There was a handwritten note on the rules and regulation sign just inside the door to the Konoha gate guardpost. Scrawled years ago in some long-forgotten chunin’s handwriting, it read:
“Two-man guard teams may take their breaks simultaneously if and only if they can confirm no shinobi prescences within a mile of the village.”
When it was written, certainly it was a tantalizing clause that nobody would ever meet; but that was the past, and today, or tonight, with every CCTV camera showing stillness and every audio feed playing only bullfrogs and night creatures, the guards were more than certain that nobody was outside the village. With a little smile, Kotetsu pointed to the note.
“Izumo, hey,” he said, a smile breaking at the corners of his lips. “Let’s have a break.”
“Why? We ate before we got here.” Izumo kicked his heels up onto the table, shoving a copy of Sannin’s Choice Jonin Exam Prep, 7th edition, towards the center of the worn wood.
“And neither of us brought food, anyway.”
“We don’t need to eat to have a break. Let’s just relax, instead.” Kotetsu pushed away from the table, never bothering for fully stand, and tossed himself into the corner pile of rough woolen rescue blankets. He wriggled, catlike, in the stack, shoving both of their coats from the cross-town walk into the wall to make a backrest.
“C’mon, man. It’s quiet and this shitty blanket stack is the best thing about the post.”
He did look cozy: a broad chest, uncovered from the now-undone flak jacket, reaching hands, a warn (or relatively so) place to curl up, that inviting smile. On any other day, Izumo would have given in easily and hopped into the itchy hoarde with his partner.
But today… today. He glanced at his worn copy of Sannin’s Choice. It bristled with scraps of paper and marks; in the center was one long, thin scroll where he’s been keeping longer notes. Overall, it looked much more like something he’d catch a particularly neurotic Academy student carrying, not a full-fledged chunin with a steady job.
“I’m not in the mood, Kotetsu. Got studying to do.” He steeled himself and reached back across the table for his book.
Kotetsu whined. The sound, to Izumo, sounded like a thousand memories: the time Kotetsu convinced him to move into his slightly-larger apartment (slightly larger because there’s a window seat, the approaching party insisted, and stop counting that there’s no yard because that doesn’t count somehow), the time Kotetsu encouraged him to spend their Sunday drinking together instead of training, the time Kotetsu brought him flowers and simply wouldn’t hear his laughter because isn’t this what friends do?, and shut up, I forgot today was Valentine’s Day, this isn’t for an occasion, it’s just to say I care.
Another whine brought him back to earth. In the raggedy blanket pile, Kotetsu opened his arms wide, and there was a space for Izumo because there always, always was. Sannin’s Choice was looking less and less appealing by the minute.
“What am I going to do when we take the jonin exam and I’m not ready for the written portion?” Izumo complained, setting the study guide back down. “It’s not like you’re going to pick up my slack.”
“How rude! And after all I’ve done for you.” Kotetsu squirmed and opened a soft blanket pile spot for Izumo’s descending knees. “The real question is: how are you even going to take the jonin exam if you burn yourself out like you’re trying to do?”
Izumo allowed the incoming cuddle, suffered through the spiky hair in his face. “You’re a thoughtful dude, even if you don’t want to admit it.”
“Yeah, well, don’t give away my secrets. I’ve gotta be a little mysterious.”
Outside, a sparkling flurry of snow passed from bank to bank. Izumo watched its progress and willed himself not to analyze the motions of the wind or to self-assess about his latest study topic or to think about all the filing that was waiting for them in the Hokage’s office. He checked his watch, announced the time to Kotetsu and settled in for twenty minutes of comfort.