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Iruka doesn’t know what exactly happened during the war because he was confronted with too many and too few information at once.
When he went to check up on Naruto and Sasuke in the clinic, he heard all the unfiltered details about the Tailed Monsters Naruto became friends with, chakra transfers, all the summoned dead people that included his father who had the second half of the Nine-Tailed inside him, techniques Iruka only ever read about in old scrolls in the Academy library, the final fight against a god, and the new arm the Fifth Hokage had promised him.
Iruka wasn’t sure what to do with any of that because his part in the whole war had consisted of failing to stop Naruto, watching students and genin who were left in the village, and eventually succumbing to the genjutsu that had made him fall out of what looked like a giant vine. It was all too massive to fathom. Naruto secretly being the Fourth Hokage’s son explained a lot but made Iruka realize that he had never actually stood on the same playing field. At the same time, he wondered why the Fourth Hokage’s son would have been left to fend for himself for so many years.
Kakashi, meanwhile, didn’t share much of anything.
The moment the last child had been picked up from the emergency center in the Academy, Iruka had rushed to the clinic, only to be informed that Kakashi had refused a checkup and left on his own. “I wasn’t sure how to stop him,” a nurse had said apologetically and Iruka had only smiled and thanked her because he could picture that scene a little too well. There used to be a time when he, too, believed that Kakashi always knew what he was doing.
Once he was home, he then found him passed out in the living room, covered in cuts, bruises, and what looked like one crudely patched-up stab wound.
It took some maneuvering to get him clean without accidentally drowning or smothering him, and when Kakashi eventually did fully regain consciousness as Iruka was dragging him from the bathroom to the bedroom, Iruka almost dropped him because the two dark eyes looking at him startled him.
“What happened to your sharingan?” he asked when he tried to cover him with the blanket while Kakashi was hugging his arm to his chest.
Kakashi just huffed a laugh. “Sharingan Kakashi officially retired.”
During the two days that Kakashi mostly spent asleep, Iruka heard other things. About the first four Hokages returning and the Ten-Tail almost destroying reality. About Sasuke’s change of heart and Gai’s shattered legs. About the people who were lost and Uchiha Obito, the name Iruka had seen on a gravestone when he and Kakashi had visited the graveyard one day.
He figured Kakashi would talk about some of those things eventually but once he was back on his feet, nothing changed. When he recovered enough to return to work, he acted as if nothing had happened. As if his twitching right eye and Naruto’s missing arm were nothing but minor inconveniences.
It’s not so much that Iruka generally minds. This isn’t the first time that Kakashi hasn’t explained himself. He and Iruka don’t have the same ranks, so there is a lot Iruka isn’t supposed to know based on his position. Unlike Naruto who probably told him more than he is allowed to know, Kakashi is a lot more skilled in actual stealth operations. If he decides that Iruka is better off not being involved, Iruka can only accept that.
But even though he tries to ignore it, there’s a gap.
There is a lot he knows about Kakashi, simply because they live together. But when he thinks about it, many of those things are small observations. He knows which tea Kakashi drinks, which side dishes he prefers for breakfast, which side of the bed he sleeps on, how he folds shirts, which part of his gear his keeps in which pocket, which ingredients he adds to his sukiyaki, and how long he takes in the bathroom in the morning. All those things are the essence of who he is, or that is at least what Iruka likes to think. But when it comes to biographical facts, he acquired almost all of them from other people and Kakashi’s public file, not from Kakashi himself.
Iruka knows that Kakashi’s first mentor was the Fourth Hokage. But if the Fourth Hokage is Naruto’s father, wouldn’t that mean that there is a connection Iruka never saw? That Naruto being assigned to Team 7 maybe wasn't a coincidence? That Kakashi always knew the answers when Iruka wondered why there didn’t seem to be a single living relative of Naruto’s in the village?
Secrets are part of Konoha. That’s what’s drilled into them since young. And yet, he can’t pretend that it doesn’t make him uncomfortable to find himself so closely surrounded by them.
“Sensei, are you eating that?”
