Chapter Text
- - 4 years later - -
The floor didn't squeak under Kakashi's weight anymore. It had been an oversight, one that was admittedly a compliment to Tenzo's skills with the mokuton. But losing the noisy floorboards in the academy's halls meant the teachers had been forced to come up with new, more creative ideas on how to teach their pupils to move in silence.
They'll be fine. It's not actually about the floor, Iruka had said. It's just... something to focus on. One more change after the... now that we need to rebuild from the ground up. We all need some time... we're just thankful you're prioritizing rebuilding the academy. Really.
Kakashi's fist clenched tighter around the paper Ichiraku's takeout bag, a poor effort at calming his pounding heart.
Iruka was working late today. Something about meetings, briefing everyone on the goings on at the academy, that sort of thing. Just necessary day-to-day business. There was no reason why he shouldn't have a meeting scheduled for today, of all days. It was a Tuesday, after all. Sometimes the academy's headmaster needed to work late on Tuesdays. It wasn't a holiday, nor was it a date of note to Iruka, nor to almost anyone else.
It was the right thing to do, for a man to bring his partner dinner at work, and so Kakashi tried to make a habit of it, no matter what day of the week it was.
After all, it was something Iruka did often for him.
"I know I've said it before, but I can't believe you're still using that old thing." Iruka had said one evening, carrying two containers of eggplant miso into the Hokage's office and wrinkling his nose at the sight of Kakashi using his reading seal on a document. "I keep telling you, I've pretty much perfected the new version. It's got a ninety-five percent accuracy rate, inflection, and it doesn't mix up the number five with the letter 's.'"
"But, headmaster," Kakashi had all but purred as he'd pulled the earpiece end of the seal from his forehead protector, letting it fall from his fingers as he rose to greet his partner. "It's missing the voice I love so much. Without it, how am I supposed to get through - " he picked up the document he was reading. " - 'Proposed trade route revisions for the benefit of productive agricultural practices.' Even you must admit, hardly stimulating material when not read out by the love of my life, hmm?"
Iruka had just shaken his head and passed Kakashi his meal, muttering something about crazy jounin never changing.
But he hadn't been able to hide the smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Kakashi paused in the hall. Even though it had been over two years since the academy had been rebuilt, it still smelled of fresh paint, of newly laid varnish, and sealed drywall. Unconsciously, he ran his fingers over the lumpy plaster coating the walls, nothing more than a thin coating over the wooden skeleton beneath.
Just over three years ago now, he'd been standing in the middle of the end of the world, the air heavy with the stink of ash and desperation.
He saved us all.
It was the first thing Kakashi had said upon his return to Konoha, after having found Iruka waiting at the gates and pulling him into a crushing hug that had seemed to last for hours, repeating those four words over and over again.
He saved us all.
Kakashi hadn't been able to leave Iruka's side for weeks after returning from the war. Even after he'd been named as Tsunade's successor, he was ready to beg Iruka to move in with him into the newly built Hokage's residences, but to his astonishment, the answer was an immediate yes. Though, Kakashi hadn't been certain if Iruka had agreed because he was genuinely wanting to live together, or if he was just sick of living in a tent.
It had been strange, having someone - having his someone sharing a home after a lifetime of choosing to be lonely. It must have been for Iruka too. Kakashi would sometimes catch him doing a double take after realizing he wasn't alone in the room, or gasping softly upon waking and seeing the bed - their bed - had another person in it. It was almost funny, watching Iruka try to maneuver his way around their new space. Sometimes, in those early weeks, he'd open the same cabinet three or four times trying to put a mug or a plate away, only to find it was stuffed with tea and spices instead. For almost a month, without fail, first thing in the morning he'd walk into the kitchen when he was looking for the bathroom. Every time he'd stomp out muttering, "dumb place to put a kitchen."
Still more weeks had passed, with Iruka failing to hide the worried looks he'd shoot Kakashi's way. Finally, he'd stepped into their shared bedroom one night, his lip chewed raw, with Icha Icha Paradise in his outstretched hands.
You- you haven't been reading, not even with the seal since you came back, Iruka said, voice trembling. Are you ready to try again?
