(no subject)
Title: The Copy Ninja
Author: JBMcDragon
Rating: PG-13 for innuendo and the occasional curse word. The epilogue, which can be avoided without missing any story, is rated NC-17.
Status: Written, will be posted once a week over the next 6.
Genre: Drama, I guess, with a heavy dose of comedy and sarcasm. Mild KakaIru (until the end, when it's no longer mild. *grins*)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, nor am I making any money off of them. They belong to Kishimoto, to my knowledge, or maybe Toykopop or something. Just not me. Used without permission, and not for profit.
Summary:
Never has the term 'Copy Ninja' been so appropriate.
Wandering home from a mission to copy a jutsu that makes other jutsu go wrong, Kakashi is pretty sure the world is out to get him. Imagine his surprise when he learns he's already been home for a full twenty-four hours. Except it's not him--it's a clone gone wrong. But when it doesn't vanish at injury, thinks of things even before he does, and not even Pakkun can tell the difference... Well, who's to say which is a clone, and which is the real thing?
Finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, Iruka is saddled with a ninja that might be a clone. Mind you, an earlier drunken mistake led to great sex and an awful morning after; being a clone would be Kakashi's just desserts, in his opinion. But as they spend time in each other's company, he realizes that he'd be sorry to see this Kakashi go--and certain the man is going to.
How do you fight the facts when they're stacked against you? Not even a genius is sure of that answer.
The Copy Nina 1/6
Chapter Two
Iruka stood in his living room, over the futon that hadn't been folded out, staring down at a sleeping Copy Ninja. The man hadn't put his mask back on. Flannel pants rode low on slim hips, his T-shirt riding up to show a sliver of skin as pale as moonlight against the black cloth.
Silver hair had faded to a cool white as it dried. Strands drifted around his face, soft and silky. He looked worn, and young without his mask. His skin was soft--Iruka knew that firsthand--and nearly unlined. There was the faintest hint of a suntan around his usually-visible eye, now painted over with Tsunade's black starburst-seal. The ink made him look younger still; a child playing with his father's symbols.
He looked peaceful. Handsome, with his lean jaw and faint lines at the corners of his mouth where he smiled--whether or not the expression was sincere.
With great relish, Iruka lifted up the mass of soggy bandages and let them drop on the Copy Ninja's chest.
Kakashi woke with deadly confusion, but that was all right. Iruka was already halfway across the room. "Next time you strip off disgusting pus-covered gauze, put it in the garbage, would you?"
Kakashi blinked, eyes slowly clearing. The Sharingan spun lazily. "Uh..." he looked down at the bandages that had fallen across his feet when he'd sat up and swung his legs over. "Sure."
Iruka smiled. "Time to wake up. I have school in twenty minutes."
As if he couldn't quite believe it, Kakashi looked out the window. Dawn painted a warm blush across the sky. "We didn't go to bed until three a.m.!" he protested.
"Right. And I have to teach at seven. Get up."
"No one is that masochistic. You were working at the mission desk last night--"
"Covering for a friend, and if you hadn't arrived and started all these problems I'd have gotten a solid six hours of sleep. Get up."
With a wounded expression on his oddly-young face, Kakashi scooped the bandages up and walked to the trashcan. Except 'walk' wasn't really the right word, Iruka considered. More like 'hobbled.' If his face looked young, his body sure didn't react that way. He looked like an old man with a bum knee--though by the time he reached the trashcan he'd worked out the kinks, and was at least walking normally, if not with his usual grace.
Iruka turned and went back into the bedroom to finish dressing. He only had twenty minutes.
**
Kakashi was more than aware that Iruka's class probably wasn't normally this subdue. Having introduced Kakashi as an elite jounin, Iruka had sat in him a chair in the corner. Eyes kept straying over to his slouched shape, as if at any moment he'd leap up and accuse them of cheating. He had much better things to do with his time.
Like close his eyes and nap.
Six-thirty. What sort of sick psycho volunteered to get up that early? No wonder Team Seven had always been so grumpy when he'd finally shown up. They'd been missing out on some key hours of blessed sleep. For years.
He did his best to sleep through recess, with children outside shouting and running and generally making a nuisance of themselves. He even managed to keep his eyes closed when he heard screaming. He almost managed the same when he heard Iruka call his name sharply, but toes to his shins popped him awake.
"What?"
"I have to take Kaito to the nurse's station. Recess is over. Watch the kids, would you?"
Kakashi eyed the room of children. "I'm not a teacher."
"You are now. Tsunade said to make you a Teacher's Aide. So teach them something."
Obviously, Iruka wasn't done being annoyed. Kakashi eyed the students. They eyed him back. Teach them something. Right.
**
"So you take the wiener," Iruka heard as he hurried back down the hall, his student discharged into worried parent's hands, "and you insert it down the crack, like so."
It was a long, long moment before the words penetrated. Which was, perhaps, a bad choice of phrase. Iruka remembered suddenly how Naruto used to complain at the things Kakashi taught them. He remembered Kakashi reading Icha Icha Paradise at the most inappropriate times. But surely the man wouldn't--
There was a chorus of giggles.
Iruka broke into a run, slamming through the door of his classroom.
Kakashi stood in front of the blackboard, chalk in one hand, a mangled drawing of a hotdog and a bun smeared across math problems. There were directional arrows.
"What are you doing?" Iruka snapped, relief that the kids weren't being taught an early sex ed overpowered by annoyance.
"Discussing the eating habits of other cultures. It's, uh, what did you say?" He pointed to a redheaded girl with pigtails.
She blushed. "Social studies, Kakashi-sensei!"
"There you are. Social studies." He beamed.
"And not something they really need to learn right now." Iruka snatched at the chalk, only becoming more livid when Kakashi yanked it out of reach. He wouldn't snatch again. Looking that weak in front of his student would incite a riot.
"It's teaching them good undercover skills. Right, everyone?"
"Yes, Kakashi-sensei!" they echoed back with great glee.
Iruka took a deep breath, and then another. If the brats knew how tenuous his control over them really was, he'd never be able to teach again. And Kakashi, blast him, seemed to be delighting in undermining his authority. Well, Iruka wasn't going to help.
His back to the classroom, he narrowed his eyes and glared at the Copy Ninja. A chilly smiled graced his lips. "Give me the chalk."
Whatever Kakashi saw in his expression, it did the trick. The man handed the chalk back and sauntered to his corner, taking up his slouch once more.
Iruka turned to regard his classroom, gauging the damage done. None too bad--not if he re-asserted his position right away. His smile went from chilly to cheerful. "Pop quiz!"
The room resounded with groans. He clapped his hands to regain attention and felt instantly better.
**
Kakashi's day was made perfect when, upon going to the market for groceries, they ran into Anko and his shadow clone. The two Copy Ninja glared at each other while their respective partners ushered them away.
"That other one really is the clone," he muttered.
"Sure, sure. Keep walking."
Kakashi pulled himself upright and twisted to stare at the academy teacher. "It is. I should think I know one of my clones when I see it."
"What do you want to bet he's saying the same thing to Anko right now?"
Crowds parted as they strode down the sidewalk, exuding ninja grace that couldn't be feigned. In Konoha, even civilians recognized it and got out of the way. Much of that grace, however, was absent as Kakashi went stiff. He didn't know why it was important that Iruka believe him. He barely knew the man, didn't really want to know the man, and whether or not he was believed by Iruka wasn't going to change anything, anyway.
But it was important. Important for someone to be on his side, before he was executed as a possible doppleganger. Important to be seen as himself, and not a questionable copy. A copy of the Copy Ninja. Now that was just funny.
Not funny enough to keep him from being angry, though.
After several meters Iruka glanced at him."You might as well stop looking like an injured cat. Fact is, you two aren't recognizable as the real one and the fake. Get used to it."
There had to be someone who--
Pakkun! He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it earlier. Pakkun could tell them apart, surely. Kakashi pulled out his scroll, bit through the tough skin of his thumb, and smeared blood across seals.
People cleared out of the way, muttering things about erratic ninja as they did so. He ignored them, focused, and a moment later his pug appeared in a wisping cloud of smoke.
"Hey, brat. What is it this time? You get that clone stuff figured out?"
He frowned. "What do you know about that?"
Pakkun sighed, plopped his rear on the ground, and scratched at an ear with a hind paw. "Guess not. The other one of you summoned me last night."
