The bridge I crossed
The Ninth
By the time I got home, I had paid the driver excess, failed to recieve my change, had been stopped by the driver on my way up the stairs, given the money, and sent with a worried glance back on my way. I managed to fit the key into the door, and finally stumbled into the familiar embrace of my couch and spent the next four hours staring vacantly at the black screen of the TV until I fell asleep.
I dreamt that afternoon, not of the tattoo or Zabuza or Haku. It wasn't an erotic dream; far from it. It was a series of pictures that seemed familiar, but still unusual in that I couldn't put my finger on exactly where and when they happened.
The dream began with me in a room, a clear white room and a dark door on the opposite wall. I realized, with a start, that everything was black and white, no color, no sound.
I knocked on the door, although I couldn't remember walking towards it, and opened it, knowing that someone had given me permission to come in. When I stepped in, there was a figure by a window, and the person turned around. I saw the face take shape, Sasuke's, and he looked at me with a small smile tugging at his lips.
He didn't let himself smile, but he opened his mouth to say a few things. I responded in kind, in silence, and we had both understood. Whatever we understood, I couldn't understand, but we both seemed content. I stayed by the door, watching him going about his work, and occassionaly, he would look up and say something. I would return a comment, and small pieces of conversation began to take shape.
He finished his work in the dream, and I saw him move his hands along a table (at least, I thought it was a table). Then, he came towards the door where I was standing. He stopped a few inches from me, considering me for a few moments before tilting my face up with his fingers underneath my chin and kissing me.
It was a deep kiss, as crystal clear as a cool lake in the morning of spring. It felt as if I was drinking chilled water with the aftertaste of soil and ferns.
He pulled away from the kiss, considered me again, before leaning in and kissing me on the cheek, a soft feather touch. He said something in my ear, silent still, but I understood what he said and let him leave.
The dream me understood that he was leaving, that he was not coming back, that the kiss was a farewell kiss. The dream me did not stop him from opening the door and leaving, and neither did the dream me mourn this loss. The dream me went to the desk where he had been and saw that it was not a table, but a bed with a yukata on it. One of the yukatas I had worn in Jixi. The bed had been made, and understanding that there would no longer be mornings in the future, the dream me slept, not disturbing the pristine appearance of the made bed.
I understood in the dream that I was sleeping through hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, and even centuries, but there were no more mornings--just the black and white silence of that room and that yukata and that memory of him kissing me with the sweet taste of cool spring water.
*
I woke up, feeling groggy, heavy, and warm in my bed. It was night now, and I was about to get out of bed to make myself some dinner when a sharp pain in my right arm made me snatch away from it, causing yet another sharp pain on my right forefinger, and as if on cue, a sharp sound began to beep in the distance.
It was dark in the room, very, very dark, and by the time I had gotten adjusted to darkness, lights came on, momentarily blinding me, and there were concerned noises. The beeping ended, hands pushed me back onto the bed, there was a pinch on my right forefinger, a cool dab on my right arm, and then another pinch before things settled down. I heard murmurs in the background, a "--finally!" and then, silence again.
I kept my eyes closed, sensing the brightness in the room, and finally managed to say, "The light. Dim. Please." My mouth was dry, parched even, and I felt pain when I spoke. There was, I realized with a frown, a general sense of misuse in my body.
My request was obeyed, and finally, I opened my eyes. There was a woman, and a man in the room. I could sense their concern, but it had receded now, and was only a faint feeling. I tried to focus on the woman's face but found that I wasn't interested enough. "Kiba. Shikamaru." Again, my voice hurt, and my tongue made contact with a brittle upper palette. "Water."
A few minutes later, I was drinking stale water and then I heard Kiba's "Thank God!" and Shikamaru's "Such a goddamn idiot."
I shut out the sound for a few minutes so I could gather myself, and closed my eyes against everything. I heard shuffling, and then there was a rough, strong hand in my own, pressing a little, but still not hurting. Kiba, I recognized immediately. He was here. I heard shuffling again, the dragging of a chair, and felt Shikamaru sit on the opposite side. He didn't take my hand--there was the finger-thing and the wire in my arm.
"What?" I asked, cracking open one eye and staring at Kiba. "What time is it?"
"It's ten."
I had slept for almost five hours. Another day wasted.
"Friday. The second of August. Ten o'clock." Shikamaru's words were slow and steady. A part of my brain that was still rooted in reality started at that. August? "You fell asleep on the twenty-third of July, Naruto. At around noon."
I digested the information. So I had slept for seven days and some hours. Seven days wasted. "This is a hospital," I stated, finally understanding the strange faces, sounds, and scents. There was silence, so I asked, "What happened?"