He looks up but can’t immediately follow. He must have spaced out. “What?”
“The extra chashu. Are you going to eat that?” Naruto asks, eyeing the plate between them. Iruka ordered an extra portion because he was tired and figured that meat would cheer him up, only to then struggle with the large bowl of ramen itself.
“No,” he says with some delay and pushes the plate toward Naruto. “You can have it.”
Naruto doesn’t skip a beat and immediately reaches over to devour the first slice. On his other side, meanwhile, Sasuke scoffs at the display. Naruto was never a particularly polite eater but since he’s now forced to hold his chopsticks with his left hand, he’s making more of a mess than usual. Sasuke doesn’t seem to have the same issue. Iruka usually remembers the left-handed students because it takes some adjustments during target practice but Sasuke arguably wasn’t ever a student he needed to help adjust a lot. Naruto told him every detail of how they both lost an arm and based on that, Iruka would assume Sasuke to be left-handed but he could be ambidextrous. Or the sharingan could make up for skills he lost with his hand. Or it could be something else entirely because, like Kakashi, Sasuke isn’t the type to excessively explain himself. Everyone around him is losing body parts and Iruka is filling in the blanks like a–
“Iruka-sensei?” Naruto asks and Iruka snaps out of his spiraling thoughts again.
Both boys seem to be done eating and look at him expectantly, so he puts down his chopsticks. He barely had a bite but staring at his half-full bowl probably won’t change that.
“Do you want anything else? It’s my treat,” he says, attempting to take out his wallet to check how much he can afford. It’s supposed to be in the bottom left pocket of his vest but when that instead contains an empty summoning scroll, he has to fumble through the others.
Naruto eyes him suspiciously and pulls a frog-shaped purse from his jacket before Iruka can protest. “I can pay. You don’t need to pretend like you forgot your wallet.”
“I just misplaced it and anyway, you’re a–” He pauses.
Naruto is a what? A genin? A student? A hero Iruka couldn’t stop when he decided to risk his life?
Their roles used to be clearly defined but that is probably part of his fate. One by one, his former students ultimately surpass him and there’s nothing he can do to protect them.
It comes out as meek when he finishes the sentence with, “A kid.”
Naruto huffs in offense. “I’m already seventeen, Sensei. I'm practically an adult.”
“At seventeen you’re still a minor,” Iruka says, still searching his pockets. He is starting to think that he didn’t just misplace his wallet but that he lost it for good. He can only hope that it’s at home. He opens the last pouch and then suddenly notices a disconnect. “Wait, seventeen? Weren’t you still–”
It hits him then. During the whole mess after the war, he missed his parents’ death anniversary and brought offerings three days too late. He wasn’t the only one either. Several people were there mourning the loved ones who had lost their lives during the Nine-Tail’s attack. Even with the preparation of fresh graves, the old ones didn’t stop being open wounds. For years, that was all that day meant, but that wasn’t the only thing that had happened seventeen years ago.
“It was your birthday,” he says.
Naruto grins in response.
Iruka never wanted to think about that. The deaths of his parents weren’t Naruto’s fault but there were still days when it was hard to look at him and not think about the monster inside him. That feeling hasn’t changed but with everything that happened, Iruka has gained a bit of a distance. Him losing his parents shouldn’t overshadow a boy’s birthday.
“We should celebrate,” he says and realizes too late that, without his wallet, he can’t exactly be generous.
Naruto narrows his eyes. “Celebrate how?”
How indeed? For Kakashi, Iruka usually just brings cake for lunch. When he was a boy, his mother always made him whatever food he requested and when he told Kakashi about that, he–
“Shabu-shabu,” he says. “If you’re free tomorrow, you can come over and we’ll eat shabu-shabu.”
Naruto still looks suspicious but the facade is slowly crumbling. “Although it’s not a Saturday?” He apparently knows their weekly schedule a little too well.
Iruka shrugs, “Why not? It’s your birthday.”
Naruto now genuinely looks excited. “What about cake? Can we have cake? We can also–” He suddenly closes his mouth and throws a look at Sasuke who stares at the menu written on one of the walls as though he’s a stranger who just happens to sit next to them.
