Capítulo 5: Chapter 5: subtle growth
Hatake Kakashi doesn't understand a life beyond violence. He observes the civilians that wander the streets with an apathetic eye, understanding that their cushy lives are only the result of his tireless work. Their smiles are born of his spilt blood. He's not mad about it. He doesn't know anything else.
Missions fill the gaps in his life. There are holes in his chest — not the result of a Chidori, but just as cutting. They ache and burn when he doesn't stuff his head full of logic and rules, when he doesn't push his body to the brink, muscles burning and straining with exhaustion. Working tirelessly to the bone is the only way he's able to sleep at night without seeing the blood of the daytime in his dreams.
The day he meets Aikawa Toshiro, he's delirious with pain and half out of his mind. He hasn't slept in four days, there's poison burning through his bloodstream and crimson stains his pale skin, spilling across the sheets he lays upon. He doesn't register a face, just the flash of a voice and the scent of earth — or flora. He clings to that as he sinks under, body instinctively registering the fact that he's in safe hands. He's in the hospital. He can rest.
The next time he meets Aikawa-sensei, he's more aware.
Aikawa-sensei smells like exhaustion. Like hospital chemicals and ink, with the underlying hint of mint. His last meal had been tamagoyaki. Kakashi discreetly activates the seals in his mask to dim the cacophony of scents that bombard him. The hospital is a harsh place for those with sensitive noses.
The other is less a man, more a boy — but that doesn't mean much to someone like Kakashi, who isn't much older and grew into a weapon by age four. Aikawa-sensei talks like a professional and deals with the ANBU with a single-minded kindness and ease that...well, is a little confusing. Civilian doctors aren't scared, per se, but they're not the most comfortable when treating shinobi above the level of Chuunin, especially when the shinobi in mention isn't charismatic enough to make the doctor forget that they're dealing with a trained killer holding enough power in their pinky to obliterate them.
Aikawa-sensei is a Chuunin, but he talks like ranks don't exist. He's a child of the Third War, so Kakashi finds it interesting but not surprising. There are very few shinobi left without an odd personality quirk born of their...work.
Sometimes Aikawa-sensei smiles and Kakashi doesn't know what to do with his tongue. So he doesn't talk. He remains rigid. But it's easy to get sucked into the gravitational pull of Aikawa-sensei, who walks with the power of a man larger than life, a glint in his eyes that makes it look as if he's peering into the future. Like he's seeing something no one else can.
A part of Kakashi itches to know.
Two years pass and Aikawa-sensei is the kind of person that never quite leaves Kakashi's radar. They interact too frequently. (It's not hard to grow fond of him.)
He has the kind of charisma that Kakashi remembers Minato-sensei having. More often than not, it hurts to be in the same room as Aikawa-sensei. Most times it's a bittersweet hurt, like pressing on a loose tooth. It's not healthy, he knows. He's chasing a feeling that reminds him of ghosts. It's just…
Hard.
Gai and the others are one thing. They've always been there, tolerable and nudging the outside of Kakashi's iron cage. They feel like extensions of himself, like moss growing across his surface. Gai is a good friend, he pulls Kakashi from the brink over and over, and forces warmth into Kakashi's life when he needs it the most. However, Gai is a lot. High energy, high maintenance, the kind of man that Kakashi needs time between interactions to survive.
Aikawa-sensei is not like that.
Instead of the raging inferno that makes up Gai, the younger man is trickling sunlight. Creeping warmth. The feel of laying on summer-hot rocks by a lake, or slipping deeper into an onsen. He makes conversation. He jokes. He tells Kakashi welcome home. Other doctors are clinical. Impersonal. Kind, but focused on efficiency.
Aikawa-sensei makes Kakashi feel like a person, and he doesn't know what to do about that. He's not special. The other man acts that way with everyone, but Kakashi thinks that he prefers that. Being given special treatment would have made him run for the hills. As it is, he's already half-way to discomfort every time they have a conversation.
Kakashi is unfamiliar with baseless kindness.
(He'd forgotten it. Forcefully. Because to remember would mean drowning.)
It had taken him some months to settle his thoughts, to cut Aikawa-sensei from the tangled mess in his head that insisted the younger man was Minato-sensei, Obito, Rin.