"I got out of work early," Kiba's said, his voice softer than usual. "I came into your apartment cause I wanted to check on you, and found you asleep. I let you sleep until dinnertime, but when I tried to wake you up, you wouldn't so I called Shikamaru. We both tried to wake you up. You kept sleeping, like a log." I didn't hear the rest of his explanation, but could guess that they had called an ambulance, and here I was, seven days later, finally awake. "We thought--" Kiba fumbled with his words, and finally admitted, "We thought you were trying to commit suicide."
I felt a laugh rise out of my stomach and erupt into the air. "Suicide? What for?"
Kiba glanced uneasily at Shikamaru, and then, "You've been out of it lately, you know?"
I sighed and pushed myself up into a sitting position. Shikamaru leaned forward and arranged the pillows behind me so that I could sit back. "I went out for lunch with Kakashi," I explained, "And decided to take a nap when I got back. That's all I remember."
There was silence, and then, "What did Kakashi say, Naruto?" I glanced at Shikamaru's haggard face. He hadn't been sleeping well, and neither had Kiba. They looked worn and tired, but Shikamaru was already analyzing, inferring and piecing together the puzzle of why I had fallen asleep for so long.
"He was just--" I paused, wondering if I should tell another lie to Shikamaru. I had done it once before, and he had left, telling me to call him when I felt like trusting him again. I didn't want to risk another friendship, so, "First, order some ramen."
Kiba grinned and got up to do the job. I was left alone with Shikamaru, and we waited in silence until Kiba came back with some ramen--Shikamaru deep in his thoughts, and me, watching Shikamaru think.
When Kiba came back, I dug in, and the more I ate, the hungrier I became. Between bites, I began the story, detailing Kakashi's game, and finally how he had named Zabuza. I felt less on edge about the entire ordeal, I realized, now that I had slept for seven days. Everytime I closed my eyes for a few seconds, still unfamiliar with the light, I could see the black and white dream, and always, Sasuke leaning in to kiss me.
Awake, I was curious to know what the dream-conversation had been. My peace of mind, I knew, was because of that dream, and that feeling of understanding something that I had grappled with for years before. I sighed into my empty cup, and glanced at Shikamaru who had gotten pensive while Kiba gritted his teeth in anger. "That son of a bitch" was followed by another string of curses, and finally silence rested again in the room.
"Naruto, clarify this for me, would you?" Shikamaru leaned towards me, his eyes hooded, but his voice sharp. "He said, 'I want to find out something for myself'?"
I nodded. "Something along those lines."
"But he already knew about Zabuza."
"Yes," I answered, wondering if Shikamaru had even asked a question.
"I'm curious...You said before he was from Nagoya..." Shikamaru trailed off, and suddenly got up. "I'm going to find a computer," he explained over his shoulder. "I'll be back."
Kiba watched him leave, puzzled, and turned his gaze on me. "The wedding is on the eleventh of next month," he commented lightly. "The newspaper got dibs on covering it for this year."
I nodded my head, and casually asked, "Who's covering?" I knew most of the staff members since Kiba liked to share his experiences in the office.
"Rock Lee," Kiba explained. He sighed. "I was actually wondering if we could commission you into doing it. I mean, you're an excellent writer, know the Uchiha, and..." He trailed off. "It was a bad idea to begin with. I hadn't known how attached you had gotten to him."
I looked at Kiba's downcast eyes. He was probably feeling guilty for even contemplating such an alternative. It was consuming him at a certain level, I understood, and felt my stomach tighten at his affection. "Hey, Kiba, cut it out. You couldn't have known. Heck," I said with a slight chuckle, "Even I didn't."
He smiled at that and gave my hand a squeeze. "You lost a lot of weight," he explained to me. "It was unreal how fast you were losing weight. The doctor said that it was unusual for someone to lose so much in seven days, even in a coma."
"A coma?" I was surprised at that word choice. What's happening to me? the question floated eerily in my mind, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't answer it.
"Yeah. A coma. I think you lost, what, maybe six, seven pounds, even with weight supplements that the nurse put into you." He picked up my hand and demonstrated. I winced at how fragile my wrist seemed, almost as if Kiba could break it in his own fingers.
"I have to go on a ramen binge, I guess," I joked, and Kiba chuckled.
"It's on Shikamaru."
Kiba imitated Shikamaru's frown, and I laughed, more freely than I had in quite some time. We chatted for a few more minutes, and Kiba described Shikamaru's silent worry over me. Then, out of nowhere, he changed the subject. "Hey, Naruto. Are you looking for a job, or you going to go ahead and apply for grad school?"
I stared at him, and nodded, explaining my decision to get over my grad school infatuation and get on with a job at some newspaper somewhere. "See, we have an open position, it's an editor's position, actually, but I think you might get it. You have the resume and all. You worked as a copy editor, right? And the PR job?"
I nodded, hesitant. Could this be, I wondered? Was God taking mercy on me again?