“Sasuke, you can come, too,” Iruka says because he figures that he’s temporarily dealing with them as a set.
There were no clan members in need of a home, so the Uchiha complex wasn’t rebuilt after Pain’s attack, making it impossible for Sasuke to just return to the way things were. Since he needed to stay somewhere until the Fifth Hokage officially decides what to do with him, Naruto vouched for him and took him in to avoid him being locked up somewhere. From what Iruka remembers, the two never got along but it’s probably impossible to hate Naruto in the long run.
As expected, Sasuke doesn’t look too stoked at the invitation but shrugs. That’s probably the best possible reaction any of them can hope for.
“Tomorrow?” Kakashi asks, looking up from the book he is reading. He keeps squinting his right eye because he still isn't used to keeping it open.
“You can’t tomorrow?” Iruka asks as he stuffs the wallet he found on the kitchen counter into his flak vest.
Kakashi hesitates to reply, so there probably is something he isn’t sure he should discuss. Eventually, he says, “I might be late.”
He doesn’t elaborate, so there is a chance that it’s confidential.
“We can probably postpone,” Iruka says, sitting down across from him at the living room table. “Naruto won’t be assigned any missions before he gets his prosthetic arm, so I doubt he’s busy.”
Kakashi frowns at that and seems to seriously ponder about it for a moment but then puts on his game smile. He’s still wearing the mask, so there’s something uncanny to it. “Well. Postponing would be rude, wouldn't it? I’ll try to hurry but if I’m late, you can start without me.”
Iruka doesn’t like the idea. It’s rational, sure, but he hates how it sounds like an empty promise. It sounds like all those times when Kakashi leaves the village and can’t promise that he will be back because he never puts his own life first. It sounds like he won’t be in time, like it will be another evening Iruka spends in paranoia.
But he can’t put any of that into words because it wouldn’t be fair, so he just says, “All right.”
He knows how to make shabu-shabu but when he stands in the kitchen after rushing home because he had to mediate between two kids who had picked a fight during class, he suddenly finds himself at a loss.
He puts the bag with groceries he bought on the way on the kitchen counter and then isn’t sure what to do first. He knows all the steps but thinking about it, he never was more than an assistant. When he was a kid, his mother always gave him simple tasks like adding the konbu to the water or setting the table, and Kakashi usually just makes him chop cabbage. On his own, he never felt like making anything stew-like because instant noodles were just as filling and took less of an effort.
He isn’t doing this for himself. That’s what he has to remind himself of. Even if Kakashi is late, this isn’t like one of those evenings when he ends up skipping dinner because he doesn’t like to eat on his own.
So he pulls out the ingredients from the bag, and then hunts down the pot and the konbu for the broth.
The first one to stand in front of the door, exactly one minute after the agreed time, isn’t quite the person he expected.
“Am I too early?” Sakura asks and peers past Iruka inside the empty apartment. “Naruto told me to be here at six.”
“You’re right on time,” Iruka says while mentally trying to calculate the impact of one added person to the amount of food. Sudden visitors aren’t a new occurrence. It happened often enough that Gai decided to come by, and back when they were neighbors, Sakura invited herself over all the time. But it could become a problem if Naruto decided to invite even more friends.
Sakura, not knowing about his inner turmoil, just walks inside the way she always did. “Do you need help with anything, Sensei?” she asks as she strolls toward the living room without waiting for a response. At the door, she stops, completely still for a few seconds, and then swivels around to him with an angry expression. “Don’t tell me– Did that idiot invite me over without asking you first?”
He has no idea what kind of magical intuition would have allowed her to come to that conclusion but then realizes that he set the table for four people.
As her former teacher, he figures that he generally shouldn’t be dishonest but there’s nothing worse than feeling unwelcome, so he says, “Kakashi-san wasn’t sure whether he would make it.”
Technically, it's not even a lie.
He expects her to make a fuss and complain about Kakashi always being late but instead, her eyes just widen a little before she awkwardly smiles. “Oh, right. I see.”