It's just... you'll be taking over from Tsunade soon, and... I don't want you to forget anymore. And I don't think you want to, either.
Kakashi had reached out and taken the small orange novel in his hands, staring at the title until slowly, the haze of his mind cleared, and the letters slowly began to form, his eyes tracing their sharp outlines -
And crumpled over himself with a cry. Everything he'd tried to hold back from his time on the battlefield came pouring out as Iruka held him tightly.
Obito. Gai's leg. Madara taking his eye. Sakura's healing them all. Sasuke's redemption... and Naruto...
He said... Naruto said he would never stop protecting his comrades and friends, no matter how desperate. If I only ever did one thing right in my whole life... it was teaching that one thing...
His ability to read was slow to return after that, but to his astonishment, it came back steadily. Before long, Kakashi realized he was reading again without thinking about it. There'd be nothing holding him back from wearing the Hokage's hat, then.
Four months into living together, though, he was starting to get worried about Iruka's inability to adjust to the new space. He was still mulling over how to bring up that perhaps a visit to the medics was in order when Iruka had walked into their living room where Kakashi was sitting and froze in his tracks, eyes flickering briefly with confusion.
God DAMMIT! He'd shouted, slamming his fist into the wall. Nothing is the same, NOTHING. Not the furniture, not any of the rooms in the damned place...
It was Iruka's turn then to break down, his head hanging as he crumpled against the wall.
You... were in the war, 'Kashi... Did you dream too?
He'd gone very still and very quiet when Kakashi replied that he'd avoided getting caught in the Tsukuyomi.
It wasn't... seeing. Iruka had finally said, after some time. It was a life. A whole lifetime in a moment... and it was with you. At the end of it all, it was all with you.
After that, they'd put elegant plaques up on all the doors in their apartment, labeling each room and cupboard. It seemed to help, as Iruka found what he was looking for with much more ease and stopped hesitating to double check with Kakashi if he was putting things away in the right place.
He relaxed more, smiled more. His eyes didn't glaze over while he looked out their bedroom window.
I'll tell you everything about the Tsukuyomi one day, I promise. But not now. I can't now.
Kakashi stuffed his other hand in his pocket and froze in his tracks when he found it empty. Cold terror briefly filled his chest before his fingers found what they were looking for - a small box, weighing almost nothing.
Somehow, today, it felt like the heaviest thing he'd ever carried.
Clutching the box tightly in one hand, takeout bag in the other, Kakashi continued ambling silently down the academy's halls.
Iruka's life in the Tsukuyomi came through in glimpses.
The first time Kakashi made them miso negi for dinner, Iruka had taken a bite, then frowned.
This tastes different than how you made it before. Are you using a different recipe?
His eyes had blown wide seconds later, when Kakashi didn't speak. The air had been thick with tension until Iruka, hands trembling, took a second bite.
I like this one better, he'd sighed with palpable relief. It's real and it's so much better...
Almost a year into living together, Iruka had approached Kakashi, tugging his hair tie and stuttering.
I know you don't want to rebuild the Hatake manor, and the land's been leased to farmers anyways. But the rubble is all still there and sealed off, and, well, I was wondering if you'd be okay if I... went and tried to find a few things. Just... some stuff I think would be nice to see if it survived.
With Kakashi's blessing, Iruka went out, and nearly a full twelve hours later came home, covered in grit and mud. There was only one thing he pulled out of a storage scroll - a decades-old painting, nearly unrecognizable after being battered first by the building's collapse, and then by a year's worth of exposure to Konoha's volatile weather.
The painting had been restored, as best it could be. The artist Iruka hired was unable to salvage the lower halves of Sakumo and Chiyo's bodies and had to crop the canvas, but their faces were almost lifelike once Iruka brought the picture home for the second time.
Kakashi had nodded in approval before tucking it away in a closet, out of sight and hidden.
The academy was nearly deserted at this hour. There were a few people scattered about here and there, support and janitorial staff preparing the building for another busy tomorrow. A number of different chakra signatures were moving away from the Headmaster's office as Kakashi approached it. He'd timed his arrival perfectly, then.
