#Gai had to save Kakashi and even he didn’t help him through a panic attack perfectly

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Minato *seeing Kakashi panic* eh, i’m sure it’s fine

Kakashi *seeing Naruto panic*

[cyhyr]

Summer of Whump Day 5: Broken

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: T 

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi & Umino Iruka, potential pre-relationship.

WC: ~1650

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply; kid/teenage whump; referenced abusive relationship; referenced child death

Notes: An AU-ish wherein Kakashi and Iruka were always friendly, if not friends, as kids. It’s implied that Iruka and Mizuki are a thing, but you can read it as platonic. Takes place over Kakashi and Iruka’s teenage years.

A/N: Iruka is my new favorite character to whump. I’m not sorry. He’s so pretty when he breaks; and putting him back together is just as fun.

~

Kakashi knows he’s being distant. Who wouldn’t be, after this? Obito is dead, and it’s his fault, and Rin and Minato-sensei and Gai and the rest of the village could whisper and point and pity him but he knows and accepts it. 

The only one who won’t accept it blindly is Iruka. Kakashi isn’t sure if he’s angry or elated by this. Iruka wasn’t the first to ask what happened, when their team came back without Obito, but he was the first to sit and ask Kakashi, how can I help?

He didn’t have an answer two weeks ago when Iruka asked. He still doesn’t have an answer now, as he’s avoiding Kohari-san’s third invitation to dinner this week. He’s declined them all. Kakashi likes Ikkaku-san’s cooking, and the Umino house is warm and inviting.

But he doesn’t deserve it.

He watches from afar as his friendship with Iruka, once a casual playmate the Umino family had insisted upon and the Sandaime had agreed to, deteriorates into acquaintanceship. Then, further into something closer to strangers. They wave to each other in the village, but no more than that. Besides, Iruka is a good kid and makes friends easily.

Mizuki hangs onto Iruka like a leech, and Kakashi will soon wish he could have paid closer attention to that simile.

~

After the Kyūbi, Kakashi doesn’t spend a lot of time in the village. He’s running missions in ANBU with minimal breaks, often alone. He still wakes up with the furious obsession to wash Rin’s blood off his hand, but it’s not so frequent anymore. Sometimes, he catches himself on track to a panic attack and can stop them before they start.

He’s feeling… well, not great, but not bad. 

It’s helpful to stay busy.

It’s not helpful to slip into the Hokage’s office and see Iruka playing go with the Sandaime in complete silence. Kakashi’s glad for both masks now—Iruka and silence never went together before. He has a leaf headband now, an official shinobi. When did that happen, Kakashi wonders.

“Hound, have you met Iruka?” the Sandaime asks. He knows the answer, of course, but who’s Kakashi to say old Sarutobi doesn’t have a plan up his sleeve.

“I’ve seen him around the village,” Kakashi says, keeping his answer vague.

Iruka doesn’t react. He’s still staring at the board—no, wait.

He’s staring past the board.

What is this… 

“Umino Iruka is a promising young genin,” Sarutobi talks him up, as though Kakashi needs to hear it. “Some of his traps have caught patrolling ANBU unawares. Non-lethal, of course,” the Hokage adds with a smile and a huff, “Iruka has the utmost respect for our fellow shinobi.”

“And yet he sets traps for them?” Kakashi asks, honestly curious. This is a different side of Iruka he hasn’t met yet. He’d like to.

They both turn to Iruka, waiting to see if he’ll respond for himself. He doesn’t.

Sarutobi sighs. “That was a year or so ago,” he says. “We haven’t had any incidents since Iruka graduated. Some of the ANBU are bored.”

Iruka fidgets with the cuffs of his sleeves. 

Kakashi tilts his head curiously, trying to ask the Hokage the question pulsing in his mind now that Iruka is bringing attention to it.

Why is Iruka wearing long sleeves in summer?

“Mizuki says traps are for kids,” Iruka murmurs. He stands up. “Please excuse me, Hokage-sama, Hound-san.”

Sarutobi waves Iruka away, and turns to Kakashi. “I have, unofficially, taken that child under my guidance. But four months ago he stopped confiding in me, and when he speaks it’s to tell me of some new idea this Mizuki friend of his has taught him. Today, I brought up the traps. Other topics Mizuki has poisoned him on include his desire to pursue fūinjutsu as a potential specialty, the effectiveness of their jōnin-sensei, his sense of humor, and his height.”