Charismatic and driven, sure. But no desire for leadership, no desperation for power. Lonely. Half the smiles fake. (Those pink eyes twinkled when it was real.) A healer, but pragmatic and blunt. Sarcastic and cutting. Traits unique to him, which reminded Kakashi that Aikawa-sensei was his own person. Having a few traits similar to the people Kakashi lost didn't change that.
It started to hurt a little less.
Then the blond arrives in a flurry of expensive cloth, a blistering smile on his young face. He's soft in the dim, warm light of the streetlamps, all his callous edges airbrushed.
"Please, just call me Toshiro—"
And.
Well.
That's fine. Kakashi can deal with that. He doesn't really want friends. Even when he's whole and healthy he still hurts, and every new person is only the potential for more pain. But he's stuck, caught off-guard because moving another step forward feels natural.
It feels fine.
Kakashi comes to the realization that they might be something like friends. New, like a weakly budding plant. They barely know anything about each other, after all. There's room for that to change. It's that part of the process that Kakashi fears, because it treads too close into unfamiliar territory. People know Hatake Kakashi, or Inu, but they don't really know plain old Kakashi.
He barely knows who he is.
And he clearly doesn't actually know a thing about having friends. He's never had to work for it. Rin and Obito and Gai — they'd all slotted themselves in his life all on their own, regardless of his desires. He doesn't know how to seek it for himself.
He's not even sure he wants to.
Toshiro-sensei is safe, though. He tells himself. He's not in the field.
It's a shoddy comfort, because anything could happen.
The next time they meet, Kakashi has been gone for a year, away on a mission in Yuki no Kuni. He'd been exhausted and unable to sleep, staring blankly at the wall in his dark apartment. The heat wasn't on — he'd forgotten — but he could barely feel it. The weather had been twice as bad during his mission, being in a country known for snow. Mechanically, he'd put on winter gear, running completely on logic.
Then he'd spent about an hour at the memorial stone, snow steadily dusting his hair and shoulders. Some part of him didn't want to be alone. Not now, while feeling so disconnected from the world, from his village. From his own body.
He knew where Toshiro-sensei lived. The man wasn't hard to track, not to someone of Kakashi's caliber. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was already at the other man's door. There was no need to knock. He hadn't hid his chakra.
It was a relief to feel the heat of the apartment, and the heat of Toshiro-sensei, his words and mannerisms and chakra invading every bit of the air Kakashi breathed. He felt dizzy with it. Everything smelled like the younger man. Ink and mint. The hospital scent washed away in the safety of his own home. It was nice. Listening to Toshiro-sensei wasn't draining. He never pushed. He never pestered Kakashi with questions.
It was a bit like floating. Kakashi wasn't sure if this was how friendships usually worked. There was no rush. No effort. It just was. He only had to turn and the other man was there. Present. Open. A black hole, sucking in everything everyone had to offer without complaint. Always willing to sit and listen, always willing to just….be.
Kakashi carried Toshiro-sensei to bed when the man fell asleep during one of their pauses. He felt weird about it.
Then he left.
When spring comes around, Kakashi thinks he's finally adjusted to seeing the change permeating Konoha. He doesn't think twice about the Uchiha conspiring with the Nara, nor the start-up hair product business the clan is setting up with the support of the Yamanaka, or even the way the Akimichi will fuss over the wayward Uchiha who wander into their restaurants, piling more food than they could possible carry into their arms.
It's.
Nice.
Kakashi wishes Obito could see it. He thinks his friend would have loved it. Minato-sensei definitely would have, he'd have been Toshiro-sensei's biggest supporter. (He'd give Toshiro-sensei the protection he needed, would have offered to listen. Toshiro-sensei wouldn't have had to struggle for so long, so slowly, just to see the beginning of change.)
They still don't know much about each other. Small details. The names of a few friends. Toshiro-sensei has an obsession with plants and sweet things. In return, the man knows that Kakashi has an opposing taste in food and taught himself to sew. It's weird. Some days, when Kakashi's head feels clear and he can actually see the sun without the filter of apathy usually over his lone eye, he wants to ask.
