Nature Bingo
natureearthstarsskysunWILDCARDrainsnowmoonfog
A/N: For the mini-bingo round at kakairu_fest. Because of a slight OCD, I didn't post until I'd finished every single frackin' square. *Phew*. All of them are definitely centered around Kakashi and Iruka, but some are vague on relationship status. I wouldn't rate any over T, and I've listed all warnings, so no worries! Read and enjoy yourself. ^-^
---
begin
---
1. Earth
Warnings: none.
The ground they lay on was damp from the mist that characterized Konohagakure mornings. Dew sparkled on the lightly swaying strands; the effect rather mesmerizing with the way the light was thrown here and there. However, two men lying on the grass looked up at the stormy skies, hands behind their heads as a make-shift pillow.
Iruka was pointing at some of the shadows created by the billowing dark gray clouds, commenting about their shape and what they reminded him of. Kakashi had his mask down to his chin, chewing absentmindedly on a piece of grass as he made non-committal noises to the chuunin’s observations.
Underneath their bodies, the earth was relenting and soft, conforming to their bodies as the stalks of grass relented to the weight and bowed their heads. It was autumn, so there were no flowers, but in the spring the small, secluded valley they lay in would burst to life in a motley of colours and heavy perfumes.
Kakashi would sometimes make bird calls, and Iruka would try name the creature the older man was trying to mimicry. It wasn’t uncommon to hear the actual bird reply to the call, so cleverly replicated from years of practise, but it made the action no less special.
When the feeling struck them, the men would bring some food for a picnic of sorts; Iruka usually bringing the more substantial food, like sandwiches, and Kakashi carting along herbal teas he had gotten from far off countries while on some mission or another.
Today, they were simply indulging their time off in cloud gazing and light conversation. The thunder threatened rain, but neither could care less at getting a little wet. Already, moisture was dampening the backs of their standard-issue uniform, but how could they waste worry over something so trivial when material is so easily washed?
So, their clothes would smell of damp and dirt and raw earth when they left the scene, but neither man could bring themselves to care. The air was too serene and the peace too comforting a blanket to justify leaving. In fact, they’d done this many times over, and they’d do it many times again.
There was a calm that was nearly impossible to recreate anywhere but in their little bit of private seclusion, where they could be themselves with no need to fear ridicule or judgement. Both parties were suitably appeased by the arrangement of friendship, but in the gathering dark of the clouds, lying comfortably on the dirt, surrounded still by the more stubborn hazes of mist, without any sort of queue, they simultaneously looked at each other.
Their eyes said more, need more, but they did nothing. Not yet, because the peace was too precious to break with the shifting of status-quo.
2. Stars
Warnings: none.
The air was warm and humid, sweat lining the brows of two men underground as they looked up through a small window and at the night skies above them. Silence was sporadically broken by insects chirping and the various noises of the wildlife scurrying around. It could almost be called a peaceful night, if there wasn’t the occasional human scream piercing the dark.
“Doesn’t it take your breath away to know that the light from the stars can be millions, if not billions of years old, and only now we are able to see them shine?” Iruka enthused, if somewhat tiredly, with a dry voice. “Right now, the star mightn’t even exist, but we still can see its light at night. Kind of makes you think of how small and insignificant we all are in the scope of things.”
“How do you know that?” the jounin asked curiously, even though somewhat reluctant to waste breath on mindless chitchat. He tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but there wasn’t much room to move.
“I read scientific journals when I get some spare time,” explained Iruka nonchalantly, panting slightly from the heat of the small room. “It’s rather cute how civilians try to explain ninjutsu and the like, but they do much better with explaining nature and whatnot.”
Furrowing his brow, Kakashi queried, “Why is it so fascinating that you go out of your way to find out?” It was getting hard to breathe with his mask dampening and clinging to his face from sweat; however, he was far too stubborn to think of removing it.
“Learning something new is always interesting,” Iruka grinned while flicking his loose hair back; the band for his ponytail had snapped long ago and the stray strands were sticking to his face in an irritating manner. “I mean, isn’t it truly amazing how the earth circles the sun, and not the other way ‘round?”
“I’m a little more amazed at how blasé you’re acting,” replied Kakashi, “you know, considering we’re in a jail cell and all.” Shifting his wrists, the chakra cuffs burned a bit, the flesh dotted with small cuts and slick with blood. It was bearable, but it ached nonetheless.
“It’s either this or being broody and pessimistic-and that role is being filled rather well by you,” Iruka shrugged, the chains holding his arms high above his head jostling with a tinkling noise too delicate in comparison to the clunky gray metal.
Frowning, the former ANBU agent huffed, “I am not being broody.” But neither could he admit to trying to lighten the mood like Iruka was.
“Then talk instead of trying to suffer in silence,” retorted Iruka with a shadow of anger tainting his voice. “If we can’t escape by noon, we die, but at least we should appreciate the time we have left.”
“We’ll escape,” Kakashi muttered stubbornly, looking away.
“So it won’t do much damage to talk a little then, won’t it?” Iruka’s scar bunched up as a weak grin was plastered on his face, though for the most part it was unnoticed by his companion.
The jounin turned his head to snap at the other man, perhaps yell at him for being so calm and collected when his head was whirling with half-wrangled plans for freedom, when he met the chuunin’s eyes. They were half-lit with fear, clouded over with determination.
He was trying to hold it together as much as Kakashi was. For that, Kakashi could humour Iruka at the very least. It was the older man’s fault, anyway, that they in this mess, and the least he could do was comfort Iruka and not be the biggest jerk of a cell-captain ever.
Softly, Kakashi murmured, “The stars remind me of nights when my teacher, the Yondaime, would tell me the constellations and make up stories to match their name.” The chuunin smiled and they spent the few hours before dawn recalling childhood memories. They spent their last moments in the past, because it did no good to look towards their future.
3. Sky
Warnings: none.
One of the few remaining mysteries for ninja and civilian alike was the world beyond that of the sky they could see. What would it be like on the moon, if they could ever get there? A teleportation jutsu was out of the question, for sure.
What would there be in the space beyond the skies? Unmanned territory that left room for so much possibility!
Always a man of learning, Iruka had dug up scientific journals from the civilian community, slightly awed at the amount of research they’d done into the subject when ninja had done close to nothing. It was quite inspiring how persistent they were in their efforts, even though it amounted to little.
Theoretically, the idea of going into space was not wholly unbelievable, and should the findings prove accurate, all that was lacking was resources, funding and manpower. Even then, the idea that was plausible but really unfeasible retained its place in the chuunin’s mind.
Iruka loved the idea of seeing somewhere completely new, something that would stun those even used to the most amazing feats of human ability. No one else quite saw things the way he did though.
His parents had given him worried looks, ruffled his hair and told him to play with the other kids.
The children laughed and started hushed whispers about aliens.
Most of his students eyed him dubiously and then went back to work.
The older generations mumbled reverently about gods and leaving them alone in their domain.
His generation didn’t seem to quite care either way.
All except Kakashi: “It’d be rather majestic to see the world from a point even higher than the birds can lay claim to.” It made Iruka smile and feel a little less alone, even if the words were said so casually in the passing.