"One of our lead writers, he--erm, well, got involved in a fight with his partner, the other lead writer. Rock Lee, actually. Well, Gaara is his name, he got fired and now the post is open. I talk about you with Jiraiya, the Senior Editor, and after the position became officially open to the public, Jiraiya came up to me and wondered if I could ask you to apply."
I felt a smile creeping onto my face. "What in God's name did you tell him about me?"
"Oh, about college and stuff."
I considered, and took stock yet again of my life. Plan B was taking shape, right in front of my eyes. "Sure," I said. "I'll apply. I was going to apply there anyways, but for a different position."
Kiba grinned at me. "If you get it, you can make my lunch every day."
I growled at him. "At a cost, my friend. At a cost. My services don't come for free. Me being a chef and all."
Kiba laughed, delighted at my own light-heartedness and sat back in his chair, satisfied. "You'll get it," Kiba assured. "I'm almost positive of it."
"Why?"
"Cause Jiraiya is the Senior Editor, and you work directly for him. So he's going to do the interviews and the actual hiring. He already likes you, you know. And besides, you were editor-in-chief in college, remember? For, what, three years? He's looking to hire fresh faces in the newsroom, part of this new plan that the publishing company wants to try out. The good part is, you have experience within the industry already."
I nodded. Life was looking up again, and I'd be damned if I blundered in this situation. Shikamaru came back a few minutes later a small smile on his face, and joined in the conversation. Kiba explained, and I added details, about my plans. Shikamaru hm-ed his approval and added, "You'll get the job. You graduated magna, have experience, and Kiba's already talked about you with this Jiraiya. It'll work out."
Kiba stood up with a sigh. "We should get going, Naruto. The nurse is going to bitch at us again if we stay over visiting hours."
Shikamaru hm-ed, and was about to leave when I asked, "What hospital is this?"
"Hibiya Clinic*," he answered. I breathed a sigh of relief. Orochimaru didn't work here, so I was free.
They started to take their leave, promising to return first thing in the morning. I told them not to, though, assuring them that I'd get myself discharged and back home again. We agreed to meet at my place again when they got home from work (Kiba insisited that my apartment was the cleanest now, so I would host our gatherings for the next few months until the place was utterly and irrepairably trashed).
They left, and with them, they took what little comfort they had brought with them into the sterile hospital room. I settled down for a good night's rest, worried, for an instant, that I might slip back into another long slumber. Strangely enough, I didn't think I'd mind very much if I did.
*
I woke up early the next morning, thanks to a nurse who had come to give relieve me of my IV tube and my finger-thing. I stared at her face for a while, and finding it uninteresting, asked her if I could go home. She replied yes, and said that all I had to do was sign a paper; Shikamaru had taken care of the rest. She pointed me to my clothes, and fifteen minutes after I had dressed, I was in a taxi, on my way home.
I marveled at how quickly my life had changed course in the past two weeks. It seemed unreal, almost as if I had stepped out from a movie. I counted each day on my finger, wondering when, if ever, my life would settle down to a more normal pace.
On the seventh, I had gone to my first day of work for Sasuke, and had gotten fired. That very night, in a hospital, I had been rehired. A week later, on the fifteenth, I had gotten refired. On the sixteenth, I was rehired and invited to a vacation with my boss, on the seventeenth I was with Sasuke on my way to Jixi, China. On the twentieth I left Jixi, and that very night, I resigned. On the twenty-first I slumbered, got a late-night visit from Kakashi, called Sasuke, and on the twenty-second, I had lunch with Kakashi before entering into a deep sleep for seven days.
Only two and half years ago, I had graduated from Kyoto University, and a week later, Kiba, Shikamaru, and I, the youngest graduates from Kyoto University in many decades, had traveled to Tokyo, found three apartments in the same building and went about finding a lifestyle for ourselves.
Only four years before that, I was a boy running away from a nightmare.
Only sixteen years before that, I was in a dump.
*
Once back in my apartment, I went about getting my life in order again. There was a load of laundry to do--rotting for a week, I realized with a frown--dinner to make, a shower to be had, and a job to apply for.
I began with the shower, but ten minutes into the ordeal, I started to feel lightheaded. Slowly, carefully, I got out and went to the kitchen to eat something sugar-heavy before I collapsed. The only quick-fix was ramen and some tea, and I ate it while checking my email.
My inbox was clogged--from former acquaintances, professors, and even one from a man I had abhorred during the majority of my college career. There was one from Konohamru who was distressed about a woman he was pursuing and a coming exam in an especially hard course he was taking. I replied: I can understand your coming to me for advice concerning your coursework, but why the woman? For gods' sake, Konohamaru, I'm gay.