That stung. That his shadow clone thought to call Pakkun before he did was just... wrong. He should have thought of it first. He was the original of the two. Stronger, smarter, with quicker access to memories.
He was.
"And?" The word was sharper than he'd meant.
Pakkun's ears rose and fell back again. Slowly, he stood, walking a full circle around Kakashi as they stood on the sidewalk and Iruka looked on with warring curiosity and annoyance on his plain features. Deliberately, the pug stepped close and took a good long sniff of Kakashi's legs. Then he sat and shook his head. "Sorry, brat. You're identical." Floppy ears drooped. "I'd hoped I could tell, but..."
"I'm the real one." His heart thumped heavily. Someone had to know that. Someone had to believe him. Pakkun could often tell truth or lies--
The pug nodded with great care. "The other you said that, too. From what I can tell, you both believe it."
Purposefully, Kakashi slouched as if he didn't care. "But you know--"
"I don't know." There was something awful in those liquid chocolate eyes. Pity. "Come on, kid. Let's go inside, and we'll talk."
**
It was somehow awful to listen to Pakkun and Kakashi's quiet conversation. Iruka took his papers to the bedroom to grade and tried to keep his mind off the discussion in the other room. He could hear every few words, but mostly just the tone.
Quiet talking. Interruptions. Distress.
It wasn't his business. He tried to drag his focus back to homework, and only partially succeeded. When he felt the minor chakra flare that, he thought, meant Pakkun had been banished, he gave up and walked out into his main room.
The great and amazing Sharingan no Kakashi was sitting on the sofa, knees spread, elbows braced on them, his fingers spiking his hair out into disarray. He'd taken off both the hitai-ate and his mask, leaving his pale face naked and bare to any eyes that might fall on it.
Iruka looked quickly away. "Ah... Pakkun-san left?" He headed to the kitchen, busying himself with nothing productive. He poured a glass of water he didn't really want, opening the refrigerator to look for food he didn't really need.
"Yeah."
Nothing else.
Eventually, Iruka closed the fridge and looked out at the hunched man. "He could have stayed. I'm sure no one would have objected--"
"He wanted to go." With a deep breath, Kakashi straightened up and leaned back, head resting against the wall, gaze on the ceiling. "Said he'd rather not get attached to one or the other of us, since it was impossible to tell which would be sticking around."
Iruka winced. So much for dog loyalty. Or maybe the dog was more loyal than it should be. He drank some of his water, mostly for something to do. "I could make us some dinner," he offered at last.
Kakashi's face rolled to peer at him. "What's this, Sensei? I thought you hated me."
It was hard to hate anyone who looked so... 'lost' occurred to him, and he pushed it aside. This was the Copy Ninja, man of a thousand jutsu, former ANBU agent, he who never passed a genin team--except one. He didn't get lost.
"It seems to me I barely know you. Give me some credit." He completely ignored the fact that he'd been treating Kakashi like he did hate him, for something the possible-clone had done.
As if reading his thoughts, Kakashi asked, "So... what did he do? To make you so angry?"
Iruka flushed clear to the roots of his hair. But if he didn't tell, Kakashi would find out eventually, when he reabsorbed (or was reabsorbed into) the clone. "I was drunk the other night. And we had sex. I mean--he and I. And in the morning you--he--Hatake poked fun at everything from sexual prowess to drinking to my behavior. And then left." The conversation was drilled into Iruka's memory. Being called slut and lush and laughed at, all with a cheerful sardonic smile that made him think perhaps he was just being teased... except the words were vile. He hadn't, at the time, known how to respond. He'd been so taken aback he'd done nothing, and Hakate had left with happy promises to look Iruka up the next time he wanted a drunken screw.
Maybe he was being sensitive--but he didn't like being treated like so much trash.
"Well, there, see?" Kakashi hopped up, mismatched eyes alight. "I wouldn't do that! It was a clone!"
Iruka looked at him askance. "Do you have anyone who would vouch for that?"
Kakashi's smile faltered and fell. "No." He sat back down. "And if I were in a bad mood, I might do that. Just to see people squirm." He ran a hand over his head, back and forth, sending his hair in a new direction like some sort of light-seeking growth. "I try not to anymore. But I admit--I can be an asshole."
Iruka nodded. He'd already guessed as much. After team seven had been assigned to Kakashi, he'd done some research, asked around. The picture painted of the man really wasn't entirely flattering. The strokes added to it by Naruto were almost worse, even if they weren't so casually cruel. Genma and Anko had assured him that the brat had grown up over the last several years, no longer quite so embittered by war and the task of surviving. Then Iruka had slept with him, and it had gone so poorly...
He shook his head, rattling the thoughts away. He hadn't slept with this man. Maybe he hadn't slept with Kakashi at all, but a clone.
Looking at the slim figure slouched on the sofa once more, he rather hoped he'd slept with a clone. This Kakashi was much more... human. Taking a deep breath, Iruka summoned a smile from deep inside. "Come on. Stop moping. I'll make some food, and you can help me tear apart papers. It's fun, when you're in a bad mood. Think of all the children whose hopes you'll be dashing."
The Sharingan spun lazily, half-lidded eyes widening for a moment. Then both crinkled, arcing up--mirroring the bright grin that showed off those slightly crooked teeth. The ink painted over one eye--starting to fade--shone dully. "Sounds like a regular party. Just need some porn and sake and we'll be set."
"No porn," Iruka laughed. "But I have sake." He opened a cupboard and pulled out a slightly dusty bottle, picking up two sake glasses while he was at it. One was chipped; he decided to keep that for himself. All three items got a rinsing before he walked them to the low table, where Kakashi had already seated himself. Iruka set the things down, then headed back into the bedroom to grab his paperwork.
It was boring, sure, but maybe a night of laughing at students would cheer Kakashi up. It certainly couldn't make things worse.
**
There was no doubt in his mind that Iruka was being kind for kindness' sake, that he didn't for a moment believe Kakashi, rather than Hatake, was the real Kakashi. If Pakkun couldn't tell...
If Pakkun couldn't tell, how was anyone supposed to know? If Pakkun said Hatake had summoned him first, then...
There were whole chunks of memory missing from Kakashi's mind. Sure, that was because he'd been knocked unconscious. Except the clone's words kept coming back: The real Copy Ninja wouldn't have been that sloppy. The real Copy Ninja would have thought to summon Pakkun right away. The real Copy Ninja would have gone to the hokage first--or taken care of the problem himself. Hakate had done, or attempted, all of those.
After grading homework--Kakashi had fear for the future of the village, if this was what it had to offer--and picking at rice and vegetables, they retired to their respective rooms. Iruka in his futon, and Kakashi on the couch. He stared at the ceiling and tried to banish thoughts from his mind, to no avail. At last he turned to thinking about how very much his shoulder hurt. No matter how he lay, the burns pulled or rubbed somewhere, leaving him in enough pain that tense muscles started a low throb in his head.
Because, of course, a headache would help so much right now.
Eventually, he got out of bed and opened the window, sitting in the sill and staring out over the village.
His village, its safe keeping given to him by the Fourth before Minato had died. He was Sharingan no Kakashi, child genius and high ranking jounin, and the people here were his to watch. He supposed Minato had only told him that to keep him from following in his father's steps, killing himself after so much was lost when the Fox had finished ravaging everything. A pretty speech for a pretty teenager whose sensei knew would struggle to find a place in the new world.
It didn't really matter if it was only pointless words. He'd held it close, using it as a lifeline when things looked bad. They'd looked worse than this, before. And yet... they'd never seemed this tenuous.
His village.
Unless it wasn't. Unless all that was just a memory created for a nearly perfect clone, given life by a warped jutsu.
The sun rose slowly, splashing coppery gold onto the Hokage Monument, catching the glitter of stone for just an instant before the light shifted and it was a cliff face. He quirked a tired smile at himself. Cliff faces, perhaps.
"It's freezing in here. Have you been up all night?"
He turned and looked back at the sleepy-eyed man in flannel pajamas and a robe tossed haphazardly over. "Hm." It was noncommittal at best. He could see what Hatake had seen in the man. Glossy black hair, dark skin, the economical movement all ninja should have but some never achieved. Broad palms and a plain face, somehow attractive despite its sheer normalcy. Or maybe because of the normalcy. In a village where half the ninja found a way to be 'unique,' the very fact that Iruka looked more like ... well, a school teacher, unworried about standing out or blending in but just being himself, was appealing. Only the scar across the bridge of his nose marked him as different, and even that somehow made him the same. Most ninja had scars.