He doesn't, of course. Because to ask would mean he's more invested than he's comfortable admitting. So they dance in limbo. Not-knowing but knowing. Kakashi begins to pick up more details merely based on observation, and he's sure the other is doing the same.
Toshiro likes flowers. He likes comfy blankets and thick socks. He reads a lot, every day if he can, and has a habit of making lists. All his sandals are organized in order of newest to most used. He washes every dish after he uses it. He has issues with controlling every small detail in his personal life.
Kakashi is the same. It's the result of being forced to be responsible for yourself at a young age, when every decision was taken from you but you were still expected to meet the standards with no one's merit but your own.
Konoha set high standards.
They also didn't care if you met them. Not then, during the war. Children essentially become canon fodder, used to bulk the masses but not expected to be much help. Their generation was one of the smallest. Too many had been slaughtered before they'd hit puberty.
Kakashi doesn't move anything when he visits Toshiro. He knows quite intimately the itchy, irrational irritation that comes when someone moves your things even a centimeter off. Everything is in a certain place. He learns over time what he can and can't get away with. Kakashi has mellowed since his younger days, his descent into learning the intricacies of regular interaction making him very...annoying and aloof to most. He likes to push buttons. He likes to see how people react to certain things. It's the way he taught himself how regular people acted. He never cared what those people thought of him, not really.
It's different here. There's a desire to keep it….civil. If he doesn't botch this up, he doesn't have to lose the feeling of easy comfort he gets around the other.
Which is why he's not happy to find that Toshiro has a tail. An officially unauthorized one at that. Toshiro is supposed to be safe here, tucked away in the village. Suddenly he's not. And Kakashi isn't very happy about that. Then he realizes he can do something about it. (Or he can sure as hell try. There's no way he's letting anyone else die on his watch. He doesn't think he could take it. And if it happened within his own village? That might just be the final straw.)
"You've just been calling me Toshiro."
Ah.
Somehow, he's been saying Toshiro in his thoughts without realizing. He can't recall when he'd begun dropping the sensei suffix in his head. Now it was out in the open. And it didn't feel weird. Like everything else, Toshiro took it in stride.
And smiled.
"Hurry back, Kakashi."
It felt like lightning in his gut.
Toshiro is completely, utterly, entirely enamored with Nara Shikamaru.
"You're good with children." Yoshino comments, making no effort to conceal the grin on her face.
By the end of the week, Shikamaru's new favorite napping spot is sprawled across Toshiro. The little boy shoves his way under Toshiro's arms while he's reading and lays there like a log, tiny hands curling around his kimono.
When he's tired of his parents, little Shikamaru seeks out the quiet, warm guest who easily offers a listening ear, an answer to a question, or a comfortable spot to laze around. The absentminded hand rubbing his back puts him to sleep within moments every single time.
"How can I say no to such a cute face?" Toshiro replies, somewhat helplessly. It becomes increasingly obvious to those around him that he has a severe weakness for cute things, from small animals to young kids to little plushies.
"You spoil him," Yoshino sighs, though she never makes a move to stop Shikamaru's behavior. "He's got you wrapped around his lazy little finger."
Kakashi walks him to work whenever he has a shift. The man lounges around Toshiro's office, follows him through the halls, or sits outside in a nearby tree. He's been reading a lot, various books passing through his hands as the hours go by. One such book is Icha Icha, which Toshiro mentally likens to reading Fifty Shades of Gray in public. Ballsy.
They hold meetings.
Fugaku, Inoichi, Chouza and Shikaku all sit in a room at the Nara Compound, seals activated while their wives cover at their respective Compounds. Sometimes the kids come over, Yoshino cooking huge meals to be eaten by greedy mouths. Sasuke and Shikamaru get along swimmingly, though Sasuke has far more energy. He uses a lot of it up running from Ino, who has a crush on him that she isn't afraid to show. Chouji steps in when it gets to be too much, always the peacekeeper. They make a very cute quartet.
Kakashi sits in on the meetings, as does Toshiro. He's not a Clan Head so a lot of the more technical aspects he shouldn't really be privy to, but he can provide evidence and no one's decided to exclude him yet.
