If You Love Until It Hurts

A/N Amanatto is a traditional Japanese confection. You can read further info here: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amanatto Also, this chapter is a lot less bloody and gory than the previous ones - one can't have constant dramz and angst, it gets boring after a while, when there's no variety. XD





3



His chin was itching in the distinct way that meant that he needed a shave. He wanted to scratch it, but felt too sleepy and dozy to bother to lift his hand. His limbs felt heavy anyway, as if leaden, and his head felt full of cotton. His tongue was swollen and stiff in his dry mouth. Awareness was slow to return, but when it finally did he slowly opened his uncovered eye and blinked, trying to bring the world around him back into focus. When he eventually succeeded, he was met with a pretty bland and uninteresting sight – a pale, whitewashed ceiling with several cracks running through it. His gaze traveled down to discover more whitewashed wall, a non-descript cabinet and another bed with a metal frame and white sheets. On the opposite wall there was a large window with yellow curtains, outside of which he could see the branches and green leaves of a tree, gently rustling in the wind. In the branches there was a large, fat tabby that gave him a lazy, disinterested look with its green eyes before looking away and dozing off. He knew this place. He was in the hospital. He had survived, after all. He wasn’t entirely sure how, nor did he have the strength to be pleased about it at the moment.



Kakashi waited a while longer for strength to return in all of his muscles and tried to move. First his fingers, then his entire hands, toes and legs. The injured leg did respond, much to his pleasure, though he realized he had lost a lot of feeling in it. Maybe he was just still stiff from the sleep. He pushed the blankets away and slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, then swung his legs over the edge of the bed, noticing that he was wearing a striped hospital pajamas and that there was a light bandage around his calf. He was about to try and get up when the door opened with a bang and a Tsunade walked in, a distinctly miffed expression written all over her face.









The Hokage walked up to him, her high heels clicking rapidly and rhythmically over the tiled floor and stopped a pace away in front of him, her hands on her hips, golden-brown eyes flashing with annoyance.



“You” she began, voice frosty “are one damn lucky bastard, you know that?”



Kakashi didn’t consider himself particularly lucky, but since she looked like she was about to clock him in the face, he thought it prudent not to say anything at all. He had long discovered that when a female was that angry with you – especially one who could bust your scull with a single punch - it was best just to tuck you tail between your legs and wait for the storm to pass, lest you riled her up further.



Tsunade sniffed unhappily and crossed her hands under her considerable bosom.



“Pakkun told us what happened. You fell for such a trap? You, if all people?!”



He looked down guiltily.



“I was distracted.”



“Obviously!”



It took an effort not to flinch at her tone. He knew why she was so angry. After Orochimaru’s invasion, the demoralizing loss of the previous Hokage, the human losses, the material damage and the consolidation of power after Tsunade took over, Konoha’s staff and resources were stretched thin. The last thing she needed was a high-ranking Jounin put out of commission because of a stupid mistake.



She sighed and rubbed circles on her temples with her fingers, as if to ward off a blossoming headache.



“You’ll be fine, in case you’re wondering. You’re damn lucky Pakkun reached Gai on time and called for a back up. And you’re even luckier Gai didn’t allow the combat medic with your group to amputate your leg on the spot.”



Amputation?! He looked down, suddenly worried, and wriggled his toes – they moved alright, but the leg still felt numb and stiff.



“He fixed most of the other damage” she said as she watched him. “ and reported broken bones and internal bleeding. He’s one of our best though, and when you arrived here, you were already stable… well, except for the leg.”



“I can’t feel it.” He noted quietly. The corners of Tsunade’s mouth turned down unhappily.



“There was a lot of damage. I fixed what I could… the torn muscles and ligaments, the fractured bone…but I can’t do as well when healing nerve damage, and the toxin on the blade caused a lot of that. With a lot of therapy, it will heal eventually and you will make a full recovery, but it will take time.”



He looked up, a sinking feeling in his stomach.



“How long?”



“It’ll be a while before…”



“How long, Tsunade-sama?” he insisted sharply. She sighed.



“Six months. At least. A civilian would take between a year or two, maybe longer. Knowing how stubborn you are… six months. And that’s the best estimate.”



He stared, resisting the urge to cover his face with his hands. Six months, if not more, of forced inactivity. He was going to go crazy.



“Look” Tsunade began “I know you well enough to know that to expect you to sit on your ass for half an year is unrealistic. It’ll probably be unhealthy too. You can still take D and some C missions to keep you busy and, well, for money of course. I’ll think about some kind of additional job that I can give you.”



He looked up, suddenly alarmed. She grinned and lifted her hands placatingly.



“Easy, it won’t be a desk job. I don’t intend to torment my clerks with your handwriting any more than strictly necessary. I am not a sadist after all. Now, lie back down and rest. We’ll release you in a few days.”





