InsaneJournal

Straighten Up, Face the Day. [Closed to Kakashi]
[Backdated. Takes place the morning after The Safest Place You've Found]

Ryouma tried to wake him when the sun began to set; a quick touch to a shoulder bared by ANBU blacks that completely failed to startle Kakashi into actual wakefulness. Long fingers hesitated, then settled and squeezed. Kakashi mumbled something vague, eyes slitting half open, before rolling loosely over and burying his face into the soft fur of Hoshika's belly.

"Gotta try harder than that, kid," Pakkun yawned, curling back into a ball of brown fur at the foot of the bed.

Ryouma did. Eventually, he managed to convince Kakashi to actually stay awake long enough to pass along his message. Hey genius, I gotta go. You know where to find me. A broad hand brushed uncertainly over tangled grey hair, then withdrew and shoved itself into a pocket. Kakashi didn't manage to say anything beyond mmm-huh? before Ryouma slipped quietly out of the pale new door and left.

Braced halfway up on one elbow, Kakashi cast a long, weary look over his room, decided he was really too tired to even think about actually getting up and following Ryouma, and lay back down. He was asleep again in seconds, fingers tangled in long fur, head resting against the slow rise and fall of Hoshika's deep chest.

When he actually woke up, it was because Pakkun took a flying leap and landed squarely on his sternum, and there was morning sunshine in the room.

He blinked and dragged a hand over his face. "Ow."

"Morning, sparky. Feeling any better?"

"Oxygen might help," he gasped, and shoved Pakkun off, unhooking claws from his shirt, trapping the pug in a rough hold before he could escape. "Most dogs greet their masters with a lick, not bruises."

"Should've kept your rookie about. I'm sure he would've taken care of all your licking need--ow! Quit it! Ow!"

Kakashi redoubled his efforts to knuckle Pakkun bald between the ears, almost tumbling them off the bed. Hoshika flailed awake with a snort, hammered them both with wildly kicking paws, and barked a general warning about not being idiots. Kakashi froze. Pakkun was tangled in his arms, panting, legs hanging off the mattress.

He slid Kakashi a look. "Busted."

Kakashi flicked him, then splayed a hand over his own ribs. "Enough bruises."

"Yessir, boss, sir. Does master need his boo-boos kissing?"

"Only if you want to die." Kakashi cleared his throat, working salt and rusty disuse out of his voice. If his internal clock was working right, he'd slept more than twenty hours; enough to make anyone rasp.

He pressed a hand over his eyes, then dragged it down his face. He wasn't wearing a mask.

"You look better."

A glance down found suddenly-serious brown eyes staring back. "What?"

"I said you looked better."

"Thanks?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Okay, forget the thanks."

"That's not--oh, shut up." Despite his grumble, Pakkun's tail thumped briefly against Kakashi's thigh. Then he stood on his hind legs, planted his paws against Kakashi's chest, and stared him hard in the maskless face.

After half a second, Kakashi lifted one eyebrow. "Something for--"

"You are feeling better, right? No more falling on practical strangers and scaring the fur off'a everyone?"

Kakashi blinked, then coloured. "I didn't fall--"

"Because there's only so much angst we can take--"

"And Ryouma's not a stranger."

"--and you've really fulfilled your yearly quota--ah ha!"

From the head of the bed, Hoshika rolled her eyes skywards, then stretched out a hind leg to thump the first male she could reach.

Kakashi ignored her. "What ah ha?"

"You like him." Pakkun's fur puffed up with the excitement of a new theory. "That's why you've been so weird lately!"

Kakashi stared at his oldest summons. "Did you hit your head recently?" he inquired, after a long beat of silence.

"Avoidance! You do like him!"

"Seriously, because cranial trauma is a legitimate concern--"

"More avoidance!"

"Pakkun, listen carefully. I don't like hi--"

"Denial!"

Kakashi shoved the dog off the bed. Then he stretched up to smooth his hand over the soft fur between Hoshika's ears, earned a half-lidded look of pleasure, and got up to begin his day (making sure to step over Pakkun in the process, ignoring the dog's wounded splutters). The apartment was still frighteningly clean from his attempts to bleach loneliness and bad memories away with the dust. He set his sights on the bathroom, vaguely planning to brush his teeth and shave--

Someone had replaced his front door.