I missed college life, especially the friends that Kiba, Shika and I had left behind while we moved ahead. (Idate had a coming field and track tournament. He wanted me to wish him luck, and thank God I came home early enough to do so. I miss running with you in the mornings, he wrote, and I responded in like.) Even some of my professors, I missed. (Professor Ibiki, the legendary psychologist of Kyoto University responded to an email I had sent him a few weeks ago concerning an article that I had read in a magazine. They had referred to Ibiki as a former prison psychologist, one that extracted information from inmates with ruthless efficiency, and I had wondered if it was true. He responded yes, and I replied, still light-hearted: Get out.)
I replied to all twenty-something emails from personal friends, and scanned the twenty-something chain mails (when would the college rumor mills stop grinding out ridiculous speculations about Professor Anko's sex-life, I wondered).
I was about to leave the few remaining emails for the next day, when my eyes fell on an email sent two days ago. It was from Iruka, my professor for media ethics, who adopted me as a ward my sophomore year. He was a like an unofficial parent, a Zabuza without any of the sinister qualities or dark background. After I moved out of college, I'd emailed him a few times, but he'd taken on another course and was overwhelmed with work. He replied when he could, apologizing for not being able to remain true to our correspondance. I opened the email, elated at the very idea of him initiating the contact. The midterms were coming up for the first semester, and I hadn't expected to hear from him for another week or two. I felt myself grinning as I began to read:
Naruto, I hope you're well. Midterms are coming to a close here, but the new TA is nowhere near as efficient as you were. She works slowly, but I digress. I went to the ramen stand on campus the other day, and the old man who runs the place asked after you. I told him that you were still in Tokyo.
I was called to Tokyo to take care of some business for a deceased friend of mine. You had him as a professor, I think. Mizuki was his name. I'll be by on the night of the 22nd. I wanted to drop by and see you before I get back to the university.
I'll wait for a response. Say hi to Kiba and Shikamaru for me.
--Prof. Iruka
P.S: Konohamaru is throwing a fit here. It has half the school up in arms, and the other half in bed with their ears plugged with cotton. I think it has something to do with Ibiki's midterm test, but I have an feeling that it has something to do with a woman.
I replied quickly with a bolded, all caps, and large-font YES in neon orange, and hoped that he would get it in time.
Half an hour had passed since I first started up my laptop and I started checking my email. I went back to the task at hand, and began a cover letter, my mind more at peace than it had been in two weeks. I refilled my tea cup three times before I had finished the cover letter, printed it, and edited my resume.
I checked my email one last time, hoping that Iruka had checked his email. He had responded, with a "Good. I'll see you tomorrow evening." Still happy, I put the cover letter and a copy of my resume in an envelope, and printed a to- and from-address on it. The stamp came last, and I walked down barefoot outside my apartment building where there was a mailing service. The box was checked every evening, and all letters--as long as they were within the country--were taken care of.
I picked up my mail while I was there as well, frowning when I saw the stack of bills that I had yet to pay. I had enough money, I knew, but paying the bills was starting to make me nervous now that I had no job. I walked back upstairs, my feet against the cool tiles. When I got to my apartment on the fourth floor, I was surprised to find Kakashi waiting for me. His hand was raised and was on its way to the doorbell when I spotted him.
"I thought I might knock this time," he said with a small smile. I didn't meet his eyes and moved to open the door. I could feel his eyes on my back the entire time, and as we walked into my apartment, he commented, "You've lost weight."
He shifted on his feet, not out of nervousness or guilt, I knew, but out of politeness. He had to show some remorse. "I heard you were discharged today morning, so I came to see how you were doing."
I motioned for him to sit down, and walked towards the kitchen. "Tea? Coffee? Beer?"
There was a pause, and then, "Beer."
I poured out the last dregs of tea in the kettle for myself and took out a beer bottle from the fridge for Kakashi. I opened the beer bottle using an opener on the fridge and made my way back to the living room. He accepted the beer with a grateful nod, and took a sip, watching me sit down in Shikamaru's Thinking Seat. "Your friend, Kiba," he explained as if I had asked a question, "Was here when I came to check on you a day after we had lunch. He said you were in the hospital. In a coma."
I looked away from him and stared at my tea. What was this? The fifth cup of tea today? "I didn't think--" He stopped and took another long sip from the bottle before continuing. "I didn't think you'd be so greatly affected by my comment on Zabuza." I suppressed an urge to punch him and instead took a sip from my tea. He rubbed at his face, tired, I could tell, before loosening his tie a little. "I apologize."
I glanced sharply at him. I apologize, he said. I had often wondered about that word choice. Did "I apologize" make it more heartfelt than "I'm sorry"? And how had he known about Zabuza anyways? "I can understand if you're angry at--"
"I'm not angry at you," I interrupted. "Just tired." He was silent, so I got up, my mug of tea still half-full, and a blush on my face. "Kakashi, look. I haven't had lunch yet, and I've been hungry ever since I stepped out of the hospital. Do you mind if I--"
"I'd offer to take you out for lunch, but I don't know if you'll trust me with something like that again," he said, genuinely apologetic now.