4. Sun
Warnings: none.
Kakashi loved sunny days.
As the sun warmed his face, he almost smiled. The rains were gone and the air was crisp in a way he’d thought he’d almost forgotten. Water was a bringer of life, but it couldn’t compare to the power that the sun held over the world.
If he wasn’t on the roof, he’d almost be tempted to pull his mask down to his chin. Closest he was to conceding was letting his nose free from the fabric to fully appreciate the dry air.
Looking over-well, down to the balcony-at the chuunin, Kakashi asked, “Why is it that the sunlight makes your hair seem brown?”
Iruka paused in stringing up the laundry. “Was that a rhetorical question?” He was using wooden pegs that had faces drawn on the nubs by his students. They were stupid and dorky in that innocently cute way; however, the jounin couldn’t fault the man for having sentimental feelings for his many charges.
Pausing in his thoughts, Kakashi replied slyly to the younger man, “I’m not sure; was that a rhetorical question?”
“We are not starting this again,” Iruka said firmly. A while back they’d done something similar, and with Kakashi’s and Iruka’s stubbornness pitted against each other, the eternal loop lasted an infuriatingly long time.
“So, does that mean you’ll tell me why your hair seems to change colour?” Biting at the fabric of his mask, tugging and pulling at the material in a nervous-if not often seen-habit, Kakashi continued, “Thinking about it, your eyes change colour, too, from black to brown and back again.”
A heavy sign came from the balcony, Iruka torn between smiling and groaning in exasperation. Instead, he dawdled for time, hanging up his shirts on the thin chakra wire he had set up years ago; at the time, he’d thought it would do as a temporary, make-shift dryer, but as laziness and procrastination kicked in, he never changed the design.
“Since I trust you,” the chuunin started off hesitantly, “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” At this Kakashi leaned in eagerly, his body stretched on the roof in what seemed like a painful contortion, but was actually rather comfortable for the lanky man.
“My hair and eye colour can change because-” sucking in a deep breath, Iruka exhaled, “-it’s my secret family jutsu.”
“What?” Kakashi’s eyes narrowed dubiously, and his tone of voice was little more believing.
“It’s true,” Iruka nodded sadly. “The family legend says we were cursed with the power by the great lord Kishimoto, who suffered from great fits of irregularities and inconsistencies, and decided to pass that power along to who he saw fit.”
For a second, Kakashi hesitated. What if he isn’t lying? I mean, there are plenty of weird jutsu and blood-limits out there; what’s to say that this isn’t one of them-
Before he could say anything however, Iruka started laughing; big hearty laughs that reverberated from his chest and made his double over from the force of it.
“You’re so sweet!” The schoolteacher choked out between stilted laughs, his right hand holding his stomach, his left gripping at a shirt tightly. “You actually believed it!”
“I hate you sometimes.” Kakashi pulled his head away from the edge of the roof, and instead sat upright, arms crossed. He was slightly stung, but more at being tricked than real antagonism.
Chuckling now, Iruka wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye and shrugged. “Everyone’s hair looks lighter in the sun, and I think my eyes change colour with my mood. There’s nothing more to it.”
“Well,” sighed Kakashi, “I thought you should know it looks nice. Your hair, I mean. It looks nice in the sun.”
Smiling in that shy, secretive way he sometimes did, Iruka replied, “You always seem happier in the sunlight, and I sometimes think it makes you radiant.”
Since the jounin had nothing to say in response, Iruka turned back to hanging his laundry and Kakashi lay back down on the sun-warmed tiles, simply enjoying the other’s presence and company.
They both loved sunny days.
5. ‘Wildcard’ {Sand}
Warnings: none.
He liked the sand between his toes. It was moist from the waves lapping over it, and granules stuck stubbornly to his legs as he walked. Pakkun was a dog of small pleasures, but walking in the waves of a sandy beach was certainly of the better ones.
Later, it’d be a real pain to wash away-because Kakashi would insist on a complete bath, and he hated baths-but for now he would enjoy the moment. It wasn’t often he could calmly walk on a beach like this.
Right at the moment, his boss, wearing his board shorts and an eye-patch, a bandanna as a mask, was chasing a tanned human around, laughing more than he’d heard in years. The other man, Umino Iruka, ironically seemed to dislike sea water, and Kakashi, the human he was, took the confession at face value and decidedly made it his mission to cure Iruka of his ‘ailment’.
The chuunin-ranked ninja did not take to the declaration lightly and immediately bolted from Kakashi. A jounin, an ex-ANBU; the pug had no doubt that he could have caught the brown-skinned human with no trouble should he have really tried. But they were merely playing like pups on their first trip outside the den!
Pakkun wondered what made Umino so special that his boss barely seemed to remember that they were in Wave Country for a mission and not a holiday. He was sure that the mission was important, since it needed two to work in a joint-cell, not to mention it was his boss making half of the team.
For his nose, Pakkun was summoned to track a particular scent in a mass of thousands, and once they’d lost track of that, Kakashi saw it fit to play around at the beach, reasoning they could do no more until the sun was up again. The pony-tailed man didn’t do much in the way of arguing, either.
Humans really weren’t too logical, Pakkun mused as he darted to the water’s edge, quickly running back as a wave crashed. But at least boss is happy.
6. Rain
Warnings: character death, but not Kakashi or Iruka.
Not all of the water falling down his face was cold. But he couldn’t admit that. Kakashi couldn’t admit that he was crying. To admit he was crying, to admit the water trickling down his cheeks was anything other than the rain, was to admit to the pain. And he couldn’t do that-not quite yet.
His mother always crooned that water was God’s way of washing away sins. For a ninja, she was always very religious. Where was her God now, then? That is, if there even truly was one in the first place?
A thousand years of constant downpour couldn’t wash away the atrocities that the former ANBU had committed. At least, that was what Kakashi thought. He stared blankly at his hands, white and pale even in the darkness of the night, and the water started to turn red in his mind’s eye, and the blood kept flowing.
“You did what you had to,” a voice said from behind him. “It was your duty as a ninja to protect your village.” It wasn’t really surprising, the words, not really. There wasn’t anything else that could be said, anyway.
Coughing to clear his throat, Kakashi rasped, “At what cost to my sanity?” The idea almost made him laugh before his throat seized closed again, against his will. I have lost my sanity long before this ever happened. Why else would I keep talking to the dead?
When the rain stopped pelting down on his head, the jounin nearly started. Training stopped him, though, when logic kicked in high gear and he realized someone was holding an umbrella above him. The almost-comforting words; weren’t they Obito’s? Who would be out at the memorial stone so late at night when the weather was so bad except him?
“Time heals all wounds, Kakashi.”
Finally raising his eyes from watching the rain-blood, his mind whispered-drip from his fingertips, the lone Hatake turned to see the chuunin, the very one that was the former teacher of his own student, look down on him. Umino Iruka, his mind supplied helpfully, until it added, He’s here to judge you for killing Sasuke. Like Sakura and Naruto did a few hours ago.
