Iruka
Iruka doesn't quite know how he ended up here, staring down the Lord Hokage while much stronger, older, and wiser men and women have quailed under that scowl. Maybe it's because he's young and stupid. He's got no self-preservation instinct.
It's what put him on Tsunade's radar back when she'd first taken office. Iruka had been twelve; hungry and grieving and so damned pissed off at the whole world, determined to make it someone else's problem. He'd been taken once to the Sandaime's office for the pranks he had pulled in the short time when he'd retaken his office, after the Kyuubi attack but before Tsunade's return to the village. Sarutobi had been gentle, kind even; he'd even offered Iruka tea that he had wanted to throw in the other man's face. He'd promised that if Iruka ever needed anything, he could come to the Hokage Tower.
And then he'd gone and retired.
The first time Iruka was dumped in the Hokage's office and Lady Tsunade saw him there, he legitimately feared for his life. But he was younger and even stupider than he is now, and the ANBU outside had riled him up even more, so when Tsunade asked, frazzled and annoyed, "Who is this? Hawk, why did you bring him here?" Iruka yelled, "None of your business! Leave me alone!"
Iruka has made it a habit of arguing with people much more powerful than himself, it seems. Now, Tsunade holds Iruka's report, scowling down at it like she could set fire to it with the power of her glare alone.
"Do you trust the validity of this statement?" she asks.
"He has no reason to lie."
She growls at that, dropping the scroll and pinching the bridge of her nose. Iruka stands at parade rest, mustering up his courage.
"I never thought Danzo's scheme would run through to ANBU," she says. "What was the Sandaime doing? He must have known a rebellion was brewing. I could tell on my third day in office." She rolls her eyes at the scandalized look on Iruka's face. "Get over yourself, Brat. This mission is granting you S-level clearance."
"Itachi is a child," Iruka says, hoping it conveys none of his outrage and only a fraction of his fury. "You're telling me he's ANBU?"
"That's your problem with all this? Not the potential coup instigated by a member of the council? Not the plot to eliminate the entire Uchiha Clan, instigated by that same council member?"
"My problems with this mission are itemized and alphabetically organized," Iruka snaps, gesturing to the Hokage's desk. "You've read through the scroll before, but I can remind you if you'd like. Lady Hokage, Itachi is a child. He's eleven. There should be no reason he's running through those types of missions."
"He's an Uchiha and a genius," Tsunade dismisses. "He's never had an issue before."
"Clearly, he has!" Iruka gestures to the scroll in Tsunade's hands again. "Itachi needs help, Lady Tsunade. There is something seriously wrong with a village that lets an eleven-year-old think killing his entire clan is his only course of action!"
Tsunade frowns. Iruka knows better than to hope he's gotten through to her. He's known her long enough to see through some of her blusters.
"We cannot let Danzo know we're on to him."
"All do respect, Tsunade-sama," Iruka says, and knows from Tsunade's scowl that she's hearing every other thing he wants to call her right now in the polite lilt of his voice, "Itachi is a kid who trusted me with the most important secret of his life, and I am not letting you put him back out there when he's in his current mental state."
Iruka crosses his arms, pulling his fury around him like a cloak. He knows, objectively, that there's little he can do to stop her: the Fifth Hokage, the Last of the Senju clan, and Legendary Sannin, once her decision has been made. But he has to try. She hadn't been there, when Itachi had turned black, fathomless eyes upon Iruka and told him the horrible purpose he'd been appointed.
She hadn't had to listen to an eleven-year-old calmly explain how his younger brother would be the one to kill him for the sins he will commit, for Konoha, either.
A chill runs down Iruka's spine, and he forces himself not to waver while Tsunade scowls and bares her teeth.
"The purpose of the psychological evaluations was to pull suspects from active duty without arousing suspicion," Tsunade finally says, with a look on her face like she's smelled some open sewage. "We did plan for this."
"We did."
"I suppose there's always the cells in T&I, as we'd planned," she starts as if it's some great concession to Iruka.
Iruka, never once having in his possession a sense of self-preservation, makes a noise of protest in his throat.
"We can't just bury him like the others, Hokage-sama." Tsunade raises an eyebrow, still annoyed, but not ready to disembowel him for the continued dissent. "He's just a kid, for starters. For another, if I can say plainly, he is supremely fucked up and needs help."
He takes a breath. At least Tsunade isn’t yelling. Yet.
"You know the types of questions I ask in my evaluation," Iruka continues, forcing his fury down to reasonable levels. It won't do if his chakra goes crazy and an ANBU gets called in. They're all terrible gossips. "To the third question, Itachi replied, 'Does it count as suicide if I'm planning my death via my little brother, about ten years in the future?' Hokage-sama, I—if you don't see the problem with that then I don't know what to say."
