If You Love Until It Hurts

A/N: Gah, I can't believe this took so long to get out. It was a painful process - not because I was having an author's block but because of the subject matter. I wrote almost the entire chapter right after I posted ch.10, and then stopped right before the final scene. I've been waiting to write this scene since the very beginning, it is the catharsis, the event when everything comes to a head and when the time finally came to write it I felt incredibly apprehensive whether it'd come out the way I imagined it, so I stopped writing for almost a month, then finished it for half an hour when I finally gathered the courage. Whew. Please, heed the warnings.



11



When Kakashi went home that evening all he could think about was Iruka, wrapped in Genma’s embrace, laughing he didn’t have a care in the world. He looked so happy, so content, so safe with the other man. That was what he wanted for him, wasn’t it? For him to happy, to be safe? Why did it hurt so much then, why did it feel like someone ripped his heart out and stomped on it before his very eyes?



‘You are jealous.’ Kakashi thought bitterly. ‘You drove him away, and now you’re jealous. Can you get even more pathetic?’



He closed his eye and leaned back against the closed door, then slid down until he was sitting on the ground, knees drawn up to his chest, despite the pain and stiffness in his still recovering leg.



‘I have no right to be jealous, no right to be angry. You should be happy that he’s safe, away from you.’ He tried to convince himself, but it felt hollow. Now that he had finally lost Iruka he fully realized just how precious the younger man was to him, realized the depth of his feelings for the Chuunin. He had struggled to deny that he felt that way, he had deluded himself and now finally he was forced to face reality. And he realized that there was no way he could go to the Academy tomorrow, perform the role of the professional Jounin, side by side with Iruka as a pair of competent instructors. He had played many roles in his life, and that was the longest-lasting one, and he was tired. He had no strength left to pretend. If he went there tomorrow and met Iruka, he feared he would shatter into a thousand pieces. There was no way he could or would go, the mere thought of meeting the younger man’s eyes and seeing only cold hostility there was heart-breaking. There was no way he could actually do it.



Iruka overslept. The pleasant evening he spent with Genma, chatting and eating in the cosy little restaurant his friend brought him to stretched well into the night despite his better judgement and he went to bed quite late. When he opened his eyes in the morning he saw that the sun was already well in the sky and a panicked glance at his alarm clock – which he had not heard – told him that it was past eight and he had less than half an hour to go to the Academy. The panic deepened as he practically jumped out of the bed and scrambled to the shower foregoing breakfast, then threw his clothes on while still damp and cold. He warmed up, however, as he raced over Konoha’s rooftops, his breath misting in the chilly morning air.



By the time he reached the Academy grounds’ testing area where the demonstration was supposed to be held the crowd of curious onlookers and proud parents had already gathered. The Hokage and the guests were seated on a raised dais overlooking the arena-like testing area. The Chuunin took several deep, calming breaths, then made his way to them, climbing up the wooden stairs and bowing deeply to his boss and the nobles.



“Ah, here’s my most promising and talented instructor – Umino Iruka!” Tsunade exclaimed, spreading her arms welcomingly. The Feudal Lord, a tall middle aged man with long dark beard leaned forward and bowed minutely back at Iruka, following by his entourage.



“We are very pleased to meet you, Umino-san.” The Feudal lord glanced behind him. “I was told that the legendary Copy Nin is also teaching at the Academy while he recuperates… I expected to see him here today. Where is he?”



Kakashi hadn’t come yet? Iruka was on the verge of panicking all over again, but he swallowed the emotion and spread his hands apologetically.



“His injury still troubles him, I’m afraid. I hope that he will be here soon.”



Tsunade’s smile remained firmly in place though her amber eyes had gone significantly colder. She said nothing, obviously unwilling to discuss the matter with Iruka before their guests.



“I, ah, I will go and see to the students, Hokage-sama.” Iruka said and bowed respectfully again, trying remain calm. Where the hell was Kakashi? He knew that everyone expected to see him, if for different reasons. For the guests he was just part of the show, true, but the children had worked so hard to impress him of all people, that he had no right to disappoint them like that. When Iruka reached the area behind the arena he saw his small group of students, their anxious little faces turning to him.