Kakashi looked back out at the faces that watched over the slowly waking village. "Nice view."
"Yeah. I got the place for the view, actually. I mean, it's nice enough anyway, but I pay extra for that sight. Funny, though, I'm usually too busy to admire it."
The microwave beeped, and a moment later Iruka walked up with two mugs of green tea. He offered one, then leaned against the sill where Kakashi's feet rested and peered out over the scenery. "There's a really great little bakery down there. I've known the woman who runs it since I was a teenager. She still sometimes lets me in early when I'm up late, grading."
Kakashi nodded, cradling his mug in both hands, letting the heat seep into the small bones of his fingers.
They were quiet for a little while. Iruka sipped tea, and the cool air, not yet warmed by the sun, kept sliding over them. "Still feeling down?" the chuunin asked.
"Not down." The answer was automatic, his mouth working without his brain having to chime in. "Just contemplating porn."
There was a beat of silence, which he ignored, before Iruka spoke. "You're a lousy liar without your mask."
Kakashi's mouth twisted upward. With black cloth over his face, it wouldn't have been obvious. He could lie without the mask, but... so much effort. "Minato always said the same thing. Said I should practice."
"And did you?"
A laugh found its way out of his throat. "For a while. Stopped after... after the Kyuubi. Didn't seem much point to it. I always wear the mask."
"Hmmm."
He could feel Iruka's regard, warm black eyes peering at his profile. He kept staring out over the village, allowing the chuunin to look his fill.
"You could get caught. Have to lie to an interrogator. They'd remove your mask."
Kakashi made a disgusted noise. "Don't you listen to the rumors? Sharingan no Kakashi doesn't get caught." He caught the flash of a quick grin out of the corner of his eye.
"You might have to tell a lover you like her tea, even when it's awful."
He smiled brightly, patently false, and lifted the untouched mug Iruka had given him. "Good point."
"Hey!" Iruka laughed, turning to face Kakashi, not even pretending to look out anymore. "I make perfectly excellent tea."
"But if I never taste it, I never have to lie about it." He pulled his gaze away from the world, finally, and turned to look at Iruka. Black hair tangled and spilled along the tops of his shoulders, making funny patterns where it caught in the neck of his robe. There was sleep in one eye, and a pink imprint on one cheek. He was heavier boned than Kakashi was, but slightly shorter. A solid-looking chest filled out a T-shirt, implying square muscles without actually outlining them.
"No more tea for you," Iruka joked. He turned away and glanced out the window.
"You microwaved it. I'm not sure being banned from tea is a bad thing."
Iruka snorted. "Traditional, are you? Probably iron your underwear, too."
"I do not--"
Iruka laughed, merry eyes dancing over the village.
"Shouldn't you be getting dressed for another day of hellions?"
"It's Saturday, Kakashi. Surely even you understand the meaning of Saturday. I mean, I know your childhood education was less than traditional, even if your tea-drinking is downright stuffy, but tell me you grasp Saturdays."
"Hmm. Saturdays, Saturdays... nope, I'm pretty sure I don't know that one." He smiled again, falsely bright, somehow sarcastic.
Iruka snorted and drank more tea, ignoring him.
Silence fell, comfortable and easy. Below, people started wandering the streets. Gai ran past several rooftops over, his team in tow with Lee in the front. The jounin sensei was shouting encouragement and reciting poetry about ninja and the beauty of the sunrise. If Kakashi judged Neji and Tenten's expressions correctly, they were more interested in catching up to Gai to shut him up than in any actual training.
"There's a man," Iruka muttered, "who doesn't understand the meaning of Saturdays."
Conversation lapsed again, leaving them in the quite solitude of companionship. Kakashi's mind wandered as he watched the people below, civilians and ninja alike creeping out to start their days. In the flicker of a shadow he caught sight of two ANBU heading for the village gates, and wished them well. Not luck. Never luck. Ninja made their own of that.
Unless you were hit by a jutsu-scrambling technique, in which case something else made your luck for you. His mind turned again to the other Kakashi, staying with Anko several kilometers away. They would figure out which was the real one. And then the other would go away. Which was good. Because, of course, Kakashi was the real one.
Except the other had thought to call Pakkun first. Pakkun said he wasn't lying. Could he have subverted--? But, no. No. That made less sense than the clone thinking it was real.
But if the clone thought it was real...
Kakashi thought he was real. Surely the real Copy Ninja wouldn't have been taken down by an explosion. He rubbed his face, scraping fingers back through his hair.
"Hey," Iruka said quietly. "Tsunade will figure everything out."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Kakashi muttered.
Iruka looked confused, and for a moment he debated explaining. But--he didn't need to share these kinds of doubts with anyone else. He smiled brightly, instead. "What's for breakfast?"
There was a long pause. Then, finally, Iruka grumbled, "You're even worse at changing the subject. Maybe you should stick to lying." But that said, he turned and shuffled into the kitchen. "I think I own some cereal..."
**
There was a mound of disgusting, soggy bandages in the trash. Iruka wrinkled his nose, peering down at it, opening his mouth and making gagging faces even though there was no one around to see. Burns. He hated burns. The oozed and stuck and hurt--
Kakashi hadn't been acting like he was in pain. He'd been a little pale, sure, but that could be because of anything--including natural skin tone. On the other hand, if he was in pain and just not saying anything because he was Mr. Stoic Ninja, well... Iruka would have to berate him for it mercilessly.
He stepped out of the bathroom, wet hair pulled into a limp ponytail, wearing jeans and a clean T-shirt, and looked for his temporary houseguest. It wasn't like there were places Kakashi could hide, exactly, and sure enough, he was in the kitchen slathering peanut butter on crackers.
"That's gross," Iruka said.
Kakashi glanced at him, silver eyebrows rising briefly. Then he took a big bite of one of the crackers, "mmmmm"ing all the while.
"I hope your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth."
Kakashi got that look Iruka sometimes managed to pull from him--like he wasn't sure whether to be amused or annoyed. Amusement won out, as it usually did. Then alarm replaced it, and he started working his jaw with frantic exaggeration. His mouth opened, tongue arcing and pressed upward, covered in masticated cracker and peanut butter, as if it were truly stuck.
Iruka couldn't help it. He shook his head and laughed, earning a quick grin from the other man and--thankfully--a loss of the half-chewed-food view. "How's your arm?" He gestured to where Tsunade had cut him.
Kakashi swallowed, shrugged, and took another bite. He lifted it, glanced down at the white bandage, and made a dismissive gesture.
"And whatever burns?"
That earned a grimace. He swallowed again. "Hurt like hell when I forget to take pain pills. I'll survive."
"Do you have enough? And it can't be easy to bandage. You sure you're managing?"
Those lazy eyes--the ink, Iruka noticed, had entirely faded--looked vaguely amused. "I've managed for last twenty-odd years. I'm pretty sure I've got this covered."
Realizing he was acting like a teacher, rather than... well, whatever he was, Iruka smiled self-consciously. "Right. Well, if you need a hand..." He turned away, picking a magazine up off the top of a stack and staring at the cover before he realized he didn't really care about reading it. He put it down and picked up the remote.
Before the television flicked on, Kakashi cleared his throat. "Actually, if you wouldn't mind, it could probably use another set of hands. It's a little awkward to do salve and bandages and tape at this angle, with only ten measly digits."
Iruka smiled wryly, setting the remote back down. "Yeah, and if you don't get enough salve you end up tearing scabs off..." He'd been there.
"Exactly."
"In your duffel?" At Kakashi's nod, Iruka dug through it. It didn't take much to find the jar of slick goop and the reams of bandages and medical tape. He checked to see if they were non-stick--not that anything could keep from sticking somewhat, but every little bit helped--and glanced up to see Kakashi coming around the counter, already shimmying out of his T-shirt.
Iruka wished the man weren't so sexy. It hit him like a blow to the gut, and he had a sudden vivid alcohol-drenched memory of his hands skimming over a narrow, sinuous torso padded with muscle laying sleek against a slim ribcage--
But that hadn't been this Kakashi. He dragged his mind back to the present, relieved to see the man hadn't noticed Iruka's brief sojourn through happy land. He was folding his shirt, setting it to one side over the arm of a chair.