Even in the cold, Iruka’s face seemed warm, golden-brown tanned skin shining with raindrops-or were they tears as well?
Dumbly, Kakashi could only shake his head and reply, “Killing a student is far different from killing a masked missing-nin. I can never forget or atone for my sin, not this time.”
A shadow of an almost-smile flittered briefly across the face of the younger man. “I have killed my charges before. Pre-genin children are far too easily manipulated into spilling secrets; and I am usually called in to clean up the mess they leave.”
The idea of the teacher killing his own students was a mental image that was difficult to form; especially considering Kakashi only recalled images of Iruka being so loving towards Naruto, Sakura, and even the Uchiha brat-no, he wasn’t going to go there again, not going to indulge in better memories of a happier time; he didn’t deserve it.
“Sasuke posed a far bigger threat than my children ever could. You couldn’t have let him live,” reasoned Iruka sadly, his eyes never leaving Kakashi’s face. “Everyone knows it, and Naruto and Sakura do, too. Give it time.”
“Logic cannot win this argument, not this time.”
With nothing further to add, both men stood in vigil silence at the memorial stone, remembering their ghosts and simply understanding the mutual pain they shared. It wasn’t enough to wash away the pain, but Kakashi stopped seeing red run down his hands, and soon simply saw the water for the cleansing substance it was.
Kakashi finally admitted that there were more tears than raindrops running down his face.
7. Snow
Warnings: none.
Night had fallen over the world, and it seemed a darker place than the norm without the brilliant face of the moon in sight; tonight being one of the few days of the month it hid its prying eyes and letting man run free to work evils without judgement or witness from the gods.
Iruka was with Kakashi, building snow-men in one of the training fields. What most people saw as an innocent lot of decorations to mark the winter season, Iruka saw as an opportunity to strike fear into the hearts of his students. Within each pile of snow was a rigged weapon-launcher, which he’d let the kids duck and dodge against the next day.
Effectively, he would be teaching the children to not judge something by its appearance-hopefully ingraining the evil of innocence-and work in some reaction-time training in, too. Multi-tasking was really a blessing sometimes. The exercise was completely for the students’ own good, and in no way was it a warped form of payback for the hell of a week the chuunin had recently been forced into. Not at all.
Kakashi was there because he was travelling home from the memorial stone, only stopping because he was honestly intrigued at what the teacher was doing at this time of night preparing such childish statues. Though, when he found out what they really were, he was one-part astonished, another intrigued, and whatever was left was amused. Since he had nothing better to do, he joined in.
Ninja did seem to find a certain satisfaction in simultaneously scarring children while training them for their own good. Perhaps a trait brought on from improper, what some may call unusual, social conditionings.
The stars seemed to blink sporadically in-and-out of life, the only light in the never-ending darkness of space. Only with their weak light was the surrounding piles of snow able to glisten and shine like a faded jewel. There was little more beautiful that winter night.
“Kakashi; I said you could help me, but I didn’t mean you could add certain inappropriate appendages to the snow-men!” Iruka might normally have been more worked up, but his face was already tinged red with snow, and his hands had lost feeling a quarter of an hour before.
Caught red-handed, the jounin straightened up, looking too innocent, and not at all abashed or guilty. Tightening his numb grasp on the throwing star in his gloved hand, Iruka mentally chanted, I will not attack a jounin; I will not attack a jounin...
“Iruka,” the Copy-Nin started saying calmly, a hint of a smile in his tone. “I was merely adjusting the projection points of this, ahh, kunai launcher, and it just poked out at a really inconvenient place-”
Apparently, mentally chanting did little for Iruka’s self resolve, and with his harried throw a mini-war began between him and Kakashi that lasted ‘til sunrise, a battle of weapons, insults and slushy snowballs.
Hair dripping cold ice-water down the back of his collar, the chuunin groaned, “Lucky most of the snow-men survived the attack.”
With an almost serious voice, Kakashi replied solemnly, “We will mourn those who have fallen for the cause.”
Snorting, Iruka laughed, “What cause apart from immature foolishness?”
Stretching, Kakashi languidly stretched where he lay on the wet snow. “Want to do this again tomorrow?”
Pausing, Iruka straightened a carrot nose on one of his statues, and shrugged. “How can I refuse an offer of another chance to defeat the Copy-Nin?
“Hey!” Kakashi protested indignantly. “I clearly won that round-” Cut off by a sly handful of ice-slush to the face, round two began, interspersed with laughter and shouted curses. The students came to the field a few hours later, wondering why the snow-men looked so haggard, and why their teacher was so flushed.
8. Moon
Warnings: none.
The moon was big and round and smiled down at him as he swam lithely in the water. Iruka frowned and squinted his eyes, trying to see what his students saw in the moon. He’d asked them once, to generate conversation, and they’d replied in a motley of various replies that soon devolved into an argument over which child was right.
Iruka, himself, saw a heart, as he was told that by his parents. Other children saw a rabbit, or man’s face, or a man mixing medicine-some saw crabs and fishes swimming in a circle, or even puzzle pieces. Sighing, he gave up, figuring that what you saw in the moon’s face was something you learned and stuck with as a child.
The moon and the sea were lovers, his mother had once told him as a bedtime story. They would dance every night, the moonlight having such power over the oceans that the tide would ebb and flow to match the moon.
His father would then add, However, the sun’s jealousy knew no bounds, desperate as it was to capture the moon’s attentions, and soon the bright star signed a contract with the winds and the rains and the lightning of the sky to break the pair apart. Storms and jagged forks of electricity would tear up the seas, churning up the waves and the waters as the moon wept, hidden by the storm clouds.
Just before Iruka would fall asleep, his parents would whisper, Yet even with the clouds blocking the view of the moonlight from the ocean, they were so linked and intertwined with love, they still could dance and all the sun could so was rage, forever banned from seeing the moon as he would run away from the star to spend time alone with the seas.
Floating in the water, Iruka figured that he would be the ocean and Kakashi would be the moon, so revered and powerful. The jounin had no idea how much pull he had over the chuunin.
Except Iruka was sure that, as far away as his lover was, on an A-rank mission to help the village in some far distant country, he knew that Kakashi would be thinking of him, and their hearts would be beating as one.
9. Fog
Warnings: whoops, goes way, way over the 1000 word limit.
Iruka seemed to appear, faint in the fog, and the oppressive weight of the atmosphere almost seemed to trick Kakashi into thinking he was there, but he knew he wasn’t, couldn’t, be there. The nature of the accursed fog was to show you what you cared for most. Since when did he care for the chuunin?
Since they first met, a traitorous voice whispered in his mind, as cold fingers brushed against his cheek, tanned skin slipping out of sight from the corner of his eye. Whipping his head around, his eyes scanned the area frantically for the source of contact, but there was no one there. Even the ghost of an image that seemed to almost look like Iruka was gone from mist.
Whether it was due to the mist that cloaked his body like a sticky shroud, or from the feeling of oppressive loneliness, Kakashi found it harder and harder to breathe, and he was beginning to lose feeling in his fingertips.