“Iruka-sensei!” one of the girls exclaimed and reached forward to hug him. It was inappropriate for a nin to show this much emotion in public, even for a child, but Iruka himself was too distressed at the moment to care about social conventions, so he hugged the girl back.



“We’re so glad you’re here, Sensei!” said one of the boys, a tall for his 10 years of age kid with shaggy dark hair and button nose. “It’s almost our turn, and we thought no one would come…” he trailed off, clearly upset, then searched the space behind Iruka. “Kakashi-sensei?”



It took a considerable effort not to show his own anger and disappointment before the kids and smile bravely back at them



“I don’t know, kids. Maybe he has some other work to do. Kakashi-san is a Jounin, he’s a busy man.” He tried to reassure them.



“Yes, he’s been very busy insulting you.” The same boy blurted out. Everybody stared at him in silence, wide-eyed with surprise that he had actually said that out loud. The boy looked just as surprised because his eyes became as round saucers and his hands flew to his mouth to cover it embarrassment. “I mean… I…”



Iruka sighed. So he had been right, after all, all these efforts to train weren’t for the Feudal lord and the nobles’ sake, they were an attempt to impress Kakashi and thaw his frosty attitude towards himself. He felt both deeply touched by their love and annoyed that they had become so attached to him at the same time.



“Go and prepare, kids. It’ll be your turn soon.” He said tiredly. They nodded and went back to their warming up exercises. Iruka looked down at the tiny girl still holding onto his waist in a vice-like grip. Barely seven years old, Hana was too young to be put on an arena with the rest of them, too young to be the target of such scrutiny. Why hadn’t Tsunade resisted the demands from the Nobles to see the youngest recruits?



He reached behind himself and carefully pushed her little hands away, then crouched before the girl to look at her in the face.



“Hana-chan, it’ll be okay.” Iruka tried to reassure her.



“Is he angry with us?” the girl asked him in a small voice. “Is that why he’s so mean to you, because he’s angry with us?”



“No, no, sweetheart, of course not.” Iruka reached to pet her dark hair soothingly when the girl’s eyes welled up. “It’s just that adults sometimes get angry with each other for no good reason. Just like children do.”



She cocked her head to the side curiously.



“How are they adults then?”



That gave him a pause and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.



“Some don’t grow up as fast as others. Kakashi-san, it seems, hasn’t grown at all.” He paused. “Just don’t tell him I said that when he does show up.”



Hana giggled at those words and hugged him again before skipping off to join the others in their exercises. Iruka watched them and fumed silently when he thought about the absent Jounin. They were going to have a serious conversation later today, Kakashi’s higher rank be damned.



The demonstration went without a hitch for a while, the older students performing admirably on stage, both in the sparring sessions and when showing off their newly learned techniques on their own. Iruka noticed though that they still spenta moment or two to still search the crowd as they began and then when they finished, looking for their absent instructor. It made him even angrier than before. Whatever beef Kakashi had with him, he had no right to take it out on the students in such a callous manner. By the time it was Hana’s turn he could barely keep a calm expression on his face.



The little girl walked forward, sending Iruka worried glances over her little shoulder, then finally stopped in the middle of the arena and looked around like all the other students, hoping to see the Jounin in the crowd. When she didn’t find him her face fell and her shoulders slumped for a few moments before she remembered why she was there.



The girl took the stance she had trained for and gathered her hands in a seal, followed by another, and then another. And another. What was she doing? Where had she learned all of this? Iruka certainly hadn’t taught it to her, and Kakashi couldn’t have… Oh, no. He remembered now, in one of the first days of the training when Kakashi demonstrated the Water Dragon Bullet technique to the older students, probably just to show off. It indeed produced a very flashy, very impressive display, but it also required a level of chakra control way beyond the abilities of a seven year old beginner. The fact that Hana had actually remembered the sequence of seals after seeing it only once was a miracle on its own, but exceptional memory or not, someone her age trying that technique could lead, at best, to a massive embarrassment, or at worst, a terrible tragedy. Well-aware of that fact Iruka ran forward, trying to reach the girl as fast as possible, but even as he took the first few steps he knew that he’d be too late.