“His height, sir?” 

“Mizuki hasn’t hit a growth spurt yet,” Sarutobi explains. “Apparently, this means that Iruka needs to slouch so they’re still eye-to-eye.” His frown, if possible, deepens. “You two were close once, weren’t you?”

“It’s been years.”

Sarutobi says nothing more, but he doesn’t need to. Kakashi doesn’t appreciate being manipulated, and wouldn’t put it past the Hokage to have invited Iruka for tea and go when he knew Kakashi would be reporting in. But, there’s a part of him that is relieved that someone is looking out for Iruka. And there’s another part of him that is ready to take over; he seems to have Sarutobi’s silent approval, if nothing else.

~

The work never stops long enough for him to properly get back in touch with Iruka. He watches from the rooftops as Iruka fakes his way through the days, and then goes home to the apartment he shares with the so-called friend Mizuki. And maybe Kakashi isn’t there often enough to see it, or Mizuki knows when they’re being watched, or Iruka had confided in his roommate that the Hokage took an interest in their relationship—but long sleeves in summer never happen again.

That said, the emotional damage the boy leaves Iruka with makes Kakashi wonder if Sarutobi acted too quickly, or not enough, or—

Anyway, the point is, Iruka almost doesn’t survive the chūnin exams, and Kakashi doesn’t know whether to blame himself, Sandaime-sama, or Mizuki. Iruka is gravely injured in the second phase because he put himself between Mizuki and an Iwa genin; Iruka had been buried and had it not been for their third teammate even noticing that Iruka was gone and then unearthing him, he would have suffocated.

Mizuki, by the testimony of the onlooking jōnin, hadn’t tried to save Iruka. He did force the Iwa cell to retreat, though. He’ll make chūnin at the end of this.

At the end of the month, they both make chūnin. Kakashi is surprised, but happy for him. 

Iruka is still slouching, though.

~

They serve together, once, after he’s pulled from ANBU. 

Kakashi can’t reconcile the dull, lifeless, quiet young man with the near-obnoxiously loud boy he knew as a child. Was this Mizuki still in his life? How had Iruka not made better friends by now? As a child he used to be surrounded by friends, forcing Kakashi to play with little kids even if he’d had missions to go on.

He tries everything he can think of to get a reaction out of Iruka. He tells bad jokes, tries reminiscing on their shared childhood, asks questions about Iruka’s life, tells good jokes, cooks bad food, refuses to assist in setting up camp—nothing gets a reaction. 

The mission—the one from the Hokage, not just Kakashi’s self-imposed one—fails spectacularly. Really, Kakashi can’t think of a worse way for it to fuck up.

But there’s a silver lining.

On the way back to Konoha, they stop for the night. No fire, no camp; they rough it in the trees. Kakashi lets one leg hang off the branch he’s sitting on and leans his back against the trunk. Iruka sits a little further out, shoulders hunched forward, both feet dangling off the branch. He kicks his legs back and forth gently. It’s endearing.

“I’m sorry,” Iruka murmurs. It’s the first time in years that Iruka has said something to him unprompted.

“Don’t be,” Kakashi sighs. “You don’t have the kind of experience I do. You can’t have known those kids weren’t innocent.”

He seems to shrink into himself further. It’s odd; Iruka’s not a small man, but at the moment he seems adamant in taking up as little space as possible. “Please don’t excuse my weakness,” Iruka says. “I know I’m not cut out for this. I shouldn’t have—”

“Stop.”

Thank the gods, he does. Kakashi takes a few breaths to collect himself, then continues.

“I signed up to captain a duo team with Umino Iruka,” he says, “not your ‘friend,’ Mizuki.”

Iruka turns to him, confused. “Wha—?”

“Don’t repeat his words back to me,” Kakashi says. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m not. Mizuki is—”

“You’re not weak. You were chosen to be on this mission because of your expertise in fūinjutsu—which you learned behind Mizuki’s back, didn’t you?”

Iruka flushes. Half of his mouth twitches in a ghost of a smile. His shoulders roll back and he straightens, just a bit. “It’s just really fascinating,” he breathes. 