I felt a smile creeping onto my face. Kakashi might have been cruel to me, but he was not inherently mean. "No. I've had enough of outside food for now. I just want to cook myself something."
Kakashi's eyebrow lifted. "You cook?"
"Naturally." I stood there, uncertain for a while as to what I should do next. Should I invite him to stay? Or should I show him out? Etiquette demanded that I should--"Would you like to stay for lunch?"
He glanced at his watch, and then stood up. "Only if I can help."
I nodded in agreement and began walking towards the kitchen. "I was thinking of making myself okonomiyaki*," I explained, and heard him give his approval.
I started him on cutting the cabbage into thin slices while I worked on the beef. We worked silently together, punctuated only by the soft sounds of knife cutting through food. I thought about what I could cook for Iruka once he came here. He was the one who taught me how to cook, how to live alone, how to take care of myself. In fact, he was the first one who recognized anything worthwhile in me. Even Zabuza, although supportive in a sense, saw me only as a tool for carrying out crimes ranging from petty to large-scale.
I began mixing the water, flour, eggs, cabbage- and beef-strings in a bowl, Kakashi's gaze heavy as he watched me knead the dough with my hands. I glanced up to look at him, and saw a small smile on his lips. "You seem very comfortable in the kitchen," he commented.
I added a salt, and after mixing the ingredients again, licked a small sample from my finger. "A professor in college taught me," I admitted, wondering why I was suddenly admitting this to him. The man had put me into a coma, and here I was sharing my past with him.
"Really?" I felt him move towards me, and before I knew it, he had my wrist in his hand. He moved my palm towards his lips and took a small lick as I had done before. I felt a blush rise to my face, almost as if a bomb had exploded in my stomach and the fires had reached my face. "Your professor taught you well," he mumbled his, my hand still in his.
I cleared my throat, not sure what was expected of me in this situation. He was older than me, yes, but he was still young, maybe his late thirties. I felt my mind scrambling to work again. It was my nature to analyze everything about this situation--starting from the legitimacy of a relationship, and the consequences that I would have to deal with. I put a stop to the train of thought immediately, but not fast enough to prevent a whisper float through my mind: Sasuke.
It must have shown on my face because Kakashi gently let go of my hand. "Dressing?"
I washed my hand in the sink, and gave him vegetables, and more meat to cut while I fried the okonomiyaka. By the time I was done, so was he, and I dressed the pancakes. I laid out the table, and he went to retrieve his beer from the living room. We talked about inane and pointless things over lunch, ignoring what had happened earlier. It was a good meal, no doubt, and the company was good as well. I wondered how Kiba would react if he knew I had invited Kakashi to lunch. I smiled as I got up to put away the dishes, imagining Kiba's reaction. A good friend, I knew. Protective, but a good friend.
I turned around and ran into Kakashi who was waiting to put away his own dishes. I smelled cologne, beer, and cigarette smoke for a split second before I retreated and took the plates from him. "You scared me," I accused, drying my hands. "I turn around, and boom, there you are."
Kakashi chuckled and then, "You let your guard down."
We bickered on the way back to the living room, and I sat down, feeling heavy and sleepy. "The professor I was talking about, he's coming over for dinner soon," I explained, wondering again why I decided to be so open with Kakashi. Maybe it wasn't me, but Kakashi. Maybe it was his job to get people's turst like that.
"Really? You close?" I felt the couch shift as he sat down next to me, where he had sat when he first came in.
"He's kind of like a...brother and father figure to me."
He mumbled something in response, but I didn't hear, because next thing I knew, I was asleep.
*
When I woke up again, I felt something warm against my side, and the smell of cigarette smoke reached me. I groaned and buried my face against my pillow, not wanting to inhale any more nicotine.
"You're awake." The voice snapped me out of my nap and I bolted upright, staring into Kakashi's amused face. It looked more rugged now that I was so close to him. "I thought you'd slipped into another coma."
He picked up his cigarette from the edge of a smoke tray on the table next to the sofa. The one that Shikamaru, and occasionally Kiba, used. The TV was on as well, tuned to CNN, but in mute. I slowly got used the feel of my own apartment, and mumbled, "Sorry. I didn't think I was so tired."
"No. It's all right." I stretched and ran my hand through my hair before focusing on Kakashi's face again.
He looked tired, as if he hadn't slept properly in a while. It was ironic, I thought. I had slipped into the longest nap of my life while Kakashi looked as if he'd barely managed a few hours in the past few days. "Sorry," I mumbled again, noticing for the first time how close I was to him. I was about to tear my gaze away from his face when his finger came up to my chin. He tilted my face so that he could get a better view, and I felt a blush creep slowly into my face.
