Divided Loyalty

A/N: Kakashi and Nagato hit rock bottom.



Also, regarding Kakashi being younger than sixteen at the time when Minato faced Kyuubi in canon: Yes, I am aware that he was younger than sixteen, but I wasn't about to make Minato into a character that lusts after a fifteen-year old. He's enough of an ass in this fic as it is. xD



And last, but certainly not least: Fluister drew this GORGEOUS fanart based on this fic: http://yaoi.y-gallery.net/view/598014/ go ahead and take a look. I've been drooling over it for days.



CHAPTER 9





The door clicked quietly behind him when he closed it and turned to look at his lover. Kakashi was just getting dressed, his crooked fingers struggling with the laces of his sandals. He looked up, met Nagato’s blue eyes and stiffened when he saw the look on his face.



“What’s happened?” he asked quietly as he straightened up. The red-head licked his lips nervously and looked down, unable to look at him anymore.



“We have to leave. We’re not welcome here anymore.”



Kakashi paused, then grabbed his cane propped up by the bed and limped his way to his lover, reaching with his free hand to lift his chin.



“Why?”



“The innkeeper’s daughter will be moving in with him. He doesn’t want people who are targets of hunternins anywhere near her. Or her child.”



Kakashi bit his lip but nodded mournfully.



“It’s understandable.” He whispered.



Nagato shook visibly.



“I don’t know where to go now, Kakashi.” He admitted. “I… we barely have any money, certainly not enough to be able to rent a room somewhere, and the weather’s worsening even as we speak.”



“So we’ll look for an abandoned building. Or a bridge. I used to be a high-ranking Jounin, you know. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d be sleeping outside, soaked to the bones.” He looked at him sadly. “And knowing your past, it wouldn’t be a first for you either.”



“No, it wouldn’t.” Nagato admitted bitterly. “Whatever our history may be, you shouldn’t spend the nights like that. Not in your condition.” Guilt was written all over his features, provoked by his inability to provide him with a decent shelter.



Suddenly Kakashi hugged him, letting go of his cane which clattered to the ground, wrapping his thin arms around his body and laying his head on his shoulder.



“We’ll be okay. I told you, I don’t mind sleeping outside, even in bad weather. I am not made of sugar, love, I won’t melt from a little rain.”



Kakashi’s bravado was quite impressive, but it didn’t prepare them for the sheer downpour that was falling on the poor little village by the time they packed their meager possessions in a bag and left after saying a quiet goodbye to the innkeeper. The man looked at them sadly, his expression guilty and withdrawn and said nothing.



The sodden streets were completely deserted, the entire population hidden in the warmth and dryness of their homes, their windows closed and doors shut and probably locked. The pavement of the narrow streets meandering over and around the hills on which the village was built was slick with water and Kakashi slipped helplessly more than once, with only Nagato’s grip on him holding him up. Between holding their bag and helping Kakashi, they had completely foregone the idea of using an umbrella, so very soon they were soaked to the bones as well.



They wandered for a while, wet and shivering in the cool gusts of wind that blew the heavy rain in whipping curtains, unsteady on their feet, searching desperately for something which could work as at least a temporary shelter.



In some of the smaller, dingier alleys they saw other poor homeless souls hiding among nylon-covered carboard boxes, their eyes almost glowing in the darkness, watching them with vicious determination to chase them away should they come any closer.



Nagato avoided these alleys and kept searching, his hope dwindling with every passing minute. He could feel how tired Kakashi was, his breath puffing painfully in his ear, his slim body trembling with the effort to walk on the soaked, slippery stones. He was not complaining, far from it, and pushed himself harder than even Nagato did, but the red-head knew that he was at the limit of his stamina. Tears of sheer frustration and despair welled in his eyes but mercifully, the rainwater sliding down his cheeks hid them from sight.



By the time the rain finally stopped it was already almost dark and they were both completely exhausted. They had reached the outskirts of the village almost at the very edge of the forest that surrounded it. Kakashi was hanging onto Nagato’s shoulder, too tired to stay upright anymore, barely holding onto the cane, his single eye dull and weary under a fringe of wet matted hair.