Iruka’s day began in the most ordinary way possible. It was still dark when the alarm clock rang, shrill enough to pierce the fog of sleep, and he reached for it to turn it off. It took a few tries before he finally found the button and blessed silence filled the room. He spent the next few minutes blinking away the last vestiges of sleep and thinking about the things he needed to do today, then crawled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.



The sun was rising when he arrived at the Academy, the horizon still painted in soft golden and reddish light, quickly giving away to the brilliant white of the new day.



There was still at least half an hour before the first students would begin to file in, and he used the time to go over the lesson plan for the day, as well as to put the all papers he needed to return in order. It was a day like any other.



Then he got called to the teacher’s room.



Save for Makoto, a middle-aged Chuunin with graying temples and slanted dark eyes no one else was there. With the tightened budget the other man had started working as a secretary in the Academy, as well as an Assistant-Teacher who occasionally took low-level missions. His skill in battle was below average, and he knew it, but he was also dependable, punctual, and had organizing skills that intimidated even the regular clerks in the Mission Room. He smiled at Iruka when the younger man got in and waved him to come closer.



“Good morning, Iruka-kun. Amanatto?” he offered him a plate full of the confectionary. “Aoshi-san brought them a few minutes ago. His son has a birthday today.”



Iruka smiled, took one of the stylized beans and popped it in his mouth, the sweetness melting against his tongue. They were quite good indeed.



“You didn’t call me here just to celebrate Aoshi-san’s son’s birthday, did you, Makoto-san?”



The older man smiled and shrugged.



“Guilty as charged.” He handed him a sealed envelope, the Hokage’s seal and signature most prominent on top. “This arrived from the Hokage tower a few minutes ago. The courier said it was important and that I was to deliver it to you as soon as possible.”



“To me?” he said, surprised. It wasn’t a mission – if it were, he would’ve just been called to the Mission room, and he was hardly important enough to be receiving personal messages from the Hokage herself. Curious and slightly apprehensive, he tore the seal and pulled out several folded sheets of paper. His face darkened while he read his orders.



“Bad news?” Makoto asked curiously.



“Depends on the point of view.” He said quietly.



“Most things things depend on that, Iruka-kun.” The secretary pointed out with an amused smile. “Have another amanatto. Sweets always help.”



Iruka shook his head.



“It wouldn’t do to be as hyper as my students so early in the morning, Makoto-san.” He put the documents back in the envelope. “When our colleagues get here, tell them we’ll be having a new assistant teacher for the next few months.”



“Oh? Who?”



“Hatake Kakashi.”



Makoto’s eyebrows climbed all the way up to his hairline and his jaw went slack.



“The Hatake Kakashi? Is this some kind of a joke? A Jounin like him working with us lowly grunts?”



Iruka gave him a sour smile.



“According to the memo he was injured during a mission and he’ll be working here while he recuperates.”



“Still…”



“Just inform them, Makoto-san. I need to get to class now.”



“Well, at least the children will be ecstatic.” The older man muttered and popped a few more of the sweets in his mouth.



While he was walking back to the classroom Iruka’s mind churned unhappily over the news. In his humble opinion, the new Hokage, while very powerful, wise and capable, occasionally displayed disturbingly sadistic sense of humour. Hatake Kakashi a teacher in the Academy? And not a full teacher, but a mere assistant? Then again, making him full teacher, which meant that he’d have classes unsupervised, might’ve proved to be even more disastrous. Iruka had no doubts that the man was extremely talented, and was probably a good person – or at least, as good a person could be in his line of work. It was just his judgement around children that he doubted and worried about. He was going to have to watch him carefully, at least until he was sure he was aware of how things worked in the Academy.



The rest of the day was relatively uneventful, since today he only had classes with the oldest students due to graduate this year, the majority of them being too disciplined to cause problems, and the few remaining troublemakers too intimidated by his temper and creative punishments to act up too badly.



In the late afternoon he bid goodbye to the two last remaining students, a chubby Akimichi boy serving detention for pinching his classmate’s lunch, as well as the unfortunate girl whose lunch had been stolen – also serving detention for not paying attention and allowing the other to steal her food. Constant vigilance was, after all, one of the things that kept a Ninja alive. Iruka tried his best to impart that onto his students.



With a sigh and then a yawn Iruka stretched, lifting his hands above his head and tensing his muscles until his limbs trembled. He was going to have to stop by the training facilities in the evening – he had been slacking off recently – but for now he just gathered the sheets of homework his students had turned in, put them in a folder and headed out. He needed to talk to Kakashi.



At this time of the day Konoha was a bustling hive full of busy, hurried people – workers getting off their jobs, students going home, housewives picking their children up from school, Genin who had no mission and filled the roadside teahouses and food stalls. Iruka loved Konoha, for all its size and hectic way of life, dark secrets and bright people. It was far from perfect, but it was his home.