One shoulder was heavily--and clumsily--bandaged, stretching down his arm a short way and missing a burned section on his back. Iruka winced, looking at it. At that angle, it was more likely that Kakashi had one available hand to bandage, not even the easier two.
"Sit there," Iruka suggested, gesturing to the low table. Kakashi folded himself gracefully into a lotus position, presenting the curve of his spine and the flat planes of his shoulder blades. Iruka knelt behind him, unscrewing the lid to the jar. "Hold this?"
Kakashi lifted a hand, palm open, without turning to look. Iruka set the jar in it, long fingers closed, and the man left his hand there so Iruka could reach the gel again without asking.
Carefully, he started to peel the old bandages off. Medical tape did its best to drag skin off, too, tearing away the topmost layer. There were patches where flesh was starting to look raw, where Kakashi had likely pulled off several bandaging jobs. The muscles so near Iruka tensed and bunched when yellow scabs, sticking to the wraps, tore off as well.
"Sorry," Iruka murmured, working as carefully as he could. No matter how carefully he worked, though, more scabs came away, more skin was ripped off, and the tense lines of muscle framing Kakashi's spine quivered under his pale flesh.
Kakashi had missed several sections that needed to be bandaged, adding insult to injury by taping over them instead. Other areas had no--or not enough--salve, making the forming scabs attach themselves to the supposedly nonstick cloth. The burns wept clear fluid once Iruka had them uncovered again, and he winced before dipping his fingers in the gel and, as delicately as he could, smearing it over the man's seared shoulder.
Slowly, the tension drained out of Kakashi's frame. Iruka knew from the tingle in his fingers that the salve had some sort of painkiller in it as well, easing the hurt caused by simply re-dressing the wound. He applied it liberally, making even the healthy skin glisten with goo to be sure he got all the edges. When he had enough caked on to make sure there was a barrier between burns and bandages, he carefully laid strips of cloth over the shoulder, beyond the areas of raw skin, and then taped them in place so the medical tape affixed to as little flesh as possible.
Finally, he rocked back on his heels, taking the jar out of Kakashi's upheld hand. "Try that."
The man moved his neck from one side to the other, then slowly raised and lowered his shoulders. "I feel like a mummy."
"But a very attractive mummy," Iruka quipped before he thought better of it. He blushed hotly and hoped Kakashi would let the statement slip.
No such luck. The Copy Ninja turned to arc a look over his shoulder, scar bunching above his eyebrow as the Sharingan whirled once and settled. Thankfully, he said nothing else.
Which didn't stop Iruka from adding more words he probably should keep locked up. These came with a wry smile, acknowledging the truth from a moment before. "What? I wouldn't have slept with you--or your clone, whatever--if I didn't think you were attractive."
Kakashi's gaze slid away, flicking up as if in thought. Then he nodded as if it were a matter of grave importance. "True."
"But, really, you don't look like a mummy. More like one of those Sound ninja, with the bandages all over."
Kakashi grinned. "Oh, well, that's much better. Instead of the lustful undead now I'm a traitorous enemy. I can live with that."
Picking up the detritus of his bandaging job, Iruka laughed. "The point is, you'll be living. It's a better state of affairs."
Kakashi chuckled. The sound purred over Iruka's skin, as physical as a caress. Then the man stood, stepping away and pulling his shirt back on. Gray cloth slid over pale skin, hiding it under material that fit over slim shoulders and fell into soft folds around his narrow waist.
"I think," Kakashi said, interrupting Iruka's thoughts, "maybe I should go see Tsunade. Maybe there's been more evidence or she's come up with a way to get rid of my clone."
Iruka nodded, packing everything back up. "Good idea. Besides, showing you're confident that you're the real thing can only help your case."
Kakashi beamed. "My thought exactly."
**
Tsunade folded her hands over her desk, looking at the young men before her. Kakashi--his mask up and hitai-ate on--was inscrutable. Iruka was frowning, a crease between his dark brows.
"What do you mean Hakate was in earlier?" Iruka asked.
"With Pakkun. Pakkun said you'd summoned him?" She directed her question to Kakashi, who only nodded wordlessly. "And Pakkun said he couldn't tell the difference between you."
Though it wasn't a question, Kakashi nodded again.
"And I can't tell the difference between you." Both Copy Ninja had submitted to full physicals, for both their bodies and their energy pathways. Both of them seemed like perfect copies--ha ha. Neither of them were trying to run, which might at least have told her which of them was feeling nervous--and therefore which of them had reason to feel nervous. Anko had privately told her that Hakate seemed to her to be just like the real Kakashi, even if he'd been cranky. They both figured this mess was a good reason to be cranky.
Tsunade looked at the man before her with some sympathy. Despite his outwardly casual appearance, she could sense his chakra--or rather, couldn't sense it at all, it was coiled so tense and tightly within him. "You realize," she tried to tell him gently, "that Hakate has been one step ahead of you this whole time." A little bit quicker to the draw, a little bit faster to try new things to show he was real. A little bit better, a little bit sharper.
Kakashi's smiled was strained, even though she could only see a small part of his face. "That proves it, then. When have I ever been first to do anything?"
Tsunade smiled, because he was trying to make her smile. "Did you know your chakra is cut in half?"
That caught him by surprise. "What?"
"Half. You can't do the jutsu you would normally be able to do. You won't be able to go the speeds, or be as strong, as you normally would be able to be. Do you understand what this means?"
If there had been strain before, there was outright alarm now. He still hid it well. She doubted Iruka could see it--but she'd known Kakashi when he'd been Minato's student. He couldn't hide from her.
"It means," he said in a brittle voice, "that two Copy Ninja aren't better than one."
Her smile twisted painfully. "Right." It meant he was worth less to the village. Wasn't as strong. Wasn't the Sharingan no Kakashi they needed. It meant they couldn't just wait for the situation to resolve itself; not in their weakened state.
He took a breath. "Did you want to see the stolen jutsu?"
It was another blow. She knew that, and told him anyway. "Hakate already showed us. It's quite clever."
His fingers tapped on the arm of his chair. Index, ring, index. Stop. "Yes," he said at last. "Clever." After a terse moment he stood, affecting a slouch, tucking his hands into his pockets. "If that's all then, I suppose we'll stop taking up your time. Hokage-sama." He bowed briefly, and left without being dismissed.
Iruka stood and scrambled after him.
**
"They're trying," Iruka said, catching up to the swiftly walking ninja. "They'll figure something out--"
"They don't believe I'm me." The sentence cut over Iruka's words, cold and sharp as a kunai blade. "She thinks I'm a shadow clone."
"But you're not, right? There must be a way to tell--" He nearly reeled back as Kakashi turned on him. For the space of a heartbeat, there was livid emotion in the other man's single visible eye. Then, quick as it had been there, it was gone again, wrestled back under control.
"Have you thought of a way, Sensei?" There was cool disdain in the words. Iruka stiffened. "Have you learned something you've neglected to share? Because according to Pakkun, the shadow clone thinks it is me. And I think I'm me. But the hokage, she seems to think I'm not and the clone is. So who's really right? If we all think I'm me and we all think he's me then tell me, who am I actually?"
Iruka fought for a long while with his own temper, trying to hear the words instead of the distancing sneer. He took a breath, jaw tightening, hands curling into fists at his sides. If Kakashi wanted to be an ass, he didn't have to reciprocate. "You're the Copy Ninja," he said finally.
"What if I'm not? What is the copy of the Copy Ninja?" He rocked back on his heels, looking thoughtful. Every movement was graceful, smooth, and yet there was an underlying readiness there that spoke of strain. "A clone that makes its master weaker isn't very useful to the village, is it?"
He didn't wait for an answer before turning and walking away.
Iruka, lost as to what else to do, followed. They weren't heading back to his apartment. "Where are we going?"
"Home."
"Home's that way." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, taking two quick steps to pull alongside Kakashi. For all that the man looked like he was meandering, he covered ground rapidly.
"My home. Not yours."
"Tsunade said not to go--"
Kakashi's eye arced as he smiled behind his mask. "I'm not going to be put down like some kind of dog because they aren't sure who I am."
The words were at such odds with his tone that it took Iruka a jolting moment to process. "You think there's something that might prove you're you?"
Kakashi only "hmm"ed and didn't otherwise respond.
**
JB
- Check out www.jbmcdonald.com for published works, and Fallen Leaves for Naruto-centric stories! You can also click here for an up-to-date listing of all my Naruto fic (except for the Fallen Leaves stuff).