The boys are late but not late enough to warrant waiting even longer, so the four of them sit around the table, watching the broth come to a boil.
Naruto talks nonstop. About the war, his father, his neighbor's dog, an egg with two yolks he ate for breakfast, and Sasuke's sleeping habits. Iruka, again overwhelmed by the influx of new information, goes from being horrified to being amused and bewildered. It's basically like any other conversation with Naruto. Sakura, meanwhile, alternates between scolding Naruto for spilling soup on the table whenever he fishes something from the pot, and asking Sasuke whether he needs any help.
It’s a strangely familiar dynamic, one from back when he used to teach them. Years passed by since they would have last sat around the same table like this, and yet their relationship didn't change. Naruto often talked about how the original Team 7 was special, and Iruka is beginning to understand that those really weren't empty words.
They're at the last slices of beef when Kakashi eventually shows up. He throws a look into the living room, leaves again, and then returns with a bowl and chopsticks right when Iruka wonders whether he should check up on him.
“Is there any meat?” he asks, squeezing in between Naruto and Iruka and peering at the pot.
Naruto, after gulping down the last slice, starts chuckling. “Kakashi-sensei, you shouldn’t be so focused on meat. It’s important to eat vegetables. There’s still plenty of cabbage left.”
Kakashi narrows his eyes a little but sounds perfectly casual when he puts down his chopsticks and says, “Speaking of vegetables, I got you a present.”
“Oh, we’re doing this now?” Sakura asks and turns around to get the bag she put behind herself.
Naruto immediately sits up straight, only to look confused when Kakashi pulls out a vegetable peeler. Iruka, too, is taken aback because it’s not just any vegetable peeler but the one from the kitchen that miraculously survived the attack that destroyed the last building they lived in.
Naruto hesitantly takes the peeler and turns it in his hand. “Thanks but– What do you want me to do with this?”
Kakashi, already in the middle fishing a mushroom from the pot, shrugs. “Well. There’s a lot you can do with it. Peel carrots, peel potatoes, peel apples. The possibilities are endless.”
Naruto doesn’t look impressed but eyes him closely when Kakashi puts his mushroom in his bowl. For a few seconds, neither of them moves. When Kakashi raises his brows in question, Naruto asks, “You’re not going to eat that?”
“Oh, I am,” Kakashi says, still not moving. “But shouldn’t you first worry about poor Sakura who is waiting for her turn to give you her present?”
Naruto turns around to her, causing her to flinch and allowing Kakashi to quickly eat the mushroom. By the time Naruto looks at him again, it’s already too late. He gasps dramatically and then turns to Iruka. “Iruka-sensei, is he doing that to you, too? Do you even know what his face looks like?”
Before Iruka can respond, Sakura already slaps Naruto’s arm. “Are you an idiot? Do you think Iruka-sensei would live with someone without seeing their face?”
It’s hard not to point out that she, too, asked that before but for the moment, that seems to be enough of a response for Naruto. While he rubs his chin in thought, Sakura rummages through her bag, bringing them back on track.
But then Sasuke asks, “How come you’re living together anyway?” He throws Iruka a cursory glance but seems to mainly address Kakashi.
If it was Naruto asking, Sakura would probably shut him up but she always had a weak spot for Sasuke and just awkwardly looks from him to Iruka. It’s a question she also asked before when she brought a group of old classmates over to demand answers but so much time has passed since then that Iruka almost forgot that there could still be people wondering about it. He blocked out all memories of living alone.
“Why shouldn’t we live together?” Kakashi asks, his tone a little sharper than before.
“That’s not an answer,” Sasuke says. “What do you want with Iruka-sensei of all people?”
Unlike the time when Sakura questioned him, it doesn’t sound like worry about Iruka but like a jab at him.
Kakashi sighs but before he can reply, Naruto intervenes. “Kakashi-sensei, I bet he just wondered why the Reverse Harem Jutsu wasn’t working on you.” He turns to Sasuke. “Right? But we don’t know if it worked or not. Maybe he had a nosebleed and we just couldn’t see it. Also, have you read those books Kakashi-sensei likes? If he can keep a straight face reading them, he wouldn’t be impressed by that jutsu.”