The girl had an excellent memory, but she had very little understanding of moulding her own Chakra, let alone how to release its energy and complete the technique. Apparently Hana realized that too because she faltered just a moment before Iruka reached her, and that was all it took for disaster to strike. There was a bright blue flash that erupted between her gathered fingers, a sharp bang, and then blood splattered all over her little face and all over Iruka who reached for her with a panicked cry. The little girl said nothing as she swayed on her feet, then fell in Iruka’s grip, already unconscious from the massive – for her age - and uncontrolled release of energy.



As he looked down it took a moment for Iruka to discern what he was seeing exactly, there was only a bloody mess – and then he slowly realized that those were mangled little child’s hands, shattered fingers, ruptured flesh, bared muscle and sinew. He felt sick as he stared at the result of Hana’s botched attempt to impress… impress who? Himself? The absent Kakashi?



Suddenly a strong hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and practically threw him away. He fell on his ass in the grass and blinked in surprise, then saw that Tsunade was bent over the child and was working furiously, her forehead creased with concentration. The blood pouring from the child’s wounds slowed down, then stopped. Iruka looked around and realized that the crowd was watching them in stunned, horrified silence while the Nobles looked down disapprovingly from their dais. The cynical part of him wondered whether they disapproved that someone had taught a child that small such a technique or that she had failed to perform it properly.



“…ruka! IRUKA!” Tsunade barked and he snapped his attention back to her. “What are you waiting for?!”



He gaped stupidly, realizing that she must’ve issued an order he had not heard.



“There should be at least two fingers here in the grass somewhere, don’t you just sit there, search for them!”



Fingers. The nausea rose again but he swallowed past the bile in his throat and he got on all fours, looking for a pair of mangled child’s digits. When he did find them, a few minutes later, it occurred to him that they looked like pieces of meat, with almost nothing to imply that they had belonged to a human being. He had seen strewn body parts many times before, sometimes as a direct result of his own attacks and he wasn’t squeamish – no Ninja had the right to be – but this was different.



Tsunade snatched the fingers from Iruka’s hands and turned to the crowd.



“That was the last! There’s nothing more to see here, go home!”



Faced with Tsunade’s wrath, no one thought to disobey her order – the crowd slowly began to disperse. The Hokage took off her robe and wrapped Hana in it, then lifted her. The Feudal lord finally approached them and she paused, thought it was obvious that she wanted to be off. The man peered at the small white bundle in her arms and said thoughtfully:



“It was an impressive display, even if she failed. Make sure to put her back together, Tsunade – she will be a valuable asset one day.” And with that, he turned and left. Iruka gaped after him, his hands curling in angry fists at his sides. He had never had any illusions regarding the role of a Ninja – that of a weapon held in the Feudal lord’s fist to be pointed at the Fire Country’s enemies. A weapon had no will, no emotion, nosense of pain. It was supposed to be cold, hard and ruthless, and when it broke, it was discarded for a newer, better one. Still, such open callousness never failed to surprise him and disgust him. They may be trained to become such weapons, but he worked with living, breathing, easy to hurt children. There was no way he could emotionally detach himself from them. And even if there was, he would’ve never done it.



“Iruka.” Tsunade turned to him and gave him a stern look. “Go now. I will bring her to the hospital and work on her hands.”



“But… Hokage-sama, I want to be there!” he protested sharply. Tsunade, despite her earlier anger just shook her head sadly. “I will be able to concentrate better if I know that you’re not hovering outside my operation chamber. The surgery may take hours, and there’s no way for you to help me by just staying there. If you want to make yourself useful, go and find Kakashi. I assume you know where he lives. I want to know why he was absent today.”



Kakashi. A fresh wave of rage coursed through him as he suddenly remembered the Jounin. That man was at root of everything that had happened here today, and Iruka was going to make sure he remembered that.



He nodded to Tsunade, then turned on his heel headed towards Kakashi’s neighbourhood.