Author: JBMcDragon
Rating: PG-13 for innuendo and the occasional curse word. The epilogue, which can be avoided without missing any story, is rated NC-17.
Status: Written, will be posted once a week over the next 6.
Genre: Drama, I guess, with a heavy dose of comedy and sarcasm. Mild KakaIru (until the end, when it's no longer mild. *grins*)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, nor am I making any money off of them. They belong to Kishimoto, to my knowledge, or maybe Toykopop or something. Just not me. Used without permission, and not for profit.
Summary:
Never has the term 'Copy Ninja' been so appropriate.
Wandering home from a mission to copy a jutsu that makes other jutsu go wrong, Kakashi is pretty sure the world is out to get him. Imagine his surprise when he learns he's already been home for a full twenty-four hours. Except it's not him--it's a clone gone wrong. But when it doesn't vanish at injury, thinks of things even before he does, and not even Pakkun can tell the difference... Well, who's to say which is a clone, and which is the real thing?
Finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, Iruka is saddled with a ninja that might be a clone. Mind you, an earlier drunken mistake led to great sex and an awful morning after; being a clone would be Kakashi's just desserts, in his opinion. But as they spend time in each other's company, he realizes that he'd be sorry to see this Kakashi go--and certain the man is going to.
How do you fight the facts when they're stacked against you? Not even a genius is sure of that answer.
The Copy Nina 1/6
Chapter Two
Iruka stood in his living room, over the futon that hadn't been folded out, staring down at a sleeping Copy Ninja. The man hadn't put his mask back on. Flannel pants rode low on slim hips, his T-shirt riding up to show a sliver of skin as pale as moonlight against the black cloth.
Silver hair had faded to a cool white as it dried. Strands drifted around his face, soft and silky. He looked worn, and young without his mask. His skin was soft--Iruka knew that firsthand--and nearly unlined. There was the faintest hint of a suntan around his usually-visible eye, now painted over with Tsunade's black starburst-seal. The ink made him look younger still; a child playing with his father's symbols.
He looked peaceful. Handsome, with his lean jaw and faint lines at the corners of his mouth where he smiled--whether or not the expression was sincere.
With great relish, Iruka lifted up the mass of soggy bandages and let them drop on the Copy Ninja's chest.
Kakashi woke with deadly confusion, but that was all right. Iruka was already halfway across the room. "Next time you strip off disgusting pus-covered gauze, put it in the garbage, would you?"
Kakashi blinked, eyes slowly clearing. The Sharingan spun lazily. "Uh..." he looked down at the bandages that had fallen across his feet when he'd sat up and swung his legs over. "Sure."
Iruka smiled. "Time to wake up. I have school in twenty minutes."
As if he couldn't quite believe it, Kakashi looked out the window. Dawn painted a warm blush across the sky. "We didn't go to bed until three a.m.!" he protested.
"Right. And I have to teach at seven. Get up."
"No one is that masochistic. You were working at the mission desk last night--"
"Covering for a friend, and if you hadn't arrived and started all these problems I'd have gotten a solid six hours of sleep. Get up."
With a wounded expression on his oddly-young face, Kakashi scooped the bandages up and walked to the trashcan. Except 'walk' wasn't really the right word, Iruka considered. More like 'hobbled.' If his face looked young, his body sure didn't react that way. He looked like an old man with a bum knee--though by the time he reached the trashcan he'd worked out the kinks, and was at least walking normally, if not with his usual grace.
Iruka turned and went back into the bedroom to finish dressing. He only had twenty minutes.
**
Kakashi was more than aware that Iruka's class probably wasn't normally this subdue. Having introduced Kakashi as an elite jounin, Iruka had sat in him a chair in the corner. Eyes kept straying over to his slouched shape, as if at any moment he'd leap up and accuse them of cheating. He had much better things to do with his time.
Like close his eyes and nap.
Six-thirty. What sort of sick psycho volunteered to get up that early? No wonder Team Seven had always been so grumpy when he'd finally shown up. They'd been missing out on some key hours of blessed sleep. For years.
He did his best to sleep through recess, with children outside shouting and running and generally making a nuisance of themselves. He even managed to keep his eyes closed when he heard screaming. He almost managed the same when he heard Iruka call his name sharply, but toes to his shins popped him awake.
"What?"
"I have to take Kaito to the nurse's station. Recess is over. Watch the kids, would you?"
Kakashi eyed the room of children. "I'm not a teacher."
"You are now. Tsunade said to make you a Teacher's Aide. So teach them something."
Obviously, Iruka wasn't done being annoyed. Kakashi eyed the students. They eyed him back. Teach them something. Right.
**
"So you take the wiener," Iruka heard as he hurried back down the hall, his student discharged into worried parent's hands, "and you insert it down the crack, like so."
It was a long, long moment before the words penetrated. Which was, perhaps, a bad choice of phrase. Iruka remembered suddenly how Naruto used to complain at the things Kakashi taught them. He remembered Kakashi reading Icha Icha Paradise at the most inappropriate times. But surely the man wouldn't--
There was a chorus of giggles.
Iruka broke into a run, slamming through the door of his classroom.
Kakashi stood in front of the blackboard, chalk in one hand, a mangled drawing of a hotdog and a bun smeared across math problems. There were directional arrows.
"What are you doing?" Iruka snapped, relief that the kids weren't being taught an early sex ed overpowered by annoyance.
"Discussing the eating habits of other cultures. It's, uh, what did you say?" He pointed to a redheaded girl with pigtails.
She blushed. "Social studies, Kakashi-sensei!"
"There you are. Social studies." He beamed.
"And not something they really need to learn right now." Iruka snatched at the chalk, only becoming more livid when Kakashi yanked it out of reach. He wouldn't snatch again. Looking that weak in front of his student would incite a riot.
"It's teaching them good undercover skills. Right, everyone?"
"Yes, Kakashi-sensei!" they echoed back with great glee.
Iruka took a deep breath, and then another. If the brats knew how tenuous his control over them really was, he'd never be able to teach again. And Kakashi, blast him, seemed to be delighting in undermining his authority. Well, Iruka wasn't going to help.
His back to the classroom, he narrowed his eyes and glared at the Copy Ninja. A chilly smiled graced his lips. "Give me the chalk."
Whatever Kakashi saw in his expression, it did the trick. The man handed the chalk back and sauntered to his corner, taking up his slouch once more.
Iruka turned to regard his classroom, gauging the damage done. None too bad--not if he re-asserted his position right away. His smile went from chilly to cheerful. "Pop quiz!"
The room resounded with groans. He clapped his hands to regain attention and felt instantly better.
**
Kakashi's day was made perfect when, upon going to the market for groceries, they ran into Anko and his shadow clone. The two Copy Ninja glared at each other while their respective partners ushered them away.
"That other one really is the clone," he muttered.
"Sure, sure. Keep walking."
Kakashi pulled himself upright and twisted to stare at the academy teacher. "It is. I should think I know one of my clones when I see it."
"What do you want to bet he's saying the same thing to Anko right now?"
Crowds parted as they strode down the sidewalk, exuding ninja grace that couldn't be feigned. In Konoha, even civilians recognized it and got out of the way. Much of that grace, however, was absent as Kakashi went stiff. He didn't know why it was important that Iruka believe him. He barely knew the man, didn't really want to know the man, and whether or not he was believed by Iruka wasn't going to change anything, anyway.
But it was important. Important for someone to be on his side, before he was executed as a possible doppleganger. Important to be seen as himself, and not a questionable copy. A copy of the Copy Ninja. Now that was just funny.
Not funny enough to keep him from being angry, though.
After several meters Iruka glanced at him."You might as well stop looking like an injured cat. Fact is, you two aren't recognizable as the real one and the fake. Get used to it."
There had to be someone who--
Pakkun! He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it earlier. Pakkun could tell them apart, surely. Kakashi pulled out his scroll, bit through the tough skin of his thumb, and smeared blood across seals.
People cleared out of the way, muttering things about erratic ninja as they did so. He ignored them, focused, and a moment later his pug appeared in a wisping cloud of smoke.
"Hey, brat. What is it this time? You get that clone stuff figured out?"
He frowned. "What do you know about that?"
Pakkun sighed, plopped his rear on the ground, and scratched at an ear with a hind paw. "Guess not. The other one of you summoned me last night."