"He's a good Shinobi. One of the best." As if that is enough of a reason to ignore all of this. Maybe once, it had been. "Even among the jonin, the ANBU, there are few more powerful than Itachi Uchiha. He could make ANBU Captain in another year."
"Maybe children aren't meant to be Shinobi, no matter how powerful."
The phrase hangs in the air between them, and Iruka can't take it back; won't take it back. Iruka himself had made chunin late, only fifteen months ago. Even still, when he'd plunged his kunai through an enemy nin's throat in his very first mission, Iruka had felt bile rise up his throat. He hadn't been able to sleep for weeks. He can't imagine what that would do to someone Itatchi's age. God, he's just a kid.
That cycles through Iruka's head, over and over, until Tsunade hums.
"Hatake Kakashi made chunin at four, jonin at Itachi's age, so there's precedent. And he's fine."
"I guarantee you Hatake Kakashi is not fine. Bring him in for questioning and see."
She clenches her fists. Clearly, she's taking that as a bet.
"Ask Itachi what he'd like," she finally snaps. "When Hatake is back from his mission, he'll come to you."
Iruka doesn't know Hatake Kakashi outside of the rumors that spiral around Konoha, equal parts awed and afraid. Friend-Killer, Cold-Blooded, Master of a Thousand Jutsu, the most powerful jonin since the Lord Fourth.
"I look forward to it."
Iruka tries for a smile, but it feels more like a grimace.
Once again, Tsunade holds a report in her hands. She's scowling this time, looking at the scroll as if it has personally wronged her. Iruka sends a ping of chakra back into the other room, where Hatake Kakashi is, against all odds, still waiting patiently for someone to dismiss him. Iruka's bleeding, too-soft-for-its-own-good heart twists. He hadn't known what to expect from Hatake Kakashi (decorated veteran of the third shinobi war, a jonin at eleven; genius, friend-killer, sharingan-theif). But the vulnerable, all-too-human teenager teetering on the edge of a panic attack had not been it. And it's true that Tsunade had woven layers of seals onto the tiles under the furniture, an extremely subtle fuinjutsu, part genjutsu, to make people more inclined to trust Iruka, to spill their secrets to him. That was part of the mission after all.
What hadn't been part of the mission: Hatake's lone, baleful eye, the stuttering of his breath.
You are not a shuriken, Kakashi, and Kakashi's broken, pleading response, It might be better if I was.
What is Konoha doing to its jonin, that they would prefer to have all their humanity stripped from them?
"Well, looks like you were right, Umino," the Hokage finally mutters. She crumples the already sorely abused report in her clenched fist, and when she opens it again, shredded pieces of vellum fall from her hands like confetti. "What do you want?"
"I want Hatake Kakashi pulled from active duty," Iruka says. He knows there's no way in hell that's happening, but it's worth a shot. He's never gotten what he wanted by asking for less. "I want him to talk to someone. I want you to let him be a person again before he takes another mission."
"Absolutely not," she snaps. "I cannot have my best Anbu squad completely wiped for this mission."
"I don't know what that means. Don't tell me."
"Hatake is the squad leader for Team Ro."
"Stop telling me all these classified secrets."
"You need to know what you're asking me," Tsunade snaps. She stands, slamming her hands down onto the desk so hard that the wood splinters. Iruka takes a moment to apologize to Ibiki who will no doubt wonder about it later before she starts up again. "I let you pull Cat on his full cooperation and let him leave T&I after we confirmed the other ROOT members he'd named for us. I let you pull Crow—"
"Itachi again—"
"Hound has not failed a single mission since I took the hat, Umino," Tsunade says. "I send him to clean up after other people's failures. I send him when failure, or detection, or any complications could mean the death of this Peace Treaty I'm working with the other hidden villages. I send him on impossible-seeming missions. I send him because there is no one in this village who can do what he does. Hatake Kakashi is worth more to me than the rest of the ANBU, possibly combined. Hatake is a fully grown adult, an expert at what he does. He is not confirmed ROOT; there is no evidence he's working with Danzo, and you are not pulling him from active duty. That is an order from your Hokage."
Iruka's mouth snaps shut, chastened and absolutely furious about it. Tsunade looks just as mad, which tempers Iruka's tongue for now. The shredded pieces of Hatake Kakashi's psych evaluation litter the floor. He thinks of the way Kakashi had looked when Iruka had gotten close enough to touch, to pull him back from the edge. He's only a couple of years older than Iruka himself, and every shred of Iruka had wanted to wrap his arms around Kakashi's shoulders and let the man rest, for just a few minutes. Iruka dips his head, half acceptance and half defeat.
"Of course, Lady Hokage," he finally says.
He turns on his heel and is almost to the door when she speaks again.
"What did Itachi want, when you asked him?"