The hospital appeared behind the corner – a large building with well-maintained garden and pale-green walls. The interior of the building was the same as he remembered it when he visited Naruto a few weeks ago – clean, slightly scuffed and worn out, harried-looking staff walking quickly up and down the corridors. The nurse at the Information booth told him where he could find Kakashi’s room and he headed there without hesitation. Best to get this over with as soon as possible.



He knocked on the door and after a quiet “Yes.” from the inside he entered the room. The Jounin was standing by the bed beside the far wall, dressed in the dark blue uniform pants and dark shirt he wore underneath his flack vest, his black mask and forehead protector firmly in place, obscuring most of his face. He was barefooted still, the sandals sat in a neat pair by the foot of the bed, the flack vest itself hung on the headboard. The Jounin turned to look at him when he entered and Iruka noticed he was favouring his right leg, though he saw no sign of crutches or a cane in the room.



“Iruka-san.” The Jounin greeted him politely, if not excessively warmly. Iruka bowed minutely, then closed the door behind himself.



“I thought I should come and tell you personally…” he began.



“That I’ve been assigned to play babysitter for the next few months?” Kakashi finished for him with a sardonic smile. “You shouldn’t have bothered, Iruka-san. I too got the Hokage’s memo.



Iruka paused, then quietly replied:



“Teachers at the Academy aren’t babysitters, Kakashi-san.”



Kakashi gave a disinterested shrug, then sat down on the bed and began to put on his sandals.



“They are small children, yes? And you, well, we will be taking care of them in the next few months.”



Iruka resisted the urge to sigh – it would be inappropriate to do that in front of a person who outranked him.



“We will be doing a lot more than just taking care of them, Kakashi-san.”



He noticed the Jounin’s own message envelope left carelessly on top of the cabinet by the far wall.



“I’m surprised that the Hokage-sama didn’t come personally to give you the news.”



The Jounin snorted.



“The Hokage-sama is far too busy at the moment to play messenger for anyone, even a Jounin like me. And… to be honest, I think I am not her favourite person right now.”



Knowing the state Konoha was in Iruka could very well understand why.



“Well, now that you know, I won’t take up more of your time. You are beginning tomorrow?”



Kakashi nodded. He was done with the sandals, so he got up and put on his vest.



“The school day begins at 8.30 am, but instructors have to be there at 8.00. We usually have some paperwork to do, as well as work out the last details of the lesson plan for the day.”



Kakashi nodded, then headed for the door.



“I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then.”





It was already well past 10 when the Jounin finally deigned to appear. The classroom door opened and Kakashi walked in, hands carelessly shoved in his pockets. At least he wasn’t reading porn in front of the children. The room was immediately plunged into dead silence, all eyes focused on him, the students almost gawping with awe and curiosity. Kakashi lifted his hand.



“Yo.”



The silence stretched.



“Say hello to our new assistant teacher, children.” Iruka prompted after a long, tense moment.



“Good morning, Kakashi-sensei.” Over thirty voices rang out in unison.



Kakashi nodded, then walked to one of the free desks at the back and perched himself onto it, apparently intending to wait this class out. Iruka silently fumed, but continued his lesson.



When the class was over and most of the children bustled out during recess, Iruka approached the still sitting Jounin. He hadn’t said a word so far, and his body language indicated he was bored out of his wits. The Chuunin took several deep, calming breaths, smiled and said:



“So? What do you think?”



The answer was a minute, disinterested shrug.



“I think Tsunade-sama, as wise as she is, made a mistake. I hardly think I can teach these children anything.”



Iruka leaned against the desk in front of Kakashi.



“The great Copy Nin, master of a thousand jutsu, cannot teach anything?” he said with a small, humourous smile.



“They are almost toddlers, Iruka-san. They don’t even know how to hold a Kunai, let alone use it, and my techniques are quite advanced even for…” he paused, suddenly realizing he would’ve said something offensive.



“Someone like me?” Iruka finished for him.



“I meant no offense.”



Iruka smiled again and crossed his arms across his chest.



“You know, the Academy isn’t just about teaching them techniques and martial arts. It’s also about teaching them habits that will keep them alive. That was why I asked you to be on time for classes, Kakashi-san. If their own instructors aren’t punctual, why should they be?”



Kakashi actually had the grace to appear guilty.



“Now, why don’t you come with me and stay at the front this time. We’ll have class with older students now, I am sure it’ll be less of a boring experience. Afterwards, we can go to the teachers’ room and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the instructors.”



Kakashi gave him a dubious look, but got up anyway. Iruka felt relieved – the whole conversation, as one-sided as it was, had actually gone quite well. Maybe this would work out, eventually.