Kakashi paused, blinked at the unvarnished wood completely absent of seals or scorch marks, and tried to wrap his mind around the idea that he hadn't woken up while someone had come in and renovated.

Ryouma must have taken care of it. And paid for it, unless he'd somehow talked ANBU's notoriously grouchy repairman into giving Kakashi a rain-check on the bill--

Ryouma had stayed.

All day. Despite everything Kakashi had said, everything he'd done, including a whole lot of crying he didn't plan to examine too closely any time in the near future, Ryouma had stayed.

"--still with us, kid?"

"What?" Kakashi startled, brought abruptly back to reality. "Yeah. No--yeah, I'm fine."

Pakkun gave him a quizzical look, then turned back to telling a sleepy Hoshika all about his exciting new theory. Kakashi shook his head and headed for the bathroom.

The call of nature informed him he really needed to keep himself better hydrated. The mirror told him he urgently needed to shave, wash his face, take a shower, and maybe get out in the sun more...

Toothbrush in hand, Kakashi paused and actually looked at his reflection for the first time in months. An angular face stared back, too sharp in the cheekbones, too hard around the mouth. Red-rimmed eyes, a jawline silvered with stubble, scars that hooked the left side of his lower lip slightly crooked, and drew a straight-edged line through his left eyebrow to the middle of his cheek.

He put his toothbrush down and brushed his fingers lightly over the eyelid shielding Obito's only legacy; opened the eye and spun a twenty-year-old snapshot of himself straight into memory, ranked alongside the thirteen-year-old, young and shocked and angry; the fourteen-year-old, slightly more at ease with Rin's hand on his left shoulder and Minato's on his right; the fifteen-year-old, burned out with loss and grief and a deathwish that had taken him straight into ANBU...

Kakashi blinked and the reflection-pictures flicked away, leaving nothing but his own face and a dead man's eye, gleaming red in the shadows.

Hot water turned on full spilled steam into the tiny room and fogged up the mirror. He brushed his teeth, washed the salt from his skin, and cut his nails short; shaved so close he almost stripped a layer of dermis away. A shower was the next idea--he certainly needed one--but to do that he'd need to cross the entire ANBU floor, pass near Ryouma's room (by Ginta's room), and strip off in a place that was far too close to public...

He filled up the sink again, washing away the shining flecks of silver hair still stuck to the porcelain, and took the lazy bachelor's version of a stand-up bath.

Pakkun wolf-whistled when he walked back out, towel slung about his hips; Kakashi threw it at him. "You're an abomination," drawled the copy-nin. "You should know that."

Pakkun wriggled his way out from under damp terry-cloth and flopped on his back while Kakashi searched for clean clothes. "I'm a joy and a delight. Mere mortals are privileged just to touch my paws."

Kakashi yanked a black turtleneck over his head. "Have you always had delusions?"

"Have you always been a cynic?"

"Yes." Kakashi found a pair of wearable pants, also black, and a clean mask, and kicked his clothes box back under the bed. "Get off my pillow, you're getting fur everywhere."

"You should be grateful, mere mortals--"

"Are not here to toss you out the window. Off the pillow."

Grumbling, Pakkun slid off the bed. Hoshika, left undisturbed in pride of place, stretched out luxuriously. Kakashi lifted his hitai-ate off the windowsill and slipped it over his head, ignoring the lingering scent of sweat and mud still clinging to the cloth band. He pulled it down until it slanted over Obito's eye, dragged a rough hand through still dripping hair, and felt something basic click back into place.

Clothes, mask, hitai-ate, clean skin, tidy room, two dogs who smelled of cautious happiness.

And a Ryouma-shaped hole in the world.

But he'd stayed. Kakashi had asked, and he'd just--stayed. Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He dragged his hand though his hair again, spiking it the other way, and realized he didn't know what to do with that. What came next? What was he supposed to do next? Track Ryouma down and talk to him? Pretend he hadn't cried into the man's shirt? Try to explain that 'stay' hadn't really meant...

Except it had.

"You actually like him, don't you?"

Startled, Kakashi glanced down at the low rumbling voice by his ankle. Pakkun looked back up at him, brown eyes cut through with a kind of understanding Kakashi didn't feel too comfortable about. The pug's tail wagged slowly once, then stilled.