That stung. That his shadow clone thought to call Pakkun before he did was just... wrong. He should have thought of it first. He was the original of the two. Stronger, smarter, with quicker access to memories.
He was.
"And?" The word was sharper than he'd meant.
Pakkun's ears rose and fell back again. Slowly, he stood, walking a full circle around Kakashi as they stood on the sidewalk and Iruka looked on with warring curiosity and annoyance on his plain features. Deliberately, the pug stepped close and took a good long sniff of Kakashi's legs. Then he sat and shook his head. "Sorry, brat. You're identical." Floppy ears drooped. "I'd hoped I could tell, but..."
"I'm the real one." His heart thumped heavily. Someone had to know that. Someone had to believe him. Pakkun could often tell truth or lies--
The pug nodded with great care. "The other you said that, too. From what I can tell, you both believe it."
Purposefully, Kakashi slouched as if he didn't care. "But you know--"
"I don't know." There was something awful in those liquid chocolate eyes. Pity. "Come on, kid. Let's go inside, and we'll talk."
**
It was somehow awful to listen to Pakkun and Kakashi's quiet conversation. Iruka took his papers to the bedroom to grade and tried to keep his mind off the discussion in the other room. He could hear every few words, but mostly just the tone.
Quiet talking. Interruptions. Distress.
It wasn't his business. He tried to drag his focus back to homework, and only partially succeeded. When he felt the minor chakra flare that, he thought, meant Pakkun had been banished, he gave up and walked out into his main room.
The great and amazing Sharingan no Kakashi was sitting on the sofa, knees spread, elbows braced on them, his fingers spiking his hair out into disarray. He'd taken off both the hitai-ate and his mask, leaving his pale face naked and bare to any eyes that might fall on it.
Iruka looked quickly away. "Ah... Pakkun-san left?" He headed to the kitchen, busying himself with nothing productive. He poured a glass of water he didn't really want, opening the refrigerator to look for food he didn't really need.
"Yeah."
Nothing else.
Eventually, Iruka closed the fridge and looked out at the hunched man. "He could have stayed. I'm sure no one would have objected--"
"He wanted to go." With a deep breath, Kakashi straightened up and leaned back, head resting against the wall, gaze on the ceiling. "Said he'd rather not get attached to one or the other of us, since it was impossible to tell which would be sticking around."
Iruka winced. So much for dog loyalty. Or maybe the dog was more loyal than it should be. He drank some of his water, mostly for something to do. "I could make us some dinner," he offered at last.
Kakashi's face rolled to peer at him. "What's this, Sensei? I thought you hated me."
It was hard to hate anyone who looked so... 'lost' occurred to him, and he pushed it aside. This was the Copy Ninja, man of a thousand jutsu, former ANBU agent, he who never passed a genin team--except one. He didn't get lost.
"It seems to me I barely know you. Give me some credit." He completely ignored the fact that he'd been treating Kakashi like he did hate him, for something the possible-clone had done.
As if reading his thoughts, Kakashi asked, "So... what did he do? To make you so angry?"
Iruka flushed clear to the roots of his hair. But if he didn't tell, Kakashi would find out eventually, when he reabsorbed (or was reabsorbed into) the clone. "I was drunk the other night. And we had sex. I mean--he and I. And in the morning you--he--Hatake poked fun at everything from sexual prowess to drinking to my behavior. And then left." The conversation was drilled into Iruka's memory. Being called slut and lush and laughed at, all with a cheerful sardonic smile that made him think perhaps he was just being teased... except the words were vile. He hadn't, at the time, known how to respond. He'd been so taken aback he'd done nothing, and Hakate had left with happy promises to look Iruka up the next time he wanted a drunken screw.
Maybe he was being sensitive--but he didn't like being treated like so much trash.
"Well, there, see?" Kakashi hopped up, mismatched eyes alight. "I wouldn't do that! It was a clone!"
Iruka looked at him askance. "Do you have anyone who would vouch for that?"
Kakashi's smile faltered and fell. "No." He sat back down. "And if I were in a bad mood, I might do that. Just to see people squirm." He ran a hand over his head, back and forth, sending his hair in a new direction like some sort of light-seeking growth. "I try not to anymore. But I admit--I can be an asshole."
Iruka nodded. He'd already guessed as much. After team seven had been assigned to Kakashi, he'd done some research, asked around. The picture painted of the man really wasn't entirely flattering. The strokes added to it by Naruto were almost worse, even if they weren't so casually cruel. Genma and Anko had assured him that the brat had grown up over the last several years, no longer quite so embittered by war and the task of surviving. Then Iruka had slept with him, and it had gone so poorly...
He shook his head, rattling the thoughts away. He hadn't slept with this man. Maybe he hadn't slept with Kakashi at all, but a clone.
Looking at the slim figure slouched on the sofa once more, he rather hoped he'd slept with a clone. This Kakashi was much more... human. Taking a deep breath, Iruka summoned a smile from deep inside. "Come on. Stop moping. I'll make some food, and you can help me tear apart papers. It's fun, when you're in a bad mood. Think of all the children whose hopes you'll be dashing."
The Sharingan spun lazily, half-lidded eyes widening for a moment. Then both crinkled, arcing up--mirroring the bright grin that showed off those slightly crooked teeth. The ink painted over one eye--starting to fade--shone dully. "Sounds like a regular party. Just need some porn and sake and we'll be set."
"No porn," Iruka laughed. "But I have sake." He opened a cupboard and pulled out a slightly dusty bottle, picking up two sake glasses while he was at it. One was chipped; he decided to keep that for himself. All three items got a rinsing before he walked them to the low table, where Kakashi had already seated himself. Iruka set the things down, then headed back into the bedroom to grab his paperwork.
It was boring, sure, but maybe a night of laughing at students would cheer Kakashi up. It certainly couldn't make things worse.
**
There was no doubt in his mind that Iruka was being kind for kindness' sake, that he didn't for a moment believe Kakashi, rather than Hatake, was the real Kakashi. If Pakkun couldn't tell...
If Pakkun couldn't tell, how was anyone supposed to know? If Pakkun said Hatake had summoned him first, then...
There were whole chunks of memory missing from Kakashi's mind. Sure, that was because he'd been knocked unconscious. Except the clone's words kept coming back: The real Copy Ninja wouldn't have been that sloppy. The real Copy Ninja would have thought to summon Pakkun right away. The real Copy Ninja would have gone to the hokage first--or taken care of the problem himself. Hakate had done, or attempted, all of those.
After grading homework--Kakashi had fear for the future of the village, if this was what it had to offer--and picking at rice and vegetables, they retired to their respective rooms. Iruka in his futon, and Kakashi on the couch. He stared at the ceiling and tried to banish thoughts from his mind, to no avail. At last he turned to thinking about how very much his shoulder hurt. No matter how he lay, the burns pulled or rubbed somewhere, leaving him in enough pain that tense muscles started a low throb in his head.
Because, of course, a headache would help so much right now.
Eventually, he got out of bed and opened the window, sitting in the sill and staring out over the village.
His village, its safe keeping given to him by the Fourth before Minato had died. He was Sharingan no Kakashi, child genius and high ranking jounin, and the people here were his to watch. He supposed Minato had only told him that to keep him from following in his father's steps, killing himself after so much was lost when the Fox had finished ravaging everything. A pretty speech for a pretty teenager whose sensei knew would struggle to find a place in the new world.
It didn't really matter if it was only pointless words. He'd held it close, using it as a lifeline when things looked bad. They'd looked worse than this, before. And yet... they'd never seemed this tenuous.
His village.
Unless it wasn't. Unless all that was just a memory created for a nearly perfect clone, given life by a warped jutsu.
The sun rose slowly, splashing coppery gold onto the Hokage Monument, catching the glitter of stone for just an instant before the light shifted and it was a cliff face. He quirked a tired smile at himself. Cliff faces, perhaps.
"It's freezing in here. Have you been up all night?"
He turned and looked back at the sleepy-eyed man in flannel pajamas and a robe tossed haphazardly over. "Hm." It was noncommittal at best. He could see what Hatake had seen in the man. Glossy black hair, dark skin, the economical movement all ninja should have but some never achieved. Broad palms and a plain face, somehow attractive despite its sheer normalcy. Or maybe because of the normalcy. In a village where half the ninja found a way to be 'unique,' the very fact that Iruka looked more like ... well, a school teacher, unworried about standing out or blending in but just being himself, was appealing. Only the scar across the bridge of his nose marked him as different, and even that somehow made him the same. Most ninja had scars.