Nagato looked around, his eyes searching the surrounding buildings in the fading light and finally falling on something that could prove useful.



It was the remains of a tiny shack, decrepit and almost fallen apart, the peeling paint of its walls covered with evergreen ivy and the path to it semi-obstructed by heavy vegetation. Somehow they managed to make their way to it and Nagato carefully let Kakashi sit down on a large, wet rock before sneaking closer to peer inside, worried that it might be occupied. He couldn’t believe his luck when he realized that it wasn’t.



The place was devoid of any people and consisted of a single small room and the remains of a fireplace at the back. The roof had several large holes leaking dirty rainwater inside, the windows had long lost their glasses, and other than the random junk accumulated over the years there was no furniture. However, he could spot a relatively dry area in one of the corners of the room, large enough for the both of them to curl up there and spend the night.



“Kakashi. Let me help you get in. I think we can stay here for now.





The loud banging on his front door woke Minato up. He blearily opened his eyes and when he felt no threatening presence or killing intent, he allowed himself to glower at the sound and take his time to drag himself out of bed. He walked up to the door, grabbed the handle and sharply opened it, leaving the old man frozen with his fist in the air about to bang again.



“What?” he said sharply.



“Namikaze, do you sleep all day?” the innkeeper asked him as he eyed his state of undress and his mussed hair.



“As a matter of fact, I did. I kept vigilance all night.”



“Ah. It makes sense then.”



“What does?”



“Why you didn’t come in the inn roaring for explanation after they left at noon.”



“They…What?!”



The older man gave him disgusted look.



“They had to leave. I was forced to put them out.”



Minato looked outraged.



“Why would you do such a thing!? We had a deal! Didn’t I pay you more than enough?”



The man looked at him sadly and shook his head.



“No money can keep my daughter and grandson safe, should hunter Nin come banging on my door.”



Minato listened to the explanation with growing distress, pacing across the room, hands curled in angry fists.



“You could’ve come and told me immediately after they left! Why did you not do that?!”



“I thought that you were watching them and would go after them to begin with! You have been indulging in this voyeuristic little hobby of yours for weeks now, I thought that you didn’t leave them out of your sight!”



“Even I am human and from time to time, I need sleep, imagine that!” Minato snapped back. “Where did they go?”



“I don’t know.”



“What do you mean you don’t know?! Didn’t you at least give them a little money, or refer them to someone who would hire them?” he wanted to grab the little elderly man and shake him until his teeth rattled.



“I am sorry. Business is bad, Minato, during the storm season. People don’t travel and those who live here stay home. I needed those money, especially now that my family will be coming here. And I don’t know anyone in the island that would hire foreigners, even if I send them.” He reached and put his hand on the blonde’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “This is a small island and they can’t get off it. You’ll find them easy enough.”



Minato shrugged off the wrinkled hand and glared, then pointed the window, his voice a calm, cold hiss:



“Look at the weather outside. You put them out in this, with barely any money and almost no food. Kakashi might get sick until I find him, even if it doesn’t take too much time to do so.”



The elderly man drew himself up and glared back:



“You, boy, have been staying here for weeks, doing nothing, only watching through the window like some kind of a pervert, while Nagato busted his ass working and taking care of your precious Kakashi. If he was so important to you, why didn’t you take any action? You had so much time!”



Minato stared at him, expression surprised and clearly hurt by the words which he knew were true. All this time, he hadn’t gathered the courage to go there and meet Kakashi face to face, try to apologize, try to make things right. He didn’t know if he could make things right anymore, not after everything that had happened for the past years. The fear that Kakashi would reject him had proven stronger than his determination to help him and Minato felt ashamed of himself.



Obviously his guest had reached the same conclusion and was giving him a disgusted look.