There he is.  

“Yes, the mission failed. Yes, if you had killed the kids when I ordered it the first time, it probably would have been successful,” Kakashi watched Iruka’s face fall again, and moved along the tree branch until he was next to Iruka and able to put a hand on his shoulder. “If you had done it, would it have been you, though?”

Iruka shivers. “They were just children,” he whispers.

“And they tried to kill you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first ones.”

“And won’t be the last.”

Iruka leans into him. Kakashi lets him, even braces an arm around his back to keep him close. “I missed this,” Iruka whispers.

“Failing missions? Talking about killing children?”

“Us.”

“You’ve had Mizuki,” Kakashi ventures.

“And he’s great—in, like, small doses.” Iruka doesn’t look up at him, but Kakashi can see him fidget with his shirt cuffs again, just like he had in the Hokage’s office years ago. “It took a long time for me to see that.”

Kakashi looks out into the woods and imagines being here under different circumstances. Maybe in a few more years. “You’re getting better. When we left, I couldn’t get you to look at me with anything other than apathy. Now look at us.”

“It’s nice.” Iruka kicks one of his legs out harder, faster; a nervous tick. “Mizuki… he doesn’t like me having other friends.”

“He can take that up with me,” Kakashi says. “I might have left for a while, but I was here first. And I plan on staying this time.”

Iruka smiles.

Just like before. Just for a second. It’s enough.

[depressedkakashihatake-fics]

A Kiss Goodbye

Hatake Kakashi/Tenzo Yamato

1562 words

Kiss: Mail Kiss

For: @tenzoyamato​

Dear Senpai, Kakashi,

Dear Kakashi,

            There are few times where I question the importance of a mission, and I really do understand the importance of this one. Keeping Naruto and Bee away from the war is the best course of action to ensure that they are safe.

            But was I really necessary for this mission? I guess I just wish there was more than I could do. I know that you’d tell me I’m needed here. That if anything goes wrong I’m the only one who can keep the Kyubi under control, and that Naruto needs someone from the team here with him. At least that way maybe he won’t question what’s going on as much, and won’t try to run off to a war we’re trying so desperately to keep him out of.

            Still, a part of me wishes that I wasn’t here right now. That Gai could take care of things and I could help you. Be by your side. Hear a little less Rap music in my days. Maybe I could keep my sanity for just a bit longer if I wasn’t tasked with playing babysitter to the two more ridiculous jinjuuriki that could have ever been created.

            Seriously, are all Jinjuurki like this automatically? Is Gaara-san the only level headed one to ever exist?

            I guess what I’m saying, what I wish had happened, is that I was still with you. That I could be by your side, making sure that you’re ok. That someone has your back in this war. After all, we both know how reckless you can be, Senpai. I used to think that you had no regard for your life back when we were on Team Ro together, and maybe that was true.

            Maybe sometimes it’s still true. Even after all these years you’re still not the best at taking care of yourself in the field. Someone has to make sure you come home alive, and I’d prefer it to be me.

            I guess this is all a really long way of saying what has been on my mind for the past few months. Ever since I was put in charge of Team seven while you were healing, it has been at the back of my mind. Nagging me constantly, and it only got worse when I saw you again.

            I missed you.

            All those years of seeing you maybe once a month between missions, and knowing I wasn’t there to protect you during your own missions. Knowing that if anything happened to you I would never get to tell you how I feel.

            How much I need you in my life.

            How much I love you.

            That’s been eating at me the most these days. We’re in the middle of a war that could lead to the end of everything that we know and love, and all I can think about is how much I love you. How I’ve loved you for the past few years, though I’m not quite sure when I realized it.

            How this could be the last chance I ever have to tell you what you mean to me, and I can’t think of what else to say. What words could possibly explain the extent of these feelings that I’ve been trying so desperately to ignore.

            How I may never see you again, and I can’t imagine anything more heartbreaking.

            Love, Tenzo.

There’s an eerie silence on the battlefield. No one chatting outside the temporary camp, no words of celebration or comfort to be heard anywhere nearby. Just silence. Agonizing silence that allowed the thoughts running through his mind to echo, a never ending repetition.

I love you.

His eyes scan over the words over and over again, trying desperately to understand them. To comprehend why Tenzo was saying them now, in a note that he had written in the middle of the ocean while tucked away in some small room a world away from Kakashi. 