"You have very blue eyes," he said finally. I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, trying to steady myself, and before I knew it, Kakashi had leaned in and kissed me. It was a chaste kiss, just a peck on the lips, but it was enough to unleash a wave of hormones that I had kept under control for several weeks.
Sasuke, a part of my mind whispered to me, You're betraying yourself. And there was the rational part of my mind that said, He's getting married in a month. You are free now. I shut down all my thought, and leaned in for the next kiss, meeting Kakashi half-way. It was a deeper kiss this time, and I tasted cigarette before I felt his hand slip away from my chin and weave around my waist. He pulled me closer, and the next minute, I was stradling him.
He'd seen me naked twice already, more intimate than Sasuke had ever gotten. Kakashi was not demanding, but he was hungry, I could tell, and for that matter, so was I.
I drew back for a breath, and felt Kakashi bury his face in the crook of my neck. Distantly, I felt a calloused hand on the small of my back, and another one cupping my thigh. I began to help him out of his suit, and undid his tie. He chuckled into my neck when I began to unbutton his shirt, and I felt myself unable to control the blood that rushed downwards at the sound.
"Bed," I said, my voice a breathy groan. He picked me up, and I locked my legs around his waist. How, I never understood, but he managed to find the way to my bedroom while I undid his shirt and kept his lips occupied. We fell onto the bed, without much grace, and I felt his full weight slam into me. It was an intoxicating feeling, and I felt Kakashi moan as I pulled him towards me.
It was not a romantic, at least not in the strictest definition of the word. He was good, took his sweet time getting where he wanted to get, felt all the angles and hollows of my body, whispered words in a different language, let me set the pace and limits of what could and could not be done in bed.
"God, when I first laid eyes on you," Kakashi groaned, fifteen minutes after we'd made it to the bed.
I laughed, turned my head to meet his lips. "I was drunk, Hatake--"
"Like that made you any less appealing," Kakashi whispered, snapped his hips and oh god--"Everyone in the office was looking at you," Kakashi went on, and it wasn't filthy, but it was sexy hearing it from him. "You ever walk by a mirror in your entire life, Naruto, because--" Another snap of his hips, and I arched back into him, groaning, panting now under his weight.
"Shut up," I muttered, and that was the end of conversation. Afterwards, Kakashi allowed me to turn over onto my back before he lowered himself on me, sweaty and breathing heavily. He rested his head on my chest with a sigh, shifting his legs so that he was more comfortable. I threaded my fingers into his unruly hair and massaged his scalp until he fell asleep. An hour passed while I lay there, wondering how I had gotten myself into this situation. You just slept with Hatake Kakashi, I told myself. How in heaven's name--
The phone snapped me out of my thoughts, and I reached over to pick it up from my nightstand. It was Shikamaru, saying that he was stuck in traffic, had Kiba shown up or did he still need a ride?
"I think he might need a ride," I said, speaking with a lowered voice. "He hasn't come yet."
Shikamaru grumbled into the phone. "Well, why doesn't he pick up the damned phone in his off--" There was a moment of silence where Shikamaru was cut off, and he came back. "Wait, that's him on the other line. From his office." I heard Shikamaru sigh, and then, "It'll be at least another three hours before I can get to his office and drive home, Naruto. Sorry."
"No, it's all right," I said quickly, hoping that I didn't sound too pleased. I'd forgotten that they were supposed to come meet me this evening.
"Eat dinner. We'll see you in a few."
I chuckled. "I will, Mother."
"Right. Bye."
"Bye." I hung up, and took in a deep breath. Luck was on my side in the past few days, I decided. First, the job offer. Then Kiba's and Shikamaru's unexpected delay the day Kakashi decides to crawl into my bed.
The sound must have disturbed Kakashi because he began to stir, burying his face into my chest before lifting his face to meet mine. He pushed himself towards my face and managed to kiss me on the edge of my mouth. I smiled and let him kiss me again, deep, slow, and satisfied. He turned his attention to my neck, and I felt him move languidly down the length of my neck and to my shoulder.
The second time around, it was slower and with more attention to the details. I let him, knowing that this was probably a one-time thing, driven by curiosity and need than any real attraction. What did I have to lose, I thought. Sasuke was getting married in less than a month, and Orochimaru, I couldn't bring myself to face; I had never been honest with the doctor the entire time I knew him (there was always Sasuke), and I didn't want to live through the guilt that would most likely overwhelm me if I ever faced him again.
"You're distracted," Kakashi said through a groan. His voice tingled my ear, and my hips bucked towards his at the same time a jolt ran up my spine.
"You have my attention now," I breathed and pulled him closer again. He moved for a kiss, and I returned it, feeling heat building up in my stomach.
When the heat exploded a few minutes later, I closed my eyes and saw against my eyelids, Sasuke, still black and white, still as cool and clear as water, still smelling of a forest, still, still, still leaning into kiss me.
