wouldn’t know,” Iruka clipped. A spark of temper gave bite to his tone. He had no idea such ridiculous rumors surrounded Kakashi. Iruka reminded himself that he had to keep some semblance of his manners around these women, lest he invite their ire to interfere with his work at the Academy.
Midori huffed in exasperation. “Either way, there is no excuse for your husband to go about flaunting his…reading around our village!” Her eyes narrowed on Iruka, and she made what Iruka assumed was supposed to be an ingratiating smile. “You have seen beneath the mask, I assume?”
Five expectant faces turned upon Iruka, all gleaming with anticipation.
Iruka couldn’t help himself. He made a show of glancing around before lowering his head into the small circle of women. His voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper “Well, about that…” The housewives eagerly pressed forward, hanging on his every word. “To tell the truth…it’s none of your business what goes on between me and my husband.”
Iruka straightened from the circle of stunned women, a smile wrought from sunshine beaming off his face. “Enjoy your shopping, ladies.” He slipped past the housewives and into the meandering flow of shoppers.
He had a full minute to feel good about how he had handled the ordeal until a voice at his back murmured “Pay those biddies no mind, my dear boy. Without a war going on there’s little else for them to gossip about.”
Iruka had the good grace to not jump when Morino Kanao materialized at his side. The plump little old women looked all the world like she was an ordinary civilian shopping inside the bustling marketplace, with a full basket of vegetables hooked under one arm. “I realize that” he replied as he wearily eyed Kanao, who was dressed in a nondescript grey kimono patterned with embroidered white lilies. He was not fooled by the grandmotherly smile. Iruka remembered quite clearly how the little old woman had threateningly wielded a pair of chopsticks before him after the wedding ceremony. In addition, Iruka had an unsetting suspicion that Kaeno had orchestrated his chance encounter with the housewives. Retirement can do funny things to ex-ANBU.
Kaeno frowned at the nearly empty basket in Iruka’s hand. “One cannot live off of soup stock and noodles alone. You need to add vegetables to your meals.”
Iruka flushed in spite of himself. He had lived off a pauper’s diet for so long that he had trouble expanding his options. Fresh produce and meat had been a luxury when he had a limited budget to support himself, and what little he could afford had to last longer than a week in the fridge. He averted his eyes from the Kaeno’s penetrating look. “I…um, I don’t…” his voice trailed off miserably.
“Eh, what’s that?” Kaeno cupped a hand to her ear. “Spit it out!”
Heat inflamed Iruka’s face. “I don’t know how!” he grated.
Keano’s eyes flickered between the crimson-faced chuunin and his sparse wicker basket. She quickly put two and two together with a dry quirk of her lips. “I suppose we should start with what’s in season.” She shoved her own basket for the young chuunin to carry then snatched Iruka’s elbow to drag him into the heart of the marketplace where the stalls exploded with a countless variety of colorful fruit and vegetables.
Kaeno pointed to a random stall containing squat dark green gourds the size of a child’s head. “That there is a kabocha, a type of sweet pumpkin. Other than being an excellent source of vitamins it has a mild flavor that is good on its own, yet it can be added to both stews and desserts.”
“I know what it is,” Iruka said testily as he tried to wrest his elbow from Kaeno’s iron grip. He wasn’t that ignorant.
“But do you know how to test for quality?” Kaeno plucked a random pumpkin from the stall and held it up to Iruka’s ear. “Don’t ever assume a vegetable it is ripe from appearance alone.” Her bony fingers tapped the surface, eliciting a dull thump. “This one needs another week before its ready.” She replaced the pumpkin and selected another, which produced a more hollow sound. “Remember that sound. It’s the pumpkin’s way of saying that it is ready to eat.”
“Oh,” Iruka regarded the pumpkin in the old woman’s hand. “Does Kakashi like kabocha?”
“I can’t say,” Kaeno admitted. “But I can guarantee that any shinobi enjoys a hot meal to fuel his body.” She shook her head with disbelief. “I don’t know how you appear so healthy living off that slop you consider soup!”
Iruka’s scowl deepened. He was not going to admit that the bulk of his nutrients were gained from his free lunches at the Academy cafeteria.
Kaeno read his reluctance and placed the kabocha pumpkin back on the stall. She made an exasperated sound through her teeth. “And I suppose that I’d have to teach you how to cook as well. I’ll get you started with the basics of meal preparation, at least. If you are free this evening you are welcomed to help me prepare dinner, and eat some of it too.”
Iruka was stunned by Kaeno’s generous offer. He dismissed all previous qualms he had about the elder woman. “Thank you, Morino-san.” Iruka said breathlessly as he sketched a bow under the heavy weight of her basket. The old woman certainly had a weakness for potatoes. “If there’s anything I can do in return-“
“Yes, yes,” Kaeno waved the chuunin off distractedly as she studied the next produce stall containing pale daikon radishes that were nearly as long as her arm. “A few weeds pulled from my garden now and then would be much appreciated, as my old back is not what it used to be.”
“Fair enough,” Iruka smiled, and blinked when the plump old woman disappeared before his eyes. He had only a moment to jerk around and snatch a flying daikon radish sailing through the air before it could break over his head.
Kaeno grinned as she tossed a few coins to the befuddled farmer. She darted to another stall containing apples and proceeded to fling several at the startled sensei. With the daikon radish still in hand Iruka had to spin around to catch each in his basket before they hit the ground.
“Your reflexes are good!” Kaeno cackled “But you will have to be much quicker to keep up with a granny like me, and mind not to bruise the fruit.”
Some hours later found Iruka waddling home under the strain of not one but four baskets of fresh produce and meat, as well as the feeling that what had happed today between him and his neighbor was the start of a very strange friendship.
~*~*~*~
Continued...
Ch. X: The Walls Around Us (Part 2)
Previous Chapters
Prologue & Ch. I: A Battle of Wills
Ch. II: The Burden of Duty
Ch. III: Cold Feet
Ch. IV: The Fine Print
Ch. V: A Wager
Ch. VI: A Matter of Convenience
Ch. VII: Accommodations
Ch. VIII: The Happiest Day of our Lives
Ch. IX: A Solid Foundatin