Chapter Text
When Kakashi opened his eyes the next morning, he needed a moment to orient himself to where he was. Obscured shapes of dark dreams were still fading, which at least meant he had slept long enough to dream at all.
The droning in his head felt all too familiar, but that was about it. It might have been a while since he had a night of drinks and indulgence like this, but the heavy feeling of the morning after was hard to forget.
Usually, this was a feeling reserved for post-mission celebrations, an excellent excuse to put off writing his report for another while. He could not even remember which report he kept putting off writing this time.
There was the vaguely familiar feeling of sticky discomfort of sharing a bed with a stranger, both of them barely dressed and sweaty under that fluffy blanket. There was the feeling of trying to remember the other's name and of making that choice if he should leave before the other was up or not.
Still, he was sure there was something more important he should be thinking about, something that was significant about this ceiling above him, painted in a friendly, light blue and not littered with stains of mold and water damage.
Ah, right, his temporary home here was a shithole, a far cry from the nice wooden ceilings in the Hatake clan house - and he was stuck here, so far away that nobody even had heard about a village called Konoha.
And, he did have a good night, didn't he? Hizashi was the name of the other, Kakashi now remembered.
So, if it had been an enjoyable time, a short respite from his whole situation here, why did he feel even more empty than usual? At what point had playing his role started to give him trouble? (A faint memory of before his waking here, in this strange city, resurfaced, of him having similar worries. What had he been doing? Why could he still not remember? Whenever he tried to, it was like he knocked against a mental block.)
And then he remembered that he had not even wanted to sleep here, that there were still some investigations to do. So, he got up, threw on his clothes and put on his mask again, followed by the eyepatch.
When he got up, he almost stumbled with the swing of his movements. Stretching his spine and moving his limbs, he could feel it, precious restored chakra, more than he had had in all the time spent in this city, was circling through his body. Interesting.
Under the pretense of being a polite hook-up, he picked up and put away any objects they had knocked over the night before and looked for new sheets for the bed, getting a good look at the inside of cupboards in the process. He deposited the fresh sheets on his side of the bed, tiptoeing around the sleeping Hizashi.
Then he ventured into the kitchen and started to throw together a small breakfast, while looking around some more.
His first real impression of the apartment was that it looked painfully civilian, no hidden weapons in the drawers or under the table, no traps in the windows, but that had been somewhat expected. His second impression was that there was more decoration and clothes and books and just stuff than what he was used to seeing.
There was a whole shelf just filled with knick-knacks, and next to it was a table with an intimidating futuristic-looking computing machine, the display much thinner than any he had seen before. He found an ID, for a moment thinking he had found something actually useful, only to see that it was an ID for one of the cats. (Why did the cats have them? Was it actually similar to a summon-contract or just more paperwork?)
There was a slightly underwatered plant that got some watering from him, and there was a surprisingly well-stocked first aid cabinet. Someone in this household was either very cautious or more prone to getting hurt than most civilians were. Instead of weapons, there were pens hidden in various places, three of them between couch pillows, accompanied by a single hair tie. The coffee table next to it was overflowing with stacks of paperwork. A curious glance showed him essays of some kind, one stack littered with red corrections. Ah, right, Hizashi was a teacher, wasn’t he?
What caught his eye for a few minutes was a cluster of photos stuck to the fridge. He recognized Hizashi in multiple of them, seemingly hanging out with a number of different people, most his age (friends?), some certainly younger, wearing stiff uniforms (students?). (A security risk, his shinobi mind chided, leaving so many sentimental connections out in the open like this.)
And among those pictures here and there, a figure who looked suspiciously like the Eraser guy. He tried to examine the pictures closer, but did not find enough clues to figure out the nature of their acquaintance.
His observations were interrupted by the sound of feet shuffling into the bathroom. Kakashi refocused on making breakfast, cracking eggs over two bowls of rice.
He had planned to leave before Hizashi even woke up, leaving him with nothing more than made breakfast, but Hizashi was up a lot earlier than expected, and Kakashi was a little sick of eating rations for breakfast.