With the hospital finished, his next goal was refining the orphanages across Konoha and improving the childcare systems in place — if there even were any. There seemed to be a drastic difference in the laws that affected a person who fell under the shinobi category, no matter their age.
Civilian orphans got supervision, access to basic schooling, and the development of healthy social skills. An orphan who chose to be a shinobi got some money every month, an apartment and a Good Luck! Toshiro was having trouble understanding why that was a thing at all. Some kind of tactic to force early maturity onto children? Probably. There was no need for killer children who couldn't problem solve or take care of themselves in the field.
(It was stupid. The survival rate would drastically increase if Konoha fixed its fucking educational systems — in every capacity.)
Before this, he'd been going from orphanage to orphanage, talking to the directors, documenting the children — giving them check-ups, creating medical files for them, diagnosing several diseases and cases of asthma. What was working, what wasn't working, what did they think could be improved, what did they desperately need, what kind of funds went into supporting the children; he wanted to know it all. It helped having Inoka or Fuyumi with him to make it 'official clan business'. Everyone knew that the Yamanaka had funded the new hospital and that the Nara, Akimichi and Uchiha all played a part. To everyone else, it just seemed as if Toshiro's next phase was another passion project to improve Konoha. (And it was, but it certainly wasn't the Clans thinking up the next steps. Toshiro was still the spearhead of change, the notes he'd made about different areas in Konoha to observe and improve serving as good starting points for discussion among Clan meetings.)
(They'd be coming up with their own ideas soon. It's what Toshiro looked forward to the most, because then they'd finally be looking around at the place they called home with eyes wide open, tossing the rose-tinted filter to the side and exposing every dusty, rotting corner.)
The point is, Toshiro brings to their attention that thirty-seven orphan children have gone missing in the past two years, and mentions that as a child he himself noticed kids disappearing. Eyewitness accounts are spotty. There are six central orphanages, each with a population of roughly 120 children. All six of the directors swear on their lives that Danzo was present during shinobi recruitment sessions, observing. Four allowed Inoichi to mindwalk them and confirm the accusation.
The Clan Heads turn inward.
The Nara remain untouched. The Yamanaka have three children unaccounted for. The Akimichi have two. The Uchiha have seven, along with disturbing reports of squads containing Uchiha members getting attacked more frequently than any other. (Far too often to remain coincidental.)
Five pairs of eyes. Missing.
"This is speculation." Shikaku mutters.
Inoichi rubs his temple. "We'd assumed that the missing children were lost in the wreckage during the Kyuubi attack."
"No bodies?" Toshiro stresses, frowning heavily. "After all the debris was cleared and all the buildings were rebuilt? Not a drop of blood? Not a single bone?"
You gave up? He doesn't say, though every man in the room hears it.
Fugaku clenches his fists, clearly the most visibly incensed at the information. His clan is being hit the hardest. They've had thirteen dead in two weeks. There's no doubt about it, someone is deliberately targeting their clan. And the news that seven children and teens have gone missing from under his nose?
Toshiro can't begin to imagine what that feels like.
"If this is Danzo," Inoichi says, voice low and serious. "And without pure, concrete evidence that's still a very big if, no matter our feelings, then he's gone completely off the deep end. The level of deception is immense… he'll already be in hot water for having Root under Hokage-sama's nose, but adding kidnapping charges? Every child is important, but to take Clan kids is a risky move. He thinks he can get away with it. He really, really does."
The sun is almost completely set, their features heavy in cast shadows from flickering candlelight. A pot of tea has long since gone cold, their cups in various states of half-drunk. Toshiro has to let go of his before he shatters it with his grip.
"Thinks?" Kakashi drawls, the candle flame reflected in his dark eye. "He doesn't think it. He knows it. He knows he can get away with it because he has."
Shikaku pushes a folder across the table. "We've got an in among the financial division. I got him to look into the supply orders from the last few years." He flips it open and spreads out the papers within, prompting all the men around the table to lean forward.
It's not obvious at first.
But then the numbers start to shift a little.
Fugaku picks up one of the papers, peering at it incredulously. "How has no one noticed?"
"We weren't looking?" Chouza mutters, the jolly man uncharacteristically serious. He turns one of the papers towards him. "To think this was happening right before our eyes…."