Iruka looks at the heavy door in front of him. All the rooms in T&I are built to withstand the most powerful shinobi, but Tsunade could no doubt punch a hole through every wall if she were angry enough. Iruka wouldn't stand a chance. Itachi might be able to break out, if he were so inclined, never mind that he's only eleven.
(Hatake Kakashi probably could break out, if not through sheer power then by other means, considering how valuable he is to the Lady Hokage.)
"He wanted to be able to spend time with his little brother," Iruka says, bitterly. "What else would an eleven-year-old want to do? He promised not to leave his house if he could spend time with Sasuke. We’ve arranged for a house arrest. Am I dismissed?"
"Go tell Kakashi to get out of here," Tsunade replies. Iruka refuses to turn around and look at her, lest his temper gets the better of him again. "Come find me after. I'll pull up a list of S-ranked medical-nin with specializations in trauma recovery. If you can get him to see one, that will be a miracle in and of itself."
Iruka nods at the door again, waits for Tsunade to tell him he's free to go, and lets some of his frustration melt away. It's a start, at least.
Iruka feels like all he does these days is argue with Tsunade. Never mind that he's trying to balance working two jobs on top of this S-Ranked mission she's forced on him, and now he's got to spend all his free time worrying about high-ranking jonin that Iruka wouldn't have spared two thoughts for three months ago. Still, he holds the scroll tighter in his hands and tries to calm his nerves. He's gotten written support from two jonin and three Medi-Nin. There's no way Tsunade can ignore that now, right? When it was just Iruka telling her that Kakashi needed a break, it could be easily dismissed because she thought Iruka was a soft-hearted brat. But Sarutobi Asuma has run missions with Kakashi (during the war, Asuma is quick to say), and as the Third's son, his word has more weight than some orphan like Iruka's could. And Yamanaka Kurouba, a well-respected medi-nin and one of the few people left in the village who can talk Tsunade down from a rampage, is very outspoken on her dislike of pushing children to chunin and jonin before they’re ready.
She’s written him a general plea to raise the age of the chunin exam and has added a lengthy essay on the long-lasting psychological ramifications of what might happen to child soldiers who have grown up without processing the things they’ve been forced to commit. It is a work of beauty.
(Iruka himself may be another one of those people who can talk Tsunade down from a rampage, but that possibility is so shocking and horrible that, for his own sanity, he has to put it out of his mind.)
Hopefully, that will be enough to convince her. If not, Iruka will just have to keep trying.
So Iruka waits until 9:15 am, exactly, to push open Tsunade's doors. He's knocked politely three times already in the interim, so Iruka feels no guilt whatsoever in barging in. He's heard her smashing things around for the last five or so minutes, and figures he's also doing the poor bastard dumb enough to rile her up a favor.
"Who do you think you are, barging in here like that?"
"I had an appointment at nine," Iruka replies calmly, sidestepping the encyclopedia she chucks his way.
"Insolent brat!" she shouts, but Iruka has been shouted at by Tsunade too much in the past few years. He knows now when to run and when to stand his ground. The lack of ANBU barging in (to save them from Tsunade most likely, versus the other way around) gives it away. "Get out of my office! Both of you!"
"Hokage-sama—"
"I heard enough about it from Gai," she snaps. "My answer is no. Get out before I throw you both out the window."
Iruka clenches the scroll in his hands again and scowls. Bows politely, exactly as low as befits the Hokage.
"I'll reschedule then, Godaime-sama."
"Brat," Tsunade grumbles. She turns her back on the both of them, crossing her arms as she glares out over the village.
"I thank you for your time, Lady Tsunade!" the other Shinobi says, bowing low. Surprisingly, Iruka detects no malice or sarcasm from the other Shinobi. "Rest assured that I will be back as well! If I do not return with a compelling argument, I shall run six hundred laps around the village on my hands!"
Tsunade doesn't offer a reply, but the other Shinobi doesn't seem to need one. Just like that, he turns on his heel and marches out. Iruka watches his retreat for a beat before turning back to Tsunade. She doesn't move. Backlit by the view of Konoha in the early morning light, her silhouette looks unbreakable. Try as he might to ignore it, a flare of helplessness spikes at her imposing figure. Iruka almost can't breathe from the intensity of it.
He wants to rage. He wants to shake her by the shoulders and make her see sense. He wants to ask what Kakashi could have possibly done to make her hate him so, if she won't even consider his humanity over the horrible talents he brings to the village. How is the village more important than making sure her most important ANBU is safe, healthy, and happy?
(Iruka is maybe biased here. Maybe before this whole mission, he might have said it was a Shinobi's duty. Now, he thinks of a child, no older than Iruka was when he lost his entire family, saying those same words, and he wants to be sick.)
He follows the other Shinobi out instead. They've stopped at the Atrium, clearly waiting for him. Now that he's not distracted by Tsunade's wrath, he finds the man vaguely familiar. He's seen that unfortunate green jumpsuit somewhere.