And then his chance to vanish was gone anyway, as Hizashi entered the kitchen, not with a sleepy shuffle, but almost a spring to his step. A morning person?
“Smells good,” he said, leaning against the kitchen counter next to him.
Kakashi eyed the egg again, then looked at Hizashi doubtfully. He had not even seasoned it yet. “You are up early.”
“Well, you are as well. So why not join you? It’s good when I have an early start today anyway, I still have so much grading to get done. One of the upper-class teachers has been sick since their trip to…”
He let Hizashi’s chatter about people from his work that he did not know wash over him, while he unearthed some side dishes from the fridge.
With his past hook-ups, back in Konoha, the usual dance was them both celebrating that they did not die on the mission and then not talking about it the next day, just going back to work. It had been a rare occasion when they even saw each other in the morning. The training had drilled into them that being too sentimental could get them killed, and for most, this lesson would stick for a lifetime. They pretend there was never anything wrong with that, but they also were too lonely to not do it.
This was different, though. Hizashi was different. He talked without hesitation and without censoring. He talked earnestly. And he did not stop talking - Kakashi almost saw a shadow of Guy in his enthusiasm.
And Kakashi needed to get out of here. He did not do this, cozying up, laughing together after a shared night, smiling over an egg and shared coffee.
They were interrupted by the distinct clatter and jingle of keys being turned in the front door, and then said door slowly opened.
“Oh shit, that’s probably my-” Hizashi started, but came to a halt once that roommate had shuffled inside the apartment, the door falling close behind him.
Kakashi froze, still holding a steaming mug of coffee that he had yet to set down on the table. The liquid sloshed dangerously in the mug.
The man standing in the doorway paused as well. There was a clear view from the kitchen table into the little hallway towards the front door. Kakashi could not believe who was standing there, mirroring his own surprise and disdain - no other than that bothersome man he kept running into.
“You!” The other snarled. He shrugged off his shoes as if they had offended him and set down the bag he had been carrying with a little too much force, before he prowled towards them, not once lifting his gaze from Kakashi.
“I was just about to leave,” Kakashi said, his tone well-practised nonchalance. He set the mug down next to Hizashi’s bowl. When he looked up again, he tried to estimate his chance of just storming by them out of the door.
“Like hell you were - fuck - why? You?” Eraserhead was closing in on him, Hizashi still blocking the other side around the table. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Ma, I really could ask the same.” He was internally cursing, but made sure to stay collected. He would not raise his voice in anger, even if he had looked forward to eating that breakfast. He was a far better-trained shinobi than that.
“I live here - has he not told you, before inviting you in?”
“Shota-,” Hizashi tried, eyeing them both in concern.
“Wait, you are the roommate?” Kakashi asked. Was his luck really that bad? Also, was Shota his name? Interesting. Definitely an improvement to Eraserguy.
“He is. Do you two know each other?” Hizashi tried again, his tone careful and placating.
Kakashi could still feel the anger radiating from Shota. He was not sure how tight the lid on his own frustration was. “Knowing is a strong term,” Kakashi said. “We saw each other in passing recently.”
“You little -” His eyes flashed red for just a second, and Kakashi felt his chakra stutter.
“Shota!” The volume was back to Hizashi's voice. “He is a guest!”
“A guest, huh? What happened to the no overnight guests rule? To maybe send a little message when you have a stranger over?”
“Oh, as if you are one to talk! You don’t even text me when you can’t make it for dinner! You keep skipping sushi night and are just not here anymore - have you even noticed that I took care of your laundry this past month? Because I am such a nice friend, and I know you forgot! And all I get is radio silence. This can’t be all just work that’s keeping you away!”
Hizashi’s voice had risen enough that one of the sleeping cats woke up and came over to investigate, dancing around Kakashi’s legs.
But Hizashi was not done. “Why do you now care about what goes on in my bedroom anyway, huh? When have you ever been invested before?”
So that was what it was, Kakashi realized. He had been a distraction for Hizashi not from just anyone, but from that frustrating man! He wondered how long the two had been blind to each other's pining already. But maybe with so much loaded emotion and frustrations in the room, this was his chance for an out.