Kakashi looked back out at the faces that watched over the slowly waking village. "Nice view."
"Yeah. I got the place for the view, actually. I mean, it's nice enough anyway, but I pay extra for that sight. Funny, though, I'm usually too busy to admire it."
The microwave beeped, and a moment later Iruka walked up with two mugs of green tea. He offered one, then leaned against the sill where Kakashi's feet rested and peered out over the scenery. "There's a really great little bakery down there. I've known the woman who runs it since I was a teenager. She still sometimes lets me in early when I'm up late, grading."
Kakashi nodded, cradling his mug in both hands, letting the heat seep into the small bones of his fingers.
They were quiet for a little while. Iruka sipped tea, and the cool air, not yet warmed by the sun, kept sliding over them. "Still feeling down?" the chuunin asked.
"Not down." The answer was automatic, his mouth working without his brain having to chime in. "Just contemplating porn."
There was a beat of silence, which he ignored, before Iruka spoke. "You're a lousy liar without your mask."
Kakashi's mouth twisted upward. With black cloth over his face, it wouldn't have been obvious. He could lie without the mask, but... so much effort. "Minato always said the same thing. Said I should practice."
"And did you?"
A laugh found its way out of his throat. "For a while. Stopped after... after the Kyuubi. Didn't seem much point to it. I always wear the mask."
"Hmmm."
He could feel Iruka's regard, warm black eyes peering at his profile. He kept staring out over the village, allowing the chuunin to look his fill.
"You could get caught. Have to lie to an interrogator. They'd remove your mask."
Kakashi made a disgusted noise. "Don't you listen to the rumors? Sharingan no Kakashi doesn't get caught." He caught the flash of a quick grin out of the corner of his eye.
"You might have to tell a lover you like her tea, even when it's awful."
He smiled brightly, patently false, and lifted the untouched mug Iruka had given him. "Good point."
"Hey!" Iruka laughed, turning to face Kakashi, not even pretending to look out anymore. "I make perfectly excellent tea."
"But if I never taste it, I never have to lie about it." He pulled his gaze away from the world, finally, and turned to look at Iruka. Black hair tangled and spilled along the tops of his shoulders, making funny patterns where it caught in the neck of his robe. There was sleep in one eye, and a pink imprint on one cheek. He was heavier boned than Kakashi was, but slightly shorter. A solid-looking chest filled out a T-shirt, implying square muscles without actually outlining them.
"No more tea for you," Iruka joked. He turned away and glanced out the window.
"You microwaved it. I'm not sure being banned from tea is a bad thing."
Iruka snorted. "Traditional, are you? Probably iron your underwear, too."
"I do not--"
Iruka laughed, merry eyes dancing over the village.
"Shouldn't you be getting dressed for another day of hellions?"
"It's Saturday, Kakashi. Surely even you understand the meaning of Saturday. I mean, I know your childhood education was less than traditional, even if your tea-drinking is downright stuffy, but tell me you grasp Saturdays."
"Hmm. Saturdays, Saturdays... nope, I'm pretty sure I don't know that one." He smiled again, falsely bright, somehow sarcastic.
Iruka snorted and drank more tea, ignoring him.
Silence fell, comfortable and easy. Below, people started wandering the streets. Gai ran past several rooftops over, his team in tow with Lee in the front. The jounin sensei was shouting encouragement and reciting poetry about ninja and the beauty of the sunrise. If Kakashi judged Neji and Tenten's expressions correctly, they were more interested in catching up to Gai to shut him up than in any actual training.
"There's a man," Iruka muttered, "who doesn't understand the meaning of Saturdays."
Conversation lapsed again, leaving them in the quite solitude of companionship. Kakashi's mind wandered as he watched the people below, civilians and ninja alike creeping out to start their days. In the flicker of a shadow he caught sight of two ANBU heading for the village gates, and wished them well. Not luck. Never luck. Ninja made their own of that.
Unless you were hit by a jutsu-scrambling technique, in which case something else made your luck for you. His mind turned again to the other Kakashi, staying with Anko several kilometers away. They would figure out which was the real one. And then the other would go away. Which was good. Because, of course, Kakashi was the real one.
Except the other had thought to call Pakkun first. Pakkun said he wasn't lying. Could he have subverted--? But, no. No. That made less sense than the clone thinking it was real.
But if the clone thought it was real...
Kakashi thought he was real. Surely the real Copy Ninja wouldn't have been taken down by an explosion. He rubbed his face, scraping fingers back through his hair.
"Hey," Iruka said quietly. "Tsunade will figure everything out."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Kakashi muttered.
Iruka looked confused, and for a moment he debated explaining. But--he didn't need to share these kinds of doubts with anyone else. He smiled brightly, instead. "What's for breakfast?"
There was a long pause. Then, finally, Iruka grumbled, "You're even worse at changing the subject. Maybe you should stick to lying." But that said, he turned and shuffled into the kitchen. "I think I own some cereal..."
**
There was a mound of disgusting, soggy bandages in the trash. Iruka wrinkled his nose, peering down at it, opening his mouth and making gagging faces even though there was no one around to see. Burns. He hated burns. The oozed and stuck and hurt--
Kakashi hadn't been acting like he was in pain. He'd been a little pale, sure, but that could be because of anything--including natural skin tone. On the other hand, if he was in pain and just not saying anything because he was Mr. Stoic Ninja, well... Iruka would have to berate him for it mercilessly.
He stepped out of the bathroom, wet hair pulled into a limp ponytail, wearing jeans and a clean T-shirt, and looked for his temporary houseguest. It wasn't like there were places Kakashi could hide, exactly, and sure enough, he was in the kitchen slathering peanut butter on crackers.
"That's gross," Iruka said.
Kakashi glanced at him, silver eyebrows rising briefly. Then he took a big bite of one of the crackers, "mmmmm"ing all the while.
"I hope your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth."
Kakashi got that look Iruka sometimes managed to pull from him--like he wasn't sure whether to be amused or annoyed. Amusement won out, as it usually did. Then alarm replaced it, and he started working his jaw with frantic exaggeration. His mouth opened, tongue arcing and pressed upward, covered in masticated cracker and peanut butter, as if it were truly stuck.
Iruka couldn't help it. He shook his head and laughed, earning a quick grin from the other man and--thankfully--a loss of the half-chewed-food view. "How's your arm?" He gestured to where Tsunade had cut him.
Kakashi swallowed, shrugged, and took another bite. He lifted it, glanced down at the white bandage, and made a dismissive gesture.
"And whatever burns?"
That earned a grimace. He swallowed again. "Hurt like hell when I forget to take pain pills. I'll survive."
"Do you have enough? And it can't be easy to bandage. You sure you're managing?"
Those lazy eyes--the ink, Iruka noticed, had entirely faded--looked vaguely amused. "I've managed for last twenty-odd years. I'm pretty sure I've got this covered."
Realizing he was acting like a teacher, rather than... well, whatever he was, Iruka smiled self-consciously. "Right. Well, if you need a hand..." He turned away, picking a magazine up off the top of a stack and staring at the cover before he realized he didn't really care about reading it. He put it down and picked up the remote.
Before the television flicked on, Kakashi cleared his throat. "Actually, if you wouldn't mind, it could probably use another set of hands. It's a little awkward to do salve and bandages and tape at this angle, with only ten measly digits."
Iruka smiled wryly, setting the remote back down. "Yeah, and if you don't get enough salve you end up tearing scabs off..." He'd been there.
"Exactly."
"In your duffel?" At Kakashi's nod, Iruka dug through it. It didn't take much to find the jar of slick goop and the reams of bandages and medical tape. He checked to see if they were non-stick--not that anything could keep from sticking somewhat, but every little bit helped--and glanced up to see Kakashi coming around the counter, already shimmying out of his T-shirt.
Iruka wished the man weren't so sexy. It hit him like a blow to the gut, and he had a sudden vivid alcohol-drenched memory of his hands skimming over a narrow, sinuous torso padded with muscle laying sleek against a slim ribcage--
But that hadn't been this Kakashi. He dragged his mind back to the present, relieved to see the man hadn't noticed Iruka's brief sojourn through happy land. He was folding his shirt, setting it to one side over the arm of a chair.