He had very little memory how he got there – his fury with the Jounin was so overwhelming that he paid little attention to his surroundings. It wasn’t that difficult to find Kakashi’s building – he knew his address by heart from his work in the Mission room and he knew Konoha like that back of his hand. Once he got in the upscale apartment building the door-keeper took one look of his face and practically shrank back in his booth. Iruka passed by him without a word and got in the elevator, then pushed the button to Kakashi’s floor.



When Iruka finally arrived before the Jounin’s door he took several breaths in a futile attempt to calm down and when it didn’t work he lifted his curled fist and banged on the door. Loudly. There was no response. His entire body shook with the barely repressed need to just kick the door in. He banged on it again and roared:



“KAKASHI! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!”



Finally, he heard the turning of a key in a lock and the door opened, a maskless, hastily dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and pants Kakashi standing before him, staring at him wide-eyed with surprise and confusion. He barreled over him and forced himself in the apartment and the older man followed without a word. Had Iruka been calmer, he would’ve wondered why Kakashi made no attempt to stop him – he certainly was more than capable of it. Once inside what he assumed was the Jounin’s living room, he turned and glared at the man, hands fisted at his sides. Kakashi stared right back with an odd, apprehensive expression on his face that was highly uncharacteristic of him. Perhaps he was already aware that he had screwed up. Iruka couldn’t care less.



“How could you, Hatake?” he asked, voice suddenly deathly quiet in contrast with his earlier yelling. Now that the man stood before him the original boiling rage settled down and became a cold, hard fury. He wasn’t going to behave like an unhinged loon before this man. “How could you fail them like that?”



Kakashi blinked at him, then focused nervously on something behind Iruka before he looked back at him.



“What are you talking about, Umino-san?” he asked back, his tone placating.



“What am I talking about?!” he hissed. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m talking about the student who maimed herself today because of you!”



Kakashi gaped at him for a moment then before closing his mouth and answering indignantly.



“Because of me?! I wasn’t there, Umino-san!”



Iruka took a threatening step forward and crowded Kakashi’s personal space. The Jounin did not step back and stared coolly back at him, even if the Chuunin could see a single muscle quivering right under his unharmed eye.



“Hana tried to do the Water Dragon Bullet technique before all our guests today! You know, the one you demonstrated before the older students last week? She was trying to impress you! You weren’t even there, and she was still trying to impress you! And guess what, the technique failed, and it mangled her hands!”



Kakashi’s jaw went slack for a moment and he stared back at Iruka with a horrified expression before his training kicked in and his face smoothed out again.



“And why do you blame me for this?” he asked softly.



Iruka pulled back and began to pace before him back and forth.



“Why?! Let’s see - because you’ve been acting like an ass for weeks now, because your childish, petty behaviour has been affecting the students, because they’re attached to you and want you stop acting this way! They’re children, Hatake! Children! They worked so hard to please you, to impress you, and you didn’t even deign to show up today!” he was panting by the time he finished ranting and could feel his hands sweating. It had been years since he had allowed himself to feel this angry at anyone, for anything.



Kakashi remained quiet for a few moments, then replied evenly:



“They’re only children because you’re allowing them to be, rather than training them to act like Ninja. This is your failure, Umino. Don’t blame it on me.”



Iruka stared at the man for a few seconds, stunned at the nerve of him to say that, after he had behaved unprofessionally for weeks. Then he saw red.



Kakashi watched the rage twist Iruka’s handsome featured and wished he could take his words back, wished he could apologize and admit he hadn’t meant any of it. He was wrong, and he knew it, but that seemed to be the only way of cutting off the bond that had formed between them. If he became the old Kakashi now, if he allowed himself to apologize, then Iruka would forgive him, and he would find no strength to do this again. He just couldn’t do it.



“You mean, they’ll become like you.” Iruka said quietly, his voice just as even.



“Like me?”



“Yes. Emotionally stunted, immature brats who care about nothing but their mission, incapable of connecting to people, incapable of compassion or understanding, their flaws getting in the way of fulfilling said mission despite their devotion.”



Kakashi had nothing to say to that. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. He just wanted Iruka to go away, but the Chuunin wasn’t done yet.