“Oh, trust me, I wish it wasn’t!” Shota growled. “It’s all because of him! Do you even know who you spent the night with? Do you know that the police is looking for him?”
“I.. no, actually I didn’t. Is that true?” He turned around to where Kakashi had been standing just moments earlier, but Kakashi had used their arguing to step a few steps back to the short kitchen aisle and silently unlocked the hatch on their kitchen window.
“I haven’t even done anything,” Kakashi said, plastering a little exaggerated smile on his face. Holding up a kitchen towel in a weak effort to hide his actions.
“He keeps evading questioning, has been caught pickpocketing, and mostly is one of the most active vigilantes in the area.”
“Is that so?” Hizashi looked at him again, mustering him as if seeing him for the first time.
Kakashi bowed with an exaggerated flourish of his hand. “You are very welcome. I knew you would appreciate me tying up those gifts for you.”
They sputtered, Kakashi took his chance and ‘nudged’ a plate with breakfast down the counter so that it was sliding a few steps across the floor, into the vicinity of that cat that had been weaseling around their feet at the table.
The others were momentarily distracted by trying to get the cat away from the food, and Kakashi threw the window open and climbed out, not looking back. He sacrificed some chakra to stick to the outer wall and climb upwards, onto the roof of the apartment building. Only then did he look down, just to see Shota leaning out of the window, staring at him, as if he considered going after him again. Then his eyes flashed red, Kakashi’s chakra stuttered, nearly making him collapse on the spot. He took all his will to fully drag himself onto the roof and be out of view.
That little stutter confirmed what he had suspected when he had felt it the first time: that man and his abilities were dangerous. Staying in his proximity was probably playing with fire.
Kakashi knew he should stay away. And he really did try his best to do so. The night had been for reconnaissance, yes, but it had been admittedly most for indulgence. He had underestimated the dangers of staying in that apartment, severely so.
Trying to stay away meant getting back on his mission, finding a way home. Trying to understand the mechanics of this place in case it would take longer than he dared to think about. So, soon after, he found himself in the library Hizashi had pointed out for him, gathering everything he could about the country and the world he was stranded in.
There were many things that baffled him about this place. The last war in this area was generations in the past. The city and population were sprawling on a scale Kakashi would have thought impossible. Information flowed freely, and the exchange of it between villages seemed to be encouraged.
There was no immediate threat of other villages invading. The citizens here were concerned with a whole box of different problems, like the too-rigid sorting of good and bad guys - a foolish notion.
Kakashi felt slightly stupid for having missed this, but to be fair, he still could not believe a massive archive being openly available to the public just like that. He had not even considered this insanity. Where was the guarding, encrypting, and encoding for all this information they had gathered here? Had they no fear of someone using it against them? Why had they not been invaded yet? He had seen villages fall for less.
The only hurdle for getting inside - if one could even call it that - was getting past the old lady manning the front desk, putting on his most apologetic manners when he told her that he had forgotten his ‘library card’ she had asked for.
And once he was inside, it was time to limit-test the sharingan again. Reading about the structure of this society, flying through information, looking for differences from the one he came from.
He returned the next day, then he started to integrate his sessions at the library into his routine and returned whenever he could. He was extra friendly with the front desk lady, and on his third visit, she gave him a new card while pretending she had not.
The day after, he left a small potted flower on her desk when she was distracted.
Another change to the routine had been an adjustment to his patrol schedule. Somehow, keeping an eye on one specific shared apartment had weaseled its way into his plans. Just to make sure they were alright, even if that man was with Hizashi.
The first time he had done so, he had almost left his position in the shadows, as he heard shouting from the apartment. Once he had moved closer, hidden on the roof, he vaguely could make out arguing - about him, about his overnight stay.
Deciding that if they were arguing, then they were probably fine enough, he just swept down the street to make sure everything was quiet and left again. Just to return the next night, just to make sure everything was alright.
