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18. Cousins
oOo
“Kakashi, what the hell are you doing?!”
The senbon veered off course, sparing the life of an extremely lucky fly and sending a framed picture of Iruka’s parents crashing to the floor.
Kakashi froze.
The frame lay face down, surrounded by fragmented glass.
Iruka sighed, the sound sparking an unpleasant twinge of guilt at the pit of Kakashi’s stomach. He turned to face the teacher, frowning.
“Iruka, I-”
“You didn’t mean to, I know. But a little common sense, Mr. Genius?”
Kakashi held a cautious smile, feeling tense muscles relax slightly with relief.
“I love it when you read my mind, but for what’s left of my sanity, I’m going to have to apologize.”
Iruka smiled. Kakashi felt warm.
“If you must.”
“Sorry, pretty baby.”
“Apology accepted. Do me a favor and get the broom, okay?”
With a dutiful nod, Kakashi made the short journey to the kitchen. The broom leaned forlornly against the side of the refrigerator, dustpan clamped around its wooden handle. When he returned to the living room, cleaning utensils in hand, Iruka was on his knees, staring at something in his lap. Kakashi paused, frowning. He crouched down, placed the broom and dustpan on the floor, and slowly crawled to the sensei’s side.
“Iruka?”
The sensei turned away slightly, blocking the object from Kakashi’s sight. Was it the photograph? Kakashi scanned the floor quickly- no, the picture of Iruka’s parents was right there, in front of Iruka’s knees. He gently placed a hand on Iruka’s shoulder. No response.
“Iruka, talk to me.” he demanded, painfully aware of the pleading tone in his voice.
Iruka rubbed at his scar, turning to face Kakashi uneasily.
“You know what it’s like to be ashamed of family?”
It wasn’t a question.
Kakashi blinked, recalling the dark times after Sakumo committed suicide, when he found himself wrapped in shame and anger and guilt. With the cognitive speed befitting a genius, all of it rose to the surface of Kakashi’s memory- the looks from the villagers, the unending repetition of words like disgrace in his head. The emptiness of his father’s bedroom.
He nodded.
Iruka smiled briefly, but it was a bitter thing. Kakashi wanted to smooth it away, like a tear.
Iruka placed a photograph into Kakashi’s hands. It showed three figures standing in front of a beach: a man holding two boys around the waist, one in each arm. He was grinning widely. For a moment Kakashi thought the man was Iruka’s father, but quickly realized he couldn’t be. This was a different man. His skin was darker, his hair was shorter, his build was lither, and his eyes… there was something wild about his eyes.
His focus shifted to the boys. They shared a lightly tanned complexion, and they both sported the same coffee brown hair. The beginnings of matching ponytails sprouted from their heads. The boy on the left was pouting fiercely, bottom lip stuck out comically.
The boy on the right was laughing, mouth open wide to reveal a mouth full of baby teeth, two of them missing. He shared the man’s eyes- there was something untamed hidden there, something unpredictable, like the sea behind them.
“That’s Yama Arashi,” said Iruka, “My mother’s brother. That’s me on the left, and that’s Arashi’s son on the right.”
Iruka paused, staring at the picture, with an expression Kakashi had seen all too often on himself.
“That’s Yama Kidomaru when he was four.”
Kidomaru? That name seemed familiar… Oh. Kakashi held back a sigh. Kidomaru of the Sound Four, his memory supplied. Six arms, a third eye, long range fighter, successfully put Hyuuga Neji in intensive care, listed just under Kabuto in the Bingo Book. That Kidomaru.
“You know what it’s like,” Iruka whispered. “So please, please tell me, ’Kashi, and don’t lie. Does it ever get easier?”
Kakashi silently brought a hand to Iruka’s cheek and tried to think, tried to plan his actions.
Every thought was replaced by the color of Iruka’s eyes.
Kakashi cursed inwardly, running his thumb over the corner of the sensei’s mouth.
“I can’t lie to you, pretty baby.”
Iruka closed his eyes and leaned against Kakashi, who wasted no time in wrapping his arms around the man, holding him. He felt dampness against his chest. Kakashi cursed himself again and stroked Iruka’s back, praying to any gods listening that the other would find comfort in the gesture.
“I can’t lie to you,” he repeated, “But I can understand. Please don’t cry.”
Iruka laughed, pulled back, and kissed his neck, a genuine smile on his face.
“I couldn’t ask for more, ’Kashi. That’s what family is for, right?”
Kakashi held Iruka closer.
The picture slid from his lap and landed next to the picture of Iruka’s parents, fragments of glass shining like stars all around them.