It shouldn't have made his already pounding heart beat double-time. After all these years, and so much time spent together, Kakashi shouldn't be so nervous to approach Iruka, even if it was at the academy. He'd brought Iruka dinner here so many times before this.
He'd come home early a few months ago to find Iruka sitting in their shared living room with the portrait of Kakashi's parents in his lap, staring into their faces.
I'm so sorry, 'Kashi, Iruka had mumbled, his voice so small and filled with shame. I know it's wrong, I know they weren't really my family and it's not my place. But I forget, sometimes, that I never knew them. In my head, in the... the Tsukuyomi, they were right there. And so were my mom and dad... I don't have anything left of them after the Kyuubi or Pain's attack.
Iruka dragged a thumb over the picture's frame.
My parents, Ikkau and Kohari... their faces blur in my memory sometimes. I remember better when I look at this...
It's hard to separate what is real.
Immediately, Kakashi had produced a hammer and a nail. With even more urgency, he'd found a space on the wall where Iruka could look at the picture anytime he wanted, and where Kakashi could easily look away when he needed to forget.
At the doorway of Iruka's office, Kakashi paused, yet again.
HEADMASTER UMINO IRUKA
Unconsciously, he let go of the box in his pocket and reached out, feeling into the grooves etched into the metal plaque. It seemed like just yesterday the letters would have been an unsolvable riddle for him.
Had I not... would they still be?
Iruka made a habit of pretending to be annoyed by Kakashi's constant reading of the Icha Icha books. Well, probably pretending, anyways. Just last week, he'd come home after another late evening to find Kakashi sprawled on the couch in his underwear, midway through Tactics. He had rolled his eyes so hard his head tilted.
"Don't you ever get bored with those?"
"I don't, sensei," Kakashi purred. "For they inspire me to find new ways of admiring the perfection in your beauty."
His waxing poetic had only earned Kakashi a notebook lobbed at his head.
"You are incorrigible!" Iruka shouted. "Had I known teaching you to read would have you quoting Icha Icha lines at me every day... I'd - I'd - "
Snapping the book shut, Kakashi donned his best cheeky smirk. "You'd have done the same?"
In spite of himself, Iruka softened, a bashful smile creeping across his lips.
"Yes, actually," he murmured. "In fact, sometimes I wish I'd taken stock of your reports and paid attention to what was really going on. I could have loved you for years longer."
The feel of the wood grain under his fingertips brought Kakashi back from the memories swirling in his mind. Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves, and pushed the door open.
The same skill with the mokuton had clearly not been shown to the academy's door frames. The top of the door brushed against it's edging, a faint grinding sound announcing Kakashi's arrival.
Iruka looked up from his work.
"Oh, hey, 'Kashi. I didn't think you were coming by today."
"I brought you dinner," Kakashi replied bluntly, setting down the bag on top of the desk and stuffing his hands back in his pockets, glancing around the small office. Iruka hadn't held the position for long, but he'd already taken steps toward claiming the space as his. A potted fern sprouting in one corner, a crayon drawing made by one of his former students hanging on the wall.
Kakashi found the box in his pocket again, flipping the top open.
You can have this. He won't say no. He's kept you since the day you asked.
Iruka must have noticed something was amiss in Kakashi's demeanor, as an odd expression crossed his face, and he dropped his pen. "I'm just about wrapped up here - actually, no, I am all done. Let me just grab some papers and my bag and we can eat at home."
He moved quickly, turning on one heel towards a metal filing cabinet and pulling out several folders, then several more papers from a different drawer. He still had his back turned, was still muttering to himself about what he needed to take to prepare for tomorrow.
Kakashi's shoulders relaxed, just a little.
His eyes - two good eyes now - remained focused on Iruka, oblivious and rummaging through paperwork.
Four years ago today, I walked into your classroom to ask you something...
Kakashi pulled the box from his pocket, the simple gold ring on full display.
He's still the only one.
"Iruka-sensei," his voice shook as he dropped to one knee, heart pounding just as it had all those years ago. "There's... something I need to ask you..."