Kakashi grimaces while Sasuke looks vaguely disgusted, and Iruka, immediately picturing that jutsu a little too well from the first time it was demonstrated to him, asks, “Reverse Harem Jutsu? The one Konohamaru came up with? Why were you using that on Kakashi-san?”
“Oh, well, I mean, I wasn’t actually using it on him but on the monster woman,” Naruto quickly says. “Sakura-chan was also around then and she definitely had a bigger reaction. Also, it’s technically my jutsu. Konohamaru just reversed it. I didn’t think about that because I didn’t know that girls can be perv–”
Before he can continue, Sakura slams her hand on the table, causing some of the soup to spill out of the pot. When everyone flinches and stares at her, she smiles tensely and shoves a box at Naruto.
“Why don’t you have a look at your present?” she asks through clenched teeth.
The evening goes by smoothly after that. Naruto makes it a point to go through every single item in the new first aid kit Sakura gave him and then eats half the cake Iruka prepared. Sakura pretends to get annoyed but eventually laughs with him, and even Sasuke almost seems to enjoy himself. Iruka isn’t sure whether it’s enough for a birthday celebration but it reminds him of his childhood with his parents. It’s probably better than nothing.
It also strikes him how effortlessly Kakashi fits into the group without actually interacting that much with the kids. Back when they graduated and when Iruka handed them over to a jonin he knew had failed every single genin team entrusted to him, he was more than worried. But somehow, that chaotic team had become as notorious as the Legendary Sannin.
It’s strange how these things sometimes develop.
When the kids finally leave, it’s already past midnight. While Iruka clears the table, Kakashi starts doing the dishes as if it’s any other evening. He seems comparably lively but when Iruka comes back from the bathroom, he finds him lying under the living room table. This is something that often happens when Kakashi is running out of chakra or when he’s just exhausted from a long day. Normally, Iruka would pull him out from under the table and get him to clean up but he has the next day off, so he figures he can be unreasonable for once. So instead, he wiggles his way under the table next to Kakashi and folds his hands on his chest, staring at the ceiling where a moth is circling the lamp.
They lie like that in silence for a moment until Iruka says, “Before he showed it to Naruto, Konohamaru tested that jutsu on me.”
Kakashi turns his head a little. “The Reverse Harem one?”
“Yeah,” Iruka says. “Right after he came up with it. He told me he had found a way to incapacitate any opponent and when I made the mistake to ask how, I found myself surrounded by three men.”
Kakashi now turns his whole body toward him a little. “And then you dealt with it by telling him that, while Naruto and Jiraiya-sama would be proud of him, you wouldn't tolerate it in your classroom?”
“I had a nosebleed,” Iruka says.
Kakashi gasps dramatically. “How come you didn’t have a nosebleed when you stayed over for the first time? Am I less sexy than the sexy jutsu of a kid?”
Iruka shrugs. “I was still dumbstruck because of your face.”
“Because I’m incredibly handsome?” Kakashi asks.
“Well,” Iruka says and then doesn’t know how to put it into words. Objectively, Kakashi is handsome enough that most people would agree that it’s a waste that he is hiding his face. He is almost a little too handsome for his reputation. But that first night, when he made sukiyaki for him, Iruka was mainly overwhelmed by how much trust it would take for someone that cautious to let his guard down for him. It was like holding onto something frail that could fall apart any second.
“I was expecting sharp teeth,” he says as he reaches out to lightly tug at the mask. Kakashi is Kakashi, whether he’s wearing the mask or has two eyes open but it’s still comforting to see his whole face. It’s his reassurance that, no matter how anxious he gets, Kakashi is still here.
Kakashi holds his gaze for a few seconds but then looks down when the mask is down to his chin. When Iruka touches his face, Kakashi puts his hand on his, keeping it in place. He furrows his brows, seemingly lost in some kind of thought.
“I used to be like that, too,” he eventually says.
“A pervert?” Irukas asks, expecting a continuation of the same old joke.