Why he hadn’t told him earlier, when he could do something.

Before everything went wrong.

He can’t help but reread the letter once more, searching for anything that he might have missed. Nothing changes and he can’t help but feeling frustrated about it. 

“What did i miss?” He didn’t mean to speak out loud, but hearing them somehow helps him recognize the emotions boiling up inside of him. The jumble of feelings that he couldn’t quite understand as he was reading the letter the first few times.

Anger, at himself for missing the signs that he knows must have been there. Clear as day to anyone with a functioning pair of eyes and a basic understanding of emotions. 

Confusion. Why him? Out of everyone that Tenzo could have fallen in love with, why did it have to be him? Konoha’s resident disaster. Couldn’t Tenzo have done better? Didn’t he know that falling in love with ‘friend-killer’ Kakashi was doomed to fail?

Hurt. Deep down inside of his chest it squeezes his heart in a painful grasp. One that makes it difficult to breathe. A pain that Kakashi hasn’t felt for a long time. One that he had thought, hoped, had finished haunting him.

He can feel the panic starting to set in as his fingers curl into the delicate paper, crumpling it even when he tries desperately to prevent himself from doing any damage to the letter.

The last thing that he has left of Tenzo.

The only thing he may ever receive from Tenzo ever again.

His thoughts spiral out of control, and the pain in his chest only gets worse. A deep, throbbing hurt that sinks further into his heart the more he thinks about Tenzo. The way Tenzo would smile at him when they greeted each other. That look of disapproval that would cement itself on Tenzo’s face when Kakashi did something that he didn’t like. The brush of his hands against his arm when they were just a little too close.

The smell of lavender and oak that always clung to Tenzo’s skin. Scents that had become so familiar to Kakashi over the years after nights of sleeping curled around Tenzo during Anbu missions, hoping that his body would protect the Mokuton user in case of attack. 

Scents that had only ever been connected to Tenzo, and which seemed to stick to his nose now even though Tenzo was nowhere in sight. 

“This isn’t-you’re not supposed to…” His fingers curl into a fist, crunching the letter in his grasp. His brain screams at him to calm down. He has a war to fight. Plans to make. People are relying on him to be a leader and help them survive this damn war, but he can’t.

Not right now.

Not when his heart is bursting with hurt. 

“Tenzo.” his voice falters, unsure of what it’s trying to say. What words could be said in a moment like this? Would they bring Tenzo back? Would it be enough to save the Mokuton user from ever being captured by Kabuto in the first place? 

Forcing his hand open, he looked down at the crumpled letter staring up at him. He can still see the words that haunted him, the ones that refused to leave him alone.

I love you

He wanted to scream. To demand an explanation from the universe for why this always had to happen. Why those three simple words haunted him over and over again. Always taking those he cared about away from him after they dared to say those words to him.

“Why?” somehow his heart breaks a little bit more, and he can’t help but curl into himself and press his hands against his head. The letter is crushed completely in his grip, but he doesn’t care anymore. It’s just paper.

Just words that Tenzo was never able to say to his face.

Words that he’ll never be able to hear for himself.

It’s like a kiss against his lips, left behind by a ghost. A kiss he’ll never be able to taste for himself, existing only on the face of Tenzo’s letter.

A tease, for something he can never have for himself.

The pain in his chest worsens, and his fingers twitch against his head as the tears start to slide down his face. Each breath he draws in burns, like he’s swallowing fire. He’s not sure what’s happening around him anymore, only registering the moment that an arm comes down around his shoulders and pulls him right up against a solid body.

Gai.

It has to be Gai. No one else would interrupt him. No one had the courage to approach him when he’s in this state, preferring to back out and leave well enough alone if they are unfortunate enough to walk in on him during a bad spiral. 

No one else knew about the letter, except for Gai. The one who had found it tucked away in Tenzo’s things after Kabuto’s attack, and gave it to Kakashi. The only person who knew what Kakashi might be going through at this moment.

He doesn’t relax the same way he usually would with his friend by his side. Not tonight. He just curls up into himself and hides his face away in Gai’s chest, thankful that his friend knew when to show up.

That he didn’t have to be alone when the pain became unbearable.