He was on a solo mission, but clearly whoever requested the mission to Leaf miscalculated. This treacherous task, not only worthy of being bumped up to an A-ranking, also needed multiple partners to keep sane. Kakashi had almost dived head-first into the dangerous swamps more than once. Whether it was because of a lingering jutsu-curse, or a by-product of the fumes, the jounin kept seeing people in the sickly green fog.
First, he saw his mother, drowning in the thick marshlands, screaming for help. Thankfully, logic kicked in when he was ankle deep in the slush. He ran from the scene in a panic, but when he calmed down, he felt especially foolish. It was a while before his heartbeat calmed, though.
Cautiousness caused him to expose his Sharingan, to dispel any illusions, yet Kakashi was still caught twice more; once with the image of his father hanging himself over a pit of muddy quicksand, and another time when he thought he saw Obito crying out for help, crushed by a tree, unable to breathe.
Now Iruka started popping up. Not dying, but standing there, tears running down his face. It was enough to make him want to talk to the man, but the former ANBU knew better than to trust his eyes and ears. The fog was muddling his senses.
Tired, irritated, anxious and thoroughly lost, Kakashi was keen to escape the entangled maze of swamp and trees, eager to leave ghosts where they lay. He especially didn’t want to see Iruka dying, because he didn’t think he could hold back on that particular image, especially considering-
Considering nothing; Kakashi would not abandon his post to chase after an illusion. He was meant to find someone who’d mistakenly wandered into this part of the mountain forests, but the jounin was almost certain the missing person had died. If one didn’t have their wits about them, they would be sucked in by the illusions and die. Like he almost did, time and time again.
“Kakashi?” Iruka’s voice resounded clear through the swamp, and Kakashi blocked his ears to the noise. The Leaf ninja did not need the distraction. First off, he had to find a patch of sky so he could figure which way was north and work from that.
Grunting, Kakashi waded through a particularly thick section of marshy swamp, water weeds entangling his ankles, as if trying to grip him to the spot. Instinct told him to flail about, but he’d done that once before, and all it did was suck him down further, so he had to move slowly and patiently.
“Kakashi, where are you?” The chuunin’s voice echoed ominously, and Kakashi almost thought it was worth to break out in a run to escape from that.
A hand suddenly gripped his upper arm-not the ghost-like brushes he’d been experiencing for the last few hours-and it set off his instincts, lashing out at his attacker; only to discover it was the chuunin who had been tormenting his eyes and ears for so long in the marsh.
The fog thickened and swirled haphazardly around them, yellowing the green, changing to an ill mix of colours.
Iruka looked at Kakashi with confusion, his hand now gripping Kakashi’s wrist to prevent the kunai sliding in-between his ribs and through to his heart.
“What the hell?” he said, voice tinged with irritation and weariness. “I’m here as back-up! Lady Tsunade found out that the mission’s requester knew this place was dangerous for soloists, and immediately dispatched a retrieval crew. Genma and Gai are out in the east side of the swamp. Follow me out.”
Eying the brown-haired man suspiciously, Kakashi lowered his weapon, but made no movement as to follow. This had to be an illusion.
“Are you coming or not?” Iruka said, after taking two steps and realizing the jounin wasn’t following.
“No. I’ve seen too many mirages of you,” growled Kakashi. Iruka’s expression clouded over with surprise.
“How can I trust you?” the jounin continued. “Your solid touch might be another illusion. I can’t rely on anything or anyone here. All of my hallucinations have taken me nowhere but five feet closer to death’s door.”
Iruka frowned and stepped closer, taking Kakashi’s cold hand in his own surprisingly warm grasp, and slipping it inside his chuunin’s vest, murmuring, “Can you feel my heartbeat? I’m real, Kakashi.”
“So?” Kakashi pulled his hand back immediately, ignoring how it tingled. “My eyes deceive me, as do my ears. And how can I trust my nose in these conditions?” The swamp air was bitter and sour like rotten eggs, and the jounin was sure his clothes would never rid itself of the stench.
“Certainly my sense of touch would be likewise affected,” Kakashi reasoned earnestly, “and no longer can I place value in my instincts. The fog is warping my reality better than any casted illusion.”
Sighing, Iruka rubbed the bridge of his nose as he paused in thought. “Normally,” he muttered, “being a paranoid ninja is life-saving, but Kakashi, you have to come with me. Your skin is freezing; it’s either hypothermia or chakra depletion, because your Sharingan is out and the mud is sucking up chakra like a sponge, and you’ve been in here how long?”
Shaking his head, the masked man said, “Still can’t trust you. If you were told being a soloist was dangerous in this forest, why’d you split from Genma and Gai?”
“Genma apparently saw something, I think a dead girlfriend, and ran after her,” Iruka replied with a deeper frown. “Gai followed to stop him from doing anything rash, and I stayed on the track; except when they didn’t come back, I started searching on my own.”
“How come you haven’t died chasing the mirages?”
“I’ve seen my parents’ name carved in the memorial stone and their charred bodies at their funeral,” Iruka answered quietly, bitterly. “I’ve never harboured hopes that they’re actually alive, and I haven’t fallen for the forest’s clever, if somewhat cruel, trap because of that and because I know its secret.”
Kakashi looked balefully at Iruka; his Mirror Wheel Eye telling him the man was real-but it had said the same thing of the other images of dead loved ones.
As if sick of waiting, which he probably was, Iruka strode forward forcefully through the mud and slapped Kakashi. “Can an illusion do that?”
“Maybe,” replied Kakashi, a little shell-shocked, even if he saw the attack coming, he still made no move to block it, a part of him thinking it would go right through him.
“Then follow me, damn it,” said Iruka exasperatedly. Holding his hand out, Kakashi instinctively grabbed it, noticing its warmth yet again, and how Iruka smiled brilliantly at the action.
As they walked-trudged was a more apt description of their efforts to move past the sludge-Iruka casually said, “Gai was chosen for cell-captain for his rank, skill and strength. Do you want to know why Genma and I were added?”
Taking a deep breath, and immediately seeming to regret allowing the taste of the mist into his mouth, Iruka continued talking, “We were listed as people you didn’t have much contact with-not enough to become close-yet we’re people who you’d immediately listen to; both important traits considering the fog makes you see people you care about trying to trick you to your death.”
Kakashi froze; the action not immediately noticeable at the careful-read: slow-pace they were moving at.
“So, I would be very interested to know why you thought I was another illusion.”
The silence seemed heavier than before as they both waited for an answer. Both parties seemed to be holding their breath.
Finally, finally, Kakashi conceded, “You’re probably more important to me than I can ever truly give credit to.”
Surprising Kakashi, he turned to see the other man smiling again. Iruka nodded shortly and replied simply, “I’m glad.”
The fog surrounded them, thicker and closer than before, but the oppressing feeling of loneliness dissipated. Unbeknownst to most foreigners, but when translating the native’s name for the swamp area, it meant ‘Place of Discovery and Truth’.
---
fin
---
A/N: For the most part, I'm very glad how these little (or in some cases, not-so-little) drabbles have turned out. I hope you've enjoyed! Leave a comment and tell me which was your favourite and why!