Kakashi grimaces. “I used to be like Sasuke. I could tell that I was alienating the people around me but it was always easier to pretend that nothing could get to me.”
So Iruka didn’t just imagine it. Sasuke was being confrontational.
The truth is that Iruka often wonders what he could have done to keep him on the right path. Sasuke wasn’t the kind of student he intuitively knew how to deal with. He could give him extra tasks and extra explanations while the other kids were busy learning the basics but he couldn’t always relate to a kid like that. He, too, had lost his family at a young age but other than Sasuke, no one had expected anything of him. While Iruka was scared of being forgotten, Sasuke would have had the history of a major clan weighing him down.
If Kakashi was like that as a child, Iruka probably wouldn't have been able to help him either.
“But that means that there’s still hope for him,” he says. “You turned out fine.”
Rather than immediately reply, Kakashi puts Iruka's hand to his chest with an expression that's hard to read. Even through the rough fabric of his shirt, Iruka can feel the soft heartbeat.
“Almost everyone who ever meant something to me died,” Kakashi says. His voice is distant but he clutches Iruka’s hand a little more tightly. It’s always the small tells that give him away.
Iruka has to think of the graveyard. They both visit it regularly, rarely together but sometimes at the same time. Everyone in the village buried a family or a friend at some point, but while Iruka spends most of his time making offerings to his parents, he always sees Kakashi darting around. It's not just an age matter. Being a shinobi at that level means that he's not the only one in danger whenever he's deployed.
“I always tried to avoid those connections because it would be easier without them,” Kakashi says. “You can do what you want if you don't have to consider anyone else. That's probably what Sasuke also grew up believing. It takes time to shake that kind of mind frame but the truth is that it's impossible to work in a team without forging any kind of connection. That idea comes naturally to a kid like Naruto but not to someone like Sasuke or to someone like me. Obito also said that–” He pauses, throwing Iruka a glance.
“Uchiha Obito?” Iruka asks, mainly to show that he doesn't need the full explanation because he already got the gist of who Uchiha Obito was. But then he wonders if that's something he wasn't supposed to know in the first place. It's not a story he's a part of.
Kakashi draws out a sigh and seems to collect his thoughts for a moment. “Obito was–” he says and pauses again. “Obito was one of many regrets. He was someone I failed. But at the same time, I'm also glad that I got to know him because he understood things I didn't. Maybe that's what kept him alive over the years. Maybe that's what ultimately broke him but– In the end, he had something I always thought I lacked. He said that, too. That if there's one person who understands what it's like to be alone, it's me.”
“But you're not,” Iruka says, trying to roll over in the narrow space. “You’re not alone. Dozens of people rely on you. You have Team 7. You have Gai-san. You have–” He hesitates, suddenly worrying that it's not good enough. “Me.”
For a moment, Kakashi just looks at him, completely still, his hand still clutching Iruka's.
“That’s what I realized, too,” he finally says. “I'm not the kid I used to be, the one Obito knew. I never worried about dying but suddenly, it scares me. Not because I'm afraid of losing my own life but because it happened before and because I wasn't sure if I could move on to the afterlife, not knowing if you were okay. In a way, that's probably a weakness but I can't see it as that. It's nice to have someone waiting for me.”
Iruka feels a lump in his throat. “You don't have to worry about me.”
Kakashi smiles at that but then sighs dramatically. “Well. I’m afraid it's too late for that, Sensei. I worry about you all the time. I'm worried that you skip dinner when I'm home late, and that the strange jutsu invented by Naruto gives you too high expectations, and that you spend too much time with that instructor who keeps trying to get you drunk.”
“Yukiho-sensei,” Iruka says. “She doesn't only do that to me but to everyone. She doesn't like to drink alone.”
It's not the point of this discussion but his brain can't really respond to what he's hearing. It's too much to fathom, that idea that he can exist in someone else's mind even when they're apart.
Kakashi chooses to ignore the remark. “And just the other day, I was worried that you'd be looking for me after you woke up from the genjutsu, so I had to fight off two medical-nin who didn't want to let me go.”