One shoulder was heavily--and clumsily--bandaged, stretching down his arm a short way and missing a burned section on his back. Iruka winced, looking at it. At that angle, it was more likely that Kakashi had one available hand to bandage, not even the easier two.
"Sit there," Iruka suggested, gesturing to the low table. Kakashi folded himself gracefully into a lotus position, presenting the curve of his spine and the flat planes of his shoulder blades. Iruka knelt behind him, unscrewing the lid to the jar. "Hold this?"
Kakashi lifted a hand, palm open, without turning to look. Iruka set the jar in it, long fingers closed, and the man left his hand there so Iruka could reach the gel again without asking.
Carefully, he started to peel the old bandages off. Medical tape did its best to drag skin off, too, tearing away the topmost layer. There were patches where flesh was starting to look raw, where Kakashi had likely pulled off several bandaging jobs. The muscles so near Iruka tensed and bunched when yellow scabs, sticking to the wraps, tore off as well.
"Sorry," Iruka murmured, working as carefully as he could. No matter how carefully he worked, though, more scabs came away, more skin was ripped off, and the tense lines of muscle framing Kakashi's spine quivered under his pale flesh.
Kakashi had missed several sections that needed to be bandaged, adding insult to injury by taping over them instead. Other areas had no--or not enough--salve, making the forming scabs attach themselves to the supposedly nonstick cloth. The burns wept clear fluid once Iruka had them uncovered again, and he winced before dipping his fingers in the gel and, as delicately as he could, smearing it over the man's seared shoulder.
Slowly, the tension drained out of Kakashi's frame. Iruka knew from the tingle in his fingers that the salve had some sort of painkiller in it as well, easing the hurt caused by simply re-dressing the wound. He applied it liberally, making even the healthy skin glisten with goo to be sure he got all the edges. When he had enough caked on to make sure there was a barrier between burns and bandages, he carefully laid strips of cloth over the shoulder, beyond the areas of raw skin, and then taped them in place so the medical tape affixed to as little flesh as possible.
Finally, he rocked back on his heels, taking the jar out of Kakashi's upheld hand. "Try that."
The man moved his neck from one side to the other, then slowly raised and lowered his shoulders. "I feel like a mummy."
"But a very attractive mummy," Iruka quipped before he thought better of it. He blushed hotly and hoped Kakashi would let the statement slip.
No such luck. The Copy Ninja turned to arc a look over his shoulder, scar bunching above his eyebrow as the Sharingan whirled once and settled. Thankfully, he said nothing else.
Which didn't stop Iruka from adding more words he probably should keep locked up. These came with a wry smile, acknowledging the truth from a moment before. "What? I wouldn't have slept with you--or your clone, whatever--if I didn't think you were attractive."
Kakashi's gaze slid away, flicking up as if in thought. Then he nodded as if it were a matter of grave importance. "True."
"But, really, you don't look like a mummy. More like one of those Sound ninja, with the bandages all over."
Kakashi grinned. "Oh, well, that's much better. Instead of the lustful undead now I'm a traitorous enemy. I can live with that."
Picking up the detritus of his bandaging job, Iruka laughed. "The point is, you'll be living. It's a better state of affairs."
Kakashi chuckled. The sound purred over Iruka's skin, as physical as a caress. Then the man stood, stepping away and pulling his shirt back on. Gray cloth slid over pale skin, hiding it under material that fit over slim shoulders and fell into soft folds around his narrow waist.
"I think," Kakashi said, interrupting Iruka's thoughts, "maybe I should go see Tsunade. Maybe there's been more evidence or she's come up with a way to get rid of my clone."
Iruka nodded, packing everything back up. "Good idea. Besides, showing you're confident that you're the real thing can only help your case."
Kakashi beamed. "My thought exactly."
**
Tsunade folded her hands over her desk, looking at the young men before her. Kakashi--his mask up and hitai-ate on--was inscrutable. Iruka was frowning, a crease between his dark brows.
"What do you mean Hakate was in earlier?" Iruka asked.
"With Pakkun. Pakkun said you'd summoned him?" She directed her question to Kakashi, who only nodded wordlessly. "And Pakkun said he couldn't tell the difference between you."
Though it wasn't a question, Kakashi nodded again.
"And I can't tell the difference between you." Both Copy Ninja had submitted to full physicals, for both their bodies and their energy pathways. Both of them seemed like perfect copies--ha ha. Neither of them were trying to run, which might at least have told her which of them was feeling nervous--and therefore which of them had reason to feel nervous. Anko had privately told her that Hakate seemed to her to be just like the real Kakashi, even if he'd been cranky. They both figured this mess was a good reason to be cranky.
Tsunade looked at the man before her with some sympathy. Despite his outwardly casual appearance, she could sense his chakra--or rather, couldn't sense it at all, it was coiled so tense and tightly within him. "You realize," she tried to tell him gently, "that Hakate has been one step ahead of you this whole time." A little bit quicker to the draw, a little bit faster to try new things to show he was real. A little bit better, a little bit sharper.
Kakashi's smiled was strained, even though she could only see a small part of his face. "That proves it, then. When have I ever been first to do anything?"
Tsunade smiled, because he was trying to make her smile. "Did you know your chakra is cut in half?"
That caught him by surprise. "What?"
"Half. You can't do the jutsu you would normally be able to do. You won't be able to go the speeds, or be as strong, as you normally would be able to be. Do you understand what this means?"
If there had been strain before, there was outright alarm now. He still hid it well. She doubted Iruka could see it--but she'd known Kakashi when he'd been Minato's student. He couldn't hide from her.
"It means," he said in a brittle voice, "that two Copy Ninja aren't better than one."
Her smile twisted painfully. "Right." It meant he was worth less to the village. Wasn't as strong. Wasn't the Sharingan no Kakashi they needed. It meant they couldn't just wait for the situation to resolve itself; not in their weakened state.
He took a breath. "Did you want to see the stolen jutsu?"
It was another blow. She knew that, and told him anyway. "Hakate already showed us. It's quite clever."
His fingers tapped on the arm of his chair. Index, ring, index. Stop. "Yes," he said at last. "Clever." After a terse moment he stood, affecting a slouch, tucking his hands into his pockets. "If that's all then, I suppose we'll stop taking up your time. Hokage-sama." He bowed briefly, and left without being dismissed.
Iruka stood and scrambled after him.
**
"They're trying," Iruka said, catching up to the swiftly walking ninja. "They'll figure something out--"
"They don't believe I'm me." The sentence cut over Iruka's words, cold and sharp as a kunai blade. "She thinks I'm a shadow clone."
"But you're not, right? There must be a way to tell--" He nearly reeled back as Kakashi turned on him. For the space of a heartbeat, there was livid emotion in the other man's single visible eye. Then, quick as it had been there, it was gone again, wrestled back under control.
"Have you thought of a way, Sensei?" There was cool disdain in the words. Iruka stiffened. "Have you learned something you've neglected to share? Because according to Pakkun, the shadow clone thinks it is me. And I think I'm me. But the hokage, she seems to think I'm not and the clone is. So who's really right? If we all think I'm me and we all think he's me then tell me, who am I actually?"
Iruka fought for a long while with his own temper, trying to hear the words instead of the distancing sneer. He took a breath, jaw tightening, hands curling into fists at his sides. If Kakashi wanted to be an ass, he didn't have to reciprocate. "You're the Copy Ninja," he said finally.
"What if I'm not? What is the copy of the Copy Ninja?" He rocked back on his heels, looking thoughtful. Every movement was graceful, smooth, and yet there was an underlying readiness there that spoke of strain. "A clone that makes its master weaker isn't very useful to the village, is it?"
He didn't wait for an answer before turning and walking away.
Iruka, lost as to what else to do, followed. They weren't heading back to his apartment. "Where are we going?"
"Home."
"Home's that way." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, taking two quick steps to pull alongside Kakashi. For all that the man looked like he was meandering, he covered ground rapidly.
"My home. Not yours."
"Tsunade said not to go--"
Kakashi's eye arced as he smiled behind his mask. "I'm not going to be put down like some kind of dog because they aren't sure who I am."
The words were at such odds with his tone that it took Iruka a jolting moment to process. "You think there's something that might prove you're you?"
Kakashi only "hmm"ed and didn't otherwise respond.
**
JB
- Check out www.jbmcdonald.com for published works, and Fallen Leaves for Naruto-centric stories! You can also click here for an up-to-date listing of all my Naruto fic (except for the Fallen Leaves stuff).