"Well," Kakashi says, "If I had an elite, underground team of brainwashed nin, how else would I support and supply them?"
"Stealing from Konoha's main supply orders?" Toshiro whispers, "He's been funneling it over time in small amounts for his… little gang of kidnapped children?"
"Dammit." Fugaku hisses, the generally composed man's eyes flashing red. There's a scowl on his face — one that his youngest son often mirrors.
"This is lucky." Shikaku says, a grin crawling across his face. His features look menacing in the low light. He's a creature of the shadows, right at home in the dimness. (Their enemies would do well to remember.) "After all, it's a paper trail."
"Again." Kakashi orders.
They're just by the forest outside the Nara's Main House, the spring sun bearing down on their sweaty forms. Toshiro stares at the sky from where he's laid out on the grass, flat on his back. He's dressed in dark, loose pants and a tight black tee, his hair tied up in a bun. He's sweating his ass off and feels a bruise blooming on his side.
"Let's train together, he says," Toshiro mutters, "It'll be good practice, he says."
Still, he heaves himself up. It's not that he's out of breath, it's that his reflexives don't compare to Kakashi's. The other man is ruthless — has to be, being an ANBU — with levels of speed that Toshiro can't track with his eyes. For the past few weeks, they've been training together almost every day after Kakashi decided that Toshiro needed to keep his skills sharp in case of an emergency.
It's not….awful. Toshiro had been keeping up with his own training during his downtime, but didn't work out nearly enough to improve, since that wasn't his goal. He'd never really wanted to fight to begin with. Had only done so out of necessity.
And suddenly it was necessary again.
Hell, he'd been getting stronger.
His learning curve in the physical department was clearly slower than the usual prodigy, pretty average actually, but after continuous training under Kakashi's diligent eye, Toshiro was starting to notice his skills sharpening. Moving a little faster. Fighting a little longer.
Kakashi even had him pouring over some new jutsu.
"What's your chakra nature?"
"Water," he'd replied.
"Somehow, that makes sense."
Kakashi had a lightning nature (big surprise) so his arsenal of water jutsu was lacking in comparison to the amount of lightning jutsu. It still exceeded what Toshiro knew, so they were set for now. It was interesting to see Kakashi so invested in something. He seemed to come alive when he was busy, when he could work himself to exhaustion. Which he did. Constantly. That, and mope at the memorial stone.
Toshiro knew an unhealthy coping mechanism when he saw one.
Then there was Gai.
It happened on a Saturday evening, Toshiro had just finished his short shift at the hospital and Kakashi, as usual, was walking beside him, nose in an Icha Icha book and ignoring the world around them. Even as his eye lazily trailed across the words, he never once bumped into anyone or anything. It was almost impressive.
"MY ETERNAL RIVAL!" A deep voice booms across the street. Kakashi's shoulders hunch.
Toshiro can only watch as Maito Gai comes to a stop in front of Kakashi, leaving a trail of dust clouds in his wake. A thumb is thrust against a puffed chest, wide smile revealing flashing teeth and the usual bowl cut shining with an almost unnatural healthiness.
"IT IS I, THE GREEN BEAST OF KONOHA!" A finger is pointed directly at Kakashi — who ignores it and dodges around Gai like he's nothing more than a pole in the middle of the road. "AH! Slighted once again by your hip and cool ways! I CHALLENGE YOU!"
"Maa," Kakashi finally replies, "I'm busy. Toshiro."
Toshiro closes his mouth and resumes walking, trotting to catch up with Kakashi. It's not that he's never seen the man before. He's a fucking doctor, after all. He's seen almost every ninja at least once, even in passing. It's just that. Well. Bearing witness to such a thing is a bit more than just overhearing it or catching a glimpse from a distance. Gai is so...green. The bright orange leg warmers are garish and clash terribly. The man looks like something out of a seventies catalog.
"Oh!" Gai exclaims, easily keeping pace with them. "Apologies! I didn't realize you were with company, rival! Who might you be, my youthful comrade?"
Toshiro cracks a smile. Gai's energy is somewhat admirable. "Aikawa Toshiro. I'm a friend of Kakashi's. It's nice to meet you….ah, you said you were his rival?"