“You are like a child, Kakashi, of the reckless, irresponsible type. And if only your age corresponded with your behaviour I’d…I’d…”



“You’d what?” Kakashi asked softly.



“I’d punish you like they used to punish the students back in the day.” Iruka spat sharply and they stared at each other for a moment, Kakashi quiet and contemplative, the Chuunin flushed with anger and panting softly, trying to focus, to remain in control. Finally, the older man nodded minutely.



“Would it make you feel better, if you did?” the Jounin asked, deflating, lowering his eyes. He had disappointed him so much, he was breaking the bond that had developed between them in the past months. The least he could do was to offer some kind of comfort. Iruka deserved it.



For a moment, the Chuunin stared at him incredulously, then something in him snapped, that precious control he had held onto by the skin of his teeth for the past hour finally breaking and allowing the beast inside to rear its ugly head. When he reached for the older man and gripped his forearms, pulling him forward, he felt as if he was in a dream, as if he was watching himself from the side, disassociating himself of the actual events and the things he was doing. Once again, Kakashi offered no resistance, his expression still oddly blank, even when Iruka dragged him to the sofa and pushed him forward to bend over the armrest, not even when he forcefully pushed his loose pants down his hips, along with his underwear, all the way to his knees, then pushed his shirt up to reveal most of his back. There was a small, barely audible gasp when the cool air hit his bare skin, but other than that, the older man remained completely silent, only barely shifting on the armrest to find a more supportive position. There was no tension in his muscles, in fact, the moment Iruka gripped him he had felt him relaxing while it should’ve been the opposite. The reaction had been almost automatic, but he was still far too angry to ask himself – or Kakashi – why.



Iruka stood there for a moment, hands shaking, eyes following the elegant line of Kakashi’s back to the taut curve of his buttocks, the skin pale and unbroken and so soft and smooth that he could almost taste it. When he reached for his waist and undid his belt, pulling it out, it was if someone else’s hands did it. He curled the sinuous length of it and gripped it tightly, the leather warm under his fingers, then swung and struck him. There was no sound in the room other than the sharp crack, Kakashi did not cry out when the leather connected with his sensitive skin, did not flinch, did not turn around to wring Iruka’s neck. A red welt blossomed on his asscheek, curling towards his thigh. Iruka lifted his hand and struck him again, and then again, and again, and each swing was easier than the last. He did not hold back at all and put his entire considerable strength behind each hit, baring his teeth in rage, pouring out all of his frustration and anger and disappointment in punishing the prone man before him. Soon Kakashi’s thighs, buttocks and back were covered in the red welts, barely leaving any unabused skin in between.



Kakashi still made no sound, he took the whole thing and offered no resistance, not even an attempt to pull away, he just lay there, his face pressed against the pillows of the sofa, fingers curled slightly above his head, knees drawn together and ankles slightly apart. There was no sound from him, no cry or protest even when his skin finally broke under the relentless, brutal assault and bled, staining the belt, tiny droplets splashing on the sofa and even on Iruka.



Finally, the Chuunin had no rage left to give, his fury had been spent. Sanity returned. And with it he returned back into his own body, stared at Kakashi’s supine form laying before him, not moving despite the end of his abuse, the only sign that he was still alive being the rapid rise and fall of his bloodied back. And there was blood, so much of it, running down in tiny rivulets from where the skin had been whipped open, from his shoulders to his knees. Iruka slowly looked down at the curled belt he was still clutching, watching a viscous drop of crimson gather at the edge and fall, splattering on the pale tatami.



He had done this?



It was hard to believe that he was capable of it – Iruka had never been a violent person, regardless of whatever games he played with his bedpartners. Or maybe he had just been suppressing this side of himself for his entire life until something had given out. He looked back at Kakashi, who was still in the same pose and gave no indication he’d move any time soon, though there were tremors, his shoulders and knees shaking minutely, the sticky crimson soaking in his bunched up clothes. Iruka took a step back, revulsion twisting his gut until he was almost nauseous. The belt fell on the floor from his nerveless fingers. This was not him. It couldn’t be him. With a terrified sob he turned on his heel and ran.