It was the combined pull of Hizashi’s charm and easy friendliness and that other man's infuriating presence that somehow kept pulling Kakashi back in, even if he knew he should fight it. And still, there he was, lurking and watching, intrigued to see them interact with the world around them.
It was during another dinner, takeout eating on roofs over the city, getting ready for the night, that he realised how quickly he was attaching himself to them. He knew he should not, hell, he was trying to leave this place and get back home. He would have to leave them behind again. So what the fuck was he doing here?
At once, the food he had enjoyed moments ago turned into lead in his stomach, he lost the appetite to finish it. Why did he even consider checking in on them? Had he not learned his lesson? Faces of former teammates and friends passed before his eyes, followed by his students.
The paperbag slipped from his fingers, falling into the depths of the city. He had failed them all, without exception. Why did he even consider keeping in contact when he never had a single healthy relationship in his life?
There was no way he would not lose them as well.
Kakashi was soaked in cold sweat when he finally got back to his base. Pointedly ignoring that the sun was already visible again on the horizon, ignoring even more the shaking in his knees.
Oh, how he would have loved to visit the hot springs in Konoha and float in some quiet corner until he was pruning and the shaking had long washed away. Or just take a long, long shower in his own damn shower. But alas, all of that was still unfathomably far away, so he had to make do with the bucket of the shed he set up camp in.
And then he did his best to train until he passed out, chasing a hopefully dreamless sleep. He did what he could to not see all of their faces again in his dreams.
Despite all of that, he lasted a week before he also patrolled around their workplace, once he found out that they both worked at the same academy. And at first, he was berating himself for it, spinning endless arguments if that was stalking or not, if this was justified or not - if he was wasting his time or not. He was stupid for it, there was no argument.
But he was either thinking of them, strangely intrigued if they were still arguing about him, and if he was not, he was seeing ghosts from his home.
So maybe a little scouting was the better option before he did something more drastic. They would never even know he was there. It was not weird if they did not know, right? Why was this suddenly such a concern for him when he had done this hundreds of times before? (Ignoring that he had mostly done it for mission targets before, of course.)
At first, there was something very grounding and normal in both of their daily routines, and Kakashi knew their schedule in record time. Hizashi got up way before Shota, even if they left around the same time to get to the academy. They both left around the same time. But arriving and leaving they never did together. Shota was going out of his way to enter the school grounds from a different side.
Afterwards, they would go different ways most days, both going to their second jobs. Of which Shota’s patrolling provided a lot more to see for Kakashi than Hizashi’s radio host job did. They both had occasional evenings off, and there was no academy on the weekends. Interestingly enough, they barely spent the time off together, despite how much Hizashi had talked about his roommate that one evening.
When their routines became predictable, he was slowly getting more aware of how much he was wasting with this, especially if he never planned to directly see them again. And so he tried to shift his investigations back to more important matters, but it was hard. Because his traitorous mind was drifting back, wondering about them.
But then, when he had almost finally convinced himself to stop completely, to do something more productive, to find a damn way home and end this spiral, he found that he was not the only one watching them. Well, at least he had a hunch of a second presence, almost as well hidden as himself, but not enough to escape old ANBU instincts.
In an instant, he shifted into mission mode. The slouch disappeared. He reached as far with his senses as he could. He was already calculating how much chakra he could spare.
Kakashi vanished into the shadows of the roof where he was hiding, slowly nearing towards the other presence. He fell into these old skills like a second skin. He still had to actually have a visual of the body, but at least he heard the faintest movement of feet around the corner. He carefully inched closer to the end of the wall, right before he had the chance to look around it, there was a woosh, and it was gone.
Interesting. Had they been here for him or them? Was he putting Hizashi and Shota in danger with his stalking, or should he investigate this to keep them safe? To keep himself safe?
His routine shifted again. Now it was easily justified to himself, especially when the presence kept evading him. It was suspicious, probably hostile, but the next time he felt them, he did not get as close to them.
He was still not sure if it was there for him or if it was watching the teachers as well. But he had decided he should make sure he knew.
Now he had a mission.