A/N: For the mini-bingo round at kakairu_fest. Because of a slight OCD, I didn't post until I'd finished every single frackin' square. *Phew*. All of them are definitely centered around Kakashi and Iruka, but some are vague on relationship status. I wouldn't rate any over T, and I've listed all warnings, so no worries! Read and enjoy yourself. ^-^
---
begin
---
1. Earth
Warnings: none.
The ground they lay on was damp from the mist that characterized Konohagakure mornings. Dew sparkled on the lightly swaying strands; the effect rather mesmerizing with the way the light was thrown here and there. However, two men lying on the grass looked up at the stormy skies, hands behind their heads as a make-shift pillow.
Iruka was pointing at some of the shadows created by the billowing dark gray clouds, commenting about their shape and what they reminded him of. Kakashi had his mask down to his chin, chewing absentmindedly on a piece of grass as he made non-committal noises to the chuunin’s observations.
Underneath their bodies, the earth was relenting and soft, conforming to their bodies as the stalks of grass relented to the weight and bowed their heads. It was autumn, so there were no flowers, but in the spring the small, secluded valley they lay in would burst to life in a motley of colours and heavy perfumes.
Kakashi would sometimes make bird calls, and Iruka would try name the creature the older man was trying to mimicry. It wasn’t uncommon to hear the actual bird reply to the call, so cleverly replicated from years of practise, but it made the action no less special.
When the feeling struck them, the men would bring some food for a picnic of sorts; Iruka usually bringing the more substantial food, like sandwiches, and Kakashi carting along herbal teas he had gotten from far off countries while on some mission or another.
Today, they were simply indulging their time off in cloud gazing and light conversation. The thunder threatened rain, but neither could care less at getting a little wet. Already, moisture was dampening the backs of their standard-issue uniform, but how could they waste worry over something so trivial when material is so easily washed?
So, their clothes would smell of damp and dirt and raw earth when they left the scene, but neither man could bring themselves to care. The air was too serene and the peace too comforting a blanket to justify leaving. In fact, they’d done this many times over, and they’d do it many times again.
There was a calm that was nearly impossible to recreate anywhere but in their little bit of private seclusion, where they could be themselves with no need to fear ridicule or judgement. Both parties were suitably appeased by the arrangement of friendship, but in the gathering dark of the clouds, lying comfortably on the dirt, surrounded still by the more stubborn hazes of mist, without any sort of queue, they simultaneously looked at each other.
Their eyes said more, need more, but they did nothing. Not yet, because the peace was too precious to break with the shifting of status-quo.
2. Stars
Warnings: none.
The air was warm and humid, sweat lining the brows of two men underground as they looked up through a small window and at the night skies above them. Silence was sporadically broken by insects chirping and the various noises of the wildlife scurrying around. It could almost be called a peaceful night, if there wasn’t the occasional human scream piercing the dark.
“Doesn’t it take your breath away to know that the light from the stars can be millions, if not billions of years old, and only now we are able to see them shine?” Iruka enthused, if somewhat tiredly, with a dry voice. “Right now, the star mightn’t even exist, but we still can see its light at night. Kind of makes you think of how small and insignificant we all are in the scope of things.”
“How do you know that?” the jounin asked curiously, even though somewhat reluctant to waste breath on mindless chitchat. He tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but there wasn’t much room to move.
“I read scientific journals when I get some spare time,” explained Iruka nonchalantly, panting slightly from the heat of the small room. “It’s rather cute how civilians try to explain ninjutsu and the like, but they do much better with explaining nature and whatnot.”
Furrowing his brow, Kakashi queried, “Why is it so fascinating that you go out of your way to find out?” It was getting hard to breathe with his mask dampening and clinging to his face from sweat; however, he was far too stubborn to think of removing it.
“Learning something new is always interesting,” Iruka grinned while flicking his loose hair back; the band for his ponytail had snapped long ago and the stray strands were sticking to his face in an irritating manner. “I mean, isn’t it truly amazing how the earth circles the sun, and not the other way ‘round?”
“I’m a little more amazed at how blasé you’re acting,” replied Kakashi, “you know, considering we’re in a jail cell and all.” Shifting his wrists, the chakra cuffs burned a bit, the flesh dotted with small cuts and slick with blood. It was bearable, but it ached nonetheless.
“It’s either this or being broody and pessimistic-and that role is being filled rather well by you,” Iruka shrugged, the chains holding his arms high above his head jostling with a tinkling noise too delicate in comparison to the clunky gray metal.
Frowning, the former ANBU agent huffed, “I am not being broody.” But neither could he admit to trying to lighten the mood like Iruka was.
“Then talk instead of trying to suffer in silence,” retorted Iruka with a shadow of anger tainting his voice. “If we can’t escape by noon, we die, but at least we should appreciate the time we have left.”
“We’ll escape,” Kakashi muttered stubbornly, looking away.
“So it won’t do much damage to talk a little then, won’t it?” Iruka’s scar bunched up as a weak grin was plastered on his face, though for the most part it was unnoticed by his companion.
The jounin turned his head to snap at the other man, perhaps yell at him for being so calm and collected when his head was whirling with half-wrangled plans for freedom, when he met the chuunin’s eyes. They were half-lit with fear, clouded over with determination.
He was trying to hold it together as much as Kakashi was. For that, Kakashi could humour Iruka at the very least. It was the older man’s fault, anyway, that they in this mess, and the least he could do was comfort Iruka and not be the biggest jerk of a cell-captain ever.
Softly, Kakashi murmured, “The stars remind me of nights when my teacher, the Yondaime, would tell me the constellations and make up stories to match their name.” The chuunin smiled and they spent the few hours before dawn recalling childhood memories. They spent their last moments in the past, because it did no good to look towards their future.
3. Sky
Warnings: none.
One of the few remaining mysteries for ninja and civilian alike was the world beyond that of the sky they could see. What would it be like on the moon, if they could ever get there? A teleportation jutsu was out of the question, for sure.
What would there be in the space beyond the skies? Unmanned territory that left room for so much possibility!
Always a man of learning, Iruka had dug up scientific journals from the civilian community, slightly awed at the amount of research they’d done into the subject when ninja had done close to nothing. It was quite inspiring how persistent they were in their efforts, even though it amounted to little.
Theoretically, the idea of going into space was not wholly unbelievable, and should the findings prove accurate, all that was lacking was resources, funding and manpower. Even then, the idea that was plausible but really unfeasible retained its place in the chuunin’s mind.
Iruka loved the idea of seeing somewhere completely new, something that would stun those even used to the most amazing feats of human ability. No one else quite saw things the way he did though.
His parents had given him worried looks, ruffled his hair and told him to play with the other kids.
The children laughed and started hushed whispers about aliens.
Most of his students eyed him dubiously and then went back to work.
The older generations mumbled reverently about gods and leaving them alone in their domain.
His generation didn’t seem to quite care either way.
All except Kakashi: “It’d be rather majestic to see the world from a point even higher than the birds can lay claim to.” It made Iruka smile and feel a little less alone, even if the words were said so casually in the passing.