“You better decide what’s more important to you, Namikaze – getting back in your student’s good graces or actually helping him, although I don’t see why one would exclude the other. I find your behaviour very uncharacteristic for you – you can face a Bijuu in direct one-to-one combat, but when it comes to your personal life, you’re a total wuss. Get a grip, already.” And with that, he left.



Nagato spent the next week trying to find a job – any job that didn’t involve selling his body, although he knew that sooner or later he’d have to do something like this, if only to sate his growing hunger and to still the tremors that slowly began to run over his pale flesh. But for now, he could still ignore that.



He went from door to door, visiting every shop and restaurant and craftsman’s studio he could find, offering his services for anything that could be useful, which involved from washing dishes to cleaning floors to carrying loads of coal. However, the moment people saw his hair colour and eye-colour, they shut down and dismissed him, saying that there was no free spot for him. No amount of begging and cajoling and explaining that he would work as hard as two local people convinced them, even when he clearly saw that the place was understaffed.



As time passed his own look deteriorated because he couldn’t wash neither himself nor his clothes, and that made him even less attractive choice than before.



They food ran out on the third day, despite rationing it as much as they could, and he took to rummaging through people’s garbage bins, going through soaked, rotting trash in an attempt to find a piece of food that wasn’t too moldy to be edible. It was something he had vast experience in – his childhood in Amegakure had prepared him for this, although going back to his old habits just reminded him once again how far he had fallen. Whatever food he found he gave most of it to Kakashi, who took it and ate it without making faces or protesting, always asking him if he’d had eaten too and Nagato dutifully lied to him that he had. Hunger was something that he was accustomed to too, and he knew that Kakashi needed the food more than he did. The former Jounin was couped up at the shack all the day, his wounded joints aching in from the constant rain and humidity and cold, what little strength he had managed to regain for the past weeks quickly deserting him.



One morning, Nagato woke up, feeling stiff and sore from the hard and cold stone floor on which they slept, his stomach so empty that it ached, Kakashi’s too warm breath puffing against his throat. Tensing, he reached and placed his hand on his forehead, feeling how hot it was, his skin burning with fever. Tremors wracked his slim frame, cheeks reddened even in the pale grey light.



Fear gripped his heart in a vice when he realized that the meager, rotten food, the wet and the cold had finally taken their toll on his already severely weakened organism. Franticly he shook him to wake him up and blew a breath of relief when a single dark eye burning with fever opened blearily and focused on him. Kakashi moved his lips but no sound came out. He licked them and tried again:



“Hey…” his voice was barely audible and quite hoarse, probably courtesy of a very sore throat. Nagato gave him a watery smile.



“Hey yourself.” He answered and tried to remain calm. Kakashi shouldn’t see how panicked he was. A cough shook the thin, fragile body in his arms and he tightened his grip, fingers trembling.



A thin hand came up stiffly to caress his face, crooked fingers brushing against his cheek.



“It’s okay.” His lover soothed. “I knew it was a matter of time. I am almost glad that it’s happening.”



“What?!” he hissed, uncomprehending.



“Now I’ll be able to convince you to leave me behind, love. Sneak on a boat that still travels between the islands.” Another cough interrupted his words. “You’ll do much better on your own, without me holding you down.”



He stared at him, unable to believe what he was hearing. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed with white-hot, burning rage. As hungry and tired and afraid as he was, he was unable to keep it in check and didn’t even realize when or how his open palm connected harshly with Kakashi’s feverish cheek. The man’s head snapped to the side, silver hair whipping into his face, he cringed and flinched and curled up against the wall, hands coming up to protect his head.



“How dare you!” Nagato roared “After all that I have sacrificed for you for the past months, this is how you thank me?!” he hit him again but his hand connected impotently against Kakashi’s raised arms. “By assuming, once again, that I would abandon you?! What the hell is wrong with you!”



He took a sharp, angry breath, fists clenched and trembling at his sides.



“I am going out now.” He growled. “To try and find money food and medicine. You will stay here and you won’t move out of this house until I get back!” he grabbed him and shook him. “Do you understand?”