"Iruka-sensei!" the man shouts, and Iruka remembers suddenly: the same voice at the Academy, not two weeks ago. Gai, was recently promoted to jonin instructor. They'd been in the same orientation class before Iruka was sent off with the pre-genin folks.
“Gai-sama,” Iruka replies with a smile, “it’s good to see you.”
“Likewise! I am only sorry that we had such unfortunate timing!”
“Ah Gai, I was wondering,” Iruka starts, something from the brief interaction with Tsunade sticking in his mind. “Why did you seek an audience with the Godaime today? She made it sound like we have similar goals.”
The grin on Gai’s face dims. Iruka can see the way Gai thinks back to those last few seconds in Tsunade’s office, when he alights on the conclusion that Iruka has, himself. Konoha’s Green Beast has a specific reputation, and subtlety is not one of them. This time, the rumors are right. Gai is easy to read.
“Konoha breeds workaholics,” Iruka adds when Gai hesitates. “When you have a friend who clearly needs a break, but won’t take one for themselves, what would you do?”
“Iruka, my dear friend! We do have similar goals! Come with me, come with me! We must compare notes! Surely with our combined efforts, Lady Tsunade will agree with us!”
Gai slings an arm over Iruka’s shoulder as if they’ve been friends for decades and together they wander off into Konoha’s market. By mutual unspoken agreement, neither of them uses the names of their ‘overworked friends,’ which suits Iruka just fine. He has no way to explain why he would know someone like Hatake Kakashi, and even though Gai has only recently made jonin, he’s friends with so many of them that Iruka doesn’t doubt that any one of them is an overworked, burnt-out workaholic who needs blunt force trauma to the head to take a breather.
They walk to the nearby market together to look for a late breakfast, where Iruka discovers that he’s enlisted Kurenai’s help on the matter. Iruka tells him about Asuma’s help, and by the time they’ve reached the bustle of the market, they’ve agreed to meet up again when Gai is back in the village and join forces.
Iruka feels like his impossible task has finally gotten doable, with an ally as capable and earnest as Gai, when Gai stops himself mid-sentence to raise an arm in the air and call, at the top of his lungs, “Rival! Kakashi!”
Iruka’s head snaps up in the direction that Gai is facing, and sure enough, on the other end of the block is Hatake Kakashi himself, looking exhausted and rumped. He has a bag slung on one arm and is holding a vegetable in his other. Clearly, he’s been caught off guard.
“Ah, I’ll leave you to it, Gai.”
“Nonsense, Iruka-sensei,” Gai says, leading them through the crowd toward Kakashi. Iruka can’t help but notice how the crowds part for them as if everyone is used to the force of nature that is Might Gai. “You should meet my Esteemed Rival. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to meet you.”
Iruka doubts that, but Gai’s firm hold on his shoulders keeps them moving inexorably forward. When they’re close enough, Gai lets go of his shoulders, and Iruka slows until he’s a few steps behind.
“Eternal Rival!” Gai shouts, and Iruka winces. “What good luck! To run into my Fated Rival on my two days between missions!”
After another few steps, Kakashi replies at a much more reasonable volume.
“They’re keeping you busy, Gai.”
He doesn’t look at Iruka, and Iruka tries very hard not to look at Kakashi. But the tiny sliver of his face that he can see looks exhausted. There’s a smudge of a bruise forming over the edge of his mask, by the bridge of his nose, and his shinobi blacks have a dusty, wrinkled quality that Iruka knows means he hasn’t changed out of his mission clothes yet.
“Have you met Iruka-san?” Gai asks. He winks and it makes Iruka sweat. Is it possible that Gai guessed more about his motives than he’s let on? “We both aspire to be teachers, you know!”
Kakashi stares at them as if he hasn’t heard them. Iruka feels himself flushing. He wonders if he should pretend they don’t know each other; how else would they have met, anyway? He can’t very well say, ah yes, we met when Iruka pulled me out of a panic attack two weeks ago. The silence stretches and stretches, until even Gai starts to sense the awkwardness, guessing from the way he looks between them.
“We’ve met,” Kakashi finally says, curt, dismissive.
Iruka would be offended if he didn’t then turn around and hand over about six times what that daikon in his hands was worth to the stall vendor before shun-shinning away. Gai stares at the spot that used to hold his rival and hums.
“He’s not usually so…” Gai gestures to the empty ground.
“Bizzare?” Iruka supplies helpfully; he smiles, trying not to feel slighted. Iruka thinks of Kakashi in T&I, the intense, almost intimate way he’d looked at Iruka. Iruka’s hand on his knee. “Perhaps he doesn’t like me much?”
“Kakashi-san likes everyone.”
“If you say so,” he replies.
Iruka thinks of the tired slump of Kakashi’s shoulders and hopes that wherever he is, he’s at least getting some rest.