4. Sun
Warnings: none.
Kakashi loved sunny days.
As the sun warmed his face, he almost smiled. The rains were gone and the air was crisp in a way he’d thought he’d almost forgotten. Water was a bringer of life, but it couldn’t compare to the power that the sun held over the world.
If he wasn’t on the roof, he’d almost be tempted to pull his mask down to his chin. Closest he was to conceding was letting his nose free from the fabric to fully appreciate the dry air.
Looking over-well, down to the balcony-at the chuunin, Kakashi asked, “Why is it that the sunlight makes your hair seem brown?”
Iruka paused in stringing up the laundry. “Was that a rhetorical question?” He was using wooden pegs that had faces drawn on the nubs by his students. They were stupid and dorky in that innocently cute way; however, the jounin couldn’t fault the man for having sentimental feelings for his many charges.
Pausing in his thoughts, Kakashi replied slyly to the younger man, “I’m not sure; was that a rhetorical question?”
“We are not starting this again,” Iruka said firmly. A while back they’d done something similar, and with Kakashi’s and Iruka’s stubbornness pitted against each other, the eternal loop lasted an infuriatingly long time.
“So, does that mean you’ll tell me why your hair seems to change colour?” Biting at the fabric of his mask, tugging and pulling at the material in a nervous-if not often seen-habit, Kakashi continued, “Thinking about it, your eyes change colour, too, from black to brown and back again.”
A heavy sign came from the balcony, Iruka torn between smiling and groaning in exasperation. Instead, he dawdled for time, hanging up his shirts on the thin chakra wire he had set up years ago; at the time, he’d thought it would do as a temporary, make-shift dryer, but as laziness and procrastination kicked in, he never changed the design.
“Since I trust you,” the chuunin started off hesitantly, “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” At this Kakashi leaned in eagerly, his body stretched on the roof in what seemed like a painful contortion, but was actually rather comfortable for the lanky man.
“My hair and eye colour can change because-” sucking in a deep breath, Iruka exhaled, “-it’s my secret family jutsu.”
“What?” Kakashi’s eyes narrowed dubiously, and his tone of voice was little more believing.
“It’s true,” Iruka nodded sadly. “The family legend says we were cursed with the power by the great lord Kishimoto, who suffered from great fits of irregularities and inconsistencies, and decided to pass that power along to who he saw fit.”
For a second, Kakashi hesitated. What if he isn’t lying? I mean, there are plenty of weird jutsu and blood-limits out there; what’s to say that this isn’t one of them-
Before he could say anything however, Iruka started laughing; big hearty laughs that reverberated from his chest and made his double over from the force of it.
“You’re so sweet!” The schoolteacher choked out between stilted laughs, his right hand holding his stomach, his left gripping at a shirt tightly. “You actually believed it!”
“I hate you sometimes.” Kakashi pulled his head away from the edge of the roof, and instead sat upright, arms crossed. He was slightly stung, but more at being tricked than real antagonism.
Chuckling now, Iruka wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye and shrugged. “Everyone’s hair looks lighter in the sun, and I think my eyes change colour with my mood. There’s nothing more to it.”
“Well,” sighed Kakashi, “I thought you should know it looks nice. Your hair, I mean. It looks nice in the sun.”
Smiling in that shy, secretive way he sometimes did, Iruka replied, “You always seem happier in the sunlight, and I sometimes think it makes you radiant.”
Since the jounin had nothing to say in response, Iruka turned back to hanging his laundry and Kakashi lay back down on the sun-warmed tiles, simply enjoying the other’s presence and company.
They both loved sunny days.
5. ‘Wildcard’ {Sand}
Warnings: none.
He liked the sand between his toes. It was moist from the waves lapping over it, and granules stuck stubbornly to his legs as he walked. Pakkun was a dog of small pleasures, but walking in the waves of a sandy beach was certainly of the better ones.
Later, it’d be a real pain to wash away-because Kakashi would insist on a complete bath, and he hated baths-but for now he would enjoy the moment. It wasn’t often he could calmly walk on a beach like this.
Right at the moment, his boss, wearing his board shorts and an eye-patch, a bandanna as a mask, was chasing a tanned human around, laughing more than he’d heard in years. The other man, Umino Iruka, ironically seemed to dislike sea water, and Kakashi, the human he was, took the confession at face value and decidedly made it his mission to cure Iruka of his ‘ailment’.
The chuunin-ranked ninja did not take to the declaration lightly and immediately bolted from Kakashi. A jounin, an ex-ANBU; the pug had no doubt that he could have caught the brown-skinned human with no trouble should he have really tried. But they were merely playing like pups on their first trip outside the den!
Pakkun wondered what made Umino so special that his boss barely seemed to remember that they were in Wave Country for a mission and not a holiday. He was sure that the mission was important, since it needed two to work in a joint-cell, not to mention it was his boss making half of the team.
For his nose, Pakkun was summoned to track a particular scent in a mass of thousands, and once they’d lost track of that, Kakashi saw it fit to play around at the beach, reasoning they could do no more until the sun was up again. The pony-tailed man didn’t do much in the way of arguing, either.
Humans really weren’t too logical, Pakkun mused as he darted to the water’s edge, quickly running back as a wave crashed. But at least boss is happy.
6. Rain
Warnings: character death, but not Kakashi or Iruka.
Not all of the water falling down his face was cold. But he couldn’t admit that. Kakashi couldn’t admit that he was crying. To admit he was crying, to admit the water trickling down his cheeks was anything other than the rain, was to admit to the pain. And he couldn’t do that-not quite yet.
His mother always crooned that water was God’s way of washing away sins. For a ninja, she was always very religious. Where was her God now, then? That is, if there even truly was one in the first place?
A thousand years of constant downpour couldn’t wash away the atrocities that the former ANBU had committed. At least, that was what Kakashi thought. He stared blankly at his hands, white and pale even in the darkness of the night, and the water started to turn red in his mind’s eye, and the blood kept flowing.
“You did what you had to,” a voice said from behind him. “It was your duty as a ninja to protect your village.” It wasn’t really surprising, the words, not really. There wasn’t anything else that could be said, anyway.
Coughing to clear his throat, Kakashi rasped, “At what cost to my sanity?” The idea almost made him laugh before his throat seized closed again, against his will. I have lost my sanity long before this ever happened. Why else would I keep talking to the dead?
When the rain stopped pelting down on his head, the jounin nearly started. Training stopped him, though, when logic kicked in high gear and he realized someone was holding an umbrella above him. The almost-comforting words; weren’t they Obito’s? Who would be out at the memorial stone so late at night when the weather was so bad except him?
“Time heals all wounds, Kakashi.”
Finally raising his eyes from watching the rain-blood, his mind whispered-drip from his fingertips, the lone Hatake turned to see the chuunin, the very one that was the former teacher of his own student, look down on him. Umino Iruka, his mind supplied helpfully, until it added, He’s here to judge you for killing Sasuke. Like Sakura and Naruto did a few hours ago.