“You mean that day I found you unconscious in the living room?” Iruka asks and lightly slaps Kakashi’s chest. “I would have preferred to find you in the clinic. That's where I went first.”
Kakashi frowns at that. “Well,” he says. He looks at the ceiling for a moment and then adds, “Anyway. Additionally, I'm worried that you won't make me octopus sausages for lunch once I'm Hokage.”
“Hokage? You?” Iruka asks with a laugh because it sounds like something Naruto would say. When Kakashi doesn’t chime in, it hits Iruka entirely too late. He pulls himself out from under the table to sit up. “They made you Hokage? Is that why you were late?”
Kakashi, not moving positions, looks up at him. “Well, technically, nothing has changed yet. They’re planning a ceremony in about a month. Today I just got the verdict.”
He says it as if it’s nothing. As if becoming the next Hokage is something anyone can do.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Iruka asks.
Kakashi shrugs. “I figured they might change their mind and pick someone else.”
“Who else would they pick?”
Kakashi furrows his brows as if that is a difficult question to consider. “I’m sure there are some suitable candidates.”
“Who aren’t seventeen?” Iruka asks.
Kakashi sighs. “Well. I suppose that is the issue.”
He puts on a tentative smile that doesn't hide his concerned look. It’s not as if Iruka doesn’t understand the situation. This isn’t the first time the topic has come up. The evening when Kakashi came back from the Five Kage Summit, they had sukiyaki and he casually mentioned that they were going to make him Hokage before it was clear whether the Fifth Hokage would recover. He made it sound like a funny story but Iruka felt the blood freeze in his veins.
Logically, he can understand it. He knew Kakashi as a shinobi first, so he knows he's competent. He knows he’s a good leader. He knows his reputation would help the village. He knows all those things and rationally, he couldn’t think of anyone better.
But so far, the fate of each Hokage was to die protecting the village. It’s the most powerful position but also cursed. Whenever Naruto talked about becoming Hokage, he believed in him and his vision but when he tried to picture Kakashi in that role, all he could see was the moment when he pulled him out of the rubble of the destroyed village. When something twisted in his chest. When the illusion he previously clung to fell apart. He still sees that moment in his dreams. He still can’t shake it.
Kakashi not telling him would mean that he’s terrible at hiding those fears.
If it was up to Iruka, he wouldn’t want him to be Hokage. He wouldn’t want him to go on missions either. He would want him to stay around him all day. But that’s not just an unfair thought, it’s also foolish. Kakashi wouldn’t be Kakashi if he wasn’t a shinobi, too.
So he says, “When you’re Hokage, it’s actually more convenient to make you lunch because I know where to find you if you forget your lunchbox or if you have to leave earlier than me.”
It's now Kakashi’s turn to look dumbstruck. “What about octopus sausages?”
“Maybe not every day but I don't see why the Hokage shouldn't have any.”
Iruka doesn't know if that is confirmation enough. Kakashi seems to take his words in for a moment and then reaches out to touch his face hovering about him.
“You shouldn't be so stingy. I'm sure we can afford it once I'm Hokage. They said it comes with a raise, so I think we should live accordingly and have daily octopus sausages.”
Iruka means to point out that the issue isn't the price of the sausages but that they would likely get sick of them very soon, and then just laughs instead. He laughs and laughs until Kakashi sits up in alarm to wipe the first tear from his face.
The truth is that there were moments when Iruka wasn't sure how to go on. He didn't have to care about anyone since his parents passed away and it terrified him to live in uncertainty. Whenever Kakashi leaves, there is a chance that he won't come back and that Iruka won't even know why because no one tells him anything.
But maybe this is enough. Maybe it's enough to have an outlook. Maybe it's enough that Kakashi at least tries not to throw his life away. Maybe it's enough to think about lunch.
“Well, I mean, I can also eat something else. I'm not that picky,” Kakashi says as he pulls him close.
Iruka, his face pressed against his chest, chokes out something between a laugh and a sob. “That’s fine. A Hokage should have as many octopus sausages as he wants.”