Chapter Text
It wasn’t often that Kakashi was placed on patrols. It was viewed to be below his skill level by most of the task managers in ANBU, but they were short-handed and no one else could be spared. The rain pouring down in unforgiving sheets made his clothing and armor cling to his skin, causing the flesh on the edge of his gloves glow red in the moonlight. The chafing was the worst part of these jobs.
It was boring, but Kakashi was far enough in his career that he was starting to appreciate the quiet times. The times when the smell of warm meals coming from the residences of Konoha were stronger than the scent of blood and death that followed him in a cloud. It was warmer here, even with the rain, compared to cold solo missions featuring a scroll heavy with a corpse in his pocket.
Tonight, he had been assigned to a poorer district of the village. It had never quite recovered from the Kyuubi attack, but there was a collection of civilian bars that seemed to thrive in the area. The rain would turn most people away from causing trouble, but shinobi liked to come to these bars as a way to unwind outside of the gazes of their peers. Anytime shinobi and civilians collided, it was never pretty.
He was zoning out when he heard some suspicious sounds coming from the alleyway. There were some loud, drunken swearing somehow echoing above the roar of the rain. He gave the air a deep sniff, trying to get beneath the aroma of petrichor and boozy filth and vomit, before pulling up his hands to do a quick jutsu used mostly by sensors when he couldn’t quite catch the scent. Only weak chakra signatures were detected.
Kakashi would keep his eye on them, but it wasn’t his job as an Anbu to scold civilians for being too loud and cursing the weather. If they got too rowdy, it was the civilian police force who would step in. Anbu were only to get involved if it was a shinobi causing trouble.
His dismissal of the situation without properly staking it out was a mistake, and his ignorance on what to look for on patrol in this area reared its head.
There was a loud crack similar to thunder, along with a flash of light that encompassed the mostly empty street. Each muscle under Kakashi’s skin seized in a call to action, but before he could convince himself it was from the storm and not some unseen threat, the civilians were scattering down the street. They were spewing terrified swears over their shoulders towards the opening of the alleyway.
Someone had used a jutsu against them, and his negligence had made it so someone could have gotten injured. He cursed himself and made his way across the rooftops so he could get a better view of the scene.
“Naruto, what are you doing over here in this weather?” He heard a stern, deep voice. Once in position to identify the assailant, he recognized…
Umino Iruka? With Uzumaki Naruto…
Just looking at the small, drenched child made his chest ache and shudder in a way that had nothing to do with the rain.
Umino was kneeling near the child, holding an umbrella over the two of them. Naruto looked worse for wear, with a cut bleeding sluggishly on his forehead and a few tears in his stained clothing. Every muscle in his small body was tensed and ready to bolt as he stared at Umino with a scared, tentative expression.
More guilt ate at him, paralyzing him into inaction like seeing Naruto always did. If he had just looked to see what the drunkards were yelling at…
He wouldn’t have disappointed his sensei yet again.
His position from across the street wasn’t ideal for eavesdropping but moving any closer seemed impossible. He reasoned that his inability to obtain a better location was the fear of Umino detecting his presence and not his own body locking itself in place, burdened under the weight of his guilt.
“People drop money here,” Naruto explained, but his voice was tight and congested- almost inaudible over the storm. Was the boy sick? If so, why was he out in this rain? Kakashi couldn’t sense the Anbu that watched over Naruto nearby. Was his comrade hurt or preoccupied with another threat? Or was this a case of negligence?
Umino closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Kakashi counted the breathing exercise with him, the ten beats working to steel his own racing nerves. After opening his eyes with an expression much softer than his original one, Umino reached into one of his chuunin vest pockets to pull out a dry cloth.
His movements were slow and deliberate, giving Naruto plenty of time to pull away should he want to. Umino wiped the blood off the boy’s face with strokes so soft that Kakashi could hardly tell he was touching Naruto at all. Naruto flinched at first contact, before leaning into the touch. There was something broken and desperate in his expression that made Kakashi’s throat close. All he could do was watch in stricken awe.
Umino made it look so… easy. Just seeing Naruto from afar was enough to make his blood run hot and blistering. There was fire and screams as a backdrop to the order to stay behind. Let the adults fight. The fire only ever faded to cold, unrelenting stone that offered no answers or guidance, only ghosts. By the time his thoughts got pulled back to reality, it was too late to bolster the confidence to approach the boy.