Even in the cold, Iruka’s face seemed warm, golden-brown tanned skin shining with raindrops-or were they tears as well?
Dumbly, Kakashi could only shake his head and reply, “Killing a student is far different from killing a masked missing-nin. I can never forget or atone for my sin, not this time.”
A shadow of an almost-smile flittered briefly across the face of the younger man. “I have killed my charges before. Pre-genin children are far too easily manipulated into spilling secrets; and I am usually called in to clean up the mess they leave.”
The idea of the teacher killing his own students was a mental image that was difficult to form; especially considering Kakashi only recalled images of Iruka being so loving towards Naruto, Sakura, and even the Uchiha brat-no, he wasn’t going to go there again, not going to indulge in better memories of a happier time; he didn’t deserve it.
“Sasuke posed a far bigger threat than my children ever could. You couldn’t have let him live,” reasoned Iruka sadly, his eyes never leaving Kakashi’s face. “Everyone knows it, and Naruto and Sakura do, too. Give it time.”
“Logic cannot win this argument, not this time.”
With nothing further to add, both men stood in vigil silence at the memorial stone, remembering their ghosts and simply understanding the mutual pain they shared. It wasn’t enough to wash away the pain, but Kakashi stopped seeing red run down his hands, and soon simply saw the water for the cleansing substance it was.
Kakashi finally admitted that there were more tears than raindrops running down his face.
7. Snow
Warnings: none.
Night had fallen over the world, and it seemed a darker place than the norm without the brilliant face of the moon in sight; tonight being one of the few days of the month it hid its prying eyes and letting man run free to work evils without judgement or witness from the gods.
Iruka was with Kakashi, building snow-men in one of the training fields. What most people saw as an innocent lot of decorations to mark the winter season, Iruka saw as an opportunity to strike fear into the hearts of his students. Within each pile of snow was a rigged weapon-launcher, which he’d let the kids duck and dodge against the next day.
Effectively, he would be teaching the children to not judge something by its appearance-hopefully ingraining the evil of innocence-and work in some reaction-time training in, too. Multi-tasking was really a blessing sometimes. The exercise was completely for the students’ own good, and in no way was it a warped form of payback for the hell of a week the chuunin had recently been forced into. Not at all.
Kakashi was there because he was travelling home from the memorial stone, only stopping because he was honestly intrigued at what the teacher was doing at this time of night preparing such childish statues. Though, when he found out what they really were, he was one-part astonished, another intrigued, and whatever was left was amused. Since he had nothing better to do, he joined in.
Ninja did seem to find a certain satisfaction in simultaneously scarring children while training them for their own good. Perhaps a trait brought on from improper, what some may call unusual, social conditionings.
The stars seemed to blink sporadically in-and-out of life, the only light in the never-ending darkness of space. Only with their weak light was the surrounding piles of snow able to glisten and shine like a faded jewel. There was little more beautiful that winter night.
“Kakashi; I said you could help me, but I didn’t mean you could add certain inappropriate appendages to the snow-men!” Iruka might normally have been more worked up, but his face was already tinged red with snow, and his hands had lost feeling a quarter of an hour before.
Caught red-handed, the jounin straightened up, looking too innocent, and not at all abashed or guilty. Tightening his numb grasp on the throwing star in his gloved hand, Iruka mentally chanted, I will not attack a jounin; I will not attack a jounin...
“Iruka,” the Copy-Nin started saying calmly, a hint of a smile in his tone. “I was merely adjusting the projection points of this, ahh, kunai launcher, and it just poked out at a really inconvenient place-”
Apparently, mentally chanting did little for Iruka’s self resolve, and with his harried throw a mini-war began between him and Kakashi that lasted ‘til sunrise, a battle of weapons, insults and slushy snowballs.
Hair dripping cold ice-water down the back of his collar, the chuunin groaned, “Lucky most of the snow-men survived the attack.”
With an almost serious voice, Kakashi replied solemnly, “We will mourn those who have fallen for the cause.”
Snorting, Iruka laughed, “What cause apart from immature foolishness?”
Stretching, Kakashi languidly stretched where he lay on the wet snow. “Want to do this again tomorrow?”
Pausing, Iruka straightened a carrot nose on one of his statues, and shrugged. “How can I refuse an offer of another chance to defeat the Copy-Nin?
“Hey!” Kakashi protested indignantly. “I clearly won that round-” Cut off by a sly handful of ice-slush to the face, round two began, interspersed with laughter and shouted curses. The students came to the field a few hours later, wondering why the snow-men looked so haggard, and why their teacher was so flushed.
8. Moon
Warnings: none.
The moon was big and round and smiled down at him as he swam lithely in the water. Iruka frowned and squinted his eyes, trying to see what his students saw in the moon. He’d asked them once, to generate conversation, and they’d replied in a motley of various replies that soon devolved into an argument over which child was right.
Iruka, himself, saw a heart, as he was told that by his parents. Other children saw a rabbit, or man’s face, or a man mixing medicine-some saw crabs and fishes swimming in a circle, or even puzzle pieces. Sighing, he gave up, figuring that what you saw in the moon’s face was something you learned and stuck with as a child.
The moon and the sea were lovers, his mother had once told him as a bedtime story. They would dance every night, the moonlight having such power over the oceans that the tide would ebb and flow to match the moon.
His father would then add, However, the sun’s jealousy knew no bounds, desperate as it was to capture the moon’s attentions, and soon the bright star signed a contract with the winds and the rains and the lightning of the sky to break the pair apart. Storms and jagged forks of electricity would tear up the seas, churning up the waves and the waters as the moon wept, hidden by the storm clouds.
Just before Iruka would fall asleep, his parents would whisper, Yet even with the clouds blocking the view of the moonlight from the ocean, they were so linked and intertwined with love, they still could dance and all the sun could so was rage, forever banned from seeing the moon as he would run away from the star to spend time alone with the seas.
Floating in the water, Iruka figured that he would be the ocean and Kakashi would be the moon, so revered and powerful. The jounin had no idea how much pull he had over the chuunin.
Except Iruka was sure that, as far away as his lover was, on an A-rank mission to help the village in some far distant country, he knew that Kakashi would be thinking of him, and their hearts would be beating as one.
9. Fog
Warnings: whoops, goes way, way over the 1000 word limit.
Iruka seemed to appear, faint in the fog, and the oppressive weight of the atmosphere almost seemed to trick Kakashi into thinking he was there, but he knew he wasn’t, couldn’t, be there. The nature of the accursed fog was to show you what you cared for most. Since when did he care for the chuunin?
Since they first met, a traitorous voice whispered in his mind, as cold fingers brushed against his cheek, tanned skin slipping out of sight from the corner of his eye. Whipping his head around, his eyes scanned the area frantically for the source of contact, but there was no one there. Even the ghost of an image that seemed to almost look like Iruka was gone from mist.
Whether it was due to the mist that cloaked his body like a sticky shroud, or from the feeling of oppressive loneliness, Kakashi found it harder and harder to breathe, and he was beginning to lose feeling in his fingertips.