“Yes.” Kakashi whimpered softly and curled in an even tighter ball.



Nagato stormed out of the shack and ran into the rain outside. It was late morning, but the streets were quite empty as usual as he moved to the central part of the city, quickly getting soaked to the bones but ignoring it as much as he could.



As the minutes ticked by his irrational anger slowly subsided and he felt empty and drained for a while before guilt set in. How could he have done that? How could he take out his frustration on Kakashi like that? He had never hit a lover before, and to do so with someone so weak and sick and broken was beyond revolting. Kakashi didn’t deserve to be treated like this, and Nagato had just failed him once again.



Finally, he reached one of the dingier parts of the village where he knew that business like that was conducted. It was almost noon and most of the local whores had went away to hide from the constant rain and wind, their corners as empty and abandoned as the streets themselves.



Tiredly, he leaned against a wall and sighed, his stomach rumbling and reminding him how empty it was. Angrily he rubbed his eyes and tried to swallow the tears that were welling in them, but soon the utter despair and dejection of the situation was too much to bear. They were homeless, starving, with no friends, no allies and Kakashi was sick. He had no money to buy decent food, let alone proper medicines to treat him and even worse, he had contributed to his condition with his appalling behaviour in the morning. Tears slowly slid down his cheeks as he stood in the rain and surveyed the abandoned street, knowing that in this weather, and at this time of the day there was little to no chance to find a client, not to mention his own bedraggled appearance.



Minato carefully peeked behind the corner, safely hidden from the rain by the canopy that the balcony of the teahouse above him provided. He noticed the red-head, standing dejected in the rain and immediately knew what he was doing there. Curling his lip in distaste, he looked down at the pug sitting in his feet and said sharply:



“Why won’t you bring me directly to Kakashi? I know that you’re aware of his location.”



“I am, Minato-san.” Pakkun answered. “But I don’t trust you enough yet to bring you to my Master. Although you were the one who contacted me first, Kakashi was the one who signed the contract with me, not you. I owe you nothing. And you have proved time and again that your presence is harmful to him. If you truly wish to help, you will figure out to help him through this man over there.” The pug beady eyes focused on the sad, wet figure. ‘As it is, he needs help as well. If only you’d be willing to provide that too.’ He thought and eyed Minato angrily. “Need I remind you that you you scoured this little island for a whole week and still couldn’t find them? In the end you had to resort to summoning me to help you, although I am still not sure if I did the right thing.”



“Why did you agree then?” Minato asked sharply. The pug eyed him seriously and answered:



“Kakashi is sick. I could feel his condition deteriorating.” The pug grumbled.



Minato eyed the figure on the other end of the street again.



“Are you suggesting that in order to help Kakashi, I have to have sex with the person who murdered my teacher and mentor, my son’s teacher and mentor, and I have to pay him for it?” he asked indignantly.



“Frankly, I don’t give a damn about what you have to do, Minato-san.” Pakkun answered breezily. “As long as you do it.” His voice hardened. The dog disappeared with a quiet pop and a small puff of smoke.



Minato threw one last look at the red-head, sighed and opened his umbrella. When he approached him, he realized that he looked even worse this close – dirty and wet, in filthy clothes that hung on his scrawny frame, his usually bright hair drooping around his face, whatever make up he used to cover the scars of his piercings long washed off. He was quite unattractive like that and Minato wouldn’t have picked him even if the thing with Jiraiya’s death wasn’t hanging in the back of his mind.



The red-head noticed him immediately and focused on him, and when it became clear that he was approaching him he straightened against the wall, an expression of what must pass for seduction coming onto his face like a mask.



“Looking for a good time?” the red-head asked, voice hoarse and trembling a little. Minato stared at him distastefully from head to toe and saw the lewd smile wavering and slowly being replaced by desperate eagerness. “I don’t take much. Only 10. For a full service. Anything you want, as long as I can walk afterwards. You won’t find a better offer.”



Minato lifted his hand to stop his babbling.



“Very well. Come with me.”