*
Kakashi fell asleep and woke up half-an-hour later. He was slow to rise, and even slower to fully wake up. He yawned once before sitting up, and then moved to gather his clothes. We dressed slowly, Kakashi mumbling something about missing half a day's work, and when I had seen him to the living room, he turned around, a serious expression on his face.
"That was--"
"Unintended," I supplied the word for him, relieved that he was the first one to bring the topic up. He nodded, grateful as well, and stood there for a moment, deciding on what to do before stepping forward to steal a kiss.
"I would have liked to have known you," he said against my lips, "But like you, I'm distracted a little myself."
I nodded in understanding--wondering, distantly, who it was that distracted a man like Kakashi--and gave him another kiss, pressing him up against the door, fingers threading into his hair, taking my time with him. Our lips made a smacking noise when I pulled back, and Kakashi's grip on my hip tightened. "Sasuke's like my younger brother," Kakashi whispered against my lips. "He shouldn't--"
"I know," I muttered, kissing him again on the corner of his lip. "I enjoyed your company," I said, reaching behind him to get the door.
"And I enjoyed yours."
He smiled at me one more time before turning and treading down the stairs, his walk a bit more relaxed than it had been when I lead him into my apartment for lunch a few hours ago. I closed the door behind me and went to clean up my room, still distracted by what had just happened. I doubted that I would ever see him again, and I didn't think I would like to get entangled in a relationship with him. I hadn't asked him to come back another time, and I don't think he would have wanted me to. True, we were attracted to each other, but only at a sexual level. Kakashi was experienced enough, and I was intelligent enough, to realize that relationships like that were disasters waiting to happen.
I picked up the slightly sticky sheets and dumped them into the laundry basket. I would have to make a seperate load of the sheets, I realized with a wrinkle of my nose. Such a waste of water and money.
I was about to start preparing dinner when the doorbell rang. I went to it, eager, and was rewarded when Shikamaru's frowning face came into view. "The idiot," he exclaimed, dragging a guilty looking Kiba in tow, "Decided that he'd 'meet me halfway' and got lost." Kiba let out a small laugh, and was about to offer an explanation when Shikamaru continued, angrily sitting down in his chair. "How does a man get lost on a straight road?"
Shikamaru dug into his pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. He lit one for himself, and when Kiba sat down, his hand outstretched for one as well, ignored him. I was about to sit down in my seat next to Kiba when Shikamaru's voice interrupted, "You've had company."
I looked up and saw that his hand was hovering over the ash tray that Kakashi had used. I didn't smoke, so it was an easy inference to make. "Yeah. Kakashi."
Kiba sat up, a concerned look in his eye. "What did he want?"
I took in a deep breath, wondering how I could avoid answering with the full truth, but relented. "Actually, he just wanted to get into my bed."
Kiba stared at me, and finally, "You're kidding, right?"
I shook my head, and leaned back into my sofa. "Nope."
"And you let him?" Shikamaru said, a smirk on his face.
I shrugged. "Yep."
Kiba sputtered, but Shikamaru interrupted him. "This man, Kakashi, do you know who he is. Or was?"
I shook my head, wondering if this had anything to do with Shikamaru's urgent need for a computer yesterday in the hospital.
"He's a detective. Was." My jaw dropped slightly, but Shikamaru continued, tapping his cigarette against the edge of the ash tray. "His most famous case was the one concerning the murder of one Uchiha Fugaku. Uchiha Sasuke's father."
"Murder?" I blinked dumbly at Shikamaru, and obliging, he continued.
"The case extended into the disappearance of Uchiha Itachi, Fugaku's eldest son and Uchiha's only brother."
Kakashi had said he was looking for a job when Sasuke's father died. He mentioned Sasuke's father and brother, but not in the terms of a murder case. My mind did a double-take. He had said that the brother abandoned 'the scene,' the crime scene. "What did the case end as?"
"Itachi killed Fugaku," Shikamaru explained, "And nobody believed it until Detective Hatake spent two months digging up enough evidence. And," Shikamaru paused as he took a long drag from his cigarette, "He dealt with the death of Gato in Zabuza's night club. He was the one, Naruto, who came and arrested your foster father."
It was as if my mind hit a brick wall without warning. The Uchiha had said that Kakashi was from Nagoya and I had assumed we never met. Which is why Kakashi must have even hired me in the first place--"How did you come across this information?"
"I looked at the records of the MPD, and found what I was looking for."
"Why did you know to go there?" I asked, still slightly numb from the wealth of information that Shikamaru had revealed.
"I remembered reading something about it a long, long time ago. Just made the connection recently."
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" I was angry now, but more impressed by his intuition.