He was on a solo mission, but clearly whoever requested the mission to Leaf miscalculated. This treacherous task, not only worthy of being bumped up to an A-ranking, also needed multiple partners to keep sane. Kakashi had almost dived head-first into the dangerous swamps more than once. Whether it was because of a lingering jutsu-curse, or a by-product of the fumes, the jounin kept seeing people in the sickly green fog.
First, he saw his mother, drowning in the thick marshlands, screaming for help. Thankfully, logic kicked in when he was ankle deep in the slush. He ran from the scene in a panic, but when he calmed down, he felt especially foolish. It was a while before his heartbeat calmed, though.
Cautiousness caused him to expose his Sharingan, to dispel any illusions, yet Kakashi was still caught twice more; once with the image of his father hanging himself over a pit of muddy quicksand, and another time when he thought he saw Obito crying out for help, crushed by a tree, unable to breathe.
Now Iruka started popping up. Not dying, but standing there, tears running down his face. It was enough to make him want to talk to the man, but the former ANBU knew better than to trust his eyes and ears. The fog was muddling his senses.
Tired, irritated, anxious and thoroughly lost, Kakashi was keen to escape the entangled maze of swamp and trees, eager to leave ghosts where they lay. He especially didn’t want to see Iruka dying, because he didn’t think he could hold back on that particular image, especially considering-
Considering nothing; Kakashi would not abandon his post to chase after an illusion. He was meant to find someone who’d mistakenly wandered into this part of the mountain forests, but the jounin was almost certain the missing person had died. If one didn’t have their wits about them, they would be sucked in by the illusions and die. Like he almost did, time and time again.
“Kakashi?” Iruka’s voice resounded clear through the swamp, and Kakashi blocked his ears to the noise. The Leaf ninja did not need the distraction. First off, he had to find a patch of sky so he could figure which way was north and work from that.
Grunting, Kakashi waded through a particularly thick section of marshy swamp, water weeds entangling his ankles, as if trying to grip him to the spot. Instinct told him to flail about, but he’d done that once before, and all it did was suck him down further, so he had to move slowly and patiently.
“Kakashi, where are you?” The chuunin’s voice echoed ominously, and Kakashi almost thought it was worth to break out in a run to escape from that.
A hand suddenly gripped his upper arm-not the ghost-like brushes he’d been experiencing for the last few hours-and it set off his instincts, lashing out at his attacker; only to discover it was the chuunin who had been tormenting his eyes and ears for so long in the marsh.
The fog thickened and swirled haphazardly around them, yellowing the green, changing to an ill mix of colours.
Iruka looked at Kakashi with confusion, his hand now gripping Kakashi’s wrist to prevent the kunai sliding in-between his ribs and through to his heart.
“What the hell?” he said, voice tinged with irritation and weariness. “I’m here as back-up! Lady Tsunade found out that the mission’s requester knew this place was dangerous for soloists, and immediately dispatched a retrieval crew. Genma and Gai are out in the east side of the swamp. Follow me out.”
Eying the brown-haired man suspiciously, Kakashi lowered his weapon, but made no movement as to follow. This had to be an illusion.
“Are you coming or not?” Iruka said, after taking two steps and realizing the jounin wasn’t following.
“No. I’ve seen too many mirages of you,” growled Kakashi. Iruka’s expression clouded over with surprise.
“How can I trust you?” the jounin continued. “Your solid touch might be another illusion. I can’t rely on anything or anyone here. All of my hallucinations have taken me nowhere but five feet closer to death’s door.”
Iruka frowned and stepped closer, taking Kakashi’s cold hand in his own surprisingly warm grasp, and slipping it inside his chuunin’s vest, murmuring, “Can you feel my heartbeat? I’m real, Kakashi.”
“So?” Kakashi pulled his hand back immediately, ignoring how it tingled. “My eyes deceive me, as do my ears. And how can I trust my nose in these conditions?” The swamp air was bitter and sour like rotten eggs, and the jounin was sure his clothes would never rid itself of the stench.
“Certainly my sense of touch would be likewise affected,” Kakashi reasoned earnestly, “and no longer can I place value in my instincts. The fog is warping my reality better than any casted illusion.”
Sighing, Iruka rubbed the bridge of his nose as he paused in thought. “Normally,” he muttered, “being a paranoid ninja is life-saving, but Kakashi, you have to come with me. Your skin is freezing; it’s either hypothermia or chakra depletion, because your Sharingan is out and the mud is sucking up chakra like a sponge, and you’ve been in here how long?”
Shaking his head, the masked man said, “Still can’t trust you. If you were told being a soloist was dangerous in this forest, why’d you split from Genma and Gai?”
“Genma apparently saw something, I think a dead girlfriend, and ran after her,” Iruka replied with a deeper frown. “Gai followed to stop him from doing anything rash, and I stayed on the track; except when they didn’t come back, I started searching on my own.”
“How come you haven’t died chasing the mirages?”
“I’ve seen my parents’ name carved in the memorial stone and their charred bodies at their funeral,” Iruka answered quietly, bitterly. “I’ve never harboured hopes that they’re actually alive, and I haven’t fallen for the forest’s clever, if somewhat cruel, trap because of that and because I know its secret.”
Kakashi looked balefully at Iruka; his Mirror Wheel Eye telling him the man was real-but it had said the same thing of the other images of dead loved ones.
As if sick of waiting, which he probably was, Iruka strode forward forcefully through the mud and slapped Kakashi. “Can an illusion do that?”
“Maybe,” replied Kakashi, a little shell-shocked, even if he saw the attack coming, he still made no move to block it, a part of him thinking it would go right through him.
“Then follow me, damn it,” said Iruka exasperatedly. Holding his hand out, Kakashi instinctively grabbed it, noticing its warmth yet again, and how Iruka smiled brilliantly at the action.
As they walked-trudged was a more apt description of their efforts to move past the sludge-Iruka casually said, “Gai was chosen for cell-captain for his rank, skill and strength. Do you want to know why Genma and I were added?”
Taking a deep breath, and immediately seeming to regret allowing the taste of the mist into his mouth, Iruka continued talking, “We were listed as people you didn’t have much contact with-not enough to become close-yet we’re people who you’d immediately listen to; both important traits considering the fog makes you see people you care about trying to trick you to your death.”
Kakashi froze; the action not immediately noticeable at the careful-read: slow-pace they were moving at.
“So, I would be very interested to know why you thought I was another illusion.”
The silence seemed heavier than before as they both waited for an answer. Both parties seemed to be holding their breath.
Finally, finally, Kakashi conceded, “You’re probably more important to me than I can ever truly give credit to.”
Surprising Kakashi, he turned to see the other man smiling again. Iruka nodded shortly and replied simply, “I’m glad.”
The fog surrounded them, thicker and closer than before, but the oppressing feeling of loneliness dissipated. Unbeknownst to most foreigners, but when translating the native’s name for the swamp area, it meant ‘Place of Discovery and Truth’.
---
fin
---
A/N: For the most part, I'm very glad how these little (or in some cases, not-so-little) drabbles have turned out. I hope you've enjoyed! Leave a comment and tell me which was your favourite and why!