"CORRECT! We've been rivals since we were children just beginning our springtime journey of youth!" The man shakes Toshiro's hand with a strong grip and exuberant force. "It's very nice to meet you as well, Aikawa-san!"
"Sensei." Kakashi comments blandly. "Aikawa-sensei."
Gai's gaze flickers to Kakashi for a second, pausing just long enough that Toshiro can almost say it never happened. "Oh, a teacher then? How admirable!"
"Medic Nin, actually," Toshiro corrects. "But it's okay, really. You don't have to be so formal with me."
Gai sends him a blinding smile, "YOU'RE TOO KIND, AIKAWA-SENSEI! But your skills are truly admirable! I cannot help but feel a great swell of respect, my new friend! YES, IT'S TRUE, I'M FEELING PUMPED UP! Kakashi! Accept my challenge!"
And so Toshiro observes with a quiet bewilderment as two grown men participate in a best two-out-of-three thumb war, Gai fleeing on his hands after he loses, yelling about the next rematch.
"Huh," he finally says. "You know, I like him."
Kakashi sends him a withering look.
"You seem close."
"Hm," The Copy Nin murmurs, "Not really."
Toshiro knocks their shoulders together. "Liar."
The Medical Ninjutsu classes are mostly filled with women. The men who do appear are all from the 'Clan Quartet'. The stigma of medicine being women's work among ninja is still very prevalent; which is funny, since it's seen as 'men's' work out in the countryside, where education is limited. The intricacies of sexism across the nation are, quite frankly, annoying. Toshiro very much looks forward to stomping it out. Viciously.
Among all the attendees are five Nara, eight Yamanaka, two Akimichi and four Uchiha. One of which is Uchiha Itachi, who sits in the back, sitting up straight and looking like an adult in a child's — er, young teen's — body.
"I didn't think you'd have time to learn Medical Ninjutsu," Toshiro comments when they're relatively alone, their conversation hushed for privacy. "With all that Heir business. And the other thing."
Which is code for I know you're in ANBU, you literal child.
"My extracurricular activities have been cut short. My father thought it best to focus inward." Itachi replies, which is code for My dad made me quit. "He agreed that this would be a suitable pastime."
"Did he?" That surprises Toshiro a little. Not because he thinks Fugaku is an overly cruel man, but because he'd always assumed the guy to be...a little more traditional that Toshiro liked. "Well, I'm glad. It's a useful skill to know, whether or not you pursue it as a full-time career path."
"I agree." Itachi nods his head slightly. "It is certainly not a weakness."
Toshiro presses his lips together, unsuccessful in stopping a smile. "No, it really isn't."
And Itachi excels, as expected. For most of it. His reading comprehension is astounding, his chakra control stellar — has to be, with his level of skill in genjutsu, sharingan or not. Truly the makings of a wonderful Medic. The hard part is learning to redirect your chakra out of your body and into another without causing harm or dramatically expending your resources. Healing chakra must be used with intent.
Mystical Palm Technique was the name of the 'jutsu', aptly titled due to the visible glow of high-density chakra expelled from the hands of the user. It was then used to kickstart rapid cell production, healing wounds within minutes and pushing cells to repair bones or giving a jolt to white blood cells to eat away at bacteria and poison. But first the chakra had to be converted into a moldable baseline — it wouldn't do to add any hint of your chakra nature, lest you end up with a disaster on your hands. Every student with a fire nature had already scorched their practice fish. Some worse than others.
Itachi may be a genius, but Medical Ninjutsu is a skill that requires practice. Sure, you can have a knack for it. But even those with a knack take days and days before they see progress. Slow and steady, he tells the class. There's no shame in it. No rush. No matter how much time you take, you will reach your goal.
(Sadly, it seems as if positive reinforcement isn't a frequently used teaching approach. Toshiro already knew this due to his own experiences, but it was still….disheartening to see shinobi of all ages stare at him with a rawness they themselves couldn't understand, aching at the kindness and not realizing why. Stumbling when he complimented them, flushing up to their ears when he guided them with gentle words and motions. It was like stripping away blood stains with bleach.)
Itachi sets his fish on fire.
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