He and Umino had been on a mission together, only once before. It was one of the rare few that he took outside of Anbu. Due to some completely reasonable invasive background-checking, he had learned that the man had lost his family in the Kyuubi attack before he became the Sandaime’s favorite pet project. There should be resentment, not tender touches and caring eyes.
But then again… Kakashi had also learned that the man completely lacked killing intent, even if he or comrades were in danger. It was unheard of, a shinobi who was not just unwilling, but unable to kill. Maybe it made him more forgiving. Maybe it made him gentle.
“This may sting…” Umino warned, before his fingertips began to glow green with healing chakra. A forgotten memory of Minato and Kushina was pulled to mind.
I’m the jinchurikki, this is nothing. It will heal itself in a few minutes.” Kushina protested as Minato began healing the slice on her arm. He was holding her hand with fingers laced together to prevent her from pulling away. A fruitless endeavor, in Kakashi’s opinion, given her sheer brute strength.
Obito had thrown a rogue kunai in Kakashi’s direction. He had dodged it easily, of course, but Kushina had arrived at that moment to drop off lunch for all of team seven. She had blocked the weapon from hitting Rin, not thinking twice about injuring herself. The sound Minato made was more dramatic than the situation warranted. Kakashi agreed with Kushina, and halting training for such a small cut that would heal all on its own was stupid. She was one of the strongest Jounin in the village and whatever pain she was feeling was minimal.
Minato-sensei had simply clicked his tongue with a shake of his head, “Nevertheless, you don’t need to endure the pain, just because it will end quickly. If I have the power to take away your pain, I am going to.”
At that age, he had found his sensei to be silly with his sentimental endearments, but watching Umino seemingly just wipe away a small scrape that a shinobi would barely notice, let alone feel pain from…
What would it feel like to have those hands soothing away his wounds? No matter how small?
Naruto was quiet, something that was uncommon from all the times Kakashi had watched him from afar. He let Umino help him up, and the hand Umino had used to heal the child fell to his shoulder to give it a squeeze.
“Even if people do drop money here, wait for the daylight when there aren’t so many… bad people lurking around,” His scolding was so much softer than it had been originally, although Kakashi wasn’t paying attention to his words. He was zeroed in on the hand still gripping Naruto, tight enough to ensure he didn’t try to run away. “You’re soaked; come to my apartment so we can get you cleaned up. I’ll make dinner.”
“I can take care of myself,” Naruto protested. Umino removed his hand despite Kakashi quietly willing him to keep up the contact. Naruto was cold, and Umino seemed so warm, so inviting. Naruto seemed to agree, as evidenced by his reaching out so he could hold Umino’s hand despite his protest from before.
Had Kakashi held anyone’s hand at 8? No, he had been much more accustomed to holding weaponry instead. Naruto’s hand seemed miniscule in comparison, so much more fragile and breakable. Had Kakashi ever been that small? He couldn’t have been. Who would have let him fight? Who would have left him alone on missions?
Bile churned in his stomach as he continued to watch, helpless to move. Naruto was here, in the rain, on the street, because he had no one to depend on. Kakashi wanted to be that person. Maybe he could…
He looked down at his own hands. They were gloved, and tipped with metal claws meant for tearing flesh and gripping walls. If he tried to be the person his sensei always believed he could be, would Naruto have felt the compulsion to hold his hand, too?
No, Naruto should never touch him. Unlike Umino, the blood that dripped from his own fingers was not from healing wounds.
But what if… what if Umino touched Kakashi, first? Could he wipe the blood away from him as well?
Kakashi looked back. Iruka was giving Naruto a look Kakashi recognized from the face of Sakumo. He had thought he had forgotten that level of tenderness. When Umino spoke next, something in Kakashi became undone, “I know you can, but maybe you don’t have to for tonight.”
It wasn’t until they were far out of sight that Kakashi realized he never did stop and arrest Umino Iruka for using jutsu against civilians. He decided he would approach him next time they crossed paths and give him a warning.
That next time became a series of next times, and never once did he approach Umino.