"I had to think about it first," he explained. "Naruto, Kakashi wasn't trying to hurt you in any way. He wasn't even trying to move you away from Sasuke. He was just doing his job as Sasuke's guardian." I must have looked confused because Shikamaru took in a deep breath and continued his explanation. "Kakashi was concerned about you, just as he was concerned about Sasuke. He dropped Zabuza's name because you were probably resisting all the efforts he was trying to make. He just wanted to show you that he was a bit more in the loop than you gave credit for. You misunderstood."
"But he slept with him," Kiba interrupted, a pensive look on his face. He gestured vaguely. "I mean, maybe gay people...work differently. But, um." He blushed. "Isn't that. Well, you know."
Shikamaru shook his head. "I don't think Kakashi intended for that to happen," he was choosing his words carefully. "I think they"--he threw a glance at me--"were just interested in each other. Now they've had their share and have parted their ways. Am I right?"
"It was nothing, Kiba. Just a--just a fling." Kiba scowled, and I could sense his disapproval. He didn't believe in flings, he was too romantic for that. I held his gaze for a second before I admitted, "I kind of needed it. Just to clear the air."
That wasn't good enough a reason for Kiba, but I knew it made me less guilty of my crime in his eyes. Shikamaru shrugged apathetically. "What's wrong with a man sleeping with someone having sex for the sake of sex? You used to do it in college."
Kiba turned on him. "I was stupid and childish in college. And I can't believe you trivialize it like that," he said angrily. They were too tired to have a true argument, but they made the effort of going through the motions. I smiled at their bickering. There was a steady pulse in our friendship, one that never wavered no matter how tired we all were.
"I'll make dinner," I offered and stood up to go into the kitchen. I could hear their muted conversation while I cooked, and I gave up keeping up with their dialogue once the TV was turned on as a backdrop to their argument.
So he had been a detective, had been looking for a job when a Uchiha Fugaku died, murdered by his own son. I wondered if Sasuke had been in the vicinity when it happened, or even worse, there at the scene when Itachi had murdered the father. Was his socially inept behavior a result of his childhood? I could almost hear in my mind Professor Ibiki's heavy footstep as he walked the length of his lecture room, referring to a case of one kind or another. Consider a person in their most routine surroundings. Now consider this: trauma, emotional, physical, what have you, and 'routine' suddenly becomes only a vague memory.
Sasuke had his mother still--and a memory came to my mind, where Sasuke bent down to hug his mother--but he had grown up with a brother who murdered his father. What was it that trigerred this Itachi to kill Fugaku? Patricide was a crime that was almost equivalent to matricide. I knew from Ibiki's lectures that children who were growing up in a good environment must need an extreme reason to murder one of the parents. Sasuke had been attached to his mother, and from what I saw of Wazuka, she seemed like a good mother. What then was Itachi's reason to kill?
I sighed and turned up the heat of the water for the udon noodles. If only I still had contact with the Uchiha, then I might have known some more details. Or maybe even Kakashi. I paused cutting carrots and looked up, remembering something. I had forgotten to tell Kiba and Shikamaru about--"Hey, you guys."
Kiba responded first, his voice lazy. So their argument had been dropped. "Yeah?"
"Iruka is coming over tomorrow evening."
I saw Shikamaru sit up and look at me. "He is?"
I nodded, and saw Kiba straighten as well. "Why is he in Tokyo. Isn't it time for midterms for the summer session?"
"Yep. But he has to take care of something. Remember Mizuki? The professor? Well, Iruka has to take care of something for him."
"Mizuki died, didn't he?" Kiba asked. Shikamaru hm-ed, and then added, "Well, it makes sense he's visiting. Naruto's his favorite. Practically a son."
"Am not," I mumbled, half-heartedly, but they had already returned their attention to the TV, silent until it was time to eat. Dinner passed quietly, all of us too tired to carry on a decent conversation. "I mailed in the job application," I said after I had finished eating.
Kiba sat back in his chair at the table. "Really? Good. They're quick about getting back to people and stuff. At least with me, they were." He yawned and stretched his hands over his head. "I'm going to bed," he said. "I worked on a Saturday. In and of itself, that's tiring."
Shikamaru mumbled in agreement, and together, they stood up. I walked them to the door and watched them part ways as they retreated to their own apartments.
By the time I had made my way to my bed, my eyes were closing on themselves. I took off my shirt, and crawled in between my sheets. When I burried my face into my pillow, I expected to smell Kakashi--cigarette smoke, mostly, but also cologne.
What struck me as odd, for a few split seconds before I fell asleep, was that I smelt the forest.
End of The Tenth
Footnotes
*Hibiya Clinic: It exists.
*Okonomiyaki: A pizza-pancake thing with a lot of different things that can be added on. Awesome college food.
*MPD: Metropolitan Police Department. Not a word about how I stick Kakashi into the MPD at every other chance I have. Not. A. Word.