Kakashi pressed his lips together. "I need to re-seal the door."

Pakkun sighed. "You know there's no point running away after you catch him."

"And if you're not going to help you can just--what?"

"Because he'll just come after you again. I was here, kid. I saw his face." And yours, the pug added under his breath.

Kakashi crossed his arms, spine straightening. "There wasn't anything to see. People get emotional after they're rescued. It's perfectly normal."

There was a beat of silence.

"Right," said Pakkun slowly. "That's gotta be it. Because he was the one that definitely did all the crying. And it's not like you haven't been home for a week already, or anything. And you absolutely haven't been denying the existence of emotions since you were about, oh, seven."

Behind the black facelessness of his mask, Kakashi's expression hardened. "Pakkun..." he said, warningly.

"You smell like pain," said Pakkun bluntly. "All the time. And it's not fear, because you relax the second you put that damn armour on. I'm no shrink, kid, but it's like you're dying inside, just a little bit each day, and you're scaring us." Muscle rippled beneath fur as Pakkun set himself square. "I promised your dad I'd look after you--"

Words ended in a yelp as Kakashi crouched and snapped fingers like a dog bite into soft fur and tensed flesh, clamping a vice around Pakkin's throat. Up on the bed, Hoshika's ears pressed flat to her skull. Kakashi tightened his grip enough to make the point, then let go. Pakkun stumbled and sat down hard, head tilted back enough to keep his neck bared.

"I'm re-sealing my door," Kakashi told him quietly, without breaking eye-contact. "Then I'm taking a mission. If you remember your place in the pack, you can come with me. Otherwise I have no use for you."

The rebuke was cruel--unfair, even--but it did the job. Pakkun relaxed in genuine submission, muscles unclenching, head lowering. He held Kakashi's gaze for half a heartbeat, then looked away.

"Okay, then." Fingertips grazed the thick fur between floppy ears, then Kakashi got back to his feet. The dogs watched silently, warily, as he padded over to one of the bookshelves and ran a hand over a row of neatly stacked scrolls.

Sealing an apartment properly was a tricky business, especially in a building full of ninja. You could trap the windows, jutsu the door, and still find yourself in trouble when they translocated through the wall. And that was without mentioning the floor and ceiling.

Five years living in the same place had given Kakashi plenty of opportunity for trial and error. Now he had trap-wires embedded in the plaster, seals painted and primed beneath the carpet, an anti-translocation jutsu keyed to ignore his own chakra (just in case he needed to make a quick exit), complex kanji hidden behind the wallpaper, weapons always within reach...

The only way to get in now was to blow straight through the brickwork, and that would set off a avalanche of lethal traps so impressive he'd have years to escape.

Until Ryouma had decided to kick the damn door down.

(Not to mention Ginta's climbing trick through the window a month ago. Kakashi had updated the seals since, but clearly the whole system needed an overhaul.

It wasn't paranoid if you had the bootprints to prove people were trying to get you.)

Half a dozen scrolls under one arm, three fine-bristled paintbrushes in the opposite hand, and a chakra pill dissolving under his tongue, Kakashi sat down in front of his brand new door and began working on the headache-inducing task of figuring out what, exactly, Ryouma had done.

Judging from the scorch marks still seared across carpet and ceiling, he'd have bet an eyetooth it had something to do with pure chakra. (And, knowing Ryouma, a lot of luck).

An hour, several dozen more scrolls, a few newly invented curse words, and one adapted thesis on Combining Fire and Water Chakra: Relative Uses Thereof later, Kakashi had a working hypothesis, a new level of respect for Ryouma's random bursts of creativity, and ink all over his fingers. There was ink all over the door, too, anchoring blue-white energy into the pale new wood, laying the groundwork for what had taken him weeks to accomplish last time. This time around he was older, more experienced, definitely nastier, but it was still going to take a serious chunk of time to come up with a pattern he had any kind of faith in. One that wouldn't crumble the second Ryouma touched it with a bastardized version of a bastardized jutsu.

After some thought, Kakashi paused, changed his mind, and drew in a chain of seals that would shut down the entire sequence, as soon as he finished coding it to Ryouma's chakra. No more fireworks; the next time he'd get a warning, Ryouma would find an open door, and Kakashi could dropkick the man as he saw fit.

Or welcome him.

Ink slid over his wrist as he paused again, fingertips pressed against a design that wasn't anywhere near done, and thought about one shade of a future that had nothing to do with missions. Then he shook his head sharply, finished the last line with quick twist and a flare of chakra, and wiped his hands over his pant legs.

Pakkun trotted over, sniffed the door carefully, and hooked a sidelong grin. "I like it."

"Good, because it'll have to hold for the next week or two until I can finish it." Hoshika came off the bed at a whistle as Kakashi crouched over a wooden trunk shoved into the corner. Wooden inlays marked with old kanji acted as lock and key; he flickered a hand over them, losing a whisper-worth of yet more chakra, and pulled out the first set of folded blacks and neatly stored whites to meet his fingers. There was only one mask, set carefully to the side.

Pakkun stretched out, limbering up as Kakashi changed. "Kind of mission did you have in mind, kid?"

"A long one." A ninja-to and tanto bracketed the top and bottom of the weapons rack; Kakashi chose both, hanging one between his shoulderblades and slinging the other lengthwise across his lower back. He pulled gloves over black-stained hands. "Tracking, maybe. Something with a fight to finish."

Hoshika bared her teeth in agreement.

Pakkun shook himself out, then stepped over to the door. "It'll be the first one since we ran Tousaki's rescue. And the Inuzuka," he added, thoughtfully. "And her dog."

"I know." Kakashi hung his mask on his belt, rolled his shoulders back, and took a breath. Smiled sharply. "Maybe we can run one in Lightning."

He ran into Eisuke in the corridor, endured the first two sentences of a half-hour lecture about pretty-boy house guests and noisy builders and a general lack of manners, and left the man in his second unconscious heap of the week. This time with a neighbourly note.

The mission desk was manned by a new girl. Young, pretty, red-headed, and not so awed by meeting ANBU's favourite war dog that she forgot her job. Kakashi's estimation of her rose another notch when she not only found a difficult mission tracking missing-nin across Lightning's northern border, but also handed over a rendez-vous request from the Intel team tasked with finding out what the hell had gone wrong with Ryouma and Tsume's mission. He'd only be picking up information and bringing it home, but still...

Hoshika's head lifted as chakra rolled down Kakashi's hands, settled in kunai-nicked fingers, and cracked into the shape of two new dogs. Shouma, the leggy german shepherd; and Hiro, a bloodhound with a nose that far exceeded Kakashi's. Pakkun bellowed a greeting that was just a little too relieved, and badgered them quickly into line. Hoshika stepped into place by Kakashi's hip.

Kakashi stowed the mission orders safely away in his armour, slid the blue-black ceramic wolf mask into place over cloth and an expression that was finally relaxed, sharpening fast into a hunter's intent, and flashed a quick salute to the desk-nin before taking off at a dead run.

He got as far as the outer wall before he realized Ryouma's last fit would be nothing compared to his next one if Kakashi disappeared for two weeks without a word, and came to a screeching halt. Shouma pile-drived straight into his back.

Kakashi picked himself up, ordered the pack to carry on, and translocated back to the main desk, badly startling the pretty redhead.

"I need a favour," he said abruptly.

"Uh," she returned, staring at him. He grabbed a pen and paper from her desk, scribbled off a quick note, and sealed it closed with a kanji and a bloody fingerprint--a jutsu Ryouma should know.

"Wait a day before you deliver this to Tousaki Ryouma, and don't let him find out I'm gone before then."

The redhead blinked at him. Kakashi reached over the desk, dropped the note in her lap, and switched his status on the board behind her from 'active mission' to 'field training'.

"Seriously. I'll know if you don't." As much as he ignored his reputation, occasionally it came in handy. Judging by the girl's expression, he didn't even need to add a threat. Instead: "Thanks."

Another salute, another translocation, and he was gone before the redhead could smile.

It wasn't until six days later, when he was cleaning the first strike of ozone-scented blood from his hands and feeling the last vestiges of deep tension start to unknot and ease away, that he remembered Ryouma couldn